The Englisher (11 page)

She nodded, keeping her eyes forward, watching the road.

‘‘Is this typical winter weather?’’ he asked, then cringed at how lame that must have sounded.

She responded politely to his inquiry. ‘‘Jah, I’d say so.’’

When that attempt at conversation fizzled, he was tempted to ask what she knew of the old covered bridge. Was it considered haunted, perhaps? Stranger things had happened. He
had
sensed something there. Maybe from his family’s vacation years ago?

Here next to him was a beautiful, smart young woman with a lifetime of knowledge about the area.

Why not ask her?

He deliberated without bringing it or anything else up, which he viewed as an outrageous squandering of time, especially since he had been hoping for this very thing: a chance to be alone with Annie.

He turned his full attention to her. ‘‘Do you ever go to mud sales?’’

She looked at him. ‘‘Most everyone does round here.’’

He mentioned his conversation with Zeke, that he hadn’t known of such sales before coming here.

Then they lapsed into awkward silence, terribly aware of each other. Or, at least, he was of her.

Turning off Route 30, he knew the time remaining was relatively short. Inwardly he fidgeted, determined to make this serendipitous meeting count for something.

But before he could open his mouth and shove in another foot, Annie spoke up. ‘‘Julia says you’ve been spending time over there . . . several evenings a week.’’

Perfect,
he thought, wondering what other things Julia had told Annie. ‘‘Yes, they invite me for supper sometimes. Julia is a fantastic cook, so how can I resist? And those kids of theirs are great fun, aren’t they? So are Esther Hochstetler’s children. That Laura’s a real talkative little gal.’’

Annie brightened and seemed to relax at the mention of the little ones. ‘‘James keeps me laughin’ nearly all the time when I clean house at the Rancks’. He says the funniest things, and dear Molly . . . well, she’s just a darling two-year-old.’’

‘‘Takes after her mother, I think.’’

Annie agreed. ‘‘Cousin Julia has the sweetest spirit ’bout her.’’ She looked out the window. ‘‘Wonder if it has something to do with her . . . uh, faith,’’ she added.

He found this fascinating. ‘‘Why would you say that?’’

‘‘Well, Julia—and Irvin, too—seem to think they have a corner on God.’’

‘‘Maybe not just a corner . . . more like the whole deal,’’ he said.

She looked at him suddenly, her heart-stopping azure eyes wide at his quick comment. ‘‘Jah, and just why is it some folk claim to have a full grasp of the Bible and the teachings of God’s Son, while the rest of us seem so lost?’’

‘‘Lost? But your father’s a preacher . . . isn’t he?’’

She blushed as if he’d caught her in a lie. ‘‘Jah, and of course I’ve learned plenty from Daed at Preaching. I’m hopin’ to be taught the High German, too, so I can understand more of the Scripture readings. Still, Julia seems to know so much. . . .’’

‘‘Do you mean to say the Bible is read in a language only a few of the People comprehend?’’ He found this incredible.

‘‘It’s always been thataway. Our sacred tongue is German.’’

This was not the direction Ben wished their discussion to take, and he purposely slowed the car. There were other more intriguing subjects, at least for him, but their time together was running out. If he was going to make the link to a future meeting he
must
pay attention and talk about the things of interest to Annie.

He recalled Zeke mentioning High German during one of their initial conversations. ‘‘Say, Annie, how well do you know Zeke Hochstetler?’’

‘‘He’s my best friend’s husband. I’ve known him since Essie, I mean Esther, first met him,’’ Annie said. ‘‘He’s a hardworkin’ farmer—raises pigs.’’

‘‘He’s a curious fellow, but I like him. A man of few words, though. He drops by the harness shop quite often.’’

‘‘Nice of you to spend time with him.’’

As if no one else wants to?
Ben considered.

Annie offered no more about Zeke. And Ben guessed he shouldn’t ask why Esther and her children were staying at the Rancks’, suspecting a good enough reason.

Glancing at Annie, he gripped the steering wheel. But Annie held his gaze now, too, and it was all he could do not to simply stare back at the most engaging girl he’d ever known. Pretty and innocent all rolled into one unique package.

The silence was thick.

At last, he said, ‘‘What do you know about the covered bridges in the area?’’ He knew he should’ve been more specific.

‘‘Which ones?’’ she asked.

‘‘The long red one, over on Belmont Road.’’

