In Plain View (37 page)

To Magdalena, the ease of it all was flabbergasting. Did her Amish dress and prayer
kapp
truly provide such unsuspecting protection? Or was her safety confirmation she was doing God’s will?

The injured British soldier from last fall had disappeared long ago. He was not ungrateful for the care the Bylers offered, but he wanted only to be safe well away from the war. Magdalena always supposed he had gone farther west. He seemed not to care that he might never see his country or family again.

Her steps took Magdalena into the family’s lane now. The wagons were familiar—her own siblings and aunts were here. But why? Why all at once? She had been gone only a few hours. Surely this gathering was unplanned.

Daed
. Panic propelled her into a run.

She burst through the front door into a swarm of cousins and nieces and nephews. Laughter. Food. Children’s games. These were not signs of sorrow or concern. Magdalena let out a long breath.

“Magdalena!” her father’s voice boomed. “Come and meet your
aunti
Maria.”

Aunti
Maria? The lost aunt? Magdalena swallowed air and followed her smiling father into the kitchen, where the chatter and clatter of women at work oozed familiarity. Several pots hung in the hearth.

“Maria,” Christian said, “Magdalena is here.”

Magdalena watched the woman at the hearth turn, a large wooden spoon in one hand. She smiled.

“She looks just like you, Maria,” Christian said. “Don’t you think so?”

“I have not seen myself in a proper glass in many years,” Maria said, “but you flatter me to think I was ever as beautiful as this young creature.”

Magdalena flushed. The Amish did not talk this way. She never saw her own reflection in anything but a clear pond, and it would have been prideful to think herself beautiful.

She met the glowing eyes of her aunt with hesitancy behind her own smile.

Jacob settled into a chair on the porch. Christian had done well for himself in Lancaster County. Several real estate transactions yielded good profit for him. The spacious home sheltered his large family with ease, and the land around it prospered in provision year after year. Most of the farms that bordered his land were also Amish, which seemed to deepen Christian’s contentment.

Christian silently occupied the chair next to Jacob. Most of the visitors had left. Maria was still in the kitchen showing Babsi and Magdalena how she cooked in her years on the frontier. The two brothers looked out on the remains of the setting sun.

“I suppose I will head home at first light,” Jacob said.

“Thank you for bringing Maria to visit.”

The finality in Christian’s tone made Jacob squirm. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and his hands dangling. “Visit?”

“I love my sister,” Christian said. “Seeing her again has filled an empty spot in my heart. But she cannot stay here.”

“So you’ve made up your mind after one long afternoon together?”

“She honored me with honesty. If she had come straight from the frontier with no political opinions, it would be different.”

Jacob exhaled. “She’s your sister, Christian. Your full-blood sister.”

“And she’s a Patriot zealot.”

“You might say the same of me.”

“You do not seek shelter in my house,” Christian said.

“I’m here tonight. I’ve been here before.”

“You go home to your gunpowder every time. When you drive past the farms, no one wonders what is under the canvas in your wagon. But Maria. A zealot is not something she does. It is something she is.”

“And that compromises you?”

“We live apart, Jacob. We are neutral. I will not put my family at risk for Maria’s cause.”

Magdalena tired of watching Babsi and Maria cook after everyone had left. What was so unusual about roasting squirrel? Magdalena abandoned the household’s best spoon in a basin of gray water and went out the back door to the stables. She wanted to check on the old gelding. They asked little work of the beast anymore. Magdalena wondered how much longer her father would tolerate sustaining an animal that did not earn its keep.

She stroked the gelding’s neck. She would have to stay away from The kitchen for a long time to avoid making small talk with a stranger late into the night.

The door creaked open, and her father and aunt entered the stables. The tone arising from their mingled approaching voices sent Magdalena ducking into the hay. Revealing herself now would prove awkward. Instead, she squatted out of sight.

“Christian, try to understand,” Maria’s soft voice pleaded.

Magdalena heard the supple slap of leather against the wall, the familiar sound of her father rearranging bridles hanging on hooks inside the door. He always did that when he had to say something that he did not wish to say.

“It would only be trouble for all of us,” her father said, “including you.”

“It’s been so long,” Maria said. “I did not expect you to send me away as soon as I got here.”

“Maria, I cannot put my family at risk.”

“What about God’s will?” Maria challenged.

“What about it?”

“If it is
Gottes wille
to keep your family safe, I doubt I have the power to endanger them.”

Magdalena choked on the thought of the danger she might have brought to her family.

Christian exhaled heavily. “You haven’t changed in all these years. You always were a vexing child.”

“Don’t make light, Christian,” Maria said. “I’m alone. I want my family.”

“You have Jacob. He shares your sympathies.”

“I had hoped you and I had a bond that transcended wartime sympathies.”

Magdalena listened to feet shuffling in the hay.

“You can’t stay, Maria. That is my final word. You have admitted your history with the Patriots.”

“And if I were supporting the British?”

“It would make no difference.”

Magdalena pressed a fist against her lips. Her aunt was the enemy. There was no more gentle way to put it.

Her father, of course, had no enemies. The war had nothing to do with him.

But it had plenty to do with Magdalena.

And it had plenty to do with Maria.

