In Plain View (14 page)

“Mamm, this is Annalise’s sister, Penny.”

“Welcome to our home,” Franey said. “I am so glad Annalise took the opportunity to visit with you.”

Penny flashed Annie an unsettled look before saying, “Thank you. Me, too.”

“When Annalise left on Saturday, I had not imagined I would have the pleasure of meeting you. Your sister has been a delight to our family.”

“She seems very glad to know you as well.” Penny looked around the yard. “It’s beautiful here.”

“Won’t you come inside?”

Penny’s eyes widened, and Annie took the cue. “No thanks. I just wanted you and Penny to meet. I’m going to show her my house and where I work.”

“Annalise has a lovely little house,” Franey said.

“I am only here overnight,
Mamm,”
Ruth said. “Penny will drive me back tomorrow.”

“The Stutzman sisters are sleeping in your room, but I can put up a cot in Lydia and Sophie’s room for you.”

A few minutes later, Annie was back in the passenger seat of the car. She rolled her gaze toward Penny. “Isn’t Franey great?”

“She seems very nice.”

“Of course she’s nice. And she would not have bitten you if you had accepted her hospitality.”

“Hey. I’m being a good sport. Don’t push it.” Penny put the car in reverse and looked back over her shoulder at the lengthy Beiler driveway.

“It’s easier to just turn around,” Annie said, “and drive out going forward.”

Penny glanced at her then put the car in Drive. “I suppose you’ve had a lot of experience figuring this out.” She twisted the steering wheel sharply to the left.

“I’m here a lot. Of course, I’m not usually in a car.”

“I’m not sure who Franey was happier to see, Ruth or you.”

“Ruth is her daughter.”

“And you might be…well, you know.” Penny pulled out onto the highway and headed toward town.

“Just drive.”

“Are we really going to drive all over tarnation hunting for Rufus?”

“He’s probably at the motel. It’s four miles.”

“That’s one of their buggies, isn’t it?” Penny carefully steered around an enclosed black buggy headed in the same direction.

“Yes. I’m not sure who.” Annie twisted in her seat, but she could not see the driver.

A few minutes later they parked in front of the motel. Annie saw Rufus’s buggy off to one side. The horse was unhitched and wandering on a generous tether, so Rufus must have been there a long time.

As she slammed the passenger door, Annie looked over the top of the car at her sister. “You behave yourself.”

Penny smiled in that way that Annie did not quite trust.

They entered the motel. From behind the desk, Mo looked up. “Who do we have here?”

“This is my sister, Penny.”

Mo’s eyebrows went up a notch. “Bringing her to meet Rufus?”

“Maybe.” Annie tilted her head.

Mo waved them on through. “I won’t tell anyone! He’s just down the hall.”

“Thanks, Mo.”

Penny elbowed Annie. “She treats you like a couple already.”

Annie pushed back with her own elbow. “Behave.”

And there he was, his white shirt stretched across his broad back as he expertly placed pieces of trim he had crafted in his workshop on the Beiler land. Annie slowed her steps, wanting just to watch him and breathe in the fragrance of his artistry as it took form.

Penny stubbed her toe on a stray chair, and when it scraped the floor Rufus turned.

His face brightened.

“Rufus, I want you to meet my sister. This is Penny.”

Rufus brushed a hand against his trousers before offering it to Penny. She took it then glanced at Annie with upturned lips. Annie allowed herself a slow breath of relief.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Penny said with perfect manners. With one finger, she traced the carved pattern in a piece of trim. “Your work is beautiful—everything Annie said it was.”

“I trust you had a relaxing drive down.” Rufus caught Annie’s eye before dipping his hat at Penny.

“I had no idea this part of the state was so gorgeous,” Penny said.

