Taken for English

by Olivia Newport

“Possibly. I would use the money to help Daed.”

  “So why did you bring me here?” Annalise’s voice dimmed.

  “Because I wasn’t sure. About the land. I’m sure about you, Annalise. I wanted to see you there on the land at least once. I wanted it to be the place where we choose our future together even if we do not live there.”

  “Rufus Beiler, are you proposing marriage?” Annalise’s face cracked in a grin.

  “I seem not to be very good at it—which should assure you that I have no experience with proposals.”

  She laughed, and Rufus let himself breathe.

  “So do it,” she said. “We can at least get that settled. Then we’ll face the rest.”

  “You walked away from a fortune. You changed your whole life. I always thought I would offer a good start to married life.”

  “God provides.”

  “What if God provides by bringing a buyer for land I had not even decided to sell?”

  “We’ll figure it out, Rufus.” She reached for his hand. “Ask me and kiss me and then we’ll talk about all this.”

  Rufus swallowed and held both her hands now. “Annalise Friesen, I believe God wants me to be your husband. Would you have me?”

  “Yes!”

  The burst of joy rippled through their intertwined fingers. Rufus leaned toward Annalise’s eager face and put one hand behind her neck, his fingers in the hollow of her hairline. On the first day he saw her straw-colored hair hanging loose around her lovely face, he had found her beautiful—even if she was English. She was no longer English, and the beauty of her spirit far outshone golden sun on her hair. His lips met hers, and something startling passed between them. They had known for months they wanted to be husband and wife, but this moment of deciding, of choosing, of accepting sent a jolt of electricity through their lingering kiss. Annalise put her arms around him and returned every searching softness with her own.

  They separated, breathless.

  “I will arrange to have the banns read,” Rufus said.

  “I’m not supposed to tell anyone before that, am I?”

  “Traditionally, no.”

  “I don’t know if I can keep this secret!”

  “It won’t be long now.”

  “I hope not. I very much want to marry you.” Annalise stroked his arm.

  “Many things are uncertain still. My land—our land. I always imagined we would stay with my parents over the winter and build next spring.”

  “We still could.”

  “So you want me to keep the property?”

  Annalise shook her head. “I want you to do what you feel is best for us, for our family.”

  Our family.

  She already belonged with the Beilers.

  “I own my house free and clear, you know.” Annie laced her fingers through his again.

  Rufus stilled her moving fingers. “I would not be comfortable living in town. It is not apart.”

  “Of course not.” Annalise was quick to speak. “I didn’t mean that. I mean that the value of my house will be ours now. We can decide how to use it.”

  “You would sell your house?”

  “Or rent it out for income. If I’m not going to be living there, it shouldn’t sit empty.”

  “I know you used to have a great deal of money in your English life. You have already sacrificed so much.”

  “I have sacrificed nothing but greed and ambition,” she said.

  “I want you to feel secure and cared for.”

  “Rufus Beiler, we’re going to spend our lives together. Nothing makes me feel more secure than that.”

  He kissed her again.

  “God provides,” she whispered, her breath on his neck.

  Ruth tugged on the library door. By now Elijah would be seated in a reading cubicle on the other side of the main aisle. The library was a narrow space between two shops on Main Street. The number of books on the shelves at any given time was limited by the space, but Ruth had always found the two part-time librarians accommodating and helpful in placing holds on other books in the wider library system. Anything Ruth had ever requested arrived within four days.

  Elijah was wearing English jeans and a blue work shirt he had found in the thrift store a couple of blocks down. Ruth caught a glimpse of his back—his Amish hat gone as well—and calculated that an interest in biographies would keep her within his sight. All he had to do was glance up or quietly scoot back his chair.

  Ruth glanced around, relieved that Alan had not arrived first, and ambled down the main aisle, running a finger along the shelves and glancing at titles.

  A moment later, the front door creaked and Alan entered. Ruth flashed him a welcoming smile then pulled a biography of Thomas Jefferson off the shelf and began to flip through it as her peripheral vision tracked Alan’s movement toward her.

  “Biographies, eh?”

  Alan stood next to her now.

  Ruth casually turned another page. “When I left Westcliffe, I had to get a GED before I could enroll at the university. I had a lot to catch up on when it came to American history.”

  Alan took a book from the shelf. “Alexander Hamilton. Now he was an interesting character. Some people say the whole national debt traces back to his idea to borrow private money to pay for the Revolutionary War debt.”

  Ruth chuckled softly. “I hope we’re not still paying for the Revolutionary War.”

  “Your people don’t believe in wars, do they?”

  “Well, we believe they happen. We don’t participate. It goes against our peacekeeping ways.”

