by Mary Davis
Deborah was glad the woman hadn’t. “Thank you for waiting.”
“This is certainly a strange place to be picked up. I’ve driven a lot of you Amish and always go to a house, not the side of the road.”
“I didn’t want to bother anyone.” Deborah hoped the woman didn’t suspect she was sneaking out. Deborah usually had another woman drive her, one who didn’t ask so many questions or insinuate things.
She was relieved when the woman dropped her off at her destination. “Thank you for the ride.” She paid the woman for her gas and time.
“Do you need me to come back and return you to where I picked you up?”
“No, thank you. I have a ride.” Fortunately, her regular person could take her back.
She hustled away from the car before she could be further delayed and nearly ran into an Englisher woman with multicolored hair. “Entschuldigen Sie—I mean, excuse me.”
The young woman stared a moment as though trying to figure out who Deborah was before she scurried away.
Deborah shrugged and ducked into the restroom of the combination gas station/convenience store to change from her plain Amish dress into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and let down her hair. Where it had been twisted into place in the front, it kinked, and where it had been coiled in the back, it waved. When she wore these clothes with her hair freed, she felt like a different person. What would Amos think of her appearance? Disapprove, for sure.
She hurried to the photography studio and entered silently.
Hudson stood behind his camera, giving instructions to the model sitting on a fake rock wall in front of a backdrop featuring an old building. He had dozens of such roll-down backdrops. From urban to countryside, woodlands to deserts to mountains, all four seasons and various weather, and fantasy backdrops with mythical creatures, medieval castles, Gothic arches, waterfalls and stone stairways in the forest.
Hudson, in his late twenties, had ambitions to move to New York City and become a famous photographer. His wavy, shoulder-length blond hair and dashing good looks meant he could likely succeed on the other side of the camera, as well. When she’d first started modeling for him a year ago, she’d developed a crush on him because of all his praise and attention—two things she rarely received at home.
His assistant, Summer, was the first to see her approaching. She leaned in and spoke to Hudson in a hushed voice.
He pulled back from his camera and swung in Deborah’s direction. “Debo! There you are.”
When she hadn’t wanted to use her real name, Hudson had dubbed her Debo. She didn’t much care for it, but it was better than using Deborah and risk being discovered. Because of all the makeup and fussy hair, no Amish would guess that was her even if they ever found out. The likelihood that any of them would see her in one of these Englisher catalogs was slim to none. If they did, they wouldn’t recognize her.
He walked over to her and gripped her shoulders. “You’re my best model. Go see Lindsey and Tina for wardrobe, hair and makeup.” He stared at her a little longer and was probably assessing the condition of her features today.
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
“It just amazes me how different you look from when you go into the dressing room and when you come out again. Lindsey and Tina are miracle workers. If I didn’t know both women were you, I would never guess you were the same person.”
Deborah counted on that. If her Amish community knew about this, she would be shunned. If the media found out she was an Amish girl modeling, they would exploit that. But Hudson and his team kept her secret, and as long as they did, she could continue to model. She wasn’t hurting anyone and wasn’t doing anything illegal. The money she earned would help her and her future husband buy a house and farm. She would quit as soon as someone special took interest and asked to court her.
Today’s shoot was for a high-end clothing catalog. She would be transformed with makeup, and her hair would be curled and fluffed. It was fun to be pampered like this. It still gave her a chuckle at the variety of clothes Englishers owned and wore—different clothes for every season, every occasion and various times of day.
For her, spring and summer meant she could put away her sweater and coat and didn’t have to wear shoes or stockings most of the time, going barefoot. Same dress, just fewer layers. Her biggest decision was whether to wear her green, blue or yellow dress. She wore far more outfits on a single photo shoot than she owned. Where did Englishers put them all? She would hate to have to wash the lot.
Once she had been rendered unrecognizable and dressed in a long, flowing summer dress she could never imagine owning, she returned to the main area of the studio.
Hudson smiled at her. “There’s my favorite model.” He positioned her in the shot and took a lot of pictures. Same instructions he usually gave her.
Strange to be wearing a summer dress in the middle of winter. Strange to be wearing an Englisher summer dress, period. She moved automatically and let her mind wander. Back to her family’s farm. Was Amos still gazing at Miriam? Had her sister taken notice of his attention? Part of her hoped not.
Deborah focused on the hand snapping in front of her face.
Hudson stood less than a foot away. “You’re distracted, Debo. I don’t know where you were, but I need you here.”
Was she distracted? Ja. She supposed she was. “I’m sorry.” Her mind kept flittering back to Amos. Why? He wasn’t her beau. Until a little over a week ago, she’d barely known he existed. Now she couldn’t shake him from her thoughts. He was like a mouse in the wall, always scratching. Always capturing her attention. Always crawling into her daydreams.
She tried to push Amos from her thoughts and focused on Hudson’s instructions.
