Amish Cinderella #1 by Rachel Stoltzfus

Author:Rachel Stoltzfus
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Amish romance novels, Amish fiction books, Amish romance, Amish fiction, Amish books, Christian bestsellers, Christian Amish romance, passion city church, passion conference 2013, passion conference 2014, Amish connection, Amish and Mennonite, amish, amish fireplace, amish grace, honest amish, amish country, amish made, simply amish, amish market, amish friendship bread, amish products, amish peace, amish people, amish religion, amish oak, lancaster county, lancaster pa, lancaster county pa, lancaster county pennsylvania, lancaster county secrets, lancaster county series, lancaster amish secrets, Amish Christmas Romance, Amish Christmas, christmas romance, christmas bestsellers
Publisher: Global Grafx Press
Published: 2014-12-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter TWO

I made it through another two days until Sunday, when I was allowed to enjoy services.

Unlike school, my uncle could not prohibit me from worshipping our Lord, and praise be to God for that! It was also the only day of the week when I didn’t have to cook for my family (as the hosting family does that, and we rarely host). Often as not, I did wind up volunteering to help anyway, if my uncle would let me. It was the only day I got to see other members of the community, for however brief a period. And even though they didn’t seem to like me much more than my foster family did, they did seem to have some sympathy for me; I saw their eyebrows rise and their brows furrow as they looked at me and shook their heads. Poor thing, they seemed to be thinking, poor wretched, stupid, useless thing.

But of course they didn’t know me at all! I was not at all a stupid, wretched thing. At fourteen, I knew I was growing into a young woman, and that I was not at all unpleasant to look at. I was not vain – at least, I tried not to be—but I knew what my reflection looked like in the still pond waters, in the shop windows I passed when running errands for the family, and in the way the Englischers treated me, especially the men.

And I was surely not stupid: I had taught myself how to read and write, and even without a day’s worth of real schooling, I was better-spoken than my uncle or either of my cousins. Of course, nobody in the town engaged me because of how much they’d heard of me and how little they’d seen of me. I had no doubt some people imagined me a deformed creature with flippers for hands, a dog’s face and a monkey’s tail!

But I was really just as God had made me, of course, a perfectly healthy and blossoming young woman, ready for life and not ready to spend it in shackles. Going to services (really, going anywhere out of my house / prison) was always a boon to my spirit. It kept that flickering flame of hope dancing on the tip of my soul.

Deacon Coopersmith stood at the front of the Fortenoys’ living room, speaking so loud that we women could hear him in the next room. I couldn’t see his thinning strands of graying hair as they fell over his face, nor his long and bony finger as it wagged in front of him, but I could well imagine them. And when I did, I imagined them pointing right into the faces of my uncle, unseen in the next room, or my cousins sitting next to me.

“And as Jesus passed by, he saw a man which was blind from his birth. And his disciples asked him, saying, ‘Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?’ Jesus

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