The Englisher (32 page)
Imagining Ben dressed as an Amish farmer was not at all hard. A light brown beard, with golden strands that matched his hair, and soft to the touch. Jah, he would fit in right quick. Their baby boys would be as handsome and strong as Ben himself, and oh, their little girls. . . .
She was startled from her musing by Ben looking over at her. She had not been fidgeting, she didn’t think. But here they were, where Queen Road became Frogtown Road, and Ben’s confident glance said volumes:
Trust me, Annie, this
will turn out all right
.
She shuddered at the prospects of being found out— face-to-face with her furious preacher-father. She had folded her hands in her lap so tightly her fingers ached.
Not until Daed climbed out of the backseat and closed the car door, waving his thanks to them, did she begin to relax.
Neither she nor Ben said a word as he backed up and turned onto the main road again, creeping forward toward their usual parting place.
When he pulled over and stopped, she let out a loud sigh. ‘‘Ach, Ben, I was beside myself.’’
He grinned. ‘‘No, you were right here, Annie.’’ He reached for her hand. ‘‘With me.’’
Then suddenly she realized she could not simply march back into the house anytime soon, not dressed the way she was. She could put her hair into a bun, if need be, and pull on the outer bonnet, too. But going inside on the heels of her father’s return home was too risky. He might put two and two together. ‘‘Oh, Ben. What a terrible close call!’’
They began to laugh—nearly giggles from her—and he nuzzled her cheek. ‘‘What a wonderful-good day, Annie,’’ he said.
‘‘I can hardly believe my father didn’t know it was me right here in the front seat.’’
‘‘Saved by your new look . . . and Lou’s clothes,’’ Ben said, obviously relieved.
She was pleasingly aware of him. His eyes, his dear, dear face . . . his mouth. He reached for her hand, eyes searching hers.
No, no . . . say something—anything!
Oh, how she wanted to feel snug in his strong arms tonight, but the lovely thrill might lead them to hug and kiss. Rudy’s affectionate courting had taught her that. Yet they had remained pure, which was her truest hope now, too. Besides, one lingering kiss, coupled with all the wonderful things she knew and loved about Ben, and she might not be able to put the nix on their relationship as she must. She might end up going away with this handsome man, leaving the People, and breaking her parents’ hearts.
No, impossible
, she thought, leaning away from him, against the door.
I could never do that
.
‘‘I guess you’re stuck with me for a while—at least long enough for your father to get some help with his broken- down buggy and turn in for the night,’’ Ben said. ‘‘Unless you want to try to slip into the house in a few minutes.’’
He had a good point. ‘‘No, for the sake of not getting caught, I best wait a bit.’’
‘‘Well, what would you like to do?’’ he asked.
‘‘Let’s go walkin’ somewhere.’’
‘‘We could drive over to Park City Center . . . have ice cream, ride the carousel. How’s that sound?’’
‘‘I like your idea, Ben.’’
‘‘I like
you,
Annie.’’ The echo of his words and the emotion behind them was quickly imprinted on her heart.
A
nnie was almost grateful for the unexpected turn of events, happening upon Daed as she and Ben had earlier, because Ben treated her to a most exciting evening. She noticed only a handful of Mennonite women the entire time they walked the corridors of the pretty mall.
Later, when it was time to return home, Ben waited till there was not a single light flickering from her father’s house before turning off the car’s headlights and creeping halfway up the drive. Then he caught her off guard and gently reached for her hand.
After his tender good-bye kiss, she pulled her hairpins out of her pocket and began to pin up her long locks. ‘‘I had such a good time,’’ she said. Quickly she opened the glove compartment and found her black bonnet.
‘‘Ever ride on a carousel before?’’ he asked.
‘‘Never, but it was wonderful, I must say.’’
‘‘We can do it again.’’ His eyes were drawing her back to his arms.
‘‘Jah, that’d be right nice sometime,’’ she said, resisting her feelings. ‘‘Well, I’d better go in.’’ She offered a smile, then opened the door and stepped out of the car. ‘‘Good night, Ben.’’
Heart pounding now, she hoped against hope her parents were soundly asleep. She made her way around to the back of the house, heading quickly for the kitchen door of the Dawdi Haus. She let herself in and inched her way through the kitchen silently, then to the stairs.
If I can just make it to my room without anything creaking
. She held her breath and removed Lou’s fancy boots. Cautiously she tiptoed up the steps.
She might’ve missed him altogether had she not glanced toward the small sitting area between her room and Dawdi and Mammi’s. A rustle in the darkness—not a sound, but a feeling. Someone was definitely sitting near the window.
‘‘Annie . . .’’
Her heart caught in her throat. She was less than a yard from her own room. Pulling her long coat closed, she wished to hide the suede boots in her hand . . . her feet and legs nearly bare in Lou’s flesh-colored hosiery.
Dare she dart into her room, close the door, simply refuse to talk?
Daed must not see me this way. . . .
‘‘Annie,’’ her father said again stiffly. ‘‘You will begin your baptismal instruction, as planned.’’ Then a glimmer of light from a match as he lit a lantern.
The single beam revealed her treachery.
If only I’d worn
my dark stockings. . . .
But there was something terribly amiss. Why was he waiting for her?
‘‘Come here to me, daughter.’’