After four hours of changing clothes and hairstyles and having hundreds of photos taken of her, relief washed over Deborah when the shoot was over. After changing into her own Englisher clothes and scrubbing off the makeup, she left the dressing room.
Hudson gathered the five models around him. “A mostly great shoot today.” He gave Deborah a pointed look.
Her performance was in the part not included in the “mostly great.”
“I need all of you back here tomorrow and for the rest of the week. The client wants the photos this weekend to present to his marketing department Monday.”
The other models grabbed their coats and purses and headed out.
Deborah hung back. “I don’t know if I can come every day.”
He gave her a hard look. “Debo, I need you. You have to come.”
“I’ll try.”
* * *
Surprisingly, she did manage to escape the farm each day, although some days were more of a challenge than others.
On Friday, Hudson praised them all for their hard work.
Deborah headed for the exit with aching feet and a tired body. Her body from constantly moving, and her feet from being shoved into impractical shoes. Her brain hurt as well from repeatedly forcing Amos out of her thoughts.
“Debo, hold up.” Hudson trotted over to her. “You want to grab a cup of coffee?”
How many times in the past had she hoped for just such an invitation? She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Hudson. I need to get home.”
“But we ended early. Certainly you don’t have to rush off so soon.”
“I have been gone too much from home this week.” Not that her family noticed her absence. “And you have photos to edit for your client.”
“Next Wednesday, then? I have a shoot. I’ll see you then.”
She shook her head again. “I need to stick around home for a while.”
“If you had a phone, I could call you with opportunities.”
She couldn’t risk him calling their phone. That would be disastrous for her. She finally escaped, all the while her mind wandering back to Amos.
* * *
Amos looked out over the Millers’ fields, which were to be plowed in the spring. He couldn’t help but think of them as partly his. Since he’d already planned out the plowing and planting, they sort of felt a little like his fields. Of course, they weren’t his fields, and he might not even be here to do the work. But if he was, he would take pride in that work.
Bartholomew appreciated everything he did around the farm, so Amos worked harder and enjoyed it so much more here than he ever had at home.
Here, even the little things he did mattered. He mattered. Bartholomew had never had a son to help him with all the work around the farm. How had he run this place without sons?
But on the flip side, Amos’s mutter had been alone doing the house chores, cooking, cleaning and laundry for six men and boys through the years. How did she do it without help?
On the far side of one of the fields, a woman emerged from a bare stand of sycamore trees nestled next to a pond. She walked across the field he would plow in the not-too-distant future. If he was still here. Bartholomew should have his cast off by then, but he wouldn’t likely be up for all the physical work yet. Maybe Amos should stay long enough to help with that.
The woman came closer and closer.
Deborah.
Where did she go all the time? She had disappeared every day this week and would be gone for hours. He was about to find out.
With her head down, she didn’t see him approaching. He stepped directly into her path a few yards in front of her. She seemed to be talking to herself, but he couldn’t make out all the words. Something about nothing wrong and not hurting anyone.
She kept walking with her head down. The words became clearer. “Everything will be fine. No harm done.”
When it looked as though she might literally run into him, he cleared his throat.
She halted a foot away and jerked up her head. She was so startled to see him there, she took a step back and appeared to lose her balance on the uneven ground. Her arms swung out to keep herself upright.
He reached out and took hold of her upper arms to stop her from tumbling to the ground. “Whoa there.”
She gasped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”
“Where have you been all day?”
“What? Nowhere.” She tried to pull free of his grip, but he held fast.
He shook his head. “You’ve been somewhere. You’ve left every day this week and been gone for most of the day.”
“I—I went for a walk.”
“Where? Ohio?”
She twisted her face for a moment before his joke made sense. “We have a pond just over there by those trees. I like to sit there and watch the ducks. It’s a nice place to think and be alone. You should go sometime.”
“I did. Today. You weren’t there.”
Her self-satisfied expression fell. “I was for a while, then I walked farther.”
He sensed there was more to her absence than a walk. “Where?”
“Why do you care?”
“With your vater laid up, I’m kind of responsible for everyone on this farm.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”
How could she not understand the role of a man?
“May I go now?”
He realized he still held on to her upper arms. He didn’t want to let her go but did. “I don’t want you to leave the farm without telling me where you’re going.”
“Are you serious?”
He gave her his serious look.
She huffed and strode away.
Would she heed his request?
Where did she go every day? He had wanted to follow her, was tempted to. He almost did once, but he realized it was none of his business and turned around. But curiosity pushed hard on him. He still might follow her if she didn’t obey. Just to see. Just to watch her from a distance. Just to know her secret.
Something inside him feared for her. Feared she would walk out across this field and never return. Feared her secret would consume them both. She was a mystery.
A mystery he was drawn to solve.
