Jacob waited until the broad door closed between the main room and the kitchen. “You know Mamm does not like when you talk about the war at the dinner table.”
“I cannot help it,” Joseph said. “I must do more.”
“Your crops help feed the militia. You play an important role.”
“You and John could look after my land.”
“We have our own fields, and the tannery and the powder mill.”
“I know. But all the powder in the world will not matter if Washington does not have enough soldiers.”
“Washington is a better general than you give him credit for,” John said.
“We are all trying to do our part, Joseph.” Jacob tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “You cannot take the weight of winning the war on your own shoulders.”
They heard the wagon and sat alert.
“That will be David,” Jacob said. He crossed the room to open the front door in time to see David sling down from the wagon seat and hitch the horses to a post. He raised his eyebrows in question as his youngest brother stomped the dust off his boots before entering.
David shook his head. “I delivered the load just as we planned, but I did not find much to haul back.”
“How much?”
“More coal and brimstone than saltpeter.”
Jacob tilted his head and sighed. “I have some saltpeter left from May. Perhaps we will be better off than we think.”
David reached inside his shirt. “I have this as well.”
“From Sarah?” Jacob took the envelope.
“I did not get to see her, but she left the letter with her maid.”
Jacob laughed. “She’s using her maid for subterfuge. There is no telling what Sarah would do right under the nose of a British officer if she had the chance.” He opened the envelope and scanned the note. “Thomas Jefferson, eh? She says he is the best man for the job.”
“Apparently he has a knack for wordsmithing,” David said. “I’m sure the rest of the Congress will hack his effort to pieces, but somebody has to get something on paper.”
Jacob could not help but wonder if Sarah had made any inquiries that might lead to Maria. If she had, she did not mention them.
“Is there any food?” David asked.
“There’s bread on the table. I’ll see what else is left.”
As David sank into a chair, Jacob pushed through the door to the kitchen and scanned the room. “Where’s Katie?”
“I sent her to lie down on my bed,” his mother answered. “The poor thing is worn out. The new boppli will be here soon. I sent all the children upstairs.”
“David is home.”
“And hungry, I suppose.” Elizabeth held out a hand, and John’s wife put a plate in it.
“Of course.” David always wanted food.
Elizabeth moved to the pie cabinet, where the leftover food sat, and began to fill the plate.
“I think I’ll go check on Katie,” Jacob said.
On his mother’s bed, Jacob found his wife turned on one side with a hand on her swollen belly. She smiled when he appeared in the door frame.
“I noticed you did not eat much.” Jacob sat and massaged Katie’s arm from elbow to wrist.
“Indigestion.”
“That’s what you said before Catherine, and before the twins. It went on for days.”
“I know. It won’t be much longer.”
“Catherine needs a sister.”
Katie nodded. “I want to name her Elizabeth. Do you think your mother would mind if we called her Lisbet?”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “She would be honored to share her name, and pleased that you want to remember my sister.” He stroked the back side of her hand. “Would you like to go home to your own bed?”
“After I have a nap. Do you mind waiting?” Katie snuggled her face into a pillow.
In the end, his mother insisted on putting the children to bed upstairs so Jacob would not have to disturb Katie to take her home. She would need her rest before hard labor began.
John and Joseph collected their families and rumbled off the homestead, which had become a productive farm in the last thirty years. Jacob’s mother occupied a widow’s seat—the house and a few acres around it, where she kept chickens and sometimes a pig, and had a couple of cherry trees. Though he built his own house near the tannery after his father died and Jacob owned the rest of the land that had once been his father’s, he would provide for his mother as long as she lived. David still resided in the big house, hesitant to buy his own land because he dreamed of North Carolina.
“After independence,” David said often, “America will open wide.” It would not be long now, Jacob hoped.
Mother and son sat on the front porch together admiring the stars.
“I’m sorry the boys are not more careful about their war talk,” Jacob said.
Elizabeth let a long moment lapse. “Until the day your father died, Christian hoped he would return to the Amish church and peaceful ways.”
“Daed was a peaceful man, but he would do whatever was necessary to protect his family.”
“I am not Amish,” Elizabeth said, “but that does not mean I love war.”
“I know. I hope you do not think any of us loves war.”
“I am a mother of four able-bodied sons. Of course the thought of war distresses me. And do not think I cannot guess what is really in those wagons you send David out with. You could not possibly be tanning that many hides.”
Jacob chuckled. “No, Mamm.”
“Just remember that the British soldiers are sons and husbands and fathers as well.”
“What does this mean?” Magdalena wanted to know. “Are we citizens of this new nation whether we want to be or not?”
“It does not change our lives,” her father answered. Gently he took the newspaper from her hands and folded it. “Why are you reading this? We have nothing to do with any of that. You know this, Magdalena.” Where did she even get this newspaper? News of the Declaration of Independence had reached the countryside outside Philadelphia within a day. He could not shield her from that, but she had no business reading an English newspaper. Calmly, Christian sat on the top step leading up to the broad front porch of his home.
