Almost Amish by Kathryn Cushman Page B

funny you are.” Angie put her arm around Julie’s waist and Julie returned the hug.
    Great. No one was doing what they needed to be doing, and now even her own daughter had jumped ship.

Chapter 11
     
    “Wow, Mom! Who knew you had all that in you?”
    “Aunt Julie, I’d forgotten how funny you are.”
    Julie woke slowly and couldn’t help but smile when she looked around her sparsely furnished room. This place was the dream she’d never even known could exist. No ringing phones. No emails asking for more volunteers. No committees. No pressure to keep up with the other moms. The reality here wasn’t easy: she’d spent the last two days hand-washing and ironing a farmhouse full of curtains. But the time had been entirely invested in her family. She’d actually had fun with the girls.
    She sat up in the bed, listening to the springs screech beneath her, and wrapped her arms around her knees. There were birds singing just outside the window, and the sun was already painting a rectangle across the floor in spite of the fact it was still early. She slid off the bed, then tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen.
    On the counter sat an old-fashioned percolator, and the only thing that could make this morning better would be a fresh cup of coffee. She prepped it with coffee and water, and set it on the little hot plate Kendra had provided for necessities. Within minutes it burbled to life and the smell of coffee filled the air. When it finished she poured herself a cup and took a first sip. Not bad. It definitely wasn’t as good as the freshly ground brew she made at home, but it would more than do.
    Susan walked into the room, already dressed in her assigned wardrobe—a long khaki skirt and a short-sleeved chambray shirt. It might have been a bit dated, but Susan managed to make it look crisp and classic. “I thought I heard you in here.”
    “I think I’ve finally got this coffeepot figured out. You want a cup?”
    Susan went to the cupboard and pulled out a white stone mug. “Maybe just half a cup for me. I’m so keyed up over the challenge today I don’t think it’s a good idea to put much caffeine on top of that.”
    “What are you nervous about? I’m the one who has to do the cooking.” Julie laughed as she asked the question.
    Susan kept her back squarely turned, making Julie think she was avoiding the question. And she was. Her continued silence said as much.
    “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re worried I’ll mess it up?” Just like that, Julie’s dream morning fizzled, right back into the stress and failure she’d left behind.
    Susan shrugged and kept her back turned. “This is so important to me.”
    “I am going to do my best, Susan; you know I am.”
    “Are you?” Susan turned, her face perfectly serious. “I would think that if you truly wanted to do your best, you would have actually made a pie yesterday.”
    “I didn’t have an oven, remember? I could have assembled the ingredients and poured them into a crust, I suppose. And it wasn’t like I was loafing around. You’re the one who wanted all the curtains washed and pressed for the picture, remember?”
    “Yes, I do remember. But I also remember that before I left to go shoot a segment downtown, I specifically asked you to practice your pie making, and you didn’t. You made a point of avoiding it, in fact.”
    Had she been wrong yesterday? Julie didn’t think so, at least she hadn’t at the time. Now she felt that all-too-familiar uncertainty. “Susan, I am sorry. I guess I didn’t realize how strongly you felt about it.”
    Susan poured herself coffee. “Well, you do now.” She took a sip, made a face, and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out so harsh. But we know everything that happens is going to reflect on me. And you know how much I need to succeed in this.”
    “I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t spend more time figuring out the pie stuff.” Julie said the words, but she wasn’t sure