“I saw your buggy.” Karl’s hands were in the pockets of his blue work pants. “I heard you got some work going here.”
“Yes, Mo asked for some cabinetry.”
“Probably a new desk.” Karl ran one hand along the nicked and notched front edge of the desk. “This one’s been here about a hundred years.”
“Yes, a new desk as well.”
Karl glanced around. “I don’t see tools or a crew.”
“I am drawing up some final plans.” Rufus looked past Karl Kramer to where he had left Dolly and the buggy. The horse seemed unperturbed, and the buggy was upright.
“When do you plan to install?”
“Mr. Kramer, with all due respect, I don’t believe that’s your business,” Rufus said.
“I suppose it takes time to build. Handcrafted and all. You must take great pride in your work.”
“We are humble people.” Rufus spoke politely. “Demut. We do not seek pride. I find satisfaction in my craft and hope it reflects the beauty of the Creator.” Where was Mo? She had said she had the original blueprints of the building and dashed off to find them before Rufus could tell her he did not really need them. His own drawings were accurate, checked and measured three times. He just wanted her signature on his final quote. Then he would buy the remaining wood and start crafting cabinets in his workshop.
Karl thumped the desk. “It would be a shame if something happened. After all your hard work, I mean.”
Rufus eyed Karl, his heart beating a little faster. “Why would something happen?”
“You just never know.”
Mo entered the lobby just then and took up her position behind the desk. “You need something, Karl?”
“Just dropped in to chat with Rufus here.”
“Rufus is busy.” She held the blueprints out toward Rufus. “I’m ready to look at your numbers now.”
Karl spoke. “Let me have a look at the blueprints. I can have a bid for you by the end of the day. We will install next week.”
“Rufus and I have already come to an agreement, Karl. If you’re trying to drum up business, this is the wrong place.”
“Perhaps I’ll drop by again after the work is done.” Karl ambled toward the door.
Mo and Rufus said nothing more until Karl was out of the building.
“Is he threatening you?” Mo asked sharply.
“Not directly.”
“Everybody in town knows Karl Kramer is gunning for you.
I’ll call the police.”
“No,” Rufus said. “That is not the way to solve our differences.”
“He’d better not step foot in my motel ever again.”
Annie sat in her office with the door closed, the phone in her hand. Lee Solano was on speed dial. Number nine.
On the phone just a few hours ago, Barrett sounded sincere. He wanted to talk. He didn’t want to go to court. The whole mess was out of hand.
And now this.
It was all show. Barrett must have called Rick as soon as he hung up. Or perhaps Rick was in the room and heard the whole conversation. They probably had a good laugh.
“I’m being stupid,” Annie announced to the empty room. “It’s clear where Barrett’s loyalty lies.”
One little phone call to Lee. Not more than fifteen seconds. Everything would change.
The phone in her hand rang, startling her. Annie looked at caller ID.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, yourself. You haven’t called for a week.”
“Sorry.”
“Where are you?”
“Back in town. Back at work.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Everything okay?”
“It will be. I just need to make a phone call.”
“Then I won’t keep you. I’ve been thinking about that genealogy book you asked about. My brain is zoning in on where it might be. I wonder if you want to come over and help me move boxes around and find it.”
“Sure, Mom. How about tomorrow afternoon?”
“After three. Stay for supper.”
“I’ll be there.”
“You sound preoccupied.”
“Just trying to find my stride again now that I’m back.”
“You’ll find it. You always do. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Annie ended the call. She really did want to see the genealogy book. Though Annie had never heard of anyone in her family being Amish, she felt compelled to follow the trail of the Byler name.
She exhaled heavily, the phone still in her hand. She could almost see the scowl on Rufus’s face at what she was about to do.
She had to.
She tried the peaceable route and it didn’t work.
She had no choice.
Annie punched 9 on her phone, and an instant later Lee Solano came on.
“This is Annie Friesen,” she said. “Do it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” No!
She clicked off.
Nineteen
November 1737
The temperature took a distinct downturn by the time Jakob returned to Philadelphia ten days later. The sky looked as if a worn gray sheet containing the inevitable snow had unfurled behind the city.
Jakob was anxious to get back to his family with good news, but he was unprepared for what he found.
“Daed is home!” Maria squealed when Jakob opened the door. She jumped into his arms. His eyes scanned the room as he kissed the top of her head.
The bread on the table was hardened, and the fire in the hearth was dangerously close to going out. The flour bin was empty and the coal bin as well. The water bucket was depleted. Dishes on the rugged table looked as if they had not been scraped in three days. A rat feasted on food spilled in one corner.
“Maria, where is everybody?” Jakob worked to keep his voice calm.
“Bar-bar is sleeping. Anna takes care of Lisbetli now.”
“Who takes care of you?” Jakob set Maria on her feet again.
“I’m big. I take care of myself.”
