“Let’s just say we’re a work in progress.” I smile, but it feels dishonest on my lips because I know now that this Pandora’s box has been opened, it’s fair game.

“Work?” Jacob slathers apple butter onto a roll. “I don’t think getting married is too much work.”

“For a man, anyway,” Irene says.

“A man’ll work harder to stay out of the house.” William doesn’t look up from his plate. “If he’s smart.”

“I think Kate’s placing the emphasis on the ‘in progress’ part.” Tomasetti grins at Irene. “Pass the corn, please.”

“In the eyes of the Lord, the two of you are living in sin,” Jacob says.

I turn my attention to my brother. “In the eyes of some of the Amisch, too, evidently.”

He nods, but his expression is earnest. “I don’t understand why two people would want to live like that.”

Embarrassment and, for an instant, the familiar old shame creeps up on me, but I don’t let it take hold. “Jacob, this isn’t the time or place to discuss this.”

“Are you afraid God will hear?” he asks. “Are you afraid He will disapprove?”

Tomasetti helps himself to an ear of corn, sets down his fork, and turns his attention to my brother. “If you have something on your mind, Jacob, I think you should just put it out there.”

“Marriage is a sacred thing.” He holds Tomasetti’s gaze, thoughtful. “I don’t understand why you choose to live the way you do. If a man and woman choose to live together, they should be married.”

All eyes fall on Tomasetti. He meets their stares head-on and holds them, unflinching and unapologetic. “With all due respect, that’s between Kate and me. That’s the best answer I can give you, and I hope you and the rest of the family will respect it.”

My brother looks away in deference. But I know that while he’ll tolerate our point of view for now, he’ll never agree with it—or give his blessing. “All right then.”

I look around the table. Everyone is staring down at their plates, concentrating a little too intently on their food. Across from me, Irene scoots her husband’s plate closer to him. “Maybe you should eat your food instead of partaking in idle talk like an old woman.”

Sarah coughs into her hand but doesn’t quite cover her laugh. “There’s date pudding for dessert.”

“That’s my favorite.” Irene smiles at her sister-in-law. “Right after snitz pie.”

“I haven’t had snitz pie since Big Joe Beiler married Edna Miller,” William says through a mouthful of chicken.

I barely hear the exchange over the low thrum of my temper. Don’t get me wrong; I love my brother and sister. Growing up, they were my best friends and, sometimes, my partners in crime. There were many things I loved about being Amish: being part of a tight-knit community. Growing up with the knowledge that I was loved not only by my family, but by my brethren. But this afternoon I’m reminded of two things I detested: narrow-mindedness and intolerance.