The Englisher

by Beverly Lewis

  Courtney stepped inside and cautiously looked around the stark bedroom. ‘‘So this is where you’ve been holed up,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Yep,’’ Louisa replied simply, stunned that Courtney would agree to dress Plain. Or that she would consider attending the singing at all.

  ‘‘Cool,’’ Courtney had whispered so only Louisa could hear. ‘‘I’ll just pretend it’s Halloween.’’

  Annie brought over a royal blue dress and a black apron from the wall pegs, and Courtney rolled her eyes as she slipped into the skirt part of the cape dress.

  When Annie ran across the hall to borrow a few more pins from Mammi Zook, Courtney looked at Louisa and shrugged. ‘‘How bad can it be? A barn singing, right? Like hillbilly night at summer camp. Remember, Louisa?’’

  But this is the real thing.

  Courtney screwed up her face when Annie suggested pulling her thick locks into a low, tight bun. ‘‘Is this necessary?’’ she asked Annie, who was quick to nod.

  ‘‘Oh, jah, ever so important,’’ Annie attempted to explain. ‘‘Without the Kapp, the rest of it is all for naught.’’

  But for bangle-loving Courtney the bottom line was curiosity, most likely. Despite her aversion to the Plain attire, and the fact that her layered hair kept slipping out from the twisted sides and low hair bun, Courtney said she wasn’t going to miss out on a ‘‘rare chance’’ to be eyewitness to an Amish barn gathering, especially after sleeping through Preaching service earlier.

  Louisa couldn’t help wondering what Courtney’s true motivation was for going tonight. She suspected it had much more to do with checking up on her, especially in the guy department.

  All during the ride to the singing, Courtney kept commenting on how incredibly slow they were moving. Omar, at the reins, said nothing, but Louisa noticed his mouth tighten. Louisa had become accustomed to and now relished the slower pace of things but couldn’t imagine Courtney ever giving up her wheels. Not to mention her lipstick, mascara, and eye shadow, all of which she was wearing even now beneath her black bonnet. A peahen dress with a peacock face, Louisa thought wryly, and grinned.

  And riding in a buggy without a heater in the cold—the bone-chilling kind—wasn’t something a girl like Courtney would ever forget. Nope. She’d go straight home and tell Louisa’s mother how crazy her daughter was . . . living like she was on a Lewis and Clark expedition or something.

  When they arrived at the Glicks’ home, Omar took care of the horse while Annie led Louisa and Courtney up the slope to the barn, pushing their boots through the snow. The night air was plenty nippy, as Annie might say, and Louisa saw that a large bonfire had been built in the side yard.

  ‘‘Come along,’’ Annie said, as they went up the snowcovered earthen bridge that led to the upper level of the two-story bank barn. Louisa helped Annie push open the heavy wooden door to reveal a large haymow swept clean enough to see the wide wood planks of the vast floor in the center. Bales of hay had been stacked high on either side.

  The young men stood in clusters, their black hats straight on their heads. Some of the shy ones ran thumb and pointer fingers up and down their suspenders, while the girls were prim in below-the-knee-length dresses of blue, green, violet, and burgundy all along the opposite wall. Gas heaters were scattered here and there to ward off the chill. But nervous tension, Louisa suspected, was partly responsible for the frosty atmosphere.

  Courtney turned to Louisa. ‘‘How do I look?’’

  ‘‘Like a woman on the prowl,’’ Louisa whispered, then laughed.

  Courtney poked her in the arm as they stood on the threshold. ‘‘I’m in over my head here, aren’t I?’’

  ‘‘Just do what Annie does,’’ Louisa offered, hoping that was sound advice.

  ‘‘Jah, and say what I say, too,’’ Annie added, grinning.

  ‘‘I’ll just say ‘jah’ all night,’’ Courtney agreed.

  ‘‘Yeah, and get yourself a ride home with a handsome feller,’’ Louisa teased.

  ‘‘How exciting,’’ Courtney replied, batting her eyes.

  Louisa felt strange encouraging Courtney to come along, even though she herself was still very much on the fringe of this alien society. Which is where I need to stay, she thought as she caught a glimpse of tall and smiling Sam Glick. The notion that Courtney might witness firsthand Sam’s obvious interest made Louisa uneasy.