Annie felt as if she were watching from the outside. Her
English
sister was chatting with the Amish man who had made her rethink her life. She had harassed Penny into coming. Now, though, her blood pulsed faster. Annie wanted Penny to like Rufus. She wanted Penny to see everything wonderful that she saw in him. She wanted Rufus to see past Penny’s
English
exterior and believe she was a wonderful sister. When she met Rufus’s gaze, and the familiar warmth flushed through her, she saw delight in his violet-blue eyes.

The lobby door clattered open, and Annie turned toward steps that progressed firmly in her direction.

Beth Stutzman stood there, and Rufus’s eyes moved to her expectantly.

“It’s not there. I looked everywhere.” Beth Stutzman’s gaze moved to Annie. “Oh, hello. Annalise, is it? I almost didn’t recognize you dressed like…”

Annie swallowed and moistened her lips before responding, but Rufus broke in. “Beth, this is Annalise’s sister, Penny Friesen. And Penny, this is Beth Stutzman, an old family friend. She was kind enough to go look for a tool I neglected to bring today.”

Annie felt her sister’s eyes on her, as if saying,
Old family friend? Sure
.

“It’s the oddest thing, though,” Beth said. “I definitely know what a corner chisel looks like, and I promise you, it is nowhere in your workshop. The whole set is missing.”

“I’m sure it will turn up,” Rufus said.

“I’ll help you look again later,” Beth said. “But I wanted you to know right away that it’s lost.”

Annie’s brow furrowed. Since when would Rufus send Beth Stutzman to look for tools? She caught Rufus’s eye then looked away quickly at the slight paling of his complexion. The concern—and the triumph—in Beth’s face were unconvincing, but Annie preferred to sort out her questions with Rufus later. In private.

“Why don’t we go?” Annie nudged Penny. “We don’t want to get in the way here.”

Fourteen

R
uth knelt in the garden. Late afternoon was her favorite time to fill her hands with the mystery of the earth. The garden was dormant now, still readying for its summer yield. In a few weeks, when her sisters worked the soil and planted, the family would see the promise of nourishment for a new year. Weeds were already pressing their way to the sun, though. One by one Ruth picked them out, being sure to get the roots, and tossed them into a wheelbarrow.

A few feet away, her mother wielded a hoe, splitting clots that had formed over the winter and pounding the fragments into smooth soil. The rhythm was familiar to both of them. Whether in Pennsylvania when Ruth was young or during the last six years in Colorado, Ruth and her mother had chased out the evidence of winter and prepared to feed the family. Until two years ago. Ruth pushed the thought out of her mind and imagined her sisters working in the garden. They would do the weeding and watering as the vegetables grew. For yet another year, she would not be there to see the plants sprout.

Ruth watched her mother work, envying the contentment she saw and the simple companionship of silence. Finding a ride from Colorado Springs was worth the trouble to see these simple moments of pleasure in her mother’s face.

“Annalise wants to have a garden,” Franey said. “She has never had a vegetable garden.”

“She’ll enjoy it. She’s so curious about everything.”

“Plenty of the
English
grow vegetables.” Franey raised the hoe several feet before thudding it through a stubborn clot repeatedly. “But gardening will have special meaning to Annalise. For her, it’s part of learning our ways.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Ruth wrapped her fingers around a weed already six inches high and yanked.

“Annalise is persistent about her quilt, too. I suggested she start with a lap quilt, but she was determined to make something she could put on a bed.”

“She is used to aiming high.”

“As long as success does not lead to pride, doing your best is an excellent quality.”

“
Demut
. Humility. This is not always easy for Annalise.”

“Demut is not always easy for any of us.” Franey winked. “After all, no one makes a better schnitzel than I do.”

“Mamm!” Ruth laughed at her mother’s pride.
Hochmut
.

“I’m teaching Annalise to cook our traditional foods. She never cooked much at all, you know, before moving here.”

“She was too busy running a company.”

“She’s trying hard to change and understand our ways. And she learns so quickly.”

Ruth stuffed weeds deeper into the wheelbarrow. She loved Annalise, too, but she had not expected the garden conversation to be all about her. Where was the contented silence she used to share with her mother, or the soft humming of hymns from the
Ausbund?

