Allison's Journey

O
THER
B
OOKS BY
W
ANDA
E. B
RUNSTETTER
:

D
AUGHTERS OF
L
ANCASTER
C
OUNTY
S
ERIES
The Storekeeper’s Daughter
The Quilter’s Daughter
The Bishop’s Daughter

B
RIDES OF
L
ANCASTER
C
OUNTY
S
ERIES
A Merry Heart
Looking for a Miracle
Plain and Fancy
The Hope Chest

S
ISTERS OF
H
OLMES
C
OUNTY
S
ERIES
A Sister’s Secret
A Sister’s Test

B
RIDES OF
W
EBSTER
C
OUNTY
S
ERIES
Going Home
On Her Own
Dear to Me

N
ONFICTION
The Simple Life
Wanda E. Brunstetter’s Amish Friends Cookbook

C
HILDREN’S
B
OOKS
Rachel Yoder. . .Always Trouble Somewhere Series:
School’s Out (Book 1)
Back to School (Book 2)
Out of Control (Book 3)
New Beginnings (Book 4)

W
ANDA
E.
B
RUNSTETTER

B
RIDES OF
 W
EBSTER
 C
OUNTY

© 2008 by Wanda E. Brunstetter

ISBN 978-1-60742-026-2

All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

All Pennsylvania Dutch words are taken from the Revised Pennsylvania German Dictionary found in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

For more information about Wanda E. Brunstetter, please access the author’s Web site at the following Internet address:
www.wandabrunstetter.com.

Cover design by Müllerhaus Communications Group

Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, OH 44683,
www.barbourbooks.com.

Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses
.

Printed in the United States of America.

D
EDICATION
/A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

To Leeann Curtis,
who makes beautiful faceless Amish dolls.

And ye shall seek me, and find me,
when ye shall search for me with all your heart
.
J
EREMIAH
29:13

W
ith a sense of dread, Allison Troyer stepped into the kitchen. Today was her nineteenth birthday, but she was sure Aunt Catherine wouldn’t make a bit of fuss over it. In the twelve years Papa’s unmarried sister had lived with them, she had never made much over Allison’s or any of her five older brothers’ birthdays. Allison figured her aunt didn’t care for children and had only moved from her home in Charm, Ohio, to Bird-in-Hand, Pennsylvania, because she felt a sense of obligation to Allison’s father. After Mama’s untimely death, Papa had been left to raise six children, and it would have been difficult for him without his sister’s help.

Allison glanced at her aunt, standing in front of their propane-operated stove. She was a lofty, large-boned woman with big hands and feet. Aunt Catherine’s gray-streaked, mousy brown hair was done up tightly in a bun at the back of her head, and her stiff white
kapp
was set neatly on top.

The wooden floor creaked as Allison stepped across it, and her aunt whirled around. Her skin looked paler than normal, making her deeply set blue eyes seem more pronounced.

“
Guder mariye
,” Allison said.

“Morning,” Aunt Catherine mumbled, her thin lips set in a firm line. “You want your eggs fried or scrambled?”

“Whatever’s easiest.”

“It’s your birthday, so you choose.”

“I prefer scrambled.” Allison offered her aunt a faint smile. So she hadn’t forgotten what day it was. Maybe this year she would bake Allison a cake. “Would you like me to set the table or make some toast?”

“I think it would be best if you set the table. Last time you made toast, it was burned on the edges.” Aunt Catherine’s pale eyelashes fluttered like clothes flapping on the line.

If you’d let me do more in the kitchen, I might know how to do things better
. Without voicing her thoughts, Allison opened the cupboard door and removed four plates and glasses, placing them on the table.

“I thought I might make a batch of peanut brittle after the chores are done,” Aunt Catherine said as she went to the refrigerator and withdrew a jug of milk. “Your brothers and their families will probably join us for supper tonight. I’m sure they would enjoy the candy.”

Peanut brittle?
Allison felt a keen sense of disappointment. She liked peanut brittle well enough, but it wasn’t nearly as good as moist chocolate cake. At least not to her way of thinking. Sally Mast, Allison’s best friend, always had a cake on her birthday. Of course, Sally’s mother, Dorothy, was still living and cared deeply for her eight children. Allison didn’t think Aunt Catherine
cared about anyone but herself.

