Almost Amish (29 page)

“I’m sure I do. But these”—Kendra lowered her hand—“are for your mother.”

“Great.” Julie walked over and got the stack of a half dozen letters. “Thanks.” She thumbed through the stack, seeing return addresses from Thomas, a couple of friends, a neighbor, and her Bible study leader.

“Susan, we’ve got several for you. Whitney, Brian, Angie, here you go.”

Julie watched everyone take their mail. Whitney immediately ripped open an envelope and pulled out a stack of photos. Angie sorted through her cards. One in particular seemed to bring a smile to her face. She opened it as carefully as Julie’s grandmother used to open Christmas presents—so she could keep the wrapping.

With everyone happily involved in their own reading, Julie opened the envelope on top of her stack. It was from her neighbor Rhonda, a particularly chatty widow who lived alone except for her dog, Petey. Most of the neighborhood avoided her because once she started talking, it was hard to get away. She often began a conversation by asking, “Have I ever told you about . . .” Even if the victim answered yes, Rhonda would immediately launch into the story. “Oh, good, because it really was so funny that time that . . .” and she’d tell the whole story from beginning to end, not omitting a single detail.

The neighborhood just isn’t the same without you and your kids. No one else around here will take the time for a little friendly neighborhood conversation like you do. And I miss Whitney and her friends batting the volleyball around in the front yard. They make a lot of noise, but it’s happy noise and I like it. Petey especially misses Brian and the games of fetch. Thomas seems to be getting along well enough, but I’m sure he’ll be glad when you’re home, too.

Can’t wait to see you,
Rhonda and Petey

Julie looked up to see how everyone else was progressing. Susan was reading what looked like a multi-page letter. She was shaking her head and biting her lips together. She flipped the page over and Julie could see that it was a typewritten form. Likely from the PTA. Susan was undoubtedly thinking about all the things she was going to have to straighten out when she got home.

Whitney was laughing and wiping tears at the same time. Brian showed no expression whatsoever, but he did nod his head occasionally. Angie still had the first letter in her hand, but she was staring out the window. She shook her head slowly from side to side. She reached up to twist a lock of hair, but didn’t move otherwise. Julie wondered what kind of upsetting news she’d received and hoped that the next letter in the stack would have something that would cheer her up a bit.

She went back to the next letter in her stack, but kept glancing up toward Angie. At some point, Angie folded up the letter and returned it to its envelope. “I’ve got a headache, so I’m going to turn in early. Good night, everyone.” She walked up the stairs toward her room. Julie was pretty certain Angie hadn’t bothered to open any of the rest of the letters.

Long after Angie had gone to bed, Julie sat downstairs worrying about her. Likely she was overreacting. It was just a teenager-versus-mother spat, and it would all blow over in a day or two. But if that were the case, what happened with the letters? Something was wrong. She could feel it.

Whitney and Brian were currently arguing over a game of Scrabble while Susan was busy working up a new recipe for the following week.

Julie stood up and made a show of stretching. “I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll go lie in bed and read awhile.”

“Sweet dreams,” Susan said without even looking up.

“ ’Night, Mom.”

“Good night.”

Julie climbed the stairs slowly, taking care to be quiet. She didn’t know why. It wasn’t like she thought she was going to sneak up on anything. Once she peeked in the door and saw that her niece was resting, she could relax and chide herself for being such a worrier.

She knocked softly, not wanting to wake Angie if she was asleep, but then again, she didn’t want to just barge in if she was awake. She listened briefly for a response and didn’t hear one, so she turned the knob slowly and opened the door. The heat of the room hit her as soon as she opened the door. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they did, she looked toward Angie’s bed and found it empty, completely untouched. The window, however, was open, which explained the warmth of the room.

Julie walked down the hall to the bathroom, only to find it empty. She returned to the bedroom, some irrational hope telling her that she somehow had overlooked Angie the last time.

The room was still just as empty.

Julie looked out the window. The security car was just pulling up, its headlights cutting through the night. Julie turned to cross the room, but as she did, she noticed the trash can in the room held some ripped-up paper. She reached in and picked up the envelope. It was from James Reynolds.

The letter had been ripped in half only, so it was easy enough to reconstruct. Julie carried it over to the lamp and held the two pieces together.

Hi, Honey,

I have some really great news for you. You know how you’ve always hated being an only child? Well, you’re not going to be one for much longer. I’m sure by now you’ve guessed it. Serina is expecting a baby! We are so happy about it, and I know you are, too. Well, I wanted to be the first to tell you.

Love you lots,
Dad

Oh boy.

Julie walked down the stairs and went to sit beside Susan. Susan barely looked up from what she was doing. “I thought you went to bed.”

“We’ve got a problem.” She whispered quietly, hoping the microphones wouldn’t pick it up.

“Really, what?” Susan still didn’t look up.

“Susan, we’ve got a
problem
.”

This time Susan looked up. “What is it?”

Julie held out the two pieces of paper. “See for yourself.”

Susan read it, her lips going white as she pressed them together so hard. “I need to go talk to Angie.”

Julie reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “Susan, you can’t. She’s not there.”

Susan ran up the stairs to the room Angie and Whitney shared, certain that Julie was wrong. Angie had just been in the bathroom, or maybe she’d been behind the closet door looking for something to wear tomorrow. She jerked open the door, certain she would find out it had all been a mistake.

