In Plain View (2 page)

“Excuse me,” he said to Beth Stutzman, who hardly broke her chatter to breathe. “I’ll be back shortly.”

On his way out the front door, Rufus grabbed his coat off the rack. He met Annalise and Jacob halfway down the driveway.

“I told Annalise the Stutzmans are here,” Jacob said.

“Thank you, Jacob.” Rufus tilted his head toward the house. “Maybe
Mamm
needs your help.”

“I hope she’s all out of beets from the cellar.”

“Jacob!”

“I’m sorry.” The boy huffed. “I will be thankful for whatever is put in front of me to eat.”

Rufus watched his brother start to kick the dirt beneath his boot and then think better of it. As the little boy clomped up the porch steps, Rufus laid his coat around Annalise’s shoulders. She had, as she nearly always did, underdressed for the spring temperatures.

When she turned toward him and lifted her face in thanks, he wanted to kiss her right there. She was so lovely. Bits of moisture clinging to her face shimmered in waning sunlight. He barely kept himself from smoothing her blond hair back into place under her
kapp
.

“Stutzmans?” Her wide gray eyes questioned.

“ ’Fraid so.” He straightened the jacket around her.

“I’m not cold, you know.” Her eyes smiled even if her lips were turning blue.

“So you often tell me.” He would never admit he hung his coat around her so her scent would be on it when he wore it next.

“Anyway, Stutzmans,” she reminded him.

“Just moved from Pennsylvania to join the settlement here.”

“Did you know them in Pennsylvania?”

“Quite well. They are second cousins of my brother Daniel’s wife and had a farm only four miles from ours.” He paused and put his hand on her elbow.

“Oh. That’s nice.”

He heard the disappointment in her tone. “If you don’t feel up to meeting new people tonight, I can take you home.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m here. The Stutzmans are here. I’m sure we’ll get along famously.”

Rufus was not so sure.

Instead of making a dripping entrance through the front door, Annie asked Rufus to walk her to the back door. She could slip into the kitchen and up the back stairs to dry off and straighten herself out. When she glanced in the small mirror in the bathroom, she rolled her eyes. Why did she seem to be the only Amish woman—well, almost Amish—who could not seem to wear a prayer
kapp
properly?

Under her thick sweater, the dress was surprisingly dry. She could do little about the hem of her skirt, which had plunged through one puddle too many. It would have to dry in its own time.

Downstairs, the table was extended to its full length and Jacob was rounding up the last of the extra chairs from around the house. Eli and Franey, Rufus’s parents, shared their home with five of their eight children. In between their eldest son, Rufus, and youngest son, Jacob, were Joel, Lydia, and Sophie, all teenagers.

Hospitality oozed out of Franey Beiler’s bones, a trait that first brought Annie into the house last summer. Franey would not blink twice at accommodating seven extra people for dinner.

She suggested the Stutzmans sit where they pleased and the Beilers—and Annalise—would fill in. Annie’s stomach heated as the tallest Stutzman daughter took the chair directly opposite Rufus. Annie pressed her lips together and took another chair. As Eli Beiler presided over the silent prayer at the beginning of the meal, Annie could not help but wonder about one empty seat. Joel Beiler was missing.

Ike and Edna Stutzman’s daughters—Beth, Johanna, and Essie—seemed to Annie close enough in age that she would not be surprised to discover a set of twins among them. She guessed they were between nineteen and twenty-two. The boys—Mark and Luke—were younger, perhaps recently finished with eighth- grade formal schooling.

They were loud.
Laut
. Jacob had taught Annie that word.

Annie could not summon a more polite description that remained honest. The entire family spoke as if they were addressing a deaf grandfather, and one on top of the other. They were full of news of former neighbors in Pennsylvania, and Franey and Eli lit up in gratitude for stories of people they had lived so long among, including their own two married sons.

For Annie’s sake, the Beilers often spoke English. The Stutzmans, however, made no such effort, beyond initial introductions. Pennsylvania Dutch flew around the table too fast for Annie to keep up with much of the conversation. Jacob sat beside her, as he always did when she came to dinner. Occasionally, he leaned toward her and offered a brief translation, which helped Annie to smile and nod in appropriate lulls.

Annie did not need translation to see that Beth Stutzman directed many of her remarks at Rufus in a way that forced him to respond.
She must be the eldest
, Annie decided. Johanna and Essie made no effort to compete with their sister but instead sat quietly, observing the conversation and smiling benignly. Beth would have been finishing the eighth grade when Rufus left Pennsylvania, when he was a grown man already. But now she was grown up—and quite pretty, Annie had to admit. Had Beth Stutzman swept into town and thought she would snag Rufus Beiler on her first evening?

Jacob leaned toward her and whispered. “The Stutzmans are going to stay with us for a while. They want to paint their house before they move in. I hope they will let me help paint.”

Annie smiled. “I’m sure you’re a very good painter.”

“No one ever gives me a chance to try.”

Annie reached over and scratched the center of his back then laid her arm across the top of his chair, angling toward Rufus as she did so.

Despite the decibel level and Beth’s brazenness, the evening was drenched in friendship going back generations. Annie could see for herself that these were not like the unfamiliar families in Colorado Springs who intersected each other’s routines at swim classes and soccer matches for three years until someone transferred to a new job. They shared each other’s days and nights, and various branches of their families had intermarried. Ike and Edna had come west for many of the same reasons Eli and Franey had come six years earlier. Unlike the Beilers, though, the newcomers had a community ready to welcome them and give them aid.