  Is it too much to hope she won’t notice?

  She sighed, imagining the fallout.

  It was past suppertime when Ben called home. His mother answered on the third ring. ‘‘Oh, it’s good to hear from you. I hope you’ve changed your mind about staying there.’’

  ‘‘Well, I’m not calling about coming home.’’

  An awkward pause ensued.

  ‘‘You okay, son?’’

  ‘‘Wanted to check in . . . see how you and Dad are doing.’’

  ‘‘You have sisters, too, you know.’’

  ‘‘Oh yeah. I keep trying to forget,’’ he quipped.

  His mom laughed a little, and then he inquired of his dad’s health.

  ‘‘Oh, your father just never quits. Can’t get him to rest much at all.’’

  ‘‘So he’s working long hours?’’

  ‘‘Always.’’

  ‘‘How does Patrice like KSU this semester?’’

  ‘‘Fine . . . a new start for her. She wants to know when she can hook up with you on instant messaging. She calls here on her cell quite a lot.’’

  Then she can call me herself and ask. . . .

  Immediately he thought better of suggesting it. He knew if Patrice called, she would ask incessant questions.

  He asked about his high-school-age sister. ‘‘Is Sherri doing all right?’’

  ‘‘She’s standing right here, grabbing for the phone . . . wanna talk to her?’’

  Well, no, he really didn’t, because then Sherri would feel they should pass the phone around the whole family and he wasn’t up to that. But he was polite and said, ‘‘Sure.’’

  Sherri had frivolous things on her mind, and he wondered why she wasn’t blabbing the boy-girl stuff to one of her girlfriends instead. ‘‘Hey, I miss you, bro,’’ she said. ‘‘When’re you ever coming home again?’’

  ‘‘Are you kidding? I’ve got a good job here. I’ve moved on . . . in another month I won’t even remember your name.’’

  Sherri giggled. ‘‘You better remember. I’ve got algebra tests soon, and you’re my ticket to an A, don’t forget.’’

  ‘‘Got my own apartment, sis.’’

  She groaned. ‘‘Don’t rub it in.’’

  ‘‘Come visit sometime,’’ he said, just to see what she’d say.

  ‘‘Yeah, like Mom’ll say yes to that. Well, speaking of homework, Mom’s giving me the eye. Better go.’’

  ‘‘See ya, needle nose.’’

  ‘‘Whatever.’’

  Mom got right back on the phone. ‘‘Say, Ben, I read in the paper about a serial killer admitting to some crimes in Lancaster County. Have you heard anything?’’

  He resisted the urge to groan. Mom had an obsession with true crime stories, gravitating to dubious newspaper articles and TV drivel. Anything sensational.

  ‘‘Amish farmland has evidently been used by killers before,’’ she continued.

  ‘‘Oh, Mom. C’mon!’’

  ‘‘No, seriously. I should send you the article.’’

  Ben sighed, ready for a topic change.

  ‘‘Some folk are saying it must be sacred ground.’’

  ‘‘What is?’’

  ‘‘Amish soil . . . where the victims are buried.’’

  ‘‘Yeah. Mom? I gotta go.’’

  ‘‘When are you coming home, Ben?’’

  ‘‘Mom—’’

  ‘‘All right, fine. But be careful, please?’’

  ‘‘Sure, Mom.’’ He wished Dad were home more often, spending time with her.

  She was clucking into the phone.
‘‘It’s so nice of you to call. We all miss you terribly.’’

  He was ready to say good-bye when he spied the picture of the Pequea Creek bridge on his kitchen table. ‘‘Hey, have we ever been to Pennsylvania before?’’

  A short pause ensued. ‘‘Hmm . . . once when you were in grade school.’’

  No wonder I remember.

  ‘‘We came home early from that vacation, though. Got tired of all the people—not the Amish, but the tourists.’’

  He smiled. ‘‘The place is hopping with sightseers, people dying for a glimpse of the horse-and-buggy folk.’’

  ‘‘Well, speaking of dying, you be very careful, dear.’’

  ‘‘Hey, did you find my birth certificate yet?’’

  ‘‘Still looking,’’ she replied.

  ‘‘I needed it weeks ago . . . will you put it at the top of your to-do list, please?’’

  She agreed to.

  ‘‘Good-bye. I’ll call you next week,’’ he said and hung up.