Magdalena wished her aunt no harm. But she could never be on the side of people who had stolen her future with Nathanael. She was glad to hear her
daed
be so firm that Maria must leave.

Magdalena had lived her whole life without knowing her
aunti
Maria. She saw no reason to change course now.

Forty

F
raney rode with the Friesens in their car, leaving Lydia, Sophie, and Jacob to take the buggy home. Annie sat in the backseat beside Franey. Every effort her mother made at polite conversation stabbed. Franey reached over and squeezed Annie’s hand. Annie appreciated the gesture but withdrew her hand quickly, lest her mother turn her head and see.

Brad turned off the highway into the Beilers’ long driveway and parked the car close to the house. As the foursome went up the steps to the front porch, Franey chattered about what she planned for supper and how pleased she was the Friesens were joining them. Franey pushed open the front door. Annie saw the split-second halt before Franey continued into the house and held the door open for the others.

“It looks like we’ll have a roomful of guests,” Franey said, motioning to the young men in the living room. “I would like you to meet the sons of our dear friends, the Stutzmans. This is Mark and Luke, with my son Joel.”

Annie swallowed hard. Joel. Sitting between Mark and Luke on the sofa, the brims of their three identical black felt hats forming a stiff line. Joel held a bundle in his hands, and Mark and Luke looked far from pleased to be sitting in the Beilers’ living room.

“Ike and Edna are on their way over,” Joel said. He glanced at Annie, who transferred the glance to her parents.

“Is something wrong, Joel?” Franey asked.

Annie nudged her mother’s elbow. “Why don’t you sit over here?” She gestured to two comfortable chairs positioned apart from the main seating area and breathed relief when her parents complied. Annie watched Franey’s face, her heart racing in anticipation of Joel’s revelation.

“Mark and Luke have something they need to say.” Joel measured his words. “Let’s wait for Ike and Edna.”

“We have guests,” Franey said. “Annalise’s parents. I wonder if Ike and Edna might come another time.”

“It can’t wait,” Joel answered.

Annie perched on the arm of the chair her mother occupied and wondered if the tremble of her veins would pulse through the furniture.

She wanted Rufus to be there. If the boys were going to confess, she wanted him to hear for himself. And she wanted his strength in the room when the explosion came—when truth collided with expectations.

What had Rufus heard about her baptism classes? she wondered. Would he be pleased, as his mother was, or would he wonder why she had not told him herself?

Sitting beside and slightly behind her mother, Annie could not see Myra’s face. But she recognized the posture, the tightness of concentration in the way Myra leaned her neck forward a few inches and held her head straight up. She did not intend to miss anything.

Rufus, where are you?

Annie heard the back door open, and she turned her head to listen for steps coming through the kitchen. Eli appeared in the dining room and stilled his steps to take in the scene in his living room. Annie heard another set of footsteps—the right ones now. Rufus entered and stood beside his father. She breathed a measure of relief.

Eli and Rufus roused at the same moment and moved across the rooms to greet Annie’s parents with warm handshakes and kind greetings. Rufus glanced across the room at Annie again. He started to move toward her, and her breath caught.

A vehicle roared to a stop outside. At the sound of slamming car doors, Rufus detoured to the front door and pulled it open. Tom Reynolds stomped up the porch steps. Behind him, Carter Reynolds was less enthusiastic about this visit to the Beilers’. Annie watched the boy carefully. When he stepped inside the house and saw the Stutzman brothers, his eyes widened and his shoulders tensed.

“Good,” Tom said. “All the perpetrators are here.”

“Perpetrators?” Eli said. “That’s a strong word, Tom. Come in and sit down, please.”

“You’ll understand in a minute, Eli.” Tom sat in Eli’s favorite armchair and pointed for Carter to sit in its twin. They faced the sofa, where Mark and Luke both began tapping their feet in jerking rhythms.

“What is it, Tom?” Franey asked. She stood behind the sofa, facing Tom.

Rufus, at last, moved to stand beside Annie.

“I looked at my cell phone account online,” Tom said. “I always look over the lines my kids are using just to be sure no one is abusing the privilege of having a phone. Usually I’m flabbergasted at how many texts Carter sends or how much data he uses. This time there was practically nothing. Carter’s line hasn’t been used all week.”

Tom reached into a pocket and pulled out a phone, a simple old-fashioned phone that flipped closed.

“Carter,” he said, “why don’t you tell everyone what you told me about this phone.”

Carter looked at his lap. “It’s Annie’s. I found it in my dad’s truck. She left it there when he brought her home from the hospital the day of the explosion.”

Tom waved the phone in the air. “This is the phone I’ve seen lying around the house. I thought Carter was being forgetful about carrying it.”

At the sound of a buggy clattering to a stop outside, Annie dipped her head to look out the window. “It’s the Stutzmans.”

“Perfect timing.” Tom crossed his arms across his chest. “Perhaps we’ll wait for them before we continue.”

Franey opened the door. As soon as Ike stepped inside, with Edna right behind him, he demanded, “What is going on here? An
English
drove up to our house in his car and said he was your neighbor. He handed me a message practically ordering us to come.”

“I sent that,” Joel said from the sofa.

Annie leaned forward and whispered to her parents, “Maybe we should move to the dining room, out of the way.”