Almost Amish (28 page)

“Fine.” She crossed her arms and increased her pace, never looking toward Susan at all.

“When we get back to the house, I want you to go upstairs to your room and write a three-page apology to Kendra and to me for taking part in this. As far as I’m concerned, this incident is not over, but since you’re obviously not ready to come clean yet, you can just stay in your room, except for when you’re doing chores, until you’re ready to talk.”

“Fine.”

They didn’t speak another word all the way home. Angie ran up the front steps and inside the house. The screen door slapped the doorframe behind her, just seconds before Susan could hear her footsteps running up the stairs, followed by the door to her room shutting. Angie had the common sense not to slam it, although Susan was more than certain she had wanted to do so.

Kendra came to the back door and motioned her outside. “I wanted to let you know that I spent quite a bit of time talking with Chris this afternoon.”

“And?”

“He admitted that it was all his fault, that it had all been his idea.”

“Well, of course it was. I could have told you that without putting you to the trouble of asking him. I’m just glad to know he is confessing the truth and assume you will take measures accordingly.”

“I didn’t fire him, if that’s what you mean.”

“Why not? He admitted the truth.”

“See, that’s where we disagree. I think he’s saying what he thinks he needs to say to keep your daughter out of trouble and your family on the show.”

“Angie has always been honest and upstanding to a fault. The blame lies squarely on that boy.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then your honest and upstanding daughter shouldn’t give us anything more to worry about, now should she?” Kendra turned and walked back into the shack. Susan was more than a little certain there was a smile of victory on her face.

“What is Aunt Susan in such a lather about?” Whitney asked, watching Angie and Susan walk away. She folded the blanket the kids had been sitting on during their lesson.

“Whitney, you need to show respect when you talk about your aunt.” Julie started toward the pile of Angie’s books. “I’ve got empty hands. I’ll get those things.”

Brian straightened out his arm in her direction, palm facing her. “Halt. We men do the heavy lifting for our womenfolk when they’ve been summoned away by the powers that be.” He squatted down and put his books on top of Angie’s. When he stood back up, his arms were fully extended. “Now go on back and cook me some supper, woman.”

Charlotte laughed. “Sorry, Mrs. Charlton. I think I’m going to have to take the blame for that. I’ve been trying to get Brian interested in reading fiction, so I turned him on to westerns.”

“And I much appreciate your efforts toward the betterment of my education, ma’am.” Brian nodded toward Charlotte. “You need me to carry your books, little lady?”

“I’ve got it Brian, thank yo—oh no. We left our water bottles cooling in the creek. I better go down and get them.”

“Not to worry, little lady. I’ll just go assist ya.” Brian said this in an almost perfect John Wayne imitation as he set the books back on the ground, then offered his left elbow to his teacher.

Julie laughed outright. “Brian, this little adventure has done wonders for your sense of humor.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grinned, then turned to Charlotte. “We got us some water bottles to wrangle. Don’t wait up.”

“Good grief.” Whitney adjusted her books into her right hand and started walking toward the schoolhouse. “What’s Aunt Susan so
angry
about?” She looked at Julie and grinned. “That better?”

“It is more respectful, yes. And I don’t think it’s my place to go into a private matter between Susan and Angie.”

“But you do know?”

“I know enough. I’m guessing you probably have a good idea what it might be, too.”

“Aunt Susan’s this berserk because Angie has actually acknowledged a member of the opposite sex? I mean, I know Angie’s shy and all, but she is seventeen years old. Surely she can’t find it that offensive.”

“I think it’s more the
way
it happened. There are rules that we are supposed to be abiding by, and that includes not talking to people on the crew. Besides, there’s a bit more to it than that.”

“Oh, man, tell me they didn’t bust her for sn—uh, I mean, for uh . . .”

“Yes, Whitney, they did. Why didn’t you tell me she was doing that?”

“I knew it would put you in the position of either having to lie to Aunt Susan or ratting me out for ratting Angie out.”

“What if something had happened to her?”

“Chris?” She snorted. “He wouldn’t do anything to her. Trust me.”

“I wish I could be as confident of that as you are.”

“You would be if you’d been around him for five minutes when he was actually allowed to speak. Or sing. Trust me, he’s a good guy.”

They walked into the school building, where Whitney put her books in her desk. Julie did the same with Angie’s; then they walked back outside. “Angie’s scooter is still here. You want to ride it home, or shall we just walk ours together?”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Brian?”

Whitney looked toward the creek. “He’s probably hoping we leave. That kid’s got a huge crush.”

“So I’ve noticed.” Julie picked up Angie’s scooter. “I’m thinking I want one of these when we get back home.”

“Mom, I’m thinking it’s a necessity.” They laughed.

Whitney dawdled along, in no apparent hurry. “I suppose we want to give Aunt Susan and Angie enough time to get home ahead of us, huh?”

“Probably a good idea.”

“So are they super mad at her about the whole Chris thing?”

Julie shrugged. “I don’t know. To be honest, I think Kendra is looking for a fight because of me, but I just felt what we were doing was wrong.”

