In Plain View (6 page)

“Well, I’ll be,” Sarah said.

“What is it?” Katie moved the baby to her shoulder to burp.

“It’s Christian.” Sarah turned wide eyed to Katie. “And I think that’s Magdalena with him, though of course I haven’t seen either of them in years.”

Katie stood to peer out the window for herself.

“Someone had better open the front door,” Jacob said.

Jacob bought the family property when their father died, expanded the tannery Christian had detested as a boy, and built his own small home nearby. Christian had not been to Irish Creek since Jacobli put on the addition to shelter his growing family. The profile of the house in the shadows was pleasing.

Christian supposed it would have been easier to go to his stepmother’s house. She certainly had more space to accommodate unexpected houseguests, and she would welcome them. Perhaps he and Magdalena would still end up there, but he would not sleep tonight until he laid before Jacob the injustice his associates had done.

What Christian did not expect was to see Sarah framed in light when the front door opened. Guilt stabbed his gut. He had business in Philadelphia from time to time, but he had never taken the time to see what had become of his younger half sister. He told himself he was not sure of her address since her marriage, but at the moment that excuse sounded thin even to him.

When Sarah opened the door wide, Jacob and Katie were there as well. They all seemed to stare past him, and their jaws dropped.

“May we come in?” Christian asked.

Sarah inhaled sharply then said, “Of course. We’re surprised to see you, that’s all. Both of you.”

“Yes, welcome,” Katie was quick to add. “We’re eager to hear your news.” Her face was turned toward Christian, but her eyes fixed on the young woman behind him.

Christian followed Katie’s line of sight. “You remember Magdalena,” he said. “She has some interest in the matter that brings me to Irish Creek without the courtesy of a letter first.”

“You’re welcome anytime.” Jacob laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Magdalena, you’ve grown since we last saw you.”

Christian looked quizzically at their three hosts.

“Do you not see it, Christian?” Sarah finally said as she gathered their wraps.

“See what?”

“Magdalena is a striking young woman,” Jacob said. “She looks just like Maria at that age.”

Maria. Christian had not let himself think about his missing sister for years. Had she really run off with that young
English
trapper as everyone supposed, or had she fallen victim to foul play? Had they given up looking for her too soon? If she had come to harm, he would not forgive himself for failing to protect her. And yet if she had run off, it was surely because of his pressure for her to be baptized and join the Amish church. Neither alternative was comforting.

Christian found his words. “I suppose to a father, a daughter’s face is her own, but of course I see the resemblance.”

Sarah stepped forward and embraced her niece. “You were just a girl when I saw you last. I’m so glad you’ve come.”

“Would you like to see the baby?” Katie held her daughter out to Magdalena, who accepted the squirming, cooing bundle.

“I’ll make some coffee,” Sarah said. “Have you eaten? Sit down and tell us why you’ve come so urgently.”

Sarah and Katie went into the kitchen, but The door between the rooms remained propped open.

“It’s the Patriots,” Christian said. “Of late they make it exceedingly difficult to remain people of peace. The British are not much better, but it’s the Patriots who have just beaten up Magdalena’s young man.”

Katie gasped. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I am, too,” Jacob said. “I’ve been warning you for years that there will be a war.”

“I have come to see that you are right,” Christian said, “but I do not see how berating Amish young men will resolve the tensions between the Crown and the colonies. Are the Patriots any closer to their goal because they have attacked Nathanael Buerki?”

“War seems to blur the lines of morality,” Jacob said.

“If war comes, the Amish will not be part of it. Why should we be pressured—with such extreme means—to take up sides?”

Sarah and Katie returned with a pot of coffee and a platter of bread and cheese. Sarah put some on a plate and offered it to Magdalena.

“Magdalena,” Sarah said, “you have barely said a word.”

“My father speaks for me,” the young woman finally said. “I have been baptized and hope to wed in the Amish church. I want only to live plainly and at peace with everyone.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Jacob said. “Neutrality is going to be virtually impossible.” He turned to his sister. “Sarah lives in Philadelphia. The talk is in the streets all the time. Philadelphia is to be the capital of a new nation.”

“The General Assembly’s official position is for Pennsylvania to oppose independence,” Sarah said. “The representatives are mostly Quakers who oppose violence. But few expect that position will hold. When you walk the streets, you can feel the energy for revolt. It flows through all the colonies.”

“You must know someone you can talk to, Jacob.” Christian’s tone grew insistent. “Do what you must. Our father raised us both to listen to our consciences. This would not be the first time you’ve acted in good conscience when we have not agreed. But violence toward innocent young men? How can Patriots object to the Crown forcing them to pay unjust taxes, yet turn around and attempt to coerce Amish men to betray their beliefs?”

Silence fell over the room. Katie poured coffee.

“They shouldn’t,” Jacob finally said. “Such actions are contrary to the very notion of freedom.”

“Then talk to somebody. I know you have influence here that extends into Lancaster County.” Christian gestured at Magdalena. “We will not raise a hand against our attackers, but there must be a peaceable solution.”

Jacob and Sarah looked at each other.

“Perhaps between the two of us,” Sarah said, “and my husband, of course, we may make some inroads regarding the plain peoples.”