  “Do you like to read about science?” Alan pointed with a thumb to the other side of the aisle.

  “Nursing is science.” Ruth closed the Jefferson book and slid it back into its place. “I suppose fire is a science category all its own.”

  “It definitely is.” Alan pulled a book from the shelf. “No one ever seems to check this one out. I come to look at it, and it’s always here.”

  Ruth looked over his shoulder at the photos of burning fires and shuddered. “Why don’t you check it out and read it more leisurely?”

  “I can’t have it around the apartment. Bryan would never let me hear the end of how he got a better grade than I did when we studied origins of fire in school.”

  “Considering that you haven’t been in Westcliffe all that long,” she said, “it seems like you have seen quite a few fires already.”

  “I missed the last one.” Alan replaced the book on the shelf. “I was at the store stacking apples and peaches.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Bryan was there, though.”

  She nodded. “We discovered the smoke together.”

  “You know, it’s not that hard to lay a fuse so the fire won’t start right away.”

  Through the stacks, Ruth saw Elijah stand. She caught his brown eyes and looked away.

  “You must learn all that stuff in school,” she said to Alan.

  “And Bryan was at the top of the class. He was a whiz with chemical reactions and retardants and all that jazz.”

  Ruth took a random book off the shelf. “You know him better than I do.”

  Alan touched her elbow then, and Ruth heard the step Elijah took. She looked up to meet Alan’s gaze.

  “Sometimes insiders get involved with fires.” He leaned toward her. “Bryan could always calculate how much time would elapse before a certain kind of fire would explode. Exactly.”

  The librarian stepped into the aisle, stared at them, and put a finger to her lips. Elijah was the only other patron in the building, but the librarian could not know that Ruth wanted him to hear every word.

  Ruth lowered her voice. “You’re not saying Bryan had anything to do with the fires, are you?”

  Alan’s eyes danced, which startled Ruth. Elijah moved on the other side of the shelf.

  “I think I’ll stick to biographies.” Ruth again began to run her finger along the spines on the biography shelves.

&nbs
p; Alan checked the time on his cell phone. “I have to go.”

  Where? Ruth wondered. But she did not ask.

  Alan gave a look of courteous amusement. “I hope I’ll run into you again.” He sauntered toward the door.

  Elijah came around the stacks. “Satisfied?”

  Ruth pulled the fire science book off the shelf again and ran a finger down the table of contents page. “He’s been filling in the gaps.”

  “He wasn’t trying to hide it.”

  She looked up and met Elijah’s eyes. “It’s a dare.”

  “I need to ask you some questions, Leah.” Jerusha sat in an armchair with a notepad in her lap on Friday afternoon. “We can ask Annie to leave the room if you like.”

  “She can stay.”

  Leah looked pale to Annie. Two days of wondering about the contents of the letter had taken their toll. But at least Leah had cleaned up and was on time.

  “Have you ever felt like hurting yourself or someone else?” Jerusha asked.

  “Sometimes I feel like I just want to blow something up.” Leah pressed her palms together. “But anyone would feel that way if they were going through what I’m going through.”

  “So you might want to hurt some thing, but not yourself or another person.”

  “Right.”

  Jerusha watched Leah. “If you felt like hurting yourself, would you tell someone?”

  Leah glanced at Annie. “I guess I could tell Annalise. But I don’t want to hurt myself. I just want to go to Pennsylvania. And I want to know what’s in that letter she got.”

  “I understand. We’ll get to that soon.” Jerusha picked up the pen that lay on her notepad. “Why don’t you tell me in your own words why you think you’re here today.”

  “If I didn’t come, Annalise would not let me see the letter.”

  Annie groaned inwardly and crossed and uncrossed her ankles beneath the hem of her dress.

  “Is that the only reason you agreed to come?” Jerusha asked.

  Leah tapped her foot steadily for about thirty seconds. “I guess not. I’ve been behaving strangely, I suppose.”

  “And why do you think that is?”

  Annie calmly raised one hand to pull on a prayer kapp string, a habit she had developed at moments when she wanted to pray silently. The letter lay in her lap.

  “My parents won’t listen to me,” Leah said, “and I’m anxious that I’ll never get my life back.”

  “Your Pennsylvania life?” Jerusha wrote a quick notation.

  Leah nodded.

  “I understand Annie got a letter from someone in Pennsylvania you care deeply about.”

  Leah kept nodding.

  “Perhaps we should talk about what would happen if the letter says something you don’t want to hear.”

  Annie held her breath. This was exactly the reason she wanted Jerusha present when she broke the seal on the envelope.