Allison had just set the last fork in place when her father and her brother Peter entered the kitchen.

“
Hallich gebottsdaag
,” Papa said, giving Allison a hug.

“
Jah
. Happy birthday.” Peter handed Allison a brown paper sack. “I hope you like this, sister.”

Allison placed the sack on the table, reached inside, and withdrew a baseball glove. She grinned at her blond-haired, blueeyed brother. “
Danki
, Peter. This is just what I needed.”

He smiled and squeezed her arm. “Now you’ll be able to catch those fly balls a lot easier.”

“Fly balls—
puh
!” Aunt Catherine mumbled. “Baseball’s such a waste of time.”

Papa cleared his throat real loud, and Allison and Peter turned to face him. “I have something for your birthday, too.” He handed Allison an envelope.

Allison smiled and quickly tore it open. If there was money inside, she planned to buy a new baseball to go with the glove, since her old ball was looking pretty worn. She pulled a piece of paper from the envelope and stared at it, unbelieving. “A bus ticket?”

Papa nodded, his brown eyes shining with obvious pleasure. “It’s to Seymour, Missouri, where your aunt Mary and uncle Ben King live.”

Aunt Catherine’s thin lips formed a circle, but she didn’t say a word.

Allison’s forehead wrinkled as she studied the ticket. Why, she was supposed to leave in two days! Tears sprang to her eyes, and she sank into the closest chair.

“Aren’t you happy about this?” Papa asked, pulling his fingers
through the sides of his thinning brown hair. “I figured you’d be excited about making a trip to Missouri.”

“I—I had no idea you wanted to send me away.”

“
Ach
, Allison,” he said kindly as he took a step forward. “I’m not sending you there for good. It’s just for the summer.”

That bit of news gave Allison some measure of relief, but she still didn’t understand why her father wanted her to be gone all summer. With the garden coming up, it was Allison’s job to keep the weeds down, and it was one of the few chores she actually enjoyed and did fairly well. “Why do I have to go to Missouri for the summer? Can’t I stay right here in Lancaster County?”

Papa glanced at Aunt Catherine as if he hoped she might say something, but she turned her back to them as she cracked eggs into a glass bowl.

I’ll bet this was Aunt Catherine’s idea. She probably asked Papa to send me to Missouri so I’d be out of her hair
. Allison squeezed her eyes shut.
She doesn’t like me; she never has!

Papa touched Allison’s shoulder, and her eyes snapped open. “I thought you might enjoy getting to know your
mamm
’s twin sister and her family. Mary’s a fine woman; she’s so much like your mamm. You probably don’t remember her well, but Mary’s a fine cook, and she can clean a house like nobody’s business.”

Allison swallowed around the tears clogging her throat.

“From the things Mary has said in her letters over the years, it’s obvious that she has a way with the sewing machine, too,” Papa continued.

“Not like me; that’s what your
daed
’s saying,” Aunt Catherine spoke up. “I’ve never been able to do much more than basic mending, because I. . .” Her voice trailed off, and she started beating the eggs so hard Allison feared the bowl might break.

“Because why?” Allison asked. “You’ve never really said why you don’t do much sewing.”

Aunt Catherine turned to face Allison. Her lips pressed together, deepening the harsh lines in the corners of her mouth. “Before my mamm died, she never spent much time teaching me to sew.” She pinched her lips even tighter. “Used to say I was all thumbs and that she couldn’t be bothered with trying to show me things on the sewing machine because I kept making mistakes.”

Allison felt a stab of compassion for her aunt. Apparently, she’d had a difficult childhood. Even so, was that any reason for her to be so sharp-tongued and critical all the time?

Allison shook her thoughts aside and looked up at her father. “Are you sending me to Missouri because you think I should learn to cook and sew?”

Papa motioned to the baseball glove lying in Allison’s lap. “Thanks to being raised with five older
brieder
, you’ve become quite a tomboy. Truth is you’d rather be outside playing ball than in the house doing womanly things.”

Peter, who had wandered over to the sink to wash his hands, added his two cents’ worth. “Allison always did prefer doing stuff with me and the brothers. Even when she was little and the girl cousins came around with their dolls, Allison preferred playing ball or going fishing with us.”