Accidentally Amish

by Olivia Newport

  Around eleven o’clock, she leaned against a broad elm and slid down until she sat on its protruding roots. Wet blotches smeared her cheeks, tears leaking from her eyes against her will. Please, God, make me understand what I’m seeing.

  “Annalise, what’s wrong?” Rufus squatted beside her.

  She startled, surprised he was so near. “It’s beautiful. I can’t believe what they’re doing.”

  “This is our way. When one suffers, we all suffer. It’s better together than alone. That is the body of Christ.”

  “I can see that. I just don’t have anything like that in my life. I mean, I have my parents. But all these people dropped whatever they planned for today and came to help you. How did they even find out so fast?”

  “They have phones. Someone decided this was an emergency.” Rufus let his weight down on the ground and stretched out his long legs beside her.

  They leaned against the tree trunk without words for several minutes, their eyes on the bustle of work. Perspiration gathered along her hairline. Annie ran her hands through her hair, wishing she had thought to grab something to draw it off her neck when she hastily dressed in the middle of the night. She swept her hair off her neck with both hands and held it up. The next instant, she felt Rufus’s eyes on her. On her neck. She dropped her hands immediately, and her hair tumbled back around her shoulders and face. Annie scooped it behind her ears.

  Beneath his hat and under his long sleeves, Rufus perspired as well. Annie breathed the scent willingly—the scent of honest work. She sat beside a man of trust and integrity.

  Annie turned her head toward him. “Rufus, can I tell you something you will think is wildly ridiculous?”

  Rufus half smiled and cocked his head at her. “What is that?”

  “I bought a house yesterday. Here in Westcliffe.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “That does seem out of character.”

  “There’s something here that gives me a piece of my life I’m missing.” Her eyes lifted above the Amish crowd to the mountain sheen.

  “Knowing you’re missing something is the first step toward filling the hole.”

  “So you don’t think it’s ridiculous?”

  “That depends. I haven’t seen the house yet.” Rufus wiped his sleeve across his dripping forehead.

  Annie laughed. “There’s just something about being here … about you and your family and your people. You once said I was grasping at air. Seeing all this generosity makes me think I’m holding on too tight.”

  “You won’t know if you don’t let go.”

  “I’m not sure I can.”

  “If you are grasping at air, what are you really holding?’

  “I haven’t begun to tell you what I do for a living. I’m successful, Rufus. Wealthy, even.” Annie turned to look at Rufus.

  He raised a hand and drew his fingers across her damp cheek. “Have you heard the story of the rich young man in the Bible who came to Jesus?”

  Annie’s brain clicked through the stories she had learned as a child. “Jesus told him to sell everything and give the money to the poor.”

  “That’s right. But he could not do it, not even for eternal life.”

  “People depend on me for their jobs, Rufus. Am I supposed to walk away from my own talent? From responsibility?”

  “What does Jesus ask you to give up, Annalise? And what will you gain?”

  Annie swallowed. “You always give me something to think about.”

  Rufus glanced up the lane. “We may be in the way of Mo’s business. Here’s a customer now.”

  Annie followed his gaze toward the woman sauntering toward the commotion. She jumped to her feet.

  “Mom! What are you doing here?”

  Thirty

  Myra Friesen scanned the scene. “Annie, what exactly are you involved with?”

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Annie turned toward Rufus only to find he had stepped away, though he glanced over his shoulder to catch her eye.

  “I had no idea your Amish fixation had gone this far.” Myra planted her hands on her hips. “Is this some sort of barn raising?”

  “Kind of. Vandals made a mess last night, and these people are all here to clean things up. What they’re doing is amazing.”

  “Well, it’s touching, I’m sure, but you’re my concern. I’m worried about you, Annie. You’ve been vague about why you came to Westcliffe in the first place—I don’t buy the line about business. What business could you have in a town this size? Why did you leave without your car? And now you’re back here, apparently tangling with vandals.”