‘‘Well, I know plenty. What do you want to know?’’

Here they were already traveling the road leading to Annie’s father’s house. Should he pull over? If she protested, then he would continue on. But if she said nothing, he would buy himself extra minutes.

Tremendously aware of her presence, he raised his hand from the gearshift and let it come to rest at two o’clock on the steering wheel, turning off the road slowly. When the car rolled to a stop and she did not speak up, he believed he had not offended her.

‘‘Did something, well, out of the ordinary occur there?’’ he asked.

‘‘I didn’t know for certain just what all the upheaval in the community was ’bout that bridge—not when I was little, I mean.’’

‘‘Do you mean something bad happened?’’

She nodded slowly.

Had he stumbled onto a painful topic? Had there been an accident here or . . . worse?

‘‘Can you tell me more?’’ He turned to face her.

She sighed heavily, as if the telling were too difficult. ‘‘I best not say more.’’

‘‘Sure, Annie. I understand,’’ he said. But he didn’t.

Then she surprised him and reached for the handle. There were tears on her face as she opened the door and stepped out.

What have I done?

Leaping out of the car, he hurried to catch up with her, stumbling through the remnants of snow and slush. ‘‘Annie . . . wait!’’

She kept walking, fast. Not looking back, she slipped and nearly lost her balance several times.

‘‘Annie . . . I didn’t mean to—’’

‘‘
Nee,
no, it’s not your fault.’’ She stopped to look at him. ‘‘I never should’ve told you a thing. It was ever so wrong of me.’’

Exactly what did she say?
He still was perplexed. Reaching out, he touched her black shawl. ‘‘I’m sorry, Annie. Whatever I asked about that bridge . . . I would never want to hurt you.’’

She looked at the ground, eyes downcast. ‘‘I don’t know why it still pains me so.’’

What does?
He refused to ask. His curiosity had done more than enough damage.

‘‘Please, let me take you all the way home. It’s too cold for you to walk. Too dangerous.’’ Fact was, it was bitterly cold now and the sun was sinking fast.

He reached out to her yet again, hoping she might understand the gesture as merely an offer of apology.

But she surprised him when she accepted his help, her small mittened hand slipping into his own. ‘‘I really shouldn’t, but . . .’’ She stopped midsentence, then began to walk with him toward the car, still clinging to his hand as they picked their way back through the frozen muck.

‘‘Hold tight, Annie,’’ he said. ‘‘I won’t let you fall.’’

She gasped lightly, stopped walking, and stared at him. ‘‘What?’’

Startled, he asked, ‘‘What’s wrong?’’

She looked confused but seemed to shake it off. ‘‘Oh, nothing, Ben. Just a trick of my imagination, prob’ly.’’

He smiled, hoping his fondness for her wasn’t too obvious. ‘‘It’s icy, that’s all.’’

Her eyes were fixed on him again, as if she hadn’t heard, as if she were suddenly deaf. A frown shimmered on her brow, and she blinked back tears.

What’s with this girl?

‘‘Come, let’s get you home,’’ he said.

Chapter 9

O
nce Ben had gotten her safely back into the car, he drove Annie closer to her house. She thanked him warmly for the ride and waved good-bye before heading up the road toward the turnoff to the driveway. She was glad Ben had agreed to let her out some distance from her house.
No sense worrying
Mamm or anyone who might be observing
.

Confusing as it was, she would not erase her memory of having spent this forbidden time with Ben. She refused to berate herself and deliberately kept looking forward as she walked, even when she heard Ben calling to her.

He called again, and lest she be as rude as Lou’s Denver friend, she turned around. Ben had gotten out of his car again and was motioning to her. ‘‘What is it?’’ she asked, her heart leaping.

‘‘Annie . . . would it be possible for me to take you to dinner sometime . . . say, this Friday night?’’

Oh, she wanted to accept, but first she must calm her breathing. ‘‘Well . . . I . . .’’

‘‘We could meet at a restaurant if that would suit you better,’’ he offered quickly.

She shook her head, sighing, unable to control how she felt.
Oh, this is just so hard!

He stood there looking at her, waiting for her answer. ‘‘Or I could meet you—anywhere you say.’’

No, I shouldn’t . . . I can’t.

He stepped toward her, eyes bright with hope.

I’ll regret it if I agree,
she thought,
I just know it.
But she surprised herself and said, ‘‘Well, I ’spose just once, maybe.’’

