Taken for English (9 page)

The door between the dining room and kitchen creaked open and eight-year-old Jacob appeared lugging a bag of ice. “We’re going to make ice cream in the barn. Rufus says I can turn the crank.”

Towering over Jacob, Rufus stood with a pan of cooked mixture.

“I love homemade ice cream.” Annie met Rufus’s pleased expression.

“You won’t chase any runaway horses while I’m in the barn, will you?” Rufus’s violet-blue eyes teased a warning.

“I think I’ve learned that lesson.”

She watched as the two brothers—the eldest and youngest of the Beiler children, more than twenty years apart—passed through the room and out the front door.

“They’ll be back for salt,” Ruth predicted. “Rufus never remembers it.”

“I know,” Annie said.

“Speaking of Amish couples,” Ruth said, “has Rufus said anything about making things official?”

Annie had thought he would move their relationship along a little more quickly now.

“Well?” Ruth prodded. “What’s he thinking?”

“I wish I knew.”

Rufus sent Jacob back to the house for the salt and carefully poured into the metal canister the mixture his sister Sophie had cooked on the stove. By the time his little brother returned, Rufus had the blade fixed in the vanilla goop and the lid on the canister. Together they lowered the can onto the bolt in the bottom of the wooden barrel and fastened it in place.

Jacob began to crank. What the boy lacked in physical strength he made up for in determination. Rufus decided to let Jacob give the task his best effort and see how long he lasted. Eventually, as the ice cream thickened, Jacob would need help.

The barn was the place where Rufus had first met Annalise—who of course had not known what she was getting herself into by turning up stranded among the Amish with her
English
life in a convoluted mess. He had driven her to town, where she hoped to find a ride to a location that met her expectations for civilization, someplace with a rental car business, or at least a bus station.

Only she had decided to stay overnight at Mo’s motel. And then a few nights. And then half the summer.

And then she bought a house in Westcliffe and began coming to church.

Certainly Rufus was never sorry she had been so reluctant to leave. Now she seemed to have long ago given up any thought of returning to live in Colorado Springs.

She was expecting a proposal, and he was no less anxious to offer one than she was to receive it. But Annalise had given up a personal fortune to join the Amish. How could he ask her to marry him while the bottom was falling out of his business?

“Peach,” Jacob said.

Rufus roused. “I’m sorry?”

“We should have made peach. It’s Annalise’s favorite.”

“That it is.” Rufus smiled. Even his little brother knew Annalise well.

The job Tom’s friend offered him was only through the winter. Would it be so bad?

One by one, Ruth’s family members wandered out to the barn, where she knew they would take turns cranking the ice cream. By now melted ice would be making a mess. Soon the mixture would go into the freezer so it would be ready after a light supper. Ruth would have gone out as well except that Annalise had dozed off, and Ruth did not want her to wake and find herself alone. Ruth had found her mother’s mending basket and put her hands to good use while Annalise softly snored.

When she heard the purr of a motor, Ruth sat erect and looked out the front window. She did not recognize the vehicle, a gray Mitsubishi that looked to be a few years old.

But she recognized the man who emerged from the driver’s side and spied the front porch.

Ruth pushed the mending basket aside, glanced at Annalise, and crossed the room before Bryan Nichols could ring the bell. She stepped out on the porch. At the last minute she decided to pull the main door closed before shutting the screen door behind her. Taking the seven steps down to the yard, Ruth looked toward the open barn door. Laughter greeted her ears and she was grateful that, for the moment, her family was absorbed in the simplicity of making ice cream.

Because they certainly would not understand the complexity of a visit from Bryan Nichols any more than Elijah Capp had understood her accidental meeting with Bryan on the trail. She put a finger to her lips and motioned for him to follow her around the far side of the house.

“What are you doing here?” Ruth asked when they were out of sight from the barn.

“I wanted to see where you live.” Bryan looked around, puzzled.

“But why?” Her heart pounded. “And I don’t actually live here.”

“I asked someone, and they said this was the Beiler farm.”

“It is.” Ruth hid her nervous hands in the folds of her calf-length corduroy skirt. “My family lives here. I just came to spend Sunday with them.”

“What’s going on, Ruth? Why is it a big deal if I drop by?”

She blew her breath out. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m a college graduate and a firefighter. I understand complicated things.”

“Amish complicated is different.” His green eyes made something puddle deep in her gut. “Did you need something?”

“I just wanted to tell you I enjoyed running into you the other day. Maybe we could plan ahead next time and enjoy the trail together. And then I could buy you dinner.”

She swallowed with deliberation. Was an
English
man asking her for a date?

The sound of a metal feed pail knocking against the side of the house made Ruth jump, though she had done nothing to feel guilty about.

“Mamm!”