  Serial killers dumping bodies in Amish farmland? Give me a break!

  Louisa recalled instantly what it was that had first forged her friendship with Courtney back in middle school. This girl had magnetic draw. She wore a perpetual winning smile, and she could put a person at ease, make them laugh . . . even disarm them, if necessary. And she was doing it now, mingling, along with Louisa, meeting one cousin or friend of Annie’s after another.

  Louisa figured the boys were somewhat leery, having met one too many fancy girls clothed by the preacher’s daughter. For this she was relieved, glad Courtney would have no interaction with Sam. I’m off the hook, she thought. But she wondered how it would go if she didn’t end up riding home with Annie. Even so, she wouldn’t worry away the night.

  Courtney will only be here for another day or so. . . .

  Some time later, two boys were brave enough to walk over and talk to Courtney, one blushing perfect circles of red on each cheek.

  But when someone started playing a guitar, the talkative guy, one Annie quickly informed her was a cousin ‘‘once removed,’’ asked Courtney if she wanted to join several other couples in the square. Courtney flashed a look that said, ‘‘What’re we waiting for?’’ and followed willingly. Surprised, Louisa would’ve lost her socks, that is, if she weren’t wearing heavy black hose.

  Just then Louisa saw Sam making his way through the crowd toward her. She willed herself to breathe, more than happy to see Courtney so well occupied.

  ‘‘Hullo, Louisa . . . you’re way over here? And why’s that?’’ he asked, smiling down at her.

  She looked for Annie, who had suddenly disappeared. ‘‘I, well . . . Annie and I brought along a guest.’’

  ‘‘The made-up girl?’’ asked Sam, his eyes still on her. ‘‘Not from round here, that’s certain.’’

  Louisa shook her head. ‘‘You’re right about that.’’

  Sam did not turn to look at the couples, nor did he show any more interest in asking about Courtney. He leaned near and whispered, ‘‘Would ya like to square dance with me?’’

  Pausing, she wondered if this was such a good idea. Why did I show up here? She felt almost shy as he stood beside her, the sleeve of his white dress shirt brushing against her arm.

  Would Sam be this interesting if he were dressed like any modern guy? she wondered.

  Even so, she did not step away from him, wondering what to do with her feelings.

  Then, when the music stopped and more couples joined in, the blond teenage boy caller hoisted himself onto a square bale of hay and announced, ‘‘Stir the Bucket,’’ which brought a big round of applause and a few hoots from the boys.

  ‘‘Now’s our turn,’’ Sam said, reaching for her hand. ‘‘All right?’’

  She lifted her hand, surprised how his touch made her blush. Does he notice?

  Her heart complicated things, too, doing a weird sort of beat. I can’t let this happen. Even so, she was walking with him, in step, following.

  What’ll Courtney say if she sees me?

  Just that quickly, Sam let go, and she got in the line with the other girls. She wanted to shield her hand in her dress pocket, wanting to remember the feel of her hand in his at least for the rest of the evening.

  The guitar strumming started again and the caller began the intros with a bit of patter chatter. He called the corner folk to come up to the middle and then back to their places, called ‘‘home.’’

  Someone hollered, ‘‘Swing your own, ’n’ leave mine alone!’’ which was followed by a long string of Dutch and a burst of laughter by the group.

  Yee-haw, thought Louisa, glancing up the line and noticing Courtney doing the do-si-do with her own Amish partner. Too funny! Who would’ve thought?

  When it was time to meet Sam, lined up across from her with the other guys, she smiled freely, wondering if he might hold her hand again tonight, and not just during the barn dance.

  Shaking off the thought, she realized what a fool she was. What am I thinking?

  After learning many new square dance moves, Louisa and Sam sat side by side in his enclosed carriage. Sam did much of the talking, for some reason wanting to explain that many of the more settled, baptized young men were no longer buying open buggies for courting. They were purchasing the enclosed gray buggies, skipping over the reckless time of youth, planning for their future as husbands and fathers. But he made it clear to her that he had no plans to join the church.

  It was as if her reluctance to say much encouraged him to fill in the gaps. And talk he did. So much so that Louisa wondered if he talked the ears off other girls. Well, other Amish girls.

