Accidentally Amish (41 page)

“You’re Karl Kramer, aren’t you?” Annie surprised herself with the words and her own intuition. She moved down three more stair steps. “What are
you
doing here?”

“You should not be here.”

He crept toward her with just enough persistence to drive her down another two steps.

“I could report you,” Annie said.

“And have to explain yourself? I don’t think so.” He took the first step off the landing. “This is a small town. Everybody knows you bought that old house.”

Two more steps and she was on the first floor, just as he took his second step down the stairs.

“The front door’s unlocked,” he said. “Get out of here.”

Annie opened it, stood in the door frame with her hand on the doorknob, and turned toward the stairs. “If you hurt Rufus, I will find a way to prove it.”

She slammed the door hard and ran even harder. It was still daylight. Anyone watching would see a young woman out for a Sunday afternoon run in the late August mountain sun. At the back of her house, Annie fumbled with her keys, breathless, and heaved herself into her kitchen. Inside, she leaned against the refrigerator and unclenched her fist. The scrap of paper was scrunched into the size and shape of a spitball, but she carefully unfolded every crease and pressed it flat.

Yes, she was sure now. It was
mer
, and it was a signature. Now all she had to do was find a sample of Karl Kramer’s signature. Her laptop sat open on the ottoman, and she went to it to search for images of his contractor’s license or title to a house or any kind of legal document that would bear his signature.

She came up with nothing. Her dreams that night shuffled documents and television crime show scenes together. She woke exhausted. But she had to pick up Ruth at six so they could be back to their lives in Colorado Springs before nine. At a staff meeting at ten, Annie would explain to her team what had been going on with the recent series of covert meetings.

Craving coffee, Annie pulled into the Beiler driveway. Rufus sat in a chair on the covered front porch. She had planned to simply wait for Ruth in the car without disturbing the rest of the family, but because Rufus was outside, Annie got out of the car and approached the steps.

“I didn’t expect to see you out here so early.” She leaned on the railing at the bottom of the steps.

“
Gut
mariye
to you also,” he said.

“Sorry. Good morning. But why aren’t you still in bed, resting?” She moved up toward the porch.

“I have rested for two weeks. I want to work today.”

“Aren’t you pushing it?” Annie sat in a chair next to him and felt the warmth coming off his skin. She resisted the urge to put a hand to his forehead to see if the warmth was feverish. Outside, in the fresh air, he smelled more like himself instead of an arsenal of medicine.

“Work is a gift from God,” Rufus said. “I simply want to receive His gift.”

Annie decided not to argue the point. “I found something last night. I think it proves Karl Kramer was in that house. I just need to find a sample of his signature to compare and be sure.” She told him about the scrap of paper.

Rufus turned slowly to look at Annie full on. “You went to that house?”

She met his violet-blue gaze and willed her thudding heart to slow. “The police aren’t getting anywhere. I thought maybe some fresh eyes would see something they missed.”

“You were foolish. You could have been hurt.”

“I was investigating.”

“You were trespassing.”

“I didn’t hurt anything.”

“Didn’t you?” His eyes turned back to the mountains.

“No. Besides, I wasn’t the only one there. I’ve never met Karl Kramer, so I can’t be sure, but I would bet my company that he was the man I saw in that house. Talk about trespassing. It’s not his building project. The fact that he came back suggests he’s up to no good.”

“That logic is not exactly flawless.”

“You know what I mean.” Annie was not giving up easily. “What was he doing creeping around a house he is not even building?”

“I suppose you think he was looking for the paper you found.”

“Could be. Most of it is still under the carpet pad.”

“It’s not your business, Annalise.”

She reached across the chairs and put a hand on his forearm. The muscles under her fingers tensed. “I care about what happens to you, Rufus. The sooner the police nail Karl Kramer, the sooner you can get your peaceful life back—without all these complications.”

“I do want a peaceful life,” Rufus said, “but you confound me more than anything else.”