“I’m glad you did that.” Whitney pulled at her long skirt. “Maybe next time you should push a little harder, though. All right?”

“I’ll do my best.” Julie put one foot on the scooter. “Oh, by the way, we’re not supposed to talk about this anywhere inside or near the house. They don’t want the hidden cameras picking up anything.”

“Ew. I keep forgetting about the hidden cameras and stuff.” Whitney reached down and lifted the scooter back into position. “I can’t even begin to imagine what they may have captured at this point.”

Julie laughed. “Isn’t it the truth?”

Susan ironed her shirt for the third time. The wrinkles just didn’t want to come out. This butane-fired iron just didn’t seem to be cutting it today. “I’m going to get a cup of water and try dampening this a little.”

Julie looked up from her quilt squares. “You know what I think would help you more than anything?”

Susan poured some water into a cup, not bothering to respond. Julie would tell her anyway.

“I think what would be most beneficial would be for you to stand up and walk outside. Sit down somewhere all by yourself and read that paper that’s burning a hole in your skirt pocket.”

Susan sprinkled water on the placket and pressed the iron hard into the fabric. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t give me that. Angie spent all yesterday evening upstairs in her room, she handed you some folded-up papers on her way out the door today, never bothering to look at you. You, on the other hand, never looked at the papers. It’s obviously something that’s eating you up inside, so why don’t you take five minutes.”

“I don’t have five minutes.”

Julie didn’t say anything, just stayed put for what seemed like forever. Finally, she walked across the room, grabbed Susan’s right hand, effectively stopping her from ironing anymore. “How about I finish this up, and you go do what you need to do?”

“What I need to do is to get my chores done.” Julie just looked at her, waiting. “Fine, I’ll go outside and work in the garden.”

“Suit yourself.”

Susan let the screen door slam behind her. She started down the back steps, but as she did so, she put her hand into her pocket and felt the paper. Three sheets of paper, just like she’d asked, were folded neatly inside her pocket. When she reached the bottom of the steps, instead of turning left toward the garden, she turned right and walked around the side of the house. There she leaned against the wall, took a deep breath, and pulled the papers from her pocket.

Dear Kendra and Mom,

I am very sorry that I broke the rule about talking to crew members. I know that was something we weren’t supposed to do, but I did it anyway.

As for the visits to the car when Chris was on watch, as I’ve previously stated, that was my fault. I was having trouble sleeping, and I was worried about something that Chris understands very well. It just made sense to go talk to him about it.

“Say what?” Susan banged the back of her head against the farmhouse. Angie must have just put that part in to goad her. She started to fold the paper back up, but in spite of her intentions, unfolded it again.

I am sorry that I was selfish enough to risk his job because I wanted to talk to someone. At home, I could have talked to my friends, called someone, at least sent an email. Maybe a real Amish girl might drive her buggy down the road to visit her friend, but we don’t have that here. We are not living in a true Amish community. We are isolated. I don’t think this is a fair expectation.

I understand that Chris took the blame for me going out there, which is obviously ridiculous. How could that possibly be true? Do you think he snuck into my room and kidnapped me? I am responsible for my own choices, and it was my choice to go outside and talk to him. The fact that he tried to do that makes me all the more happy that I’ve gotten to know such an unselfish person during my time here.

Susan finished the letter, which basically reiterated the same themes, then folded up the paper, her anger beginning to cool just a little. Part of Angie’s argument bothered her just a little more than she cared for. Was it possible that this was true? And what could Angie possibly believe that Chris understood more than she did? This would be something they would talk about tonight—if they somehow managed to survive this day.

Now it was time to get back to work.

Julie couldn’t help but smile as she watched the kids in their World Championship Checkers event. Team Girly-Girly was currently down two games to one, but they were making a hard charge that seemed to have Team Boy nervous. Brian sat studying the board, not saying a single word. Slowly, he slid his black piece forward, moaning as he did so.

Whitney showed not even a trace of humility as she double-jumped him, then said, “King us.”

“There’s no reason to king you; the game’s over. I don’t have any checkers left.”

Julie laughed at her son as he scowled at his duo of opponents, and couldn’t help but think this was what it was all about. This kind of thing was the reason they came here. When did her kids ever have time to play checkers in their real life?

“Just because you don’t have any checkers left still doesn’t mean that we don’t want to be treated like queens. Right, Angie?”

“That’s right.” All evening long, Angie had said all the right things, made the right strategic moves, but there was no smile in her eyes. Julie wondered if she ought to try to talk to her about what was going on, since Susan obviously was done talking about it. It wasn’t really her business, she supposed, but then there was that gift thing again. Maybe she noticed things like this so she could talk to her niece when she needed some grown-up advice—from a grown-up that wouldn’t ground her.

“Attention, everyone, attention.” Kendra had let herself in the kitchen door as always and came walking into the living room as if she, too, lived here. “Mail call.” She held several envelopes high above her head.

“
Woot!
” Whitney stood up and hurried toward her. “Got anything for me?”