
But Susanna's rosy cheeks, stubby little feet and hands and bubbly personality made her unlike anyone that Ruth had ever known. Susanna's white Kapp tied over her unruly bun, her Plain blue dress and white apron were exactly like those that Mam had sewn for Ruth. Susanna's chubby face and slanting blue eyes might seem odd to strangers, but to Ruth, her dear little face, framed by the halo of frizzy red hair that marked her as one of Jonas Yoder's seven daughters, was beautiful. The English said Susanna had Down syndrome or called her a special-needs person, but Dat had always said that she was one of the Lord's gifts and that they should feel blessed every day that He had entrusted her to their family. She should have been able to carry the lunch across the field to the schoolhouse unaccompanied, but in many ways, she would always be a child. Susanna would be eighteen in a few months.

"Come along," Susanna repeated as she scampered up the stile, clutching their mother's black lunch pail tightly in one chubby hand.

"Come along, Susanna," she called over her shoulder to her sister. What was certain was that if they didn't hurry, recess would be over, and Mam wouldn't get her lunch. Without him at the head of the table, life was more uncertain. The world had always seemed safe when her father was alive. The sun-warmed boards felt good on the soles of Ruth's bare feet, bringing back sweet memories and making her smile.

Ruth Yoder lifted her skirt and deftly climbed the wooden stile at the back corner of the fence that marked the property line between her family's farm and their nearest neighbor.