“How can you say it has nothing to do with us, Daed? These people took Nathanael from me. And now they want to force me to be a part of their new nation?” Magdalena paced in the dirt at the bottom of the steps. Her youngest siblings tumbled in the grass beyond her.
“We live separate, Magdalena,” Christian said. “Apart. Peacefully. We give our allegiance to God. Force is not a part of our lives.”
“Tell that to Nathan.”
“Magdalena!”
She stopped pacing, crossed her arms, and turned to face him. “I’m sorry, Daed. I mean no disrespect. They attacked Nathanael and he has never been the same. I know the men who did it.”
“One of them was shot in the battle at Lexington. The ways of force did not help him.”
“You know Nathanael was not the only one they bullied,” Magdalena said.
“The Patriots bully anyone who is not a Patriot.” It was simple fact, Christian thought.
“But they especially bully the Amish.”
“They understand an enemy,” Christian said. “The British are an enemy, and they believe they must fight an enemy. But they do not understand neutrality. They do not understand loving their enemies.”
“The British are not much better. Look what they did to your corn.”
“They harmed only a small fraction of the crop.”
“Were you really there when your father swore allegiance to King George?”
Magdalena seemed to be calming, he was glad to see. “I was not supposed to be. I was a disobedient little boy who snuck off a ship and into a strange city. I put myself and my family at risk because I wanted to see my daed take the oath. But yes, I was there.”
“He promised allegiance to the Crown. Did
that duty die with him? Or are we bound by it as well?”
“Magdalena, you are full of questions tonight.” Christian was not surprised. Of all his children, Magdalena was the most spirited. She had grown into the image of her missing aunti Maria in more ways than one.
“If I have to choose a side, I choose the British,” Magdalena said.
“But we will not choose a side. You understand this, ya?”
She did not answer.
“Take the little ones inside to clean up for bed, please,” Christian said.
Magdalena called the children, and they rambled up the steps, pausing to kiss their daed on their way into the house.
In a month or so Babsi would bear their second child. After two miscarriages following Antje’s birth, Babsi was particularly anxious to hold this child in her arms. When he was a boy, Christian’s parents left Europe because of the proliferation of wars. They did not want their only son to grow up and be forced to serve in an army. That was why his father swore allegiance to the king of England. Pennsylvania was a free land. But could it now remain free and be peaceful while his own children grew up?
A few days later, Jacob held his own declaration of independence. Lisbet lived up to her name and even looked like his mother. This squalling bundle was the first of his children—the first of his family—to be born in the United States of America, rather than a British colony.
Jacob kissed his new daughter’s cheek, grateful she would grow up in a free nation.
Seventeen
Did you sleep?” Annie handed Penny her largest mug filled with hot coffee.
Eyes closed, Penny inhaled the steam. “I didn’t think I would, but I did.”
“Must be the mountain air.” Annie gestured to the dining room table. “I made blueberry muffins.”
“From scratch?”
“From scratch.”
“I’m impressed.”
“You should be.” Annie picked up a muffin and bit into it.
“You have hot water in this joint? I need a shower.”
“We are a five-star camping facility. But me first. I know how you dawdle.”
Upstairs, Annie showered and dressed. Then half listening to the sounds of Penny’s progress, she opened the folder she had retrieved the night before and stuck an envelope in the bag she always carried. An hour later, with Penny at the wheel, they rolled into the Beiler driveway.
Ruth was ready, sitting on the porch with her small bag and her head back against the top of the Adirondack chair. She looked weary to Annie. When Ruth spotted the car, she leaned forward and lifted herself out of the seat.
Annie got out of the car and met Ruth coming down the porch steps. “Excuse my bluntness, but you look like a truck hit you.”
Ruth rubbed one hand over an eye. “I didn’t sleep.”
“Your next visit will be more restful. The Stutzmans will move out and you’ll get your room back.”
Ruth shook her head. “There’s just so much to think about when I come here.”
Annie considered probing, but Ruth moved toward the Prius and did not meet her eyes. A car door slammed, and Annie saw that Penny had gotten out and was walking toward them.
Annie pulled an envelope out of her bag. “Ruth, before you go, I have something for you.”
Ruth twisted at the waist to look at Annie. “You do so much for me as it is.”
“I want to give you some papers.” Annie slipped a form out of the envelope and unfolded it. “This is the title to the Prius. I’ve signed it over to you.”
“What?” Ruth’s sluggish steps froze.
Penny came near. “Yes, what she said. What?” She took the paper from Annie’s hands. “You really did sign over the title to Ruth Beiler.”
“You have to take it back,” Ruth said.
Annie shook her head. “Nope. I already put your name in and signed.”
Penny handed the paper to Ruth. “Looks legal to me.”
“It may be legal,” Ruth said, “but it’s crazy.”
“Why?” Annie set her jaw in challenge. “You need a car.”
“I’ve been getting along without one.”
“It’s stressful to get around in Colorado Springs without a car. You can’t do that indefinitely. You have a permit, after all.”
“For ID purposes,” Ruth said.
“Then why have you been learning to drive?”
Penny’s eyebrows went up. “You’ve been learning to drive?”