* * *
Deborah heaved a sigh of relief. She marched the rest of the way through the field, resisting the urge to run. After two weeks, Amos Burkholder already paid more attention to her comings and goings than her own family had her whole life—they never expected much from her and thought her an airhead. Fanciful. Her head full of dreams and nonsense.
Well, she did have dreams. And to prove to everyone that she was someone to be noticed, not an airhead, she’d become a church member younger than any of her older sisters at age sixteen, the same year as Miriam, who was a year and a half older than her. She’d basically skipped her Rumspringa. But Naomi had run away in a fit of selfishness and sent the family into a tizzy. Miriam hadn’t seemed to mind having her special day of joining church ruined, but Deborah had.
No one had congratulated her or told her how wonderful it was that she’d joined so young, that she must be the most dedicated Amish woman ever. Anything to be noticed, just once.
Instead, the whole community had gone on a search for Naomi and found her, hours later, sulking under their porch. She’d walked home by herself, having somehow slipped out of the service, probably under the guise of needing to use the bathroom. She’d stayed hidden even when she’d known people were searching for her. She’d hated that so much attention was being paid to others.
It had been the last straw for Deborah. She’d tried to get her parents’ attention and had given up several times, but she’d thought joining church so young would get their attention for sure. If only for a moment. She had just about succeeded until Naomi had pulled her disappearing act. Even after their parents had scolded her younger sister, Deborah gave her a round of her own. After that, Naomi made sure to steal any attention that might be portioned out to Deborah.
Deborah decided that with Naomi always wanting the most attention, Deborah would never get her fair share, so she’d decided to take advantage of being the invisible one. She let Naomi suck up all the attention she could get from the family. Sarah, being the baby and having Down syndrome, naturally got a goodly amount of attention, as well. Joanna and Miriam both took everything in stride and seemed to almost be invisible as well, but they seemed to love it, as though it was their crowning glory to be overlooked. Always quietly in the background.
Well, that wasn’t gut enough for Deborah. Wasn’t she as important as any of the others? Wasn’t she just as much in need of being noticed? Wasn’t she as worthy as any of the others?
So, she took advantage of her invisibility and realized that her family never really noticed when she wasn’t there. If it had been her missing that day instead of Naomi, when would her family have noticed? Certainly not as soon as they had for Naomi. It might not have been until the family was ready to leave for home in the late afternoon, instead of before the service even ended. Maybe not even until nightfall when she wasn’t in her bed. Maybe never. But Hudson had noticed her.
She had experimented with being gone from the family for longer and longer periods of time, until she could be gone all day without hardly a notice. She would claim to go for a walk and be gone for hours. When she returned home, she would be told to get her head out of the clouds and keep track of time. Didn’t she know they worried about her?
Worried? But they never came looking for her. When she told them that, they said she’d always been a wanderer and she always came home and she could take care of herself.
She had to admit that she had been self-sufficient from an early age. Everyone attributed it to when her mutter was so sick while carrying Joanna, that even at two, she somehow knew something had been wrong with Mutter, and it was best if she didn’t cause a fuss. She’d learned to be quiet from all the shushing from adults and her three older sisters at ages four and three
. They all knew to be quiet and not cause any more trouble for the family.
So, Deborah wandered farther and farther from home. Until she ended up at the edge of a photo shoot over a year ago.
Though she tried to stay hidden, the photographer, Hudson, had seen her and said she’d be perfect for the shot. A contrast between two worlds: the outside—Englisher—one and the Amish one. She hadn’t wanted to do it. She knew she shouldn’t. Hudson told her that there would be no harm in it. That none of her Amish people would ever know.
She’d been thrilled at the idea of being special, being different. At being noticed. At no longer being invisible.
Hudson praised her and told her that she was a natural and followed direction better than most of his models. He’d paid her money for taking the pictures. He’d asked her to come to another shoot the following week. She said she couldn’t, but then she found she couldn’t resist and went. Soon, she participated in weekly shoots with him. After nearly two months, he asked her to change into Englisher clothes. She couldn’t do that, could she? But she did. And she had enjoyed it. Like being a different person with each new outfit. She wasn’t hurting anyone and was earning money for her future.
The clothes were always modest, but sometimes they put makeup on her. At first, she looked strange and felt out of place, but soon got used to her different appearance. None of her Amish community would recognize her when she was dressed and made-up for a shoot. She felt free and no longer invisible. She felt important. She felt like somebody.
But now, her absence had been noticed. Amos paid more attention than the others. Part of her liked that someone in her Amish community finally noticed, but he could become a problem if he truly did keep her from leaving for her job. It was her job. An unusual job for an Amish person, true. For her, it was a dangerous job. How ridiculous. She didn’t hurt anyone. No one would hurt her. But still, it was a secret. She certainly couldn’t tell Amos where she went. But how many times could she claim to go for a walk and have him still believe her? Or worse yet, ask to go with her?
If she had been going for a simple walk, she would welcome his company and attention. She smiled at the thought.