IN PLAIN View

by Olivia Newport

  “Carter is the son of Tom Reynolds.” Speaking English, Rufus deftly explained. “You’ll want to meet Tom as soon as possible. He does a fair bit of taxiing and hauling for our people, and he doesn’t mind the distances involved in our district.”

  “That’s good to know.” Ike Stutzman’s voice was deep and commanding. “I heard that because of the distances, your district allows the use of telephones.”

  Oops. Annie caught Rufus’s eyes and saw the flicker of dismay that his effort to deflect the conversation had been short lived.

  “That’s true,” Eli said, “but the concern is for safety, not convenience or amusement.”

  His expression was not lost on Annie, so she had no doubt that Joel understood perfectly.

  “Carter’s dad was out looking at the new recreation area,” Joel said. “He took some pictures.”

  Oops again. Not the best topic of conversation Joel could have introduced to take the heat off himself.

  “No one has made any decisions about the use of that property,” Eli said.

  “What property is that?” Ike’s inquiry sounded idle enough.

  Annie pushed peas around on her plate. At least they were not beets. She stood in solidarity with Jacob on the beets question. She was relieved to hear Rufus’s voice again.

  “The county owns a few acres not far from here,” Rufus explained in English. “There is some thought to developing a park. The organizers would like volunteers to offer their labor in order to keep costs to a minimum. They have invited everyone to participate.”

  “Even the Amish?” Edna Stutzman asked from beside Franey. “Surely they understand that we live apart.”

  Rufus tilted his head. “The park would be for everyone to use. If everyone shares the load, then everyone benefits as well.”

  “But this is an English project, is it not?” Ike thumped the table as he persisted with the distinction.

  “Well, yes, I suppose,” Rufus said. “It was the idea of Tom Reynolds and a few others. They propose a simple shelter from rain and sun, a children’s play area, and trails for families to use.”

  “But this is an English project,” Edna repeated.

  Annie did not need a translation for the consonants spitting from Edna’s mouth when she said English. She reached up and tugged on the two strings of her kapp, a habit developed over the last six months in nervous moments. While she was living largely plain until she decided whether to join the Amish officially, Annie resented Edna’s inferences about the English.

  “Do you often cooperate with the English?” Edna bristled as she broke open a biscuit.

  “The English are our neighbors here,” Rufus said, persisting in English. “When do you hope to move onto your farm?”

  And that was it. He let it go and moved on.

  Annie stifled a sigh. How did he do that? Just let things go when the tension mounted?

  Relief blew out on Franey’s breath, Annie noticed. She was not opposed to a park. She was not even opposed to working with the neighbors. Franey simply did not want to get involved with that particular plot of land. Annie did not know why.

  It had something to do with Ruth. Annie knew that much. Annie missed Ruth. Rufus’s sister would have known how to navigate the emotions in the room.

  Franey’s reticence about the land proposed for the park.

  Joel’s running around with Carter Reynolds and the boys from town.

  Eli’s need for order.

  Even Beth Stutzman batting her eyes at Rufus.

  Annie was glad that she could picture where Ruth was— the roadways of Colorado Springs bearing the buses Ruth rode to work and school, the university she attended, the small dorm room she lived in. Even though she knew Ruth was sure of her choice, Annie felt Franey’s sadness.

  Franey stood up. “How about dessert?” She smiled around the table. “I have peach pie, apple schnitzel, and rhubarb crisp.”

  Rufus’s sisters Lydia and Sophie took the cue and began clearing the table. Annie did the same.

  The Stutzman daughters rested comfortably in their chairs. Beth even put her elbow on the table, set her chin in her hand, and leaned toward Rufus. Annie shoved down the resentment that welled.

  Humility, humility, humility, she told herself. No matter what she thought of their manners, she would serve them with a smile.

  Rufus remembered the Stutzman girls differently. Perhaps it was because they were so much younger than he was that he never paid close attention to them when the families lived near each other in Lancaster County. They were taller now, more filled out. Beth’s hair was much the same color as Annalise’s, he observed. He supposed that her forwardness would wear off soon enough when she saw that he did not return her feelings, and when she met some of the other families who had sons looking for wives.

  He looked at Annalise across the table. Concentrating so hard to follow conversation in Pennsylvania Dutch exhausted her, he knew, and the evening’s exchanges had been particularly rapid. Several times during the evening he had switched to English in an effort to include her, but clearly the Stutzmans were not used to using English at home and inevitably switched back within a few sentences. As they told stories of Lancaster County, their enthusiasm spilled out in a torrent of Pennsylvania Dutch.

  Annalise smiled at him in an expression he had come to know meant, I’m tired and I want to go home.

  Rufus pushed back his chair. “It’s been good to hear so much news from home. Now I think I’d better make sure Annalise is home before it gets later.”

  Annalise stood. “Thank you, Rufus. I do have to open the shop early tomorrow.”

  “You work in a shop?” Edna asked. “What sort of shop?”

  “Antiques, collectibles, odd and ends,” Annalise said. “It’s right on Main Street.”