“I thought you were in the house.” Franey Beiler looked from Ruth to Bryan. “Would you like to introduce your friend?”

“This is Bryan,” Ruth said. “Rufus and I met him last week out at the house that burned. He is a firefighter.”

“Oh. Thank you for your service.” Franey set her empty bucket in a stack of six others. “Would you like to come inside? We are about to have sandwiches and homemade ice cream.”

Ruth’s eyes widened. Her mother was one of the most hospitable people Ruth had ever known, even toward the
English
. But Bryan inside the house? If he were to repeat his invitation where someone might hear it—well, Ruth did not want to imagine the scene that might follow. Silently pleading, she caught Bryan’s eyes and shook her head almost imperceptibly.

Annie woke to the clatter of Beilers claiming their front porch. Franey and Eli. Sophie and Lydia. Joel and Jacob.

She loved every one of them. And she knew they loved her. If Rufus did not ask her to marry him, she still had a spot in the Beiler family for as long as she wanted it. If Franey and Eli knew what was in their son’s heart, they would not say.

Gottes wille
.

They tumbled into the house, Jacob prancing around his father, who carried the canister of ice cream.

“Can’t I just have a taste?” Jacob begged. “Just one spoonful?”

Eli shook his head. “It’s too soft. And you don’t want to spoil your supper.”

Annie sat up and tested her ankle against the floor. Perceiving no objection to bearing weight, she stood and moved cautiously toward the door. Where were Ruth and Rufus?

Ruth stood in the long drive, speaking to someone through a vehicle window. Rufus stood at the base of the front porch steps, his arms crossed behind his back in that way that Annie knew meant he was watching the scene carefully. She stepped out on the porch.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Rufus looked up the stairs at her. “An
English
man came by to see Ruth.”

“Here?”

Rufus nodded.

“You don’t approve,” Annie said.

“It is not for me to approve or disapprove.”

“But you don’t approve.”

“I don’t think he knew any better,” Rufus said.

“Ruth would not have invited him here.”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“Then what is there to disapprove of?”

“You are the one who insists I disapprove.”

Annie watched Ruth for a few seconds. “It looks to me that she is being polite, just as she would have learned from your parents.”

“I have no doubt.”

Abruptly Annie realized that whatever troubled Rufus had nothing to do with his sister. “What’s wrong, Rufus?”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

Annie knew she would get nothing else out of him tonight. But she hated the way that truth twisted her stomach.

May 1892

J
oseph lay on his side, eyes closed. “Zeke?”

No response came, and Joseph wrestled with the moment when he might have sunk back into a deep sleep. He sensed the vague presence of sunlight beyond his eyelids. “Zeke.”

Joseph pushed up on one elbow. He had been more than agreeable to a night in a hotel, despite the stares that came with it, but Zeke had insisted on having their own room rather than conserve cash by sharing with two
English men
. Joseph raked fingers through his bowl-cut hair and wondered how long ago Zeke had left the room. Swinging his feet to the floor forced Joseph upright and gave him a view straight out the window. The sun blazed halfway up the sky. Joseph had not slept so late since he was a boy. He slapped the thick hotel mattress in blame.

With the heels of his hands, Joseph wiped sleep from his eyes, and then he reached for his clothes. No telling what Zeke would be up to by now.

Joseph dressed, combed his hair, donned his hat, and ignored his hunger. The clerk in the lobby reported that Mr. Berkey had been down for breakfast more than two hours ago and then left the building without indicating his intentions.

Unfortunately for Joseph, the hotel’s small kitchen was now closed for breakfast and at least two hours from opening for a midday meal.

He wandered into the sunlight, considering whether it was more urgent to check to see that their horses had been well cared for at the stables or to track Zeke. He opted for Zeke. The stablemen were more likely to look after the horses adequately than Zeke was to stay out of trouble.

Self-conscious, Joseph made his way down Gassville’s main street looking through plate glass windows and open shop doors. Finding one Amish man among all these
English
could not prove too difficult a task. Joseph paused outside John Twigg’s Mercantile, remembering Zeke’s remark the day before about the man’s anger and deciding not to enter. He continued a methodical yet subtle search for his friend. Eventually his walk took him back to the Denton Emporium. Instinct told Joseph to push the door open.

A number of people milled around the shop, some with lists, others inspecting the textiles. Zeke stood near the counter at the back of the store.

With the
English
woman.

“Oh, there you are.” Zeke gestured for Joseph to step to the counter.

Joseph shifted his eyes from Zeke to Miss Woodley and back again, nodding at them both noncommittally.

“I came in to inquire what sorts of supplies the Dentons can order,” Zeke said. “Miss Woodley overheard and has been kind enough to tell me how resourceful the owners are at procuring whatever one might want.”