  “I’m fine, Mom. Can I introduce you to some people?”

  “I stick out like a sore thumb.” Myra wiped one hand along the thigh of her blue capris. “And so do you.”

  “You’ll get used to it. And you don’t have to meet everyone. Just a few people.” Annie waved a hand toward the workers. “Just the Beilers, the people I’ve stayed with.”

  “Oh. That’s what this is all about. I suppose you found them in the books.”

  “As a matter of fact, I did. And I found Dad, too. And you and Penny and me.”

  Annie steered her mother to where Franey and Eli stood sharing a paper cup of lemonade at the end of one workbench. Eli had nearly finished scrubbing the paint off a panel and was getting ready to sand.

  “Mom, I would like you to meet Franey and Eli Beiler.” She gestured from the Beilers to her mother. “This is Myra Friesen, my mother.”

  Franey smiled pleasantly, and Eli nodded.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Myra awkwardly extended a hand in an indefinite direction.

  “And you, too.” Franey corralled Myra’s hand and shook it, then guided it toward Eli’s. “Perhaps I’ll get to see how your daughter comes to be so spirited.”

  Myra looked around. “She has always had a mind of her own. I am trying to understand just where her spirit has taken her.”

  “She turned up in our barn in a most curious way,” Franey said. “Our youngest was smitten immediately, so of course we took her in when she was injured.”

  “Barn?” Myra pivoted toward Annie. “Injured? Why do I think I’m not getting the whole story?”

  “Mom, I’m fine.”

  Myra furrowed her forehead and glanced at Franey. “She’s behaving in such an unusual manner lately.”

  “Daughters do that sometimes.” Franey’s voice instantly dropped to a murmur.

  “Do you have daughters?”

  “Three.” Franey’s response was barely above a whisper.

  Eli offered the lemonade cup, and Franey took it—a little too eagerly, Annie thought. Before she could sort out what to say, Rufus joined them then, sandpaper in one hand and soft cotton cloths in another.

  “Everything all right?” he asked.

  “Perfectly fine,” Annie said. “This is my mother, Myra Friesen. Mom, this is Rufus Beiler.”

  “Hello, Rufus.” Myra ran her eyes up and down his height. “I’ve just learned you have three sisters.”

  “And four brothers.”

  “Oh my. That’s a houseful.”

  “Not everyone lives here.” To Annie’s relief, Eli spoke up. “Two of our sons are married in Pennsylvania. Our eldest daughter is also … away.”

  “Oh, then you can understand that I wanted to see where my daughter had taken herself off to without explanation.”

  Annie saw the color shift in Franey’s face. “Mom, how about some lemonade? You’ve had a long drive.”

  “I could do with a bit of refreshment.”

  “I’ll get you something,” Rufus offered.

  “No thanks.” Annie avoided his eyes. The last thing she needed was for her mother to see how she looked at Rufus. “I’ll get it. We should get out of the sun anyway.”

  Annie led her mother inside the lobby, which had been stripped bare, to where the rolling cart held half-empty pitchers of lemonade. She filled a paper cup, handed it to Myra, and proceeded to the empty dining ro
om, where they sat at the end of a table.

  “They seem friendly enough.” Myra poured liquid down her throat.

  “For Amish people, you mean?”

  “For any people,” Myra said flatly. “Must you think the worst of me?”

  “I’m sorry.” And she was. What was the phrase the Amish used? Es dutt mirr leed.

  “You have to admit it’s odd that you should take such an interest in them.”

  “Perhaps. But if the genealogy books are right, I very nearly could have been one of them.”

  “But you’re not.”

  “No. Not by birth.” Annie quickly gauged how far to push this conversation. “But what’s wrong with being interested in learning about their way of life?”

  “Nothing, I guess.” Myra set her empty cup down a little too firmly. “Isn’t it unusual that they should take you in? What was that business about being injured?”

  “I fell and hit my head. I stayed in their home while I recovered. I’m staying there again now.”

