Accidentally Amish (45 page)

“You’re my
mudder.
I need you in my life.”

Franey stooped to pick up her basket and the hand shovel she had used as long as Ruth could remember. She simply waited.

“I want to explain.” Ruth moved closer, her toes at the edge of the garden now. “It might not change anything, but at least you will know.”

She wished her mother would suggest sharing tea or sitting on the porch, but Franey was planted in the earth with her basket of weeds in one hand and her shovel in the other. Franey had done nothing wrong that day. Ruth was the one to deceive and disappoint.

Annie waited a few minutes before starting up the lane on foot. Instead of following to the garden, though, Annie took the path that forked toward Rufus’s woodworking shop. The gray, brooding sky almost certainly held a torrent to unleash on the valley.

Annie pulled open the shop door and breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re here.”

Rufus looked up from his bench, where he was working on a hinge. “Why is it you never say good afternoon?”

“Sorry. Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon. I’m surprised to see you.” He raised his eyes to her and straightened the front of his shirt.

Annie stepped closer to the workbench. “Actually, I’m moving into the house in town.”

“Will you be coming down every weekend, then?” Rufus blew the dust off a hinge. He gripped a screwdriver in one hand, his eyes on her.

“I’m going to live here full-time.” It wasn’t the color of his eyes that transfixed her now, but the grasping that swirled in them.

“That sounds like a rash decision.” Rufus set down the screwdriver and unrolled one sleeve toward his wrist, then the other.

“You’re not the only one who thinks I’ve gone around the bend, but I’m sure it’s what I am supposed to do.” Annie put both hands on the workbench and leaned in.

“I suppose your technology allows you to run your business from here. You’ve been doing that already.” Rufus gently lifted one cabinet and moved it to the end of the bench then put a new one, still looking raw, in the space in front of him.

“I sold it.”

He looked at her. “The business?”

She had his attention now. “I sold it, and I’m not keeping the money.”

Rufus stilled. “How will you support yourself?”

“I can live simply.” Saying it, she believed it.

“And why are you doing this?”

“I know you don’t believe me, but I want a different life.”

“I did not say I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t think I can do it, do you?”

“That is not for me to say.” He put his hands in pockets of the tool belt around his waist and fished out another hinge. “I hope you can live simply enough to simply leave Karl Kramer alone.”

“God’s will, as you always say.”

He shook his head. “Do not say that lightly, Annalise.”

“I don’t. I’m really, really trying to let go of managing everything my way.”

Rufus picked up the screwdriver again, saying nothing. Annie saw several identical cabinets lined up on the floor awaiting hinges and front doors. This was work his crew could perform easily, yet clearly he intended to do it himself. Did he even have a crew anymore, or had his hospitalization and recuperation forced them to look elsewhere for employment? He looked tired—tired in body and tired in spirit. She wanted to sit with him and put her arms around him, draw his head down against her. She would stroke his brown hair, his clean-shaven cheek, his muscled arm, and he would close his eyes and rest.

But it could not be.

“I brought Ruth,” she said abruptly.

He looked up at her again.

“To talk to your mother.” She met his gaze. “To try to remove whatever it is between them. She thinks you are right about that.”

Rufus set down the hinge and screwdriver then picked up a rag and wiped his hands free of the dusty evidence of his task. He repeated the motion more than necessary.

“You’re thinking of going to find them, aren’t you?” Annie crossed her arms over her chest.

Rufus tossed the rag onto the bench. “I am not sure how
Mamm
will respond.”

“Who is trying to control things now?”

Rufus turned up one corner of his mouth. “Not control. Just be there.”

“Can you imagine what I thought when I found you hiding in that outbuilding?” Franey did not take a single step out of the garden.

“I know,” Ruth said. “It was wrong.”

“Elijah Capp was in love with you.”

Franey’s voicing of simple fact stirred in accusation.

“I know,” Ruth said. “I was not fair to him.”

“He told his parents—our good friends—that he loved you, but he was not sure about being baptized.” Franey’s eyes fixed on Ruth.

“I told him he should not be baptized for me.” Ruth slipped off her shoes. She felt the ground soften under her toes as she edged into the garden plot. “It had to be the decision of his own heart.”

“But he thought you were going to be baptized. We all did. You took the instruction. You met with the bishop. I made you a new dress for the day. The church voted to receive you as a member—and Elijah, too. It was all set. Elijah loved you enough to put his doubts aside.”

“I never asked him to do that.” Ruth heard the breaking in her own voice.

“You didn’t try to stop him,” Franey said. “You knew what he was going to do, and you let him do it even as you planned your own escape.”

“It was not an escape,
Mamm.
” Ruth took several steps toward her mother down a loam-layered row. She had not felt the give of earth beneath bare feet for a year and a half.

“It certainly looked that way. You knelt with the baptismal candidates when we bowed for prayer so the bishop could ask God’s blessing on all of you. And when we opened our eyes, you were gone.”

