The Keeper by Suzanne Woods Fisher

Author:Suzanne Woods Fisher
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: FIC042040, FIC027020, Amish—Fiction
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group

This was no way to start a day. M.K. gave some serious consideration to canceling the birthday party for Sadie and Menno. If this morning was an indication of how much cleaning Fern thought needed to happen to prepare for the gathering, then the week ahead looked grim. Fern had given her enough extra work to rub the skin off a person’s knees.

“I just washed the floor. Now look at it. Just look at the dirt those shoes have left. Do you think I have nothing better to do than to clean up after the likes of you?” Fern must have carried on about those shoes for nearly an hour before diverting her attention to M.K.’s rumpled bed. M.K. had sat on it to tie her shoes. The way Fern set to caterwauling, you would have thought she had committed a murder. It seemed the tiniest mishap could set Fern off.

Personally, M.K. thought Fern’s irritable behavior was directly attributable to consuming too much roughage. Fern took everything seriously, especially food, and since Amos and Sadie were on a low-to-no-sodium diet, the entire family was put on it. It was steamed rice and vegetables, broth or tofu, and enough bean sprouts to keep a small barnyard well fed.

At the end of the school day, M.K. burst out of the door to find Fern scowling at her, waiting by the door with arms crossed against her thin chest. M.K.’s mind flipped through the week, trying to narrow down which particular misstep had traveled straight from the schoolhouse to Fern’s ears.

Fern pointed to Menno, waiting in the buggy, and told M.K. to wait while she talked to the teacher.

“What did you do now?” Menno asked as she climbed into the backseat.

“Never mind,” M.K. grumbled.

Ten minutes later, Fern joined them and told Menno to head home.

From the backseat of the buggy M.K.’s voice welled up. “It was Jimmy Fisher’s fault! He said something I took exception to—”

“I got that part of it,” Fern said. “You always have your knickers in a twist over something that boy said or did. But I can’t be running to that school every whipstitch. And school’s just about out for the summer. There’s limits on what I can do.” She swiveled her head to the backseat and gave M.K. a long look.

“I’ll keep a closer eye on her,” Menno said.

M.K. glared at him.

At the turnoff to Windmill Farm, Fern pointed to the side of the road. “Menno, you go up to the house and find Sadie. She’s got a list of chores for you. I want them finished by suppertime. I want to see that list checked off.”

Menno hopped off. “Where are you two going?”

“M.K. and I have an errand,” Fern said.

“What kind of an errand?” M.K. waved a sad goodbye to Menno.

Fern slid over to the driver’s side and flicked the horse’s reins. “Mind telling me why you had a pile of Seventeen magazines under your bed?”

M.K. rolled her eyes and rested her chin on her hand, caught red-handed.

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