“Shh. Not so loud.” Ruth glanced toward the house. “My mother doesn’t know and this is not the way to tell her.”
“Of course not.” Penny lowered her voice. She turned to Annie. “But what about insurance? Repairs?”
“It’s still under warranty for two more years.” Annie handed the envelope to Ruth. “The papers are in here, along with enough cash to put insurance in your name for the next six months.”
“But your car,” Ruth said.
“Your car.” Annie blew out a breath. “I’ve been thinking about this constantly the last few days. And about what I did on Saturday. I can’t have the car sitting there, tempting me, making it so easy. I would always know I could get it whenever I want. You need it. I don’t.”
Penny looked from Annie to Ruth. “You really have a permit?”
Ruth nodded.
“Then this is yours.” Penny dangled the Prius key in front of Ruth.
Ruth softened. “I don’t know what to say, Annalise.”
“Just drive carefully.”
“I will,” Ruth said. She looked back toward the house. “But not until we’re out of town. I don’t need to rub it in Mamm’s face.”
“Then let’s hit the road,” Penny said. “We’ll drop Annie off and get going.”
Annie shook her head. “I don’t have to be at the shop until two o’clock. I’m going to hang around here awhile. Maybe work on my quilt.”
“I’m sure Mamm would love that,” Ruth said.
Something in Ruth’s tone sounded off to Annie, but Ruth was already putting her bag in the car so the moment for conversation passed. Annie hugged her sister then waved good-bye as Penny turned the car around and aimed for the road. What would Penny and Ruth find to talk about? she wondered. Or would they be content with silence? She hoped not.
Annie turned, went up the steps, and crossed the porch. Tapping lightly on the front door, she turned the knob with the other hand. She glanced over her shoulder and across the clearing to Rufus’s workshop. Franey would know if Rufus was around.
No one was in the front room. Jacob would be in school, and Joel should be out in the fields with his father. Franey, Lydia, and Sophie must be scattered in the house, Annie thought, or perhaps in the barn. She heard no sound of any of the Stutzmans, either. Perhaps they were busy readying their own home.
Annie moved to the cedar chest under the window. If she had a few minutes alone, she could surprise Franey by making some progress. her palms stroked the polished finish of the chest. She imagined Rufus’s hands insisting on perfection in his craft. The touch of the solid chest that he had labored over started a tremble in her fingers. She wished Rufus would feel that way about the quilt she labored over. Annie knew it was far from perfect, though. Perhaps this would not be the quilt he admired, but the next one, or the one after that. Her throat thickened. How long would it take before she could offer Rufus what he deserved in a wife?
Maybe never. Even if she could learn to be perfectly Amish, she had done things in her past she was not sure she would ever want to admit to Rufus.
Penny’s words knocked around in Annie’s head. Was she sure becoming Amish was not just for Rufus? She could be wrong. With a sigh, she lifted her eyes to the ceiling. Lord, make me sure. I’ll go or I’ll stay. Just make me sure. But at the thought of a future without Rufus her chest heaved in protest.
She had begun to lift the lid when she heard the familiar weight on the outside steps.
Rufus opened the front door, an empty tumbler in
his hand that he intended to refill in the kitchen.
The cedar chest’s lid thumped closed. Annalise spun around and smiled at him. He loved her smile. Today, though, it left him doubting her state of mind.
“So our sisters are off together,” Rufus said.
Annalise nodded. “They may spill all our secrets to each other.”
“More likely they’ll stare at each other for an hour or so.”
“No doubt.” Annalise moved toward him and reached for the glass. “Let me pour you a cold drink.”
He let go of the glass but did not miss the tremor in her hand. “Just finishing a few odd jobs.” He looked around. “Is no one home?”
“Not that I can tell,” Annalise said.
She turned toward the kitchen, but he touched her wrist then held her hand. “I don’t really care about the drink. We haven’t talked in ages. I want to know how you are.”
She was trembling. He was sure of it. And her eyes were puddles.
“How was your visit home?” He nudged her gently to the sofa and sat down beside her.
Her lips moved through about twenty poses without settling on words.
“Complicated, eh?” he said.
She nodded and put her hands up to the sides of her head, squeezing. “My family doesn’t understand what I’m doing. Sometimes I think I don’t understand what I’m doing myself.”
Now the tremble was in her voice. He took her hands in his and lowered them to her lap, holding them there. Under his fingers, he felt the resistance slide away. He waited a few more seconds, holding her with his eyes, urging the tension from her.
“You’re listening,” he said, “and trying to obey.”
She took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. Her hands, still under his, relaxed.
Rufus raised a finger to her lips. “You don’t have to explain everything now.” He traced her lips, lightly, barely touching them. In the months he had known her, he could count on one hand the times he had kissed her. But he had lost track of the number of times he wanted to kiss her. If he gave in every time he wanted to—every time she wanted him to—he would not be thinking of her good, but only his pleasure.
The tremble was in her face now, and he knew he should stop. If he did not, he would move his hand to her hair, and his face close to hers. This woman, this English who dared to take up Amish ways, turned him inside out.
IN PLAIN View Page 11