  But there was a side to him she found incredibly appealing. The way he drew her into his private circle, his sphere of reality. And when she talked of her family living in Colorado, he wanted to know as much about them as she would share. Unlike Trey Douglas, who, though he continued to send email, did not seem to take much pleasure in her family-related remarks. As for Michael, the only one of her relatives he’d shown much interest in, besides her, of course, was her father.

  But Sam’s focus was nearly entirely on family—his ancestry, the present family tree, and the all-important future one. Yet she wasn’t put off by his attempts to woo her, as she clearly knew he was doing. Or trying to.

  Would Annie be freaked if she knew?

  Maybe Annie did know. And maybe she wasn’t saying much because she was crossing her fingers . . . as Sam might be, as well.

  ‘‘That’s one fancy friend you’ve got,’’ he said, sitting on the driver’s side. ‘‘Courtney sure doesn’t look as Plain as you do.’’

  She hoped that was a compliment.

  ‘‘Auslenner, she is,’’ he continued, ‘‘decidedly so.’’

  ‘‘Uh, back up, Sam.’’

  ‘‘Ach, there I go forgettin’ you don’t know Dutch.’’ He took off his hat. ‘‘Your friend’s a foreigner. Doesn’t much fit in here.’’

  And I do? Now, that’s scary.

  ‘‘Well, about now, I think Courtney might be really ticked off at me,’’ she admitted.

  ‘‘Courtney’s upset ’cause I brought you home?’’ Sam asked. ‘‘She and Annie got stuck riding back to Zooks’ with Omar and his girl? Is that it?’’

  She laughed, breathing in the cold air. That and more. ‘‘Yeah, I’ll catch it tomorrow.’’

  ‘‘Why’s she visiting, anyway?’’ he asked.

  I wonder, too.

  He smiled. ‘‘She’s not comin’ to talk you into returnin’ home, is she?’’

  Louisa thought she noticed a worried look flicker across his face. ‘‘She wants to connect. We haven’t stayed in touch much since I came here.’’

  He leaned back in the seat, reins in only one hand. ‘‘Why’d you come to Amish country?’’ he asked.

  She hadn’t told anyone how close she had always felt to Annie, having been pen pals for so many years. She wondered if she ought to tell Sam—test his loyalty. ‘�
��If I told you something, would you keep it quiet?’’ She felt suddenly compelled to step out of her comfort zone.

  ‘‘You’ve got a secret, I take it?’’ Sam looked at her curiously.

  ‘‘Annie and I both do.’’ She forged ahead, explaining their letter-writing relationship. ‘‘I’d always wondered what it might be like to spend time with my good friend.’’ There’s so much more to it, but I won’t bore him.

  ‘‘You weren’t runnin’ away from anything, then? Just wanted to see Annie in person?’’

  Well, not entirely true. . . .

  ‘‘I craved a simpler life.’’

  He was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘‘A love gone sour?’’

  Man—this guy’s good!

  If she changed the subject quickly, Sam would know the truth. If she made up something, she’d be ticked at herself. ‘‘Maybe it’s best not to talk about where I’ve been and who I was . . . back then.’’

  Back then? Who am I kidding?

  ‘‘Well, I know you live somewhere near Denver . . . and you were Louisa Stratford then, same as now.’’ He looked at her with serious eyes. ‘‘But what’re you hidin’?’’

  Let it go already, she wanted to say, but bit her tongue.

  He reached for her gloved hand. ‘‘Your beau—your man—is he waiting for you to find your way? Is that why you’re here for the time bein’?’’

  She shook her head. ‘‘No one’s waiting. And I guess I could say I had lost my way. But not anymore.’’

  ‘‘Des gut, then,’’ he said too quickly. ‘‘That’s just right fine with me.’’

  Yikes . . . Louisa sat back against the seat as the realization hit her full force. He’s falling for me.

  Chapter 6

  On Monday morning, Courtney arrived early enough to join the Zooks for breakfast. Annie observed her reaction to Mamm’s overflowing platters: eggs, bacon, and sausage, along with homemade waffles and cornmeal mush, all laid out in a neat row in the center of the table. Or maybe it was not the variety of food that caught this Englischer’s attention. Still, Courtney’s soft green eyes were wide with something that looked like wonder, and she had little to say during the meal, as if she had many more thoughts than words.