Even after six months of living as plainly as she could, and despite her dress and
kapp
, Annie felt very much the
English
. And she had been at the Beiler table enough times to feel the undercurrent that grew between Eli and Franey as conversation rose and fell and Joel failed to appear. Annie glanced at Rufus, catching his eye in a fleeting connection before Beth launched into another story meant for Rufus’s benefit. The evening was nothing like what Annie craved when she had started out on her bicycle.

Eli’s eyes, Annie noticed, moved between the clock and the front door.

Joel was going to have some explaining to do.

Two

J
ohanna Stutzman and her brother Mark sat on either side of Joel’s empty seat. As the meal progressed, both seemed to absorb a share of the available space, as if they no longer expected someone would arrive to occupy the chair.

Annie regretted putting so much food on her plate. She felt left out of the rapid, reminiscent conversation in the language she still struggled to learn, and whenever she looked at Eli, her anxiety for Joel heightened. Both factors dimmed her appetite.

This was not the first time Joel had been late for dinner, she knew. That only made things worse. Had he not known the Stutzmans would be there? If he had, would he have made an effort to be present?

The creak of the front door’s hinges raised eyes around the table. Joel entered and closed the door carefully behind him. A still-growing seventeen-year-old, his trousers inched off his ankles as he turned to face the gathering at the table.

“Ah, Joel.” With just two words, Eli’s voice bore through the chatter.

“I’m sorry,
Daed.”
Joel moved toward the table, his back erect. He brushed a bookcase, and a cell phone clattered to the polished wood floor.

“Hey, that’s just like Annalise’s.” Jacob clambered out of his chair and picked up the phone.

“Jacob, get back in your seat.” Eli’s eyes remained on Joel. Jacob handed the phone to Joel and obeyed his father.

“It’s Carter’s phone.” Joel took his own seat. “I forgot he gave it to me to hold.”

“We’ll talk later,” Eli said. “Just turn it off and put it away.”

Annie winced on Joel’s behalf. She saw Joel reach under the table and fiddle with the phone, which was indeed on. Eli was not going to embarrass Joel in the presence of guests—even old family friends—but even if the phone was not Joel’s, Eli would want to know what his son was doing with it.

“Carter is the son of Tom Reynolds.” Speaking English, Rufus deftly explained. “You’ll want to meet Tom as soon as possible. He does a fair bit of taxiing and hauling for our people, and he doesn’t mind the distances involved in our district.”

“That’s good to know.” Ike Stutzman’s voice was deep and commanding. “I heard that because of the distances, your district allows the use of telephones.”

Oops. Annie caught Rufus’s eyes and saw the flicker of dismay that his effort to deflect the conversation had been short lived.

“That’s true,” Eli said, “but the concern is for safety, not convenience or amusement.”

His expression was not lost on Annie, so she had no doubt that Joel understood perfectly.

“Carter’s dad was out looking at the new recreation area,” Joel said. “He took some pictures.”

Oops again. Not the best topic of conversation Joel could have introduced to take the heat off himself.

“No one has made any decisions about the use of that property,” Eli said.

“What property is that?” Ike’s inquiry sounded idle enough.

Annie pushed peas around on her plate. At least they were not beets. She stood in solidarity with Jacob on the beets question. She was relieved to hear Rufus’s voice again.

“The county owns a few acres not far from here,” Rufus explained in English. “There is some thought to developing a park. The organizers would like volunteers to offer their labor in order to keep costs to a minimum. They have invited everyone to participate.”

“Even the Amish?” Edna Stutzman asked from beside Franey. “Surely they understand that we live apart.”

Rufus tilted his head. “The park would be for everyone to use. If everyone shares the load, then everyone benefits as well.”

“But this is an
English
project, is it not?” Ike thumped the table as he persisted with the distinction.

“Well, yes, I suppose,” Rufus said. “It was the idea of Tom Reynolds and a few others. They propose a simple shelter from rain and sun, a children’s play area, and trails for families to use.”

“But this is an
English
project,” Edna repeated.

Annie did not need a translation for the consonants spitting from Edna’s mouth when she said
English
. She reached up and tugged on the two strings of her
kapp
, a habit developed over the last six months in nervous moments. While she was living largely plain until she decided whether to join the Amish officially, Annie resented Edna’s inferences about the
English
.

“Do you often cooperate with the
English?”
Edna bristled as she broke open a biscuit.

“The
English
are our neighbors here,” Rufus said, persisting in English. “When do you hope to move onto your farm?”

And that was it. He let it go and moved on.

Annie stifled a sigh. How did he do that? Just let things go when the tension mounted?

Relief blew out on Franey’s breath, Annie noticed. She was not opposed to a park. She was not even opposed to working with the neighbors. Franey simply did not want to get involved with that particular plot of land. Annie did not know why.

It had something to do with Ruth. Annie knew that much. Annie missed Ruth. Rufus’s sister would have known how to navigate the emotions in the room.

Franey’s reticence about the land proposed for the park.

Joel’s running around with Carter Reynolds and the boys from town.

Eli’s need for order.

Even Beth Stutzman batting her eyes at Rufus.

Annie was glad that she could picture where Ruth was— the roadways of Colorado Springs bearing the buses Ruth rode to work and school, the university she attended, the small dorm room she lived in. Even though she knew Ruth was sure of her choice, Annie felt Franey’s sadness.

Franey stood up. “How about dessert?” She smiled around the table. “I have peach pie, apple schnitzel, and rhubarb crisp.”

Rufus’s sisters Lydia and Sophie took the cue and began clearing the table. Annie did the same.

The Stutzman daughters rested comfortably in their chairs. Beth even put her elbow on the table, set her chin in her hand, and leaned toward Rufus. Annie shoved down the resentment that welled.

Humility, humility, humility
, she told herself. No matter what she thought of their manners, she would serve them with a smile.