  “Why don’t we just find out what it says?” Leah eyed the envelope in Annie’s lap. “If it’s good news, we don’t even have to finish this conversation.”

  “I only want to help you be prepared either way.”

  Leah’s eye flashed. “You’ve made up your mind it’s bad news. You don’t know that.”

  Jerusha held her calming pose. “No, I don’t have any idea what the letter will say. I would want to help you whether or not there was a letter.”

  “But there is a letter.” Leah moved her eyes from Jerusha to Annie and back again. “If I answer your questions, do you promise me we’ll open the letter?”

  Forty-Two

  Why don’t you read it to us?” Annie handed the letter to Jerusha after nearly ninety minutes of conversation between Leah and the counselor.

  “Is that all right with you, Leah?” Jerusha asked.

  The girl nodded.

  Annie was relieved that Leah was surprisingly calm now that the moment had arrived. After resisting Jerusha for much of the session, either actively or passively, Leah had made some remarkable and transparent insights about herself. Annie had no doubt that Jerusha would suggest that Leah see her again, but for now, Leah seemed as settled as Annie had ever seen her.

  Jerusha pulled at the flap of the envelope, and it gave way easily. Annie knew it would. More than once she had—fleetingly—considered opening that flap for a preview of the letter. But she had given her word to Leah.

  “That’s his paper!” Leah jumped to her feet. “It’s really from him.”

  The unfolding papers crackled in Jerusha’s hands, and she reached for her reading glasses on an end table.

  Dear Miss Friesen,

  First of all, I wish to extend to you the right hand of fellowship. Brother Matthew Beiler has told me of your baptism and, indeed, how fond his family is of you. My heart warms with yours at your obedience and union with Christ.

  I am sure you are surprised to be hearing from me rather than Matthew. I hope you don’t mind that he exercised the liberty of sharing your letter with me. Although our farms are some distance apart, he took time to make the drive and seek me out. He felt that you had asked for his opinion on a matter he was not overly familiar with. That being the case, perhaps it was better to provide you with direct, reliable information.

  I understand that you have not met Matthew, but I assure you that this approach is quite typical of him. I hope the day comes soon that you and Matthew will be able to meet. He mentioned that his mother’s letters suggest that she hopes you will soon be a member of the Beiler family, as well as the congregation.

  The most important thing I wish to say to you is that I care for Leah Deitwaller as deeply as any married man I know cares for his wife. I cannot emphasize this point enough.

  Jerusha paused, and she and Annie both looked at Leah, who sank back into her chair, smearing tears across her face.

  “Are you all right?” Jerusha asked.

  Leah gasped a sudden intake of air. “No one believed me because of all my mistakes. But I was telling the truth.”

  “Do you need some water?” Annie offered her bottle.

  Leah shook her head. “Just keep reading, please.”

  Jerusha looked back at the pages in her hands.

  I respect that Leah’s parents have the authority to do what they believe is best for her. Her father asked me not to write to Leah again, and I have honored his wishes. Please tell her that my heart has not changed, and I treasure the letters she sends.

  Leah and I have both been baptized. I know you under-

  stand the seriousness of our commitment, since you have chosen to take the baptismal vows yourself.

  I have talked with my parents at great length. After a season of prayer and searching, they have given their blessing to my union with Leah and would welcome her to their home as their daughter even if we are not able to marry immediately. I would be grateful for any assistance you can give to bring Leah to us. I believe our greatest happiness would come from receiving the blessing of Leah’s parents as well, and I pray that God will reveal His will in the matter. My daed will write to Mr. Deitwaller, and we will await further word.

  My heart aches for Leah and for her happiness. You have been so kind to show an interest in her and search for the truth by writing to Matthew.

  Most sincerely,

  Aaron Borntreger

  Annie stood up and crossed to Leah’s chair, kneeling in front of the girl and taking her hands. Leah sobbed.

  “I was right! I was right! No one believed me, but I was right!” Leah’s chest heaved. “I would never have acted so crazy if someone had believed me.”

  Annie’s throat choked up. She had no words but only gripped Leah’s trembling hands.

  Jerusha folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope.

  “I’ll be back here next Friday,” the counselor said. “I suggest that we meet again then. I wonder if we might have Leah’s parents with us for at least one future session.”

  Annie squeezed her eyes shut. Jerusha might as well have a
sked for the mountains to move.

  Annie held Leah’s hand, which still trembled as she stood at the appointment desk in the clinic and arranged to see Jerusha again. They traversed the blocks through town and to Annie’s quiet street with few words. As they made the turn off Main Street, Annie spotted Ruth coming from the other direction. Annie lifted a finger to her lips, and Ruth felt into step with them without a greeting.