Now she could see him, sitting tall in the old cane chair, a quilt folded on the slats behind him. He was fully dressed, and, no doubt, put out at having to wait up for so long. An early riser, he preferred to go to bed not long after sundown most evenings.
She made her feet move forward, holding the beautiful boots behind her back, ever so glad for her long coat, though it was not fully buttoned.
‘‘I saw you today . . . with Ben Martin.’’
‘‘When?’’ she asked, feeling stupid.
He rose suddenly. ‘‘Do not continue your pretense!’’ His voice boomed over her, filling the room. ‘‘And without your Kapp yet . . . your hair down—a disgrace! If it’s not one thing with you, it’s another.’’
She froze in place, biting her lip.
‘‘I order you never to see the Englischer again!’’ With that he picked up the lantern and carried it out of the room. Down the stairs he went, with no effort to restrain his footsteps.
Never see Ben?
She breathed in and held it, till her lungs nearly gave out. She remained standing there with locked knees in the blackened room, aware of Mammi Zook’s muttering to Dawdi in the next room now, asking him in Dutch, ‘‘What the world is goin’ on?’’
Quickly, lest she encounter yet another fuming relative, she dashed into her room and closed the door.
Too ill and forlorn to attend Preaching service, Annie stayed in bed, covers piled over her head, lifting them every so often to breathe a bit before relishing the darkness beneath yet again.
She did not care to see the light of the day, nor did she wish to eat breakfast with the family. Her barn chores could be done by one of her brothers. Or Daed, for that matter. If he was going to cut her off from Ben, then she would simply lie here till it was time for them to come and bury her. That’s how she felt, but she knew, eventually, she would get up, wash, and dress. But not for the Lord’s day, and not for any particular reason except to be up and combed and wearing her clothes. Plain once again.
She waited till the house was hushed and drained of people to make a hasty search for any stray brothers. Then she returned to the Dawdi Haus, to Mammi’s little gas-run refrigerator. Hungry in spite of her grief, she made two pieces of toast and a cup of hot tea.
Sitting at her grandparents’ small table, she realized not a soul had come to either check on or inquire of her.
Well,
maybe they had
. Hiding beneath the covers had worked, apparently. Or had Daed already told them what she had done? And now she was alone with the place to herself till midafternoon, when they’d all return for milking.
She recalled Ben’s wonderful smile and the adoring way he looked at her, his consideration in helping her into the car and the careful way he drove. She felt so protected with him. She could still feel the press of his lips on hers, the tickle in her stomach even now at the thought of being nestled in his warm embrace.
Is this love . . . when you long to
be with someone beyond any good sense?
‘‘Oh, Ben . . . I already miss you,’’ she whispered into her warm tea.
She finished eating, then cleared off the table. She quickly washed and dried her plate and utensils, few as there were, and put them away for Mammi Zook.
Then she went to her room again, found some stationery, and curled up in bed. ‘‘This is for you, Daed,’’ she muttered angrily. ‘‘And for all the People.’’
She began to write her farewell letter.
Dear Ben,
I will make this short, since it is a waste of time and paper
to write something that doesn’t make sense to me. Yet I
should’ve seen this coming. (How could I have expected anything
different?)
My father did recognize me with you yesterday and has
demanded that I not see you ever again. It pains me so. I never
wanted to think this day would come. Truly, I didn’t! I wanted
only to think of you . . . of us.
So long, Ben. It seems impossible to say good-bye. Yet for
the sake of my family . . . and my future . . . I know I must.
Yours,
Annie Zook
Ben was overjoyed to receive his mom’s phone call the following Tuesday, saying she’d located his birth certificate. ‘‘Here it is,’’ she said into the phone. ‘‘Benjamin David Martin . . .’’
‘‘That’s great, Mom. Send it by overnight mail.’’
‘‘Well, it would be nice if you came home,’’ his mother said. ‘‘You could pick it up then.’’
‘‘Sure, I’d love to come home—for a visit. But I’m not sure when that’ll be. So just pop it in the mail . . . I still need it to get a Pennsylvania driver’s license. Then I can finally open a checking account here, get a bit more established.’’ He didn’t know why it pleased him, this phone call from home.
My birth certificate, at long last . . .
After he hung up, he wandered outside to pick up his mail. The day was warm, and the faint scent of spring wafted on the breeze.
He did not recognize the handwriting on the single letter mixed in with the usual junk mail. He was tired, having stayed up late both Saturday night, after dropping Annie off, and then again last evening, burning the midnight oil online with his sister, Patrice.
Then he’d stared into the darkness, lying awake and weighing plans, ways to attempt, at least, to make things work with Annie and her family, unable as he was to discard his deep affection for her.
When it came down to reality versus hope, he guessed he was on the losing side. To be audacious enough to think Annie would leave behind all that she knew, and seemingly enjoyed, to be with him? He assumed he was treading on very thin ice.
But our love . . . it’s real. We can make it work
.
He grabbed the remote and switched to Fox News, ready to catch up on the world. He had begun to feel incredibly isolated here. At times he loved the area—particularly when with Annie—yet at others he barely tolerated its smallness.
Reaching for the letter, he tore it open with his finger, not bothering to use the opener in his desk drawer. He saw his name and began to read the first line, only to scan down to see Annie’s signature at the bottom.
No!
he groaned inwardly.
He read the entire letter, brief as it was, then pressed it to his forehead.