Her Brother's Keeper (5 page)

Two hours later, she'd highlighted words and phrases she thought she could use, but she wondered if it would be enough to fake her way through a conversation. When her eyes grew heavy, she set the book aside, opting not to call Ryan till later since she couldn't stop yawning. It was too early for bed, not even seven p.m., so she'd just close her eyes for a little while.

Hannah watched her cousin walk up the stairs, and she waited until her father and Jacob had gone outside to tend to the animals before she spoke to her mother.

“What kind of Amish community is Mary from? She doesn't offer to help clean the kitchen, and we both saw what kind of gardener she is.” Hannah stacked dirty plates, shaking her head at the amount of uneaten food on Mary's plate.
Wasteful.
“She talks funny too. Half the time, I'm not even sure she understands the
Deitsch
. I've been speaking to her in English.”

“Mei maedel
, remember our trip to Ohio? Things were very different there.” Her mother stowed the chowchow and butter in the refrigerator. The propane truck was scheduled to deliver the following day, thankfully. They were almost out, and the refrigerator was filled to capacity, mostly with goat milk. For as long as Hannah could remember, cows were for eating, goats were for everything else. Most of their people had milking goats
and made cheeses, soaps, butter, and lotions. But
Mamm
used it for everything. Any recipe that called for milk, she used goat milk. She also made face cream for dry skin and a salve to put on wounds.

“I know that things are not always the same in other districts,” Hannah finally said. “But her community must be very different.”

Mamm
draped the kitchen towel over her shoulder and smiled. “And this is
gut
. We can learn from her about their ways.”

Hannah shrugged. “I guess.” Her mother was so happy to have a new cousin that Hannah let the subject drop.

It also struck Hannah as odd that Mary didn't even inquire about daily devotions. Surely, she and her family spent time together in the evenings giving thanks and praise to God.

Charlotte only napped for about thirty minutes, but she waited until almost eleven before calling Ryan. “Sorry it's so late,” she said when he answered. “I think everyone was in bed by eight, except for Jacob, the teenager. I kept hearing noises off and on, but last I peeked across the hall, his room was dark and all was quiet.” She glanced at the lantern on her nightstand, then at the flashlight on her bed, which illuminated the far wall, casting a shadow from the trees outside. She wasn't planning to light the
lantern. It was bad enough that there were open flames all over the house, but she wasn't going to have one in the room she was sleeping in. One fire in her life had been enough, and the first thing she'd done after that was to buy a long rope that she kept with her whenever she stayed somewhere overnight. She stowed it under the bed. She was never going to be trapped by fire again.

“It's fine. You know I stay up late. I have an early flight tomorrow, but it still wouldn't seem normal to go to bed before midnight.”

Charlotte wanted to know a lot more about Ryan, but she did know that he traveled quite a bit for work and that he was a night owl. And it had worked out okay since in the time she'd been waiting for everyone to fall asleep, she'd continued her crash course in Pennsylvania Dutch. Yawning, she laid her head back against the pillow, then filled him in on her day.

Ryan was quiet for a few moments before he said, “Um . . . it almost sounds like you had a good time.”

Charlotte sat up, twirled a strand of hair, and gave some thought to his comment. “Well, it's different. It's kind of an adventure. But I'm not sure I'll ever get used to riding in those buggies on busy highways.” She paused and lowered her voice, even though she was sure the hum from the battery-operated fan in her room would drown out the sound. “I won't lose track of why I'm here, if you're worried about that. My sole purpose is to find out what happened to Ethan. I won't be
lured into their world.” It struck her that they may try to brainwash her into staying here. Maybe that's what happened to Ethan.

“There's nothing wrong with enjoying yourself while you're there. I'm just a little surprised. The Amish are known to be really . . . religious.”

Charlotte folded her legs beneath her and sat taller in the darkness. “What does that have to do with anything?” Ryan knew that neither Charlotte nor Ethan had been raised in a church setting the way he had. But it sure hadn't stopped Ethan from joining up with these people.

“Nothing, really,” Ryan said. “I just wondered if it made you uncomfortable. Don't they pray a lot, several times a day?”

“Yeah, I think so. I read on the Internet before I came here that most Amish families pray together at night, so I've just been excusing myself early. And I just bowed my head when they did at meals. I'm not worried about that. I can fake my way through some prayers. The problem I'm having is with the language. The ladies in Beeville spoke mostly English to me.”

Ryan chuckled. “That's because they knew you didn't speak Pennsylvania Dutch. These people think you're Amish, so they're going to talk to you in their native dialect. I thought you'd practiced up on that.”

“I did, but my knowledge of their language is comparable to knowing a little conversational Italian before you go to Italy. You can ask for the check or where the
bathroom is, but that's about it. I should have known they would speak their language more frequently.” She sighed.

“Just do the best you can.”

They were both quiet for a while before Charlotte asked, “Do you think Ethan would be mad about what we're doing?”