He withdrew his arm from her touch. His words silenced her, and a flush rose in her cheeks against her best effort to subdue it. Why was it so hard for him to see that she was trying to help?

“You must let it go, Annalise.” Rufus sighed and leaned forward in his chair. “You can’t control everything. You have to stop trying to win. You certainly do not have to win anything for me. That is a way of life from your world, not mine.”

“I just want justice. God likes justice, doesn’t He?”

“God
is
justice,” Rufus said. “You don’t understand that. You have been in our home. You have been in our church, among our people. You have even used your technology to study us. Still you do not understand. Just when I think you begin to grasp our ways, you take things into your own hands again.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t expect you to be Amish, Annalise, but I do hope you can respect our ways.”

“I
do.
”

He shook his head. “Our life is grounded in submission, and yours seeks control. You can’t have both.”

Glassenheit.
Ruth had used that word. Annie Friesen had never been very good at submission.

The front door opened, and Ruth emerged. Annie stood up.

“I hope you feel better soon. I’ve got some things to go control.” Annie’s dry tone sounded hollow even to her.

Rufus looked up at Ruth. “Did you say good-bye to
Mamm
?” he said, still speaking English.

She shook her head, and Annie realized how pale Ruth looked.

“She’s staying in bed late. I don’t think she wants to talk to me.”

“Neither of you is willing to talk about the one thing that matters. You started something when you left,” Rufus said, “and you are picking at a sore when you visit.”

“I came back for
you
,” Ruth said. “You could have died.”

“And I thank you. But you came back again.”

“To see how you are healing.”

“You are training to be a healer. You will have to heal this thing between you and
Mamm.
” Rufus leaned back and closed his eyes. The conversation was over.

Annie and Ruth got in the car and buckled their seat belts.

“Does Rufus always do this?” Annie asked.

“Do what?”

“Dump a pithy impossible challenge on people instead of just saying good-bye.”

“He’s hardest on people he cares about most.”

Annie waited in the upscale downtown bistro for her mother. Once a month they met here for lunch. Generally they both pretended to review the menu, hunting for something new to try, and then both ordered the corned beef on rye they loved. It came with coleslaw they dissected, trying to discover the secret ingredient that made them want to buy a container to go—which they invariably did. In the fairer months, they ate outside at a small sidewalk table sequestered from passing pedestrian traffic by a iron fence. Annie had chosen a table in the shade.

When Myra arrived this time, Annie set her menu aside. “Let’s just get the corned beef.”

“Seems like the efficient thing to do.” Myra had been shopping. She kissed Annie’s forehead, and then she set a boutique bag on the sidewalk under the table. “Summer sweaters are 40 percent off.”

Annie smiled. Myra loved to shop, but even more, she salivated over bargains. Annie’s closet was full of bargains Myra had picked up over the years. Most of them Annie never wore.

The food came quickly. Annie suspected the waitress, who served them every month, had put the order in to the kitchen before her mother arrived. She made a mental note to leave a huge tip.

“So you’ve been to the Amish place again.” Myra corralled meat between bread slices.

“It’s not the ‘Amish place,’ Mom. It’s a quaint, historic small town with a few Amish families in the area.”

“When do I get to see the house you bought?”

Annie swallowed a bite. “Let me get it fixed up first.”

“I can’t imagine what the kitchen must be like in a house that old.”

Annie shrugged. “I don’t do much in the kitchen anyway.”

“I should have taught you better.”

“You taught plenty, Mom. Penny learned, after all. She has food on the brain. I just thought other things were important.”

“It’s not too late to learn to cook.”

“I suppose not.”

“I could sew curtains for your new windows.”

“I might take you up on that one,” Annie said, “but you have to teach me. Did you know the Amish women make all the clothes for the family?”

“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?” Myra sucked coleslaw off her fork, her eyes rolling in pleasure.