  “They sell some of my jam,” Franey said. “Weekend visitors seem to like it.”

  “Beth makes excellent jam,” Edna said, smiling at Rufus.

  Rufus nodded politely and stood up. “I’ll take Annalise home now.”

  “Let Joel take her,” Eli said.

  Rufus stopped in his steps. He always took Annalise home. In fact, often the quiet ride home was the part of an evening he looked forward to most. Talking freely with Annalise, holding her hand, hearing the way she laughed when only he was around. Rufus would not counter his father, though, especially in front of guests.

  Eli lifted his chin toward Joel. “Stop on your way back and return Carter’s phone, please. I don’t want it in the house.”

  The phone could have waited until the morning, Rufus thought.

  “I’ll walk out with you.” Rufus gestured toward the front door. “It will take Joel a few minutes to bring the buggy around.”

  Annalise followed him to the front door, where she retrieved her half-dry sweater. He read the mixture of disappointment and gratitude in her face when they stepped out under the porch light and she turned her face to him.

  “I’m sorry,” Rufus said. “I thought we would have some time to talk.”

  “Me too. But we must respect your father.”

  Rufus sighed gently. “You are learning our ways.”

  They descended the steps together.

  “I really do have to open the shop early,” Annalise said. “Mrs. Weichert is going into Cañon City to visit an old rancher’s house. The family claims some of the pieces have been in the family for well over a hundred years. They may be an easy sell to the weekend antiquers.”

  “Will you be at the shop all day?”

  She shook her head. “She promises to be back before noon.”

  “Then you’ll be back here tomorrow?”

  “My Saturday quilting lesson is the highlight of my week. Wouldn’t miss it.”

  He nodded in satisfaction. “I’m sure I’ll see you.”

  They walked halfway down the driveway to where her bicycle still lay on its side.

  “I should check your brakes,” he said.

  “The
brakes are fine. The tires, too.”

  “It can’t hurt to double-check.”

  “It’s fine, Rufus. You’re sweet, but I built and sold two hightech companies. I think I can keep a bicycle in working order.”

  Joel arrived with a horse and the small cart.

  “You should have brought the buggy,” Rufus said. “It’s getting cold.”

  “I thought this would be easier to put the bike in.” Joel was already gripping the frame in two places and lifting the bike into the cart.

  “This is fine,” Annalise said. “I’m not cold, you know.”

  Rufus smiled. “So you often tell me.”

  “You two can hold your smiling contest later,” Joel said. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Rufus did not much care for his brother’s attitude, but this was not the time to challenge him. He turned to Annalise and offered a hand to help her up into the cart. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Right after lunch.”

  “Have you got the phone, Joel?” Rufus asked.

  Joel raised the reins. “I’m not an idiot.”

  “I know you didn’t want to do this.” Annie gripped the seat. Joel was letting the horse have a little too much head.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He did not turn an inch in her direction.

  He was seventeen. Annie had never been an Amish boy, but she did remember seventeen. She let an entire mile roll by before she spoke again.

  “You and your father are going to work this out.”

  “Work what out?”

  “This thing between you. That keeps you from talking to each other.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Another mile.

  If Joel did not choose to be baptized and join the Amish church, it might just take Franey around the bend. His older sister Ruth had already left home without joining the church, and while the relationship between mother and daughter had tenuously stitched itself back together over the last few months, Annie was sure Franey was not ready to go through that again with another child.

  “I’m not Ruth, you know,” Joel said.

  How did he do that? “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You don’t have to. I’m not stupid. I know Mamm wants me to be baptized, the sooner the better.”

  “You have to do what is right for you.”

  “Look where that got Ruth.”

  “Still. It’s true.”

  Another mile. Two more to go.

  “I’m going to be baptized,” he said. “I’m just not on a time schedule. There’s no hurry unless I decide I want to get married.”

  “True enough.”

  “And I’m not getting married any time soon.”

  “I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

  “About as much as you do.”

  Everybody she knew back in Colorado Springs thought she needed a good shrink. Sell her business for millions of dollars and park the money where she could not touch it? Give up modern technology? Move into a decrepit house one-third the size of her custom-built condo and immediately get rid of the electricity? Take classes—in German—to learn the Amish faith?

  “I stumble through one day at a time,” she said.

  “It seems to me you’ve got a pretty good grip on things.”

  “Smoke and mirrors, I assure you.”

  “I’m Amish,” he said. “I’m not supposed to know about magic tricks.”

  Annie elbowed him and laughed. They turned off the main highway and onto Main Street heading east. A few blocks later, Joel turned the horse north.

  “Lights are on in your house,” he said. “Did you leave them burning?”

  Annie leaned forward. “No.”

  “Well, somebody did.”

  The living room was well lit. Annie wondered if there were such a thing as an Amish thief. Who else would know not to reach for a wall switch?

  Joel slowed the horse and reached to extinguish the lantern hanging from the front of the cart.

  “I guess I forgot,” she said.

  “You don’t forget, Annalise. Even I know that.”

