Almost Amish (14 page)

As the buggy reached a hilltop and started down, the small schoolhouse came into sight. It looked exactly like Julie had always pictured a one-room schoolhouse. White, rather plain, almost like an old church without the steeple. It was surrounded entirely by towering trees, as though they’d grown there solely to protect the school one day.

“How cute. Gary, do you know if this place was already on this property? I can’t imagine that it was, but it looks so authentic.”

“You are correct on both counts. It wasn’t here, but the producers wanted a schoolhouse that looked legitimate. They found this one abandoned in town not far from here, moved it, restored it just enough that it doesn’t fall in, but not so much that it looks brand-new. The schoolhouse doesn’t have electricity; that’s why they set it in the middle of those trees. Hopefully the shade will help keep it cool.”

“I wonder how many trees they had to take out to make it fit,” Julie said.

“None.” Gary’s answer was quick, but then he shrugged. “At least that’s the way I understand it. There was a perfect spot right here, but obviously the opening isn’t wide enough to bring that thing in. So . . . it was dismantled, brought in here piece by piece, then reassembled. Tell you the truth, I think they did a nice job.”

“Me too.” Julie leaned forward to get a better look at the place. “It’s so picturesque.”

“I’m just hoping there’s some good teaching going on inside there.” Susan’s face was turned toward the building, but Julie knew she wasn’t even seeing the outside. Her focus lay on the tasks that needed to be occurring inside.

“I’m more than confident that there is.” Gary answered in a friendly-enough way, but Julie thought she heard something like irritation in his voice.

“We finally got the buggy, huh?” Brian seemed to appear from nowhere, his arms loaded with pine cones, nuts, twigs, and other kinds of fauna. “Can we go for a ride?” He matched his step to walk beside them.

“Where’s your tutor? Why aren’t you in class right now?” Susan turned to scan the immediate area, as if to find out the answer for herself.

“And what do you have in your hands?” Gary’s voice was more jovial.

Brian looked down, as if just now remembering his load. “Oh, this. Well, Aunt Susan, this is why I’m not inside. Char sent me outside to gather items to be used in my summer project.”

“Char?” Susan asked, her voice in full disdain mode by now.

“Our tutor, remember? Her name is Charlotte, but she told us everyone calls her Char.”

“What about Ms. Buchanan? That seems more appropriate to me.”

“Lighten up, Aunt Susan. This is summer, after all.”

Gary leaned a bit closer to where Brian walked. “What is the project?”

“A model of our solar system in the middle, and representative astronomical structures from elsewhere in the Milky Way. We’ll spend the summer studying all the things represented. Of course, I’ll include Sagittarius A-star”—he looked at Gary—“that’s the super-massive black hole right in the middle of our galaxy.”

“Right, of course.” Gary nodded, playing along.

Brian nodded. “And the Comet Elenin will be another no-brainer when it comes to inclusion.”

“I would think so.” Gary grinned at Susan, then turned to Julie and said, “You’ve got one smart young man on your hands there.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Let’s go see what the other smart ones are up to, shall we?” He pulled the horse to a stop.

The three of them climbed out of the buggy. Gary went around to tend to the horse while Julie and Susan started for the building, Susan leading the way.

The door stood open, to allow in air, Julie supposed. As they stepped inside she noticed that it was warm, but not unbearable.

Charlotte Buchanan was standing at Whitney’s desk, looking at something in Whitney’s notebook. Angie was busy writing something, her pencil flying across the paper.

“Hello.” Susan made her way toward the three desks. “We came to see what was on the agenda for today’s lesson.”

Charlotte looked up and smiled. “Today we’re just getting our plan set and talking about what interests them most and what I feel are the most important topics for review. I’ve gotten everyone started on a warm-up project, but tomorrow we’ll dive in full force.”

“Can I drive the horse and wagon tomorrow?” Brian carefully placed the items from his arms onto his desk.

“Sorry, Brian, but that falls under the category of the true-to-life-schooling you’re going to get here. Amish kids generally walk to school, just like your grandparents probably did. It’s all a part of the experience,” Char answered.

As the conversation and attention were drawn to Brian, a movement caught Julie’s eye. She glanced toward Angie and saw her sliding a notebook she’d just been using beneath her other books. In its place, she pulled out a precalculus textbook and set it on her desk. Her entire being was focused on Susan, who, at this moment, wasn’t looking toward her. What was it she’d been working on with such energy and didn’t want her mother to know about? Whatever it was, Char was in on it, too, because she had moved to stand between Susan and Angie during this exchange.

Gary ambled into the classroom. “I just got a call from the boss. She wants you ladies back at the farmhouse ASAP. Sorry to cut this school session short, but I’m sure the students and their teacher have lots to be doing anyway.” He and Charlotte made eye contact, and Julie knew without a doubt there was something meant by the exchange.

“I guess we’ll hear about the rest tonight at dinner,” Julie said as they walked from the building.

Gary helped Susan up into the wagon, then Julie. Susan’s blush still hadn’t quite faded as Julie climbed up beside her. That’s when Julie began to wonder how long it would be before Gary and Susan realized they were attracted to each other.

Julie watched out the kitchen window as the kids made their way from the barn and the morning’s chores. They were talking and laughing, something that rarely happened at home in the morning time before school. Yet here it was not even 7:00
a.m.,
they’d been up and going for an hour, and their outlook was as pleasant as could be. Maybe there was something to be said about spending time in the great outdoors first thing in the morning, or having the kids do extra chores, or be electronics-free. Whatever it was, it seemed to be working.