  “Well, that’s handy, what with how you feel about Rufus.”

  Annie’s head snapped around to meet her mother’s eye. “What do you mean?”

  “I wasn’t born yesterday. It’s hardly your first observable crush.”

  Annie rotated her cup in her hands. “There’s nothing between us.”

  “No, I don’t suppose there could be. But when you look at him, I see more in your eyes than you ever showed for Rick Stebbins.”

  “I think we’ve established that you were right about Rick.” Annie pinched a piece of wax-covered paper from the rim of her cup. “And you’re right again. How could there be anything between me and Rufus Beiler? We come from different worlds.” Even as she heard her own words, Annie did not believe them.

  “I’m just looking after you.” Myra patted Annie’s twitching hand. “You’re my baby girl.”

  Annie rolled her eyes. “I can look after myself, Mom.”

  “You’ve done very well for yourself. No one can argue with that. But in the last few weeks, you broke up with your boyfriend, dissolved your business partnership, and went incognito. A mother worries about these things.”

  If only her mother knew the extent of recent events. Rick Stebbins always one step ahead of her. Barrett’s embarrassing secret. Kissing an Amish man in the park behind the bank. The narrow green house just off Main Street that would be hers in a matter of days. Yes, her mother would have plenty to freak out about if she only knew.

  “As long as I’m here,” Myra said, “you might as well show me around town.”

  “That will take about ten minutes.” Annie stood up, grateful for the distraction.

  They retraced their steps through the barren lobby and the bustling work zone and got into Annie’s Prius. She backed up and did a three-point turn, watching the horses and buggies carefully. A couple of minutes later, they pulled out onto the highway.

  “Who was that man in the gray Windbreaker?” Myra asked. “He didn’t look Amish.”

  It was a warm day for a Windbreaker. “Fiftyish and balding?” Annie thought of Tom, the only English man at work on the cabinet panels.

  “No.” Myra shook her head. “Thirtyish and skulking. He got in that tan sedan that pulled out ahead of us. I noticed him when I arrived, but he didn’t seem to be working. He stayed on the fringe of things.”

  Annie had not noticed. But she had a good guess. She squinted into the sunlight and reached for the dark glasses she always stored on the dash. In a moment, the tan sedan came into focus. She did not recognize it, but she closed the gap slightly and paced her speed to maintain an even distance. The turn onto Main Street and downtown Westcliffe came up on the right, but Annie continued past the intersection, keeping the sedan in sight.

  “That looked like town to me.” Myra craned her head to the right and back.

  “Blink and you miss it. “Annie pressed her lips together. “There’s some new construction up this way that might give you an idea of the town’s potential. People are building some nice homes. Rufus has a couple of custom cabinetry jobs there. His work is art.”

  They went past a sprawl of new homes and into a stretch of active construction. The tan sedan slowed, and Annie let off the accelerator slightly. When it turned into a construction zone, Annie drove past.

  “There’s not much more up here. We’ll go back to Main Street.” Annie pulled to the shoulder, waited for a minivan to pass, and swung the Prius around to head back toward town. As she passed the tan sedan, she looked carefully at the sign on the site.

  Kramer Construction. Just what she thought.

  “Mrs. Weichert runs an antiques store in town,” Annie said. “Well, antiques and miscellaneous items of interest. We can stop if you like.”

  “No time. May Levering is expecting me for tennis this afternoon, and then there’s some dreary fund-raising dinner that your father says I must attend.”

  Annie turned down Main Street and slowed. “Welcome to Westcliffe, Colorado. The signs tell you when it changes from Westcliffe to Silver Cliff, but it’s not much.” Annie pointed out the coffee shop, a thrift store, and the local newspaper office, then swung down a side street. Within four minutes, they hit the old schoolhouse, the historic Lutheran church, and a railroad museum. “That’s about it.” Annie turned again to head back to the highway. Except the house I bought. They were headed west toward the shimmering Sangre de Cristos now. “You can’t beat the view.”

