“Hello, everyone.”
“Where are the babies?” David wanted to know.
“Anna is looking after them.” Barbara looked at Lisbet. “She’ll meet us at the bee.”
Since Barbara hadn’t brought the babies, David lost interest and wandered away.
“Where’s Maria?” Barbara asked.
Clomping on the stairs answered the question. Maria appeared in a dark blue dress covered by a black apron that crisscrossed her back. She arranged her prayer kapp on her head.
“Where is your kapp, Lisbetli?” Barbara asked.
Lisbet’s hand went to her head. “It must be on my bed.”
“Then go get it. You can’t go out with a bare head.”
Lisbet dashed up the stairs.
The door swung open again, and Jakob came in with Christian.
“I thought the two of you went back to the wheat field after lunch.” Elizabeth raised her cheek, knowing Jakob would brush his hand across it.
“Not yet. We had some work to do in the barn.” Jakob obliged his wife with the gesture of affection. “One of the milk cows is acting strangely. If we’re not careful, she’ll dry up.”
Christian lifted his hat a couple of inches and wiped his hand across his forehead casually. “Are the Yoders coming to the bee?”
Elizabeth suppressed a smile, but Maria was less discreet.
“Christian is en lieb with Lizzie Yoder.” Maria grinned at her brother.
“Hush, Maria!” Jakob said sharply. But Elizabeth saw the twinkle in his eye. Anyone could see how Christian felt about Lizzie Yoder.
“It was an innocent question,” Christian said.
“I do believe the Yoder girls plan to be there,” Barbara said. “Perhaps I’ll have opportunity to speak to Lizzie.”
Lisbet thumped down the stairs, her black kapp askew on her head.
When his sisters were gone, Christian turned to his father. “Daed, on Sunday next week a visiting preacher is coming. We don’t get to have church very often.”
Jakob nodded. “I’ll make sure you’re free to spend the day.”
“Thank you.” Christian looked from Jakob to Elizabeth. “I would like to take Jacobli with me.”
In the fracture of silence, Elizabeth felt the eyes of her four youngest children lift and settle on their father. “John and Sarah,” she said to her two eldest, “please take the little ones to the table and help them learn to write their names.” She looked at them in that way that forbade argument, and they quietly complied.
Jakob took a log from the stack beside the fireplace and methodically adjusted its angle before returning it to the pile. “Jacobli would feel out of place in Amish worship.”
“He’s only eight,” Christian countered. “No one would hold your choice against one of your sons.”
Elizabeth was on her feet. “You seem to forget that Jacobli is my son as well. He will not go to church with you.”
“Daed, you’ve always said that all your children were free to make their own choices, each one according to his conscience.”
“That’s right.”
“How can Jacobli choose something he has not experienced? Would it really hurt him to go to church with his own sisters and brother?”
Elizabeth stepped across the room and positioned herself between father and son. “Jacobli is too young. Your father and I will decide when he is old enough to visit the Amish.”
“But there aren’t any other churches around here.” Christian gestured widely. “Isn’t it better that he go to church somewhere?”
“I include religious instruction as a regular part of schooling my children.” Elizabeth hated the feeling of heat creeping up her neck. “He is learning everything he needs to know about the love and mercy of God.”
“Daed,” Christian said, “this is your decision. You’re the man of this house.”
Jakob did not hesitate. “Elizabeth is right.”
“But Daed—”
“I have made my decision, Christian. Will you check on the cow again in about two hours?”
Elizabeth let out her breath. Jakob had made his choice nine years ago. Never once had he disappointed her when Christian pushed him. And the older Christian got, though, the harder he pushed. If he wanted Jacobli this year, would he want John next year? Would he put Sarah in a kapp and apron the year after that? Elizabeth did not require an elaborate life, but neither did she think a church rule book should dictate what color her dress could be or how long her husband’s hair must be. While she would never openly oppose them—for Jakob’s sake—it seemed to Elizabeth the Amish went to unnecessary extremes.
Christian pressed his lips together and sat in the rocker Jakob had crafted when Sarah was a baby.
The door opened yet again, and Jacobli entered. He looked around. “Why is it so quiet in here?”
“No reason.” Elizabeth turned to greet him by smoothing his dark red hair. “We were just having a discussion. Why is your face so sticky?”
He grinned. “I ran all the way up from the tannery. I have great news, Daed. Mr. Hochstetler and his boys have been out hunting. They got three deer and a bear, and they want to sell you the hides.”
Jakob nodded with pleasure. “Soft deerskin will bring a good price.”
“He’s going to bring them in a few days,” Jakobli said, “as soon as they get the meat off. Can I help you put them in the vats?”
“We’ll see.”
Elizabeth caught Jakob’s eye. He knew how she felt about having Jacobli so close to the lime solution. How could something that could take the hair off a hide be good for a little boy? Nevertheless, Elizabeth loved seeing the pleasure in Jakob’s eyes when their son grew excited.
“I think we should add some bark to the pit, Daed. But first we should take out the cattle hides from the Siebers. They’ve been in there three months already.”
“You might be right about that.” Jakob nodded.