Jakob tousled the girl’s hair and led her into the bedroom. Barbara was indeed in one of the beds, sound asleep. Anna sat on a pallet on the floor with Lisbetli, who was taking great delight in sweeping an area of the floor with a few pieces of straw tied together.
“Daed!” Anna hurtled at him.
Lisbetli stood and toddled toward him, and Jakob took her in his arms. He sat on the empty bed and motioned for Anna to join him.
“Tell me what happened, Anna. Where is Mamm?”
“It was time for Mrs. Habbecker’s baby,” Anna explained. “Mrs. Zimmerman said Mamm had to go and help because it was going to be a hard birth.”
“But your mudder has been sick.”
“She said that she is strong now, but I do not think she is. She sleeps too much.”
“When did she leave?”
“On Thursday. In the morning.”
Panic welled in Jakob. “But today is Saturday!” He glanced over at Barbara. “Is Bar-bar all right?”
Anna nodded. “She is sleeping. Lisbetli has been crying for Mamm. She does not sleep at night, and she will not let anyone hold her but Bar-bar. I try to cook, but I keep spilling things.”
“And Christian?” Jakob asked.
“He just left to look for coal, but I don’t think he remembers where you showed him to buy it.”
“We must find your brother and your mother.” Jakob stood. “Help your sisters get into something warm, please, and we’ll go out together.”
If Anna’s account was accurate, Verona had been gone for two days. What would possess her to do that? Jakob racked his brain to remember where the Habbeckers had found accommodations. All he remembered was that it had not seemed near when he first heard of the place.
Jakob moved to the bed where Barbara lay and jiggled her shoulder. He needed to see for himself that she was simply sleeping. She roused easily enough and sat up straight when she saw him. He let out his breath in relief.
“Anna told me. Thank you for taking care of the baby, but I’m worried about your mother.”
“Mrs. Habbecker—”
“She can’t still be birthing two days later. I’m going to go look for Mamm and take the girls. Will you wait for Christian?”
Barbara nodded.
“I will get some water before I go.”
The nearest Amish neighbors Jakob could think of were the Stutzmans, so he went there first. They sent him to Wengars, who knew how to find the Habbeckers. As he moved through the streets, his eyes scanned for Christian. Though Christian might return without coal, he had too fine a sense of direction to get lost. It was Verona Jakob was frightened for. Two days.
Verona dried her hands, unsure whether to surrender to grief or embarrassment. Either way, tears weighed in her eyes. The birth had not gone well. By the end of the first day, she was certain the child would not survive. Mrs. Habbecker was so spent she had stopped screaming with the pains, as if she also realized that her labor was in vain.
And then Verona collapsed. Caring for her own family exhausted her every day. Waiting more than twenty-four hours for a baby to be born without breath ultimately was beyond her. When she came to, having been tucked into a strange bed, another Amish wife was at her vigil post, and Mrs. Habbecker was pushing in grievous silence. Moments later, someone wrapped the baby and took him away, confirming Verona’s fear.
Where? Verona wondered. He could be buried, at least. This child did not have to be put into the sea, leaving no trace of his existence. His grave marker might be small, but it would be more than the children who died in the crossing had.
Her own heart heaved in anguish for the Habbeckers even as shame washed over her for failing them at a crucial moment. Now two days had passed since she had seen her own children, and she finally found the strength to get on her feet again and help clean up after the birth before excusing herself as gently as she could. She did not even try to form words to speak to the Habbeckers. What could anyone say that would be of comfort?
Verona was settling her shawl around her shoulders when the knock came. She opened the door.
“Jakob!”
He stood in the door frame with two little girls, his face in question pose.
This was no place for the girls. Gathering the front of her shawl in one hand, Verona said a hasty good-bye to Mr. Habbecker and stepped outside.
“I was worried, Verona. The girls said you have been gone two days. The baby—”
She shook her head, and Jakob stopped. He understood.
“Can we see the baby?” Maria asked.
Verona hesitated. “Not right now.” She reached out for Lisbetli, who let go of Jakob’s neck and latched on to her mother’s. Verona breathed in the scent of her child, her baby who was safe in her arms.
“You must be exhausted.”
“I just wish I could have done something to help.”
“You helped.”
“I mean—”
“I know,” Jakob said softly, “but that is in God’s hands. You did what you could. God’s will …”
Verona exhaled deeply. “I’m sorry for you to come home to this. But I am very glad to see you.”
In that moment, she knew she might have accounted for the last few hours—her own unconsciousness. But she did not. And she would not. She saw the relief in his face that she was all right and imagined the possible explanations that must have run through his head when he discovered her gone for two days. She was fine. Jakob was home. They would go on from there.