Angie’s pastel quilt was tucked around the edges, unwrinkled and untouched. Susan walked over to the closet, pulled open the door, and found two rows of long skirts and simple blouses, a couple pairs of shoes, but no other sign of her daughter. The search of the upstairs bathroom proved just as fruitless.

“
Angie!
” Susan called down the upstairs hallway. “Angela Leigh Reynolds, you answer me right now!”

Nothing but silence.

Susan ran to the window and looked out, knowing full well where her daughter was. Sure enough, the “security” car was parked out front. Security. Ha, what a laugh. As she ran down the stairs two at a time, she vowed to herself to make certain that young man was not only fired, he was sent back to the other side of the country as quickly as possible.

“What’s wrong, Aunt Susan?” Whitney’s voice trailed behind her, but Susan didn’t bother to even acknowledge it. She ran through the kitchen, across the screened porch, and was almost to the car by the time the screen door slapped shut behind her. She jerked open the door. “Just what do you—”

“Huh?” The young woman behind the wheel blinked up at Susan. “What’s wrong?”

Susan glared down at her. “How long have you been out here?”

“Just a couple of minutes. Why, what’s wrong?”

“Have you seen my—”

Susan thought about what Kendra had said about the crew finding out about the whole Angie-Chris thing. She simply looked at the girl and said, “We thought we heard the sound of people walking around out here. Did you see anyone? Hear anything?”

“No. I haven’t seen anyone at all.”

Of course she hadn’t, because Angie was long gone. “Never mind, then.”

By now, Julie and the kids had come outside and were heading toward her. Susan walked toward them, more specifically, toward Whitney. “Where are they?” she managed to whisper through clenched teeth.

“Who is ‘they’?” Whitney looked around, appearing to be confused.

Susan knew better. “Don’t give me that. I know you know about that boy from the production crew. She’s not here, she’s obviously somewhere with him. Where are they?”

Whitney held up both hands, palms facing the sky. “I have no idea.”

“He helps take care of the animals and the barn,” Brian offered. “Maybe she went down there.” It was the first useful information of the night.

Julie said, “Brian, Whitney, why don’t the two of you go down to the observatory and see if she’s down there? I’m going to the barn with Susan.”

The kids took off jogging toward the tree line while Julie and Susan hurried toward the barn. Susan pulled one of the flashlights off the shelf and shone it all around. “Angie. Angie.”

There was no answer. Soon, the sound of the kids’ footsteps came racing toward them. “The observatory is empty,” Whitney huffed. “But we ran into Jeff, one of the other production assistants. We asked him if he knew where Chris was. He told us that he’d driven into town about a half hour ago.”

Susan looked at Julie. “I’m going to have to tell the crew. I’m not going to let her leave like this and not go after her. I don’t care if it does cost me this job.” She started toward the shack, but Julie grabbed her arm and jerked her back.

“Wait.”

“No, Julie! My daughter is out there. I can’t just—”

“I have a better idea,” Julie said, her voice low and firm. She held tight to Susan’s arm. “Get Gary to take you. He lives in that little cottage just over the hill. He wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Gary.

He was her best hope for a solution to this problem. She knew Julie was right. But the thought of asking for his help, of admitting to him how out of control she was of her own daughter, embarrassed her. No, humiliated her. But what other choice did she have? If being humiliated was what it took to salvage the wreck of the current situation, then so be it.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Julie asked.

Susan considered for a moment before answering. “No. I think it’s best if I go alone. Can I ask a favor of all of you? Would you please go back into the house and act like nothing is going on? I don’t want the crew to get wind of this if I can help it.”

“Sure. We’ll do whatever you need us to do to help. Won’t we?” Julie looked at her kids, who were already nodding.

“You got it, Aunt Susan. Come on, Team Little Boy—I’ll take you on in a rematch.”

“Without the other half of Team Girly-Girl here, you don’t stand a chance.” The two of them were shoving each other playfully up the steps.

Julie reached over and hugged her. “I’ll do anything I can to help you. Just know I’ll be praying that you’ll find her, and that you’ll know just what to say.”

“Thanks.” Susan started toward Gary’s house, already formulating in her mind the things she would tell Angie when she caught up with her. She started pondering privileges that she might take away, but there were so few of them in this place already that none came readily to mind.

She approached the little cabin, thankful to see that the lights were still on. The combination of fear for her daughter and embarrassment at her failures seemed to hit her with full force as she walked up the steps to the front porch. By the time she reached up to knock, she couldn’t see her hand because of the tears flooding her eyes. This only increased her mortification, but this was no time for pride. She knocked and waited.

She heard the approaching footsteps and wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. The effort was futile; the torrent simply replaced anything she’d wiped aside.

Gary opened the door and immediately stepped out on the porch beside her, his hand on her left shoulder, his face very near hers. “Susan, what’s wrong?”

Susan tried hard to swallow sobs that shook her whole body, but she’d lost almost every ounce of fight. It took what little was left simply to say two words: “Angie’s gone.”

“Gone where?”

Susan took a great pull of air and stilled herself. “Into town, I think. With that Chris kid.”

“Does Kendra know?”

Susan shook her head. “No.”

“My truck is around back. We can use that.”

“Th-thank you.” She followed him, hating herself for the weakling that she’d become.

The truck was old, and even in the dark it looked rusty. The passenger door squeaked as he opened it for her. He held out his hand and helped her inside; then in a flash he was in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. “We’ll go out the back way so that no one sees you in the truck.”

She nodded and wiped her face again. By now, she was beginning to regain some semblance of control. “I’m sorry to be babbling like this. I don’t usually do things like that.”