  “It’s spectacular—I give you that.” Myra twisted slightly in her seat belt to look at her daughter. “But somehow I still think it’s not the view that pulls you here.”

  Thirty-One

  Annie drove by the construction site two more times later in the afternoon. All she wanted to know was if the man she saw was Karl Kramer himself or someone who worked for him. Either way it was suspicious for him to leave a car up by the highway and take refuge in the trees while a couple of dozen people worked—and then drive to a place with a Kramer Construction sign. Once, she pulled over to the side of the road to take out her phone and do an Internet search on images of augers.

  She seethed just thinking about it. Rufus would tell her to let it go. But Annie had some choice words spinning in her head that she would love to spit out at a prime suspect.

  The day was over. Rufus would have to recraft four face panels, but the sides and top of the framing to hold the cabinets were salvaged. Patient volunteer scrubbing, sanding, and refinishing had cabinet surfaces looking as they were meant to be, saving him days of labor. Rufus was confident he had sufficient wood left to create the new front panels and the top of the desk. Mo fussed about how long the delay would take before Rufus could attempt installation again, but eventually she accepted the answer he gave.

  Annie pulled her car into the long Beiler driveway. She turned in the gravel alongside the barn and negotiated her car to the back, where the structure provided a path of shade during the hottest part of the day.

  As Annie walked around the barn, voices—in Pennsylvania Dutch—drew her inside. Rufus stood feeding an apple to Dolly while Lydia and Sophie gathered garden tools. They were all laughing about something. Annie hoped it wasn’t her. When she stood in the open doorway, conversation switched to English.

  “We should be able to pull the carrots soon,” Lydia said.

  “The beans just keep coming,” Sophie said.

  Somehow Annie thought the conversation must have been less mundane before she arrived.

  “Do you want to help us in the garden?” Lydia said. “We’re just doing a little weeding and looking for what needs picking.”

  “I don’t know anything about gardens or how to tell if something is ready to pick.” Annie took a step backward.

  “We’ll show you what to do.” Sophie reached for her arm and pulled her deeper into the barn.

  “Okay, then,” Annie said. “Annalise Friesen at your service.”

  Jacob burst into the barn breathing fast. “A man is at th
e house looking for Annalise. Mamm said to see if she was here.”

  Annie saw Rufus stiffen. She sucked in her breath.

  “What does he look like?” Rufus glanced at Annie and then back at Jacob.

  “He’s English. He’s wearing a suit, and his shoes are really shiny. He came in a car that looks gold and brown at the same time.”

  “Bronze.” Annie stepped even farther into the barn.

  “Is he on the porch?” Rufus calmly fed the last bit of apple to Dolly.

  The little boy nodded.

  “Jacob,” Rufus said, “I want you to walk slowly—don’t run—back to the porch and ask the man if he would like to talk to me.”

  “Shouldn’t I tell him Annalise is here?”

  “Just ask him to talk to me. Do you understand?”

  The little boy nodded.

  Rufus turned Jacob’s shoulders back toward the house. “Remember, slowly.”

  Jacob nodded. Annie watched the boy concentrate on moving slowly, his stride like that of a toddler.

  Rufus, on the other hand, spun around. “Quick. In the dress.” He turned to the shelves that held blankets the family used in the buggies in the winter and pulled out the dress he had left there weeks ago.

  “That’s Ruth’s dress,” Sophie said.

  “Just help Annalise get it on.” Rufus thrust the dress at Annie. “Get her hair up under the kapp.”

  Annie felt like a fashion model with a crew transforming her. Lydia dropped the dress over her head and rapidly pinned the front closure. Sophie removed Annie’s shoes, rolled up her jeans, then grabbed Annie’s hair—painfully—and punched it under the white kapp. With no hairpins to hold the hair in place, Lydia tied the kapp under Annie’s chin

  “To the garden, all of you.” Rufus shoved a rake into Annie’s hands.