Rachel's Garden by Marta Perry Page B

been running around being a blabbermaul to the neighbors like me.” Lovina chuckled, her round form jiggling.
    “It is so kind of both of you to share your stall.”
    Gideon had arranged it, of course—Rachel had no doubt of that, even though it was Lovina who had come to see her a few days earlier with the suggestion.
    Her plants—pansies and a variety of potted mints, basil, rosemary, and dill—were ready on the end of the counter they had given her. She had hung bunches of dried herbs from the overhead rack. There weren’t many of those, because when she’d dried them last fall she hadn’t been thinking of bringing them to market. This year she would do more, if this effort proved successful.
    Lovina had been right. She had never even visited the market before, let alone been part of it. The rectangular brick building in the center of town was crowded with vendors of all sorts, some Amish, some English, all of them calling to each other in cheerful, familiar tones.
    Lovina and Aaron participated with the ease of long practice. Had being out among the English ever seemed as strange and scary to them as it did to her?
    Aaron, four or five years older than Gideon, shared a strong family resemblance with him, although Aaron’s beard held a few traces of silver. Perhaps, if Gideon had not had so much sorrow in his life, he’d also share Aaron’s jovial good humor and ready laugh.
    Aaron had chosen a mate who matched him. Lovina had a round, merry face, snapping brown eyes, and a laugh that came often. She was spreading comfortably into middle age and ruled her large family with cheerfulness unimpaired by the mischief their four boys and three girls seemed to get up to, judging by the stories she’d told on the drive to town. Since they’d started out at five this morning, there had been plenty of time for talk.
    “Here they come,” Aaron said.
    Rachel’s gaze shot to the doors, and her breath caught in her throat. People poured through the openings, spreading out into streams that flowed down each of the aisles in the long building. The noise bounced from the high ceiling, and she feared she’d drown in the hubbub.
    Lovina pressed her hand in a quick squeeze. “Don’t fret. You’ll soon get used to it.”
    She doubted that, but she managed to return Lovina’s smile. Then those leading the stream of people reached them, and Lovina turned with a smile to her customers.
    Folks headed toward the baked goods and Aaron’s cheeses first, giving her a chance to watch the two of them in action. When customers approached her end of the counter, she knew what to do.
    After she’d waited on a few people, her tension began to slip away. This wasn’t that different from the Mud Sale, except that she’d known most of the people there.
    Finally, the initial rush slacked off. “There now,” Aaron said, grinning, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
    She shook her head. “I guess not. Is it over?”
    “Ach, no.” Lovina brushed up the crumbs that had fallen on the countertop. “This is just the lull. There’s always those who think they have to be here right when we open. Then it settles down. It’ll get real busy again around noon, probably. Meantime, I’ll go and get us all some coffee. You’ll mind my baked goods, ja?”
    “Sure thing.” Coffee would taste good about now. And Aaron was there to be sure she didn’t make any mistakes while Lovina was gone.
    No sooner had Lovina left than a woman appeared at Rachel’s end of the counter, looking at the potted herbs with a faintly disdainful air. She carried a large basket that already held several bunches of dried flowers.
    “May I help you?” Rachel asked, echoing the way she’d heard Lovina do it.
    “Is this price correct?” The woman flicked at the small tag Rachel had attached to the dill.
    Rachel took a second look. “Ja, that’s right.” Lovina had helped her price things, and Lovina knew what was right to charge.
    “It’s too high. I’m