  They stopped in front of the house. “Should we call 911?” Annie pulled her phone out of her sweater pocket and flipped it open. Westcliffe was the seat of Custer County. A county sheriff ’s car would be just minutes away.

  “I can’t just leave you here.” Joel put a hand on Annie’s arm.

  They watched the house for a few silent seconds.

  “I’m going in with you,” Joel finally said. “But turn on the phone just in case.”

  Three

  Joel looped the reins around the mailbox at the curb. Staying in the shadow of the house, Annie led the way up the driveway and around the back of the house.

  “How do you think they got in?” Joel’s whisper might as well have been a megaphone.

  Annie put a finger to her lips and stepped onto the small porch outside her back door. With one hand still gripping her cell phone, she slowly lowered the handle on the screen door. Ready to wince if the contrary spring at the top betrayed them, she opened the door inch by inch and slipped into the opening. Joel was right behind her when she tested the knob on the main door. She was sure she had locked it when she left, but it turned easily now.

  Inside, her fingers found the edge of the counter and she felt her way along it across the small dark kitchen. A shadow crossed the light seeping around the edges of the swinging door between the kitchen and dining room. Someone was definitely on the other side—and moving around.

  “I can’t see anything.” Joel’s feet dragged on the floor.

  “Put your hand on my shoulder. Watch out for the trash—”

  But Annie’s hushed warning was too late. Joel stumbled and sent the metal can clanging across the floor. She halted and froze. Joel’s tumbling weight against her back nearly knocked her over.

  The door from the dining room opened. “Annie, is that you?”

  The air went out of Annie so fast she almost whistled like a balloon. “Mom!”

  Annie reached for the small propane lamp she knew was at the end of the counter and turned the switch. Her father now stood behind her mother in the doorway. Myra Friesen looked from her daughter to the young man behind her.

  “This is Joel,” Annie said. “Rufus’s brother. Joel, these are my parents, Myra and Brad Friesen.”

  “Hello, Joel,” Myra said.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Joel nudged Annie. “Everything’s okay, ya?”

  She nodded. Whatever brought her parents to her home without prior arrangement was nothing she needed Joel for. “Thank you for seeing me in.”

  “I’ll leave the bike on the side of the house.”

  “Danki.” Thank you.

  The screen door slammed behind him, and Annie closed the solid inner door. Then she righted the trash can, grateful she chose the covered model when she outfitted her kitchen.

  Myra glanced around the kitchen. “You’ve done a nice job making something of this room…with its limitations.”

  “Thank you. Mom, what’s going on? How did you even get in?”

  “You’ve got a tree in the backyard just like the one at home. It even has the same low branch—good for climbing. It was simple enough to think you’d hide a key there like we do at home.”

  “Busted. Where did you stash your car?” If she had seen their sedan, she might have spared a few extra heartbeats moments ago.

  Myra set the house key on the counter. “We figured your garage was empty, considering your car is in our garage at home.”

  Home. Was her mother going to work that word into every sentence? Annie let the comment pass and instead gestured to the dining room. “Why don’t I make some coffee and you can tell me why you’re here?”

  Along with the coffee, Annie produced half a chocolate cake. They sat at the oval table up against the window in the dining room.

  “Mmm. Delicious!” Myra jabbed her fork in for a second bite
of cake. “Is this from a bakery in town?”

  “No. I made it.”

  “You made this? You never used to like to bake.”

  “I’m trying a lot of new things these days.” Annie nudged a small pitcher of cream toward her dad, who she knew would want a generous portion.

  “Well, I miss some of your old habits.” Myra licked chocolate off her top lip. “Like calling your mother.”

  “I call you every Saturday and we yak the charge out of my phone.” Annie twirled her fork, balancing a piece of cake. “I would have called you tomorrow like always.” So why were they here?

  Brad cleared his throat. “We’re here on a special mission.”

  “Which is?”

  “Penny is coming home.” Myra looked at Annie hopefully.

  Annie had not seen her sister in almost a year and a half. Though Annie had gone to Colorado Springs for Christmas, at the last minute Penny had to cancel her flight from Seattle and missed the holiday.

  “When does she arrive?”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “Tomorrow!” Annie set her mug down. “Why didn’t we find out sooner?”

  “We found out last Saturday. She called right after I got off the phone with you. I meant to send you a note, but I never got to it. I’m just not used to communicating the old-fashioned way, I guess.”

  Annie wondered how many times she and her mother would have to go around this loop.

  “I wanted to leave a message on your phone,” Myra said, “but you have all these rules about what is a true emergency.”

  “It seemed the simplest thing to drive out here,” Brad said.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t home.” Annie reached for the pot and warmed up her coffee.

  “We can take you back with us in the morning,” Myra said.

  “You’re staying the night?”

  “Certainly. Not here, of course. We’ve already checked in at Mo’s.”

  Annie nodded. Mo’s motel. Where they had electricity. And complimentary Wi-Fi.

  “I’m sure you’ll be comfortable there.” She paused. “I’m not sure about going back with you, though.”

  Myra’s fork hit the bare plate. “But you have to. I told you. Penny’s coming. It’s hard for her to get away.”