“We?”
He laughed again. That was one of the things Charlotte liked most about Ryan. That he laughed a lot. He'd told her over one of their lunches that she didn't laugh enough. She'd pondered that comment ever since. She'd always thought of herself as a fairly happy person. Despite the grief she was clinging to over Ethan's death, she still found joy, even if it was in limited doses. She'd battled some demons in the past, but overall, she'd trained herself to be happy. Forced happiness is what her therapist called it as he encouraged her to go deeper into herself to discover what real happiness could be. Charlotte would just nod, having no idea of the difference. Happy was happy. Sad was sad.

“Hey, just because I'm the one in the Amish clothes, you're in this too,” she said jokingly, then added in a more serious tone, “You didn't argue when I said I wanted to do this. I know you are just as curious about what pushed Ethan over the edge as I am.”

“Yeah, I am. But I hate that you're having to pretend to be Amish.” He paused and took a deep breath. “And to answer your question, yes . . . Ethan would probably
be ticked if he knew about you—I mean
us
—lying to the woman he loved and her family.”

“I know. And I don't feel good about it, but I just can't shake the feeling that maybe Hannah knows something more about his death. She was engaged to the guy.”

“I just wish we could have come up with a better plan.”

Charlotte pointed the flashlight at the ceiling and moved it in circles above her head. “Well, I couldn't think of anything else. And the fact that Hannah is so tight-lipped makes me suspicious.” She paused, thinking about her day. “And I could be way off, but I think Hannah is suspicious of
me
too. Lena is beyond excited to have me here, but sometimes I catch Hannah looking at me funny.”

“Maybe you just feel guilty, and you're imagining that she's on to you. But I've always heard that the Amish like to keep to themselves. Although, they think you are Amish, so that doesn't really apply.”

“I know. I read that online. But I don't believe they walk the walk like they preach, acting all holy and better than everyone else.”

Ryan was quiet.

“Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I'm here. But I think you're wrong about them. They're known to be a Christ-centered group, and the reason they detach themselves from outsiders is because they believe themselves to be unequally yoked.”

“Exactly
. They think they're better than everyone else.”

Ryan let out a light chuckle. “Get to know them before you judge them. Or better yet, try not to judge them. Hey, maybe you'll learn something.”

“The only thing I need to learn right now is how to speak their language. Oh, and how to fall asleep without air conditioning.” She smiled as she started swirling the flashlight overhead again. “But, hey, I'll take one for our team.”

Ryan was quiet, and when he hadn't said anything after a long pause, she finally asked, “Having second thoughts?” She turned the flashlight off, but quickly flipped it back on. A lamp in the yard—presumably propane—shone in the distance, barely casting a faint glow against her window. She wasn't fond of the dark, and despite the heat, she felt a chill run the length of her spine.

“No second thoughts. I already faced my guilt, and even though I know God is frowning, I want to know about Ethan.” He paused again. “I remember Ethan telling me at Donna and Shane's wedding that he hoped to be dancing to good music well into his eighties.” Ryan sighed.

Charlotte was reminded of the dance that she and Ryan had shared at the wedding of their mutual friends. Ryan wasn't too tall, but the perfect height for someone petite like Charlotte. He kept his dark hair cut short, and he had kind, gray-blue eyes that reflected his personality. He was a good guy. But he was a little heavy on the religious stuff sometimes, and Charlotte didn't know enough about the subject to engage him in a conversation.
She only knew that the God everyone spoke about hadn't shown Himself to her. If God was God, then He could do anything. Why hadn't He helped her brother, someone who had chosen to trust Him?

“I don't know about God frowning. I'm trying to get a visual of that,” she said as she rolled onto her side, keeping the flashlight on. “I'm imagining a giant super-being hovering above in the clouds looking down on you, scowling.”

Another chortle from Ryan. “More of a figure of speech, but I do feel bad about the deception, and I'm sure God wouldn't approve.”

“Hmm . . .”

Charlotte had often wondered about the friendship between Ryan and Ethan. To her knowledge, Ethan had never believed in a divine being, which had made it all the more surprising when he became Amish.

They were both quiet again. As much as Charlotte fought the urge to have a conversation about God, something was niggling at her. “Ryan, you're a good guy. But don't feel badly about what
I'm
doing. I was just teasing you. I'm the one embedding myself in a world of lies.”

“Yeah, well . . . I probably should have talked you out of it.”

“You wouldn't have been able to.” She sighed. “Besides, I've probably already earned a spot in hell. I'm guessing there is still hope for you.” She grunted, only half kidding.

“Charlotte, I don't know why you would say that. I've never known you to be anything but good-hearted.”

I'm damaged.
She chewed on her bottom lip, not wanting the conversation to get too deep. “Ryan, you talk a lot about God. And that's fine. But it's just . . . well, He just isn't my thing. I don't base my decisions, choices, or motivations around God.”

“It's never too late to have a relationship with the Lord.”

Charlotte's eyes were watering for reasons she didn't understand. She changed the subject, but couldn't quite detach herself from the God-talk. After they hung up, she lay awake for another hour . . . wishing, longing for a God, someone who loved her, no matter her faults or mistakes. Someone who would forgive her, who was preparing a place in heaven just for her, the type of paradise believers talked about.