The screen door to the kitchen porch screeched open. The kids all spilled inside, sock-footed and still laughing. Brian held up both arms to show off nonexistent muscle. “Behold King Brian. Lord of the cow milkers.”

“Yeah, right. You got lucky, that’s all,” said Whitney.

“Nothing lucky about it. I’m the best milker in the family; admit it, both of you.”

“Nothing doing. I would have had way more yesterday except that the stupid cow kicked the bucket over.”

“That’s operator error, not the cow’s fault.” Brian ducked his sister’s swat and plopped at the kitchen table. “What’s for breakfast? I’m starved.”

“We’re taking a break from the heavy stuff today. We have nuts and raisins. Some raspberries and apples. Plus we’ve got some oatmeal this morning, the old-fashioned kind. And some toast from last night’s leftover friendship bread, and there’s molasses and butter on the table.”

“Gary told me yesterday to put some butter on your plate, pour molasses over it, and then stir them together. He said it’s really good on biscuits that way. Maybe it’ll work on toast, too.” Brian spooned out a scoop of butter and started drizzling molasses over it before anyone could protest.

Whitney’s nose crinkled up tight. “Ick. That looks disgusting.”

“You never know for sure until you try something. That’s the scientific approach. Then there’s your approach . . . the blond approach—”

“Okay, you two, that’s enough. Whitney, I believe it is your turn to lead the blessing.”

In unison, the heads bowed. Whitney said, “Thank You, God, for this food and our family. Amen.”

“That had to be the shortest blessing in history.” Brian scooped up some of his molasses-butter mixture with his knife and placed it on a piece of toast and took a bite.

“There’s no need to pontificate, especially this early in the morning. Besides, didn’t you ever read the parable about the hypocrite who said long prayers just so he would look good?”

“Pontificate? Whitney, you just used a four-syllable word!”

Julie reached across the table and put a hand on each of her children’s arms. “If I have to tell you two to knock it off one more time, there will be consequences.”

Brian scooped more molasses onto his toast. “This is
really
good. Amazingly good.”

Whitney picked up her fork, stuck the tines into Brain’s mixture, then pulled it back and licked it. “Hmm, not bad.” She reached for the butter and pulled out her own little clump, then passed it to Angie. “Maybe we should give it a try.”

“Angie, no,” Susan interrupted. “Today was supposed to be healthier. And eating a tablespoonful of butter with sugary syrup poured all over it is nothing of the sort.” Susan looked at Brian’s and Whitney’s plates and turned to Julie, her annoyance more than obvious. “I thought you were going to back me up this morning,” she said in a whisper still loud enough for the kids to hear. And the cameras. “How can you let them eat like that?”

Julie froze. Once again, she’d been whiplashed by Susan. Just seconds ago she’d watched her children come inside as happy as she remembered seeing them, and now she was being scolded. For butter and molasses. Susan stared, waiting for an apology. Demanding one. The same look Julie had seen in so many eyes back home. Demanding this, expecting that from her. The life she hated. And Julie refused to let that world break in here. This place was beyond all that, and she wasn’t going to take it anymore. She looked Susan directly in the eye. “It’s all part of the experience. In fact”—she extended her hand toward her daughter—“pass it this way when you’re done, please.”

Julie held the hoe with her left hand while she bent down to pull a weed with her right. “Some of these are so close to the tomatoes, I’m afraid I’ll tear out the wrong roots.”

“Who knew that weeds could grow so much faster than vegetables?” Susan removed her wide-brimmed straw hat and fanned herself. “It seems like they regenerate overnight, doesn’t it?”

Hours had passed since their breakfast disagreement. Julie thought Susan might hold a grudge, but to this point she hadn’t mentioned anything. And Julie certainly wasn’t going to bring it up.

“I know what you mean.” Julie wiped her cheek with her shoulder. Her back was aching from the morning’s work, but something about being out in nature, the peace, the silence, was enjoyable despite the humidity and muscles that were not used to doing this kind of work.

“Why are the kids here already?” Susan put her hat back on. “They shouldn’t be back for several hours yet.”

The girls were jumping and shouting, and even Brian had an extra spring in his step. Of course Whitney’s voice was the loudest and carried the farthest.

“We come bearing good news, simple women of the garden!” She reached into a large canvas bag slung over her left shoulder and extended her right hand triumphantly. In it she held lots of white paper. Julie looked at it for a moment and then realized what she was seeing. Envelopes.

“Mail call!” Whitney ran out into the garden, bouncing her way across a zucchini plant in the process. “Kendra came to the school and said we might want to take a break and walk down to the mailbox. Just look what all we came back with.”

“Seems to me we could have done that after the school day was over.” Susan leaned heavily against her hoe and didn’t really even look at the mailbag.

Julie went to stand beside her. “Well, at least it gives a good excuse to sit in the air-conditioning for a few minutes. Right?”

Susan offered a weak smile and nodded. “Now that I think about it, a glass of ice water and a chair sure do sound good about now.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

The kids bounded up the back porch steps, pausing long enough to take their shoes off and put them beneath the bench on the screened porch before disappearing though the kitchen door. By the time Julie and Susan made it inside, the remains of several envelopes were strewn around the kitchen table. Brian was bent over what looked like a Hallmark card, chuckling with enough force that his shoulders were shaking. Angie was reading a letter, which looked to be about three pages long, smiling and nodding. Whitney already had one card lying on the table in front of her and had moved on to a second. She didn’t bother to look up but did motion with her left thumb. “Old-person mail is on the kitchen counter.”