Several windows glowed with lamplight as Magdalena approached the big house with her father. She had warm memories of this place.

She remembered Elizabeth, who was not her grandmother but loved her as if she were.

She remembered the broad pleasure on her grandfather Jakob’s face when her father brought his children to visit—briefly.

She remembered that her parents were always ready to go home before she was. Magdalena’s own mother was kind to Elizabeth, but in a stiff way that Magdalena did not understand even as a child. Her stepmother had never met Elizabeth and was not likely to.

“It’s not too late,” her father used to say to
Dawdi
Jakob. “If you repent, the church will forgive.”

Older now, Magdalena saw that her father had never given up hope that
Dawdi
Jakob would return to the Amish church and bring Elizabeth with him. He loved them both so deeply.

But it did not happen. And now the Bylers who were Amish wanted only peace, while the Bylers who were not Amish were close to the center of the Patriots’ revolution.

Six

I
should at least stop by and explain.” Annie wiped her hands on her jeans on Saturday morning then picked dust left by her half day’s work out of her T-shirt.

“Isn’t this the opposite direction than we want to go?” Myra raised an eyebrow.

Seeing her mother standing in Mrs. Weichert’s eclectic shop took some getting used to for Annie. Myra wore lightweight designer slacks in a hard-to-match shade of blue that she nevertheless managed to match. With the casual shirt and sweater, she looked as if she had idly thrown the outfit together on a Saturday morning. Annie knew the skill that level of shopping required.

Six months earlier, Annie gave away a walk-in closet full of clothes like that. Now she wore jeans to work because Mrs. Weichert counted on her for lifting and shoving and keeping some order in the storeroom. Her small collection of dressy tees and polo shirts rotated with her work schedule and her new simple life in a hundred-year-old house a few blocks away. the only two dresses hanging in her wardrobe were Amish dresses. She wore them when she visited an Amish family or gathered with the Amish congregation. Annie was determined to sew the next dress herself.

Business in the shop was brisk enough to pass three hours easily. Mrs. Weichert had returned from the estate sale with a tall dresser, a writing desk, and three lamps. Annie had helped unload them and situate them in the storeroom for closer inspection later, finishing just as her parents arrived.

“Franey is expecting me,” she said now. “I told you about the quilt. We work on it every Saturday.”

“You could call her.”

“Mom. Please.” Her mother knew the guidelines for using telephones.

“It seems to me this simple life of yours is a little complicated.”

“It’s only five miles.” Annie searched her mental files seeking a route to the Springs that did not require backtracking and making the detour total ten miles.

“I suppose we have no choice. We’ll swing by your place to get your things, make this one stop, then we’ll be on the road. You’ll have time to relax before Penny arrives.”

Annie did not remember agreeing to go. But she had not said she wouldn’t, so thirty minutes later she sat in the back of her parents’ Toyota—new over the winter—and rested her arm on a small canvas bag containing a couple changes of clothing.

She really wanted to spend the afternoon quilting. Penny’s plane was still six hours away from touching down.

And there was Rufus. Almost two weeks had passed since their last real conversation, and she missed him.

Outside the car window, trees hastened toward blooms while snow still whitened the slopes of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Annie sometimes rode in someone else’s car on this road, but her winter in the valley had taught her the rewards of patient observance. Even as the Toyota bore down on the road, something in Annie wanted to scream for her father to slow down even though he was not going all that fast. It was just too fast for the moment.

Inside the car, Myra Friesen listed more possibilities for family fun than the chamber of commerce. Penny was only staying five days. And if Annie knew her sister, Penny was already filling her calendar with catch-up coffee meetings with old friends.

Everything was changing with her parents’ sudden personal intersection into Annie’s simple life. The whole day. The next week.

Memories stirred. Two successful companies. Technology that set new industry standards. Seizing change and using it for her own advantage. Life in the fast lane.

The choice she made six months ago after she stumbled onto the Beiler family farm to give it all up. The choice her own family did not understand. They might never, she realized.

Annie leaned forward, gripping her father’s seat in one hand and pointing with the other. “See the lane? Turn left. It’s a long driveway.”

Brad Friesen slowed the car and made the turn. Gravel ground under the tires as he let the natural grade of the lane draw the vehicle toward the house.

Annie spotted Franey in the garden. She put her window down and waved. Franey returned the wave then let her hoe drop into the dirt. She made her way toward the vehicle, arriving just as the car came to a stop and wiping her hands on a flour-sack apron.

“You remember my parents? You met once last summer, out at Mo’s.”

“Yes, of course.” Franey leaned in the window and gave the welcoming smile that greeted all guests to her home. “You must come in for some refreshment.”

“Thank you. That would be lovely.” Annie was out of the car before her mother could protest, though she saw the way her parents looked at each other and slowly exited the car. “Don’t you want to see the quilt, Mom? You gave me some scraps for it, remember?”

“Why, yes, that would nice.” Myra turned to Franey. “We just have a moment, though, so please don’t put yourself out.”

“It’s no bother. We have a houseful right now anyway.” Franey waved an open hand toward her home. “Please come inside.”