A sob rattled up through Ruth, forcing its way through her throat with a gasp.

“When they saw you were gone, no one would disturb the solemn occasion for the other candidates.” Franey barely opened her mouth to speak now. “Certainly not Elijah. He was the first. The bishop came to him and poured the water on his head. Elijah made his promises, but you were gone. He sacrificed everything for you, and you spit on his sacrifice!”

“It was not that way.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“Elijah knew I had doubts. He knew I believed the Bible and trusted God, but he also knew I wanted to be a nurse. I couldn’t choose!”

“But you did choose.” Franey threw her shovel down and pointed at Ruth. “Afterwards, when we should have been rejoicing in your baptism and celebrating that you joined the church, we were tearing up the farm looking for you. Your father and I had no words for anyone. I’ll never forget the way Mrs. Capp stared at me. What could I say? I could barely congratulate Elijah. He looked for you, too, you know.”

Ruth swallowed hard. “No, I didn’t know. I’m sorry I put you all through that. I should have just told you what I was doing. I corresponded with the university for months about how I could meet their requirements without a high school diploma. I didn’t run on a moment’s whim.”

“I know it was no whim, because you arranged a ride with that
English
man who takes people to Pueblo.”

“I knew I could get a bus in Pueblo.”

“You were hiding in that shed. You had a suitcase. He knew exactly where to pick you up. The only thing you didn’t plan was for your
mudder
to find you first.”

Ruth felt a hand on her shoulder. She leaned back against the solid form of her brother. She knew then she could finish this conversation. Annie was beside her when the rain started in earnest.

“I didn’t know until the last minute that I would really go.” Tears flowed with rain down Ruth’s face. “I didn’t know what to say to you or Elijah or anyone.”

“So you said nothing.” Franey’s voice barely rose above the patter from the sky.

“I would choose differently now,” Ruth said. “I would tell you. I want to tell you now.”

“Others have left, you know. You were not baptized. People would have understood. You would not have been shunned.”

Rufus squeezed Ruth’s shoulders, and Annie slipped a hand into Ruth’s.

“
Mamm
,” Rufus said, “I think Ruth is saying she’s sorry.”

“I want you to forgive me,” Ruth pleaded, “for the way I left.”

“Are you repenting?” Franey’s question had an edge to it.

“I was thinking of myself, and that was wrong. I do repent of my selfishness.”

“But not for leaving.”

“Leaving was the right choice for me. I truly believe God wants me to be a trained nurse. I want to obey God’s will.”

“God’s will.” Franey gripped her basket with both hands now. “It’s hard to argue when someone claims to know God’s will in the matter.”

The rain cast a shiver through Ruth. She squeezed Annie’s hand.

“
Mamm
,” Rufus said, “It’s raining. Let’s go inside and talk.”

Lightning cracked the sky just as they reached the shelter of the porch, but they were drenched already. Inside, Franey said nothing to anyone. She handed them towels, disappeared for a few minutes, then sent everyone upstairs for dry clothing.

Annie opened Ruth’s bedroom door and stared at two simple dresses lying across the Tumbling Blocks quilt, one blue and one purple.

With a nervous smile, she turned to Ruth, who was right behind her. “Your mother did this.”

Ruth let her breath out hard. “I’m not sure what she means.”

“I’ve had that purple dress on before, you know.” Annie picked up the dress.

“It looks like you’re going to wear it again,” Ruth said. “You won’t find any dry jeans hiding around here.”

“You can help me do it right this time.” Annie held the dress against herself. “How about you? Will it feel strange to wear one of your old dresses?”

Ruth picked up the blue dress and held it in front of her at arm’s length. “It’s just until we can get our clothes dry. Perhaps it will reassure
Mamm
that I have not turned my heart away from God.”

“And this one will tell Rufus I can make changes that take me closer to God.”

September 1757

E
lizabeth wrapped both hands around her cup of steaming coffee and shared a corner of the table with Lisbet. Jakob and David were out milking cows. She had called once already for the others to come down to breakfast, but she relished the thought of a few moments alone with Lisbet, so she was not disappointed at their sluggish response.

“Tell me everything.” Elizabeth leaned forward on her elbows. “It was the middle of the night when you and Jacobli got home.”

“I’ve been going to apple
schnitzing
bees at the Hochstetlers’ for years,” Lisbet said, “but this was the most fun.”

“Was Quick Jake Kauffmann there?”

Lisbet nodded, her eyes glowing. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Elizabeth smiled and set her coffee down.

“We’re going to announce our engagement as soon as the harvest is in.” Lisbet reached across the table and gripped Elizabeth’s hand. “I really want you to be at my wedding in November. I can’t get married without you, and I want to have my wedding in my own home.”

Elizabeth unsuccessfully tried to swallow the knot in her throat. “I’ll try, Lisbetli. I’ll talk to
Daed.
” Jakob did business with the neighbors and gave assistance when he could. But he had not been to a church event in all the years of their marriage, not even the weddings of his own children.