The suds rose on the water, stirred by her vigorous hand movements. And in her mind, thoughts were rising to the surface too, not yet forming a solid plan of action. She needed to speak with Luke. She had thought that after breakfast there would be a chance, but with the snowstorm, Reuben had wanted Luke to scrape the driveway. They were out in the driveway now, Reuben driving the steel-rimmed tractor with a drag attached by a chain. Luke followed, shoveling the trail of snow left on either side of the drag farther off to the side of the driveway. His shoulders were humped over, as his arms rose and fell with the swing of the shovel. Snowflakes, big, round, and heavy, swirled around the tractor and the shoulders of the two men. Anger rose up in Rachel as she watched them make the circuit—up to the barn, turn around, and back down the driveway. Visions of what some of the other local Amish farmers were no doubt using this morning flashed in her mind. Bishop Mose himself, his oldest son-in-law in charge of his farm, had a well-used, though still smart-looking, New Holland front-end loader on the place.