Jakob filed a description of the land he wanted to claim at the first opportunity, as did Hans Zimmerman, and they began the next season of waiting. Jakob got rid of the rats that had taken shelter in their rooms against the deepening cold outside, and Verona determined to keep a spotless house and not give rodents further reason to seek sustenance there. Christian learned where to buy coal and where to draw water, and Barbara and Anna became as adept as their parents at striking bargains with the local merchants. Jakob found a place to board the horse—they had no grazing land or shelter for it beside the narrow house in a row of narrow houses—and set about finding work in a tanyard. Jakob located an outfitter he trusted and began to collect supplies they would need for homesteading, beginning with a wagon.
One by one the Amish families received their land grants and surveys. Some left for Northkill, believing they still had time to erect a shelter that could withstand the winter. Some hoped to form settlements in other counties.
The Stutzmans hosted a shared meal to bid the Buerkis farewell. Verona cooked that day to contribute to the meal but declined to go with the rest of the family.
“Are you all right?” Jakob probed.
Verona put a hand on his arm. “It’s been a very busy time, and I’m tired. I don’t know the Buerkis well, and I could use a couple of hours of quiet.”
She felt the scrutiny in his eyes but remained firm, determined to give him no reason to think her choice to stay home was anything more than fatigue.
“All right,” he said. “I will take the children so you can rest.”
Jakob was amused by the way Christian hung on him all evening. After the meal, while the women cleared dishes and leftover food, the men spread their maps on the table. With candles positioned to light every corner, they took turns pointing to places where they had applied for land and calculating the distance between points. Most of them would be two miles or more from the nearest neighbor. Christian had been paying close attention to conversations over the last few weeks. He soaked up information about soil quality and tree density and water supply and wildlife and crop potential. Jakob smiled in pleasure when grown men began to ask his son, just turned nine, what he knew about the various locations where Amish families intended to settle. Christian even calculated with surprising accuracy how long each step in the land grant process took based on the experience of each of the settlers so far. Hans Zimmerman’s survey was already under way. By Christian’s estimation, his father should receive news any day now that his own application was moving to the survey step.
Jakob glanced across the room at his four daughters. Barbara soon would be fifteen. Before long he would have to entertain the thought of finding her a husband. In Europe she had gone further in school than any of his children could expect to go in this new world. In the last few weeks, he saw that Barbara was becoming competent both to keep a house and care for small children with attention and patience. Fleetingly he wondered if she would prefer to remain in Philadelphia. She was near enough to being grown that she could decide what she wanted. But he was not going to raise the question. He wanted her with him. He had not come this far to begin separating his family, and her best chance of finding a husband was among the sons of the Amish families moving to Northkill. More would come in the next few years. His daughters could marry men of their own people.
Verona stirred up the fire in the hearth to ensure it would be burning when Jakob returned with the children. Lisbetli was probably already asleep in someone’s arms.
Verona had spoken the truth when she told Jakob she was tired. Her deceit was only in disguising the depth of her exhaustion and the frequency of the headaches that sliced through her eyes. The illness she carried from the ship had never fully left her.
And it would not.
She knew that as surely as she knew Mrs. Habbecker’s baby would not draw breath. The vistas of the homestead on Irish Creek were not for her eyes, but she would not stand in the way of Jakob’s future there with the children. The authorization to make the legal survey of the land would come any day, and she would make sure Jakob mounted his horse and rode off to meet the surveyor. Every detail of the survey must be accurate. There must be no question of the land Jakob was investing his life in, so he would want to be
present to verify each measurement. Already Christian loved the land without even seeing it, and Maria was determined to plant beets. The Bylers would have their fresh, free life. But without Verona.
Verona carried her candle to the bedroom, where she undressed and got into bed. Tomorrow she would make Jakob ready to ride before the week’s end.
Twenty
Annie stood at the bottom of the basement stairs and turned to her mother with widened eyes.
“Are you in a contest, Mom? She who has the most boxes wins?”
Myra slapped Annie on the arm. “Half of this stuff is yours.”
“Is not.”
“Is too. You never had room at the apartment. But now your condo has lots of space. You should take it.”
“What if I don’t want it?” Annie poked at a box with her name on it.
“Then why would I want it?”
“Well, I’m not here to go through my childhood mementos,” Annie said. “Where do you think the book is?”
Myra led the way. “There’s a pile of boxes in the back corner that came from Grandma Friesen’s house.”
“That stuff is still here?”
“It just never seems urgent to go through.” Myra shrugged. “Speaking of mementos, did you bring any back with you?”
“Back with me?”
“From wherever you were. You never said where you were. On your covert operation.”
“It was just business, Mom.” Annie turned her gaze to a tower of cardboard. “Not the kind of place you pick up souvenirs.”
“You start with this one.” Myra shoved a box toward Annie. “Can’t you tell me now where you were?”
“Westcliffe. I was in Westcliffe.”
Myra plunged a hand into a box. “As in speck-on-a-map Westcliffe?”
“That would be it.”
Myra sucked in air. “You met somebody! You finally broke up with Rick.”
Annie riffled through a box of her deceased grandmother’s dresses. “Mom, why do you have Grandma’s clothes?”
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