His handsome face lit up like a streetlight. ‘‘Where, Annie?’’ he asked.

‘‘Up the road a ways, but wait till after dusk,’’ she said. ‘‘Is that all right?’’

He was nodding his head to beat the band. ‘‘That’s perfect. I’ll see you Friday!’’ Then, turning, he hurried back to his car.

Annie headed toward her father’s house, willing herself to slow her pace. She mustn’t slip and fall flat on her face here in the road with Ben watching, no doubt, as he drove past. And she would not second-guess this most peculiar situation to death. Still, it
was
a terribly dangerous place to put herself, seeing him again.

She sighed, wondering what would happen if ever someone were to see her with Ben. She’d had every intention of taking baptismal instruction next May. Now, though, nearly everything was topsy-turvy in her head. Not that she would go back on her word about her art, but Ben Martin certainly had not been a part of the handshake agreement with her father. She’d never considered him at all in the promises she’d made. And yet, how could she possibly prepare for becoming a member of the church now?

Ach, the wonderful-good feel of my hand in his!

Hurrying toward the house, she noticed the spot where the scarecrow had been but was no longer.
What the world
happened to it?
She scanned the area, knowing for absolute certain it had been standing right there where she was looking . . . at the edge of the garden. Had the wind blown it down? But there had been no fierce gales recently. The thought that someone had come in the night and carried it off, the way some farm tools were known to disappear, bothered her terribly. She could not understand why she felt so traumatized when things seemingly walked off and were never returned. To assume certain things were permanent fixtures—such as the scarecrow she and her younger brothers had constructed last spring—was clearly a mistake. She thought of Zeke, poor man. He must surely be experiencing similar feelings, what with his wife and children gone from the covering of his house. And yet, far as she was concerned, Esther’s leaving was his own terrible fault.
Puh!
Zeke was not the kind of man
she
would ever care to marry.

Her thoughts leaped swiftly back to Ben, and she decided then and there he was nothing at all like Zeke Hochstetler. Of course, she would never know that for certain, because she would never let herself fall in love with an Englischer.

Making the turn around the side of the house, she heard one of her brothers calling from the back door. ‘‘Hullo, Annie! ’Bout time you got yourself home.’’

She looked up and there was Yonie, sporting a worldly haircut.
What on earth?
Her favorite brother looked just like the fancy city boys over at the outlet shops. ‘‘What’s that ya did to yourself?’’ she said, heading up the steps.

‘‘Got me a haircut, is all.’’ He was grinning.

‘‘What’s Daed gonna say?’’

‘‘Nothin’.’’

‘‘You’ll catch a tongue-lashing. You’ll see.’’ She pushed past him and waited for him to close the storm door on the porch.

‘‘I already talked to Daed. He didn’t seem to mind.’’

‘‘Well, he must be blind, then.’’

‘‘Not blind neither. And thanks to the grapevine, he knows plenty about the car I bought.’’

‘‘You did what?’’ She stared at him. ‘‘Well, little brother, what’s come over you?’’

‘‘I’m havin’ me a fine, gut time, that’s what. I’ll join church whenever I’m good and ready. Not before.’’

‘‘And you’re still seein’ Dory Zimmerman,’’ she said, flabbergasted. ‘‘Does our father know about
that
?’’

‘‘Not unless you broke your promise and told.’’

She shook her head. His ongoing relationship with the newspaper carrier’s daughter wasn’t for her to criticize. Still, she was miffed. ‘‘I did no such thing, Yonie. You know better than to accuse me thataway.’’

‘‘Well, good.’’

She hung her shawl on the wall hook, then bent over to pull off her boots. ‘‘Seems to me there’s a double standard round here,’’ she muttered softly.

‘‘What’s that?’’

‘‘Just never you mind.’’ Annie looked carefully at Yonie’s hair cropped above his ears and parted on the side. She could not believe Daed had merely disregarded the deed. How could he not care one iota about Yonie looking as if he’d stepped out of a fancy barber shop like the one over in Strasburg, which was probably where he’d gone? And the even bigger issue—Yonie’s having a car and brash enough to fess up to the preacher about it!

Who does Yonie think he is?

It wasn’t what her brother had done that bothered her no end, it was Daed’s reaction to it. That is, if Yonie was being straightforward.

She shook her head, truly perplexed.