“Rufus says Annalise has room on her land for a small barn,” Franey said. “I think she should learn to drive a buggy soon.”

Ruth hid a smile at the memory, just a few days old, of Annalise teaching her to drive a car. Would Annalise think managing a horse and buggy was as easy as driving a car?

“She wants to begin making her own clothes. I told her perhaps over the winter.”

“But it’s only spring now,” Ruth said.

“Gardening, cooking, quilting, driving—she has plenty to learn for now.”

“She won’t want to wait that long.”

Her mother never asked Ruth about what she was learning. Pharmacology, pathology, health care ethics. Franey had made her peace that Ruth was pursing higher education, but apparently even talking about her courses was too
English
.

But Annalise, it seemed, could do no wrong. Jealousy warmed Ruth’s chest.

“Canning.” Franey stood still and looked over the garden plot. “When we’re just planting, I seem to forget how much will grow. I’ll need all the help I can get canning everything for the winter.”

“Well, you won’t miss me because you’ll have Annalise.” Ruth tossed an entire clump of dirt instead of knocking the small weed loose from it.

“Ruth Beiler, what has gotten into you?” Franey leaned on her hoe and stared wide eyed at her daughter.

“I’m sorry,
Mamm.”
And she was. Ruth had chosen to leave. She had chosen to miss the rhythm of planting and growing and harvesting the family’s vegetables. She had chosen to surrender the closeness of her family to her own future, away from them.

Franey slowly resumed slicing into the soil with her hoe, but her vigor had dissipated.

“Forgive me,
Mamm
. I should not have said that. I should not even have thought it.”

“We should go and see how Lydia and Sophie and the Stutzman girls are coming along with supper.” Franey grasped her hoe and carried it toward the house, where she leaned it against the back porch railing and disappeared through the door.

Ruth slowly stood, brushed dirt from her skirt and gripped the handles of the wheelbarrow.

After dinner at a small restaurant on Main Street, Annie put her key in the lock of her back door and turned it. She stepped aside to let Penny enter first. They each carried an overnight bag.

“Maybe I should have taken you in through the front door,” Annie said, “but this is how I usually come and go.” She turned a knob on a lamp at one end of the counter and a clean light illuminated the simple kitchen.

Penny looked around. “It’s…quaint.”

“The house is a hundred years old, Penny. So yes, the kitchen is small. It’s all small, and I’ve come to love it.”

“Do you cook much?”

“All the time now. Not the kind of cooking you do, of course. But you’ll be glad to know I’m going to have a garden this year. I know how strongly you feel about fresh food.”

“Amish or not, a garden is a great idea. I may make a foodie out of you yet.”

“Rufus has drawn it all out. He’s going to come and turn the soil for me.” Soon, Annie hoped. “Let me show you the rest of the house.”

Annie led the way into her small dining room, which opened into the living room. She paused several times to turn on lamps.

Penny inspected the cabinet beneath one of the living room lamps. “That’s beautiful.” She opened the door. “A propane tank?”

Annie stoked the tabletop. “Rufus’s handiwork. Propane is a common way to provide light.”

“Among the Amish, you mean. It’s sort of like camping.”

A fire started in Annie’s stomach and burned its way up. “Look, Penny, I asked you here to show you my home, my life. Don’t make fun.”

Penny laid three fingers across her mouth and stared at Annie, silent. But Annie knew what her sister’s expression meant.

“Ever since we picked up Ruth today,” Annie said, “you’ve been acting weird.”

Penny put a finger to her own chest. “I’m acting weird? You’re the one who gives up electricity and moves to the boonies, and I’m acting weird?”

Annie exhaled. “I understand you need some time to take it all in.”

“This man had better be worth it,” Penny said. “You might tell yourself being Amish is not just for him, but you’d better be sure. You’re changing everything. I mean, hey, Annie, just because you found we had one Amish ancestor doesn’t mean you have to go back in time.”