“I don’t know. Maybe. But there’s something appealing about the way the Beilers live—well, all the Amish, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I’m there, I hear sounds I don’t hear in town. Instead of televisions and stereos, dishes clink around the table and milk makes that
whoosh
when it comes out of the cow. And I smell things I’ve always been in too much of a rush to notice. They have a reason for how they live. They hear the voice of God. They choose life instead of letting it happen to them.”

“We all choose our lives,” Myra said. “You chose to go to college. You chose to start a business. You chose your condo.”

“Did I? The whole system is so competitive. Of course I started a business. That’s what winners do.”

“Annie, what are you talking about?” Myra put her fork down, laid her hands in her lap, and stared at her daughter.

“I wonder what it would be like, that’s all.”

“Living without television? Without electricity? Without that computer you use like an appendage?”

Annie spread coleslaw around her plate with a fork. “The trade-off might be worth it.”

“You need a vacation. Let’s go somewhere that has a beach.”

“Mom. A vacation is not the answer. I’ve had a lucrative offer for the business. I think I’m going to take it. I could sell the condo. This may be the time to rethink my life.” Annie shrugged. “And yes, the Amish may help me do that. They already have.”

“Didn’t you tell me that your friend Ruth left the Amish way after growing up in it?”

“She’s still trying to figure it out. She’s choosing something. Answering a call. It’s very spiritual for her, even if it does come at a price.”

“If you want to be more spiritual, maybe you should just go to church a little more often.” Myra resumed eating. “We always went when you were little. We all got out of the habit. But when your dad and I go now, people still ask after you.”

Annie nodded. “I might try that. But I might want more.”

Myra’s eyes narrowed. “You mean, like join the Amish?”

Annie pinched a piece of bread off the sandwich she had not eaten. “I don’t know if I would make a very good Amish woman, but I wonder about it. I’m at least going to get serious about faith again and find out where it takes me.” In her mind’s eye, she saw herself standing in the purple dress in the barn. Rufus’s scent filled her nostrils even now.

“Annalise Friesen, buying a weekend house near the mountains is one thing, but I’ve seen that look on your face before. You’re seriously considering joining the Amish.”

“I don’t even know if they would have me, but what if I did?”

“Think about your family, Annie. Everything would change.”

“Not everything.”

“This is about that man, isn’t it?” Myra said sharply. “He’s got your brain scrambled.”

“I admit Rufus—well, he’s not like any man I’ve ever known. But I wouldn’t do this just for him. I would do it for me. For my relationship with God to change.”

Myra pushed her chair back and stood up. “I’ve lost my appetite.” She tossed her napkin onto the table and picked up her shopping bag. “I believe it’s your turn to get the check.”

Annie’s mouth hung open as she watched her mother walk away without looking back.
Great. Someone else fed up with me. Okay, God, what am I supposed to do with that?

October 1747

E
lizabeth flung open the green shutters and breathed in the view of the Byler farm from the kitchen window. Fall air snapped through on the breeze.

After Jacobli was born in the cabin, Jakob drew up plans for a house. When John arrived the next year, and Christian started sleeping in the barn because the cabin was so crowded, Jakob began stacking stones and smearing mortar. By the time Sarah arrived a year after John, the home was nearly finished. Joseph and David, Elizabeth was glad to say, were born in the bedroom upstairs.

The home was simple and functional, but compared to the cabin, it was spacious beyond Elizabeth’s dreams. She enjoyed the roomy kitchen and the broad table large enough for the family to gather. Whether for meals, lessons, or conversation, the table was in constant use. The kitchen had a small hearth for cooking, but Elizabeth’s favorite wall was in the main room. In the evenings, Jakob tended the fire in the wide wall made of stone harvested from the fields during the clearing years and matching the outside of the house. The black oak mantel seemed to give him particular pleasure. A rank of upstairs bedrooms sheltered all the children with no more than two to a bed even when all ten of them lived at home. Now when Barbara’s husband traveled overnight, there was plenty of room for Barbara and her toddler and infant sons to stay a few days.