Christian stood up and straightened his hat on his head. “Jacobli, you seem to know a great deal about tanning for an eight-year-old.”
“I’m going to be a tanner when I grow up.”
“It’s messy business,” Christian said. “Smelly and dangerous. Wouldn’t you rather be in the fresh air?”
Jacobli shook his head emphatically. “The tannery is the place for me.”
Christian sighed. “Give me the farm any day.”
Jakob smiled. “Christian, you were just like Jacobli at his age. Have you forgotten your maps and charts and planting schedules?”
“Farming is the way of our people, Daed.”
Jakob readjusted the same log again.
Elizabeth nudged Jacobli toward the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll help you clean up.”
Forty-One
Ruth loaded her backpack strategically. She did not want to lose valuable time shuttling back and forth between her dorm room and the library because of overlooked items. She had booked six hours of computer time. Her class schedule allowed her to work three eight-hour days back-to-back and have three days in a row to devote to her studies and still enjoy a Sabbath.
In the four days since Ruth left Rufus sitting on the front porch, tears spurted at unpredictable intervals. Mrs. Watson asked Ruth to read, but she had avoided the task because she was uncertain the lump in her throat would allow the formation of spoken words. She completely forgot the shower she promised to give Mrs. Bragg, and she mixed up dinner trays for several residents. Seeing Mrs. Renaldi on the wing reminded her of Tom Reynolds, which made her think of Rufus, and then her mother and the rest of the family.
Ruth braced herself for the weight of the backpack bulging with textbooks and notebooks for four courses. She had her hand on the doorknob when she thought to make a phone call. Lowering one shoulder, she slung her burden down long enough to find her cell phone tucked into the pocket of the strap.
“You sure you want to do this?” Lee Solano asked.
Annie exhaled and rolled her eyes. “
You ask me that every time we speak to each other.” They stood together outside the doors to a downtown bank. Walking through them would take her to the meeting at which she would sign papers that meant she was letting go.
“I have to ask,” Lee said. “I’ve never had a client express such extreme wishes. I wake up in the night thinking I must have heard you wrong.”
“You heard me right. This life is not for me anymore.”
“Maybe someday you’ll do another start-up.”
Annie shook her head. “I’ve done it twice. That’s enough.”
“You’re only twenty-seven,” Lee said. “Don’t paint yourself into a corner you can’t get out of.”
“You’re in cahoots with my mother.”
“Never met the lady,” Lee said, “but it sounds like she has the smarts you used to have.”
“Let’s just do this.” Annie pushed open the bank door.
Lee did not have to understand her choices. He was being paid handsomely for arranging the legalities. Beyond that, Annie was not trying to persuade anyone of anything. She wanted only to make a choice and see it through.
Lee pushed the elevator button, and they rode to the third floor without speaking. From there it seemed as if she were watching someone else’s motions. Annie wore a blue silk suit and four-inch navy heels, the tried-and-true choices she relied on for business meetings of this caliber. Though young, female, and casual in an old boy’s world, she was not some sort of teenybopper with a ponytail and chewing gum. But even as she shook hands and took her seat and tugged the bottom of her jacket straight, the weight of the purple dress in the barn draped off her shoulders, and it was soft cotton that she adjusted around her waist. She picked up a pen to sign documents with elevator music playing in the background and phones ringing and lights blinking, but she was sitting on the sofa in a hundred-year-old house, listening to sounds hidden in silence. Bearers of modern success surrounded her in a sleek conference room while outrageous numeric figures popped off the printed pages for something she could not hold in her hands, but she was on the Beiler front porch, sitting next to Rufus in the fragrance of a garden that proved where food came from.
Finally, the others left, with handshakes and claps on the back for a deal well done, and Annie was alone with Lee, holding in her hands a manila folder of legalese.
Lee picked up his briefcase from the floor and set it on the table to open it.
“Okay,” he said, “now for stage two.” He slapped a stack of papers on the table. “You can still back out of this part.”
“I’m not backing out of anything.” Annie picked up the pen again. “Where do I sign?”
“That’s a pile of money in your hands,” he said. “If you sign these, you’re not leaving yourself much to live off of.”
“I don’t plan to need much. And there’s still the condo. I told the real estate agent to lower the asking price by 15 percent.”
He groaned. “Annie, please.”
“I want it to sell quickly.”
“The market is soft on high-end stuff like your place. You’ll take a loss.”
Deadpan, she looked at him.
“All right, I get it. You’re not worried about money.”
“In my recent experience, it’s been more trouble than it’s worth.”
Annie paused only briefly over the signature line. The bulk of her assets would go into a holding account that could never revert directly to her. She needed more time to sort out just where it would go eventually. She couldn’t just leave it without a purpose, like a forgotten trinket in a box. But it would never be hers for personal use.
Annie signed.
“You’ve been a great help in all of this, Lee. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He picked up the document and returned it to his briefcase. “The money should be transferred before the end of the day.”
“You know where to find me if you have questions.”
They exited the conference room, descended in the elevator, and stepped into the blinding Colorado sun. Annie squinted at her car parked across the street. Above the sounds of traffic, she recognized the vibration of her cell phone in the small purse she carried when she dressed up. Lifting the flap of the purse, she saw that the caller was Ruth.
“Hello, Ruth.”
“Hi,” came a diminished voice. “Do you think … could I … maybe see you today?”
“Yes, of course.” Annie was eager to see how Ruth was. “I have one other meeting to go to right now. Should I pick you up later?”
“I can get a ride to your place,” Ruth said. “I thought I could bring what I need to make dinner for you.”
Annie smiled. “Yes. Absolutely. About six?” She dropped the phone back in the purse.
Now to talk to Barrett.
Sated with chicken stew and shoofly pie, Annie picked up a box of books and added it to the stack in the entryway.
“Are you really giving all this away?” Ruth followed with a second box.
“I didn’t need most of this stuff living here,” Annie answered. “I’m sure not going to need it in Westcliffe. I’ve tagged some furniture to take, with some bedding and practical items. But a lot of my things will find better homes elsewhere.”
“I admire how ruthless you’re being in packing things up.”
“I’ve got time now.” Annie grinned. “No job.”
Ruth laughed. “How soon will you move?”
“I couldn’t arrange for the furniture movers before next week, but I’ll take some things this weekend by car.”
“Oh good. I mean, that sounds like a good plan.”
Annie paused, a roll of packaging tape in one hand and a permanent marker in the other. “Would you like to come with me, Ruth?”
Ruth straightened the top box in the stack then turned hesitantly toward Annie. “I can’t leave things the way they are with my mother. Rufus is right about that.”
The ashen face of her friend twisted Annie’s heart. “Then we’ll go together.”
Annie padded down the hall in her bare feet to the bedroom. Ruth followed. The twin doors to the walk-in closet were wide open, though most of the closet’s contents were strewn in piles around the room. In one corner a supply of flattened boxes awaited new lives of service. Annie picked one up, popped it open, and sealed the bottom with tape.
Ruth wandered to the bed and momentarily hung a soft pink cashmere sweater from her fingers. She folded it neatly then reached for a starched white shirt with a delicate string of blue and green flowers hand-embroidered down the front. “You have some very nice things.”
“You know, you can have anything you want.” Annie scribbled a label on a box. “If you need some clothes. Sweaters. A coat. Or a radio or a lamp or anything you see. A TV.”
Ruth picked up a linen blouse, sat on the bed, and folded the blouse in her lap. “Thank you, but I would never be comfortable. I am still Plain at heart.”
Annie put down her packing tape and sat next to Ruth on the end of the bed. She leaned into Ruth’s shoulder. “I think your mother would be glad to hear you say that.”
“Perhaps. But I have a lot to ask forgiveness for. And being Plain at heart will never be the same as joining the church.”
“Perhaps if your family understood more about what you’re doing, they would soften. You’re doing something noble, in my opinion.”
“Noble is too close to proud, hochmut. Is it humble? That is always the question. Demut. Am I submitting?”
“Well, how do you answer those questions?”
Ruth fingered the collar of the linen blouse. “If I submit to God, I can’t be anything but what I am. If God created me to care for people, perhaps He also means for me to have the education to know how to do it.”
“Rufus would be dead without people who knew how to care for him in a crisis,” Annie said. “Surely your parents can appreciate that fact.”
“I was not baptized.” Ruth’s voice was barely above a whisper. �
�So my choice to leave is not the greatest wound to my mother. It is the way I left that stabs her.”
Annie wasn’t sure she knew what Ruth meant, but the moment quivered too fragile for questions. She put an arm around Ruth’s shoulder and leaned her head against Ruth’s. “Talk to her.”
In the silence, her advice echoed in her own mind. Perhaps it was true that her own choice to leave her life in Colorado Springs would not be her mother’s greatest wound if she too did not leave well.
Ruth was the one to rupture the stillness. She stood and began folding vigorously. “We’re going to need a lot of boxes.”
“I can always buy more.” Annie pulled a box closer to the bed and dropped in the linen blouse then a whole stack of shirts from the bed.
“Make sure you keep enough warm things for the winter. Westcliffe gets cold.”
“I will.”
“Does Rufus know you’re doing all this?”
Annie grimaced. “He knows about the house but not that I sold my business and put my condo on the market.”
“When do you plan to tell him?”
“I’m not sure it matters.”
“Of course it matters.”
“I don’t want Rufus to think I’m doing any of this because of him.” Annie expertly laid another strip of tape across a box.
“Are you sure you’re not?” Ruth challenged.
“I’m not expecting anything from your brother, if that’s what you mean.”
“But you have feelings for him, ya?”
Annie dropped a trio of sweaters into a box. “It’s hard not to,” she admitted softly, “but that does not mean anything. He already said he does not expect me to be Amish. I am English. So what can happen?”
“He would not ask it of you, that is true,” Ruth said. “But if you were to choose?”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to choose to be Amish. And I don’t think he believes I ever could. Besides, it would be wrong to make Rufus the reason.”
“That is true.”
“I’ve seen a different picture of life, and I wonder if it’s meant for me. A life that does not ignore God.” Annie taped a box shut and labeled it. “You and I are not so different. I never really asked what God wants of me before. Now I will.”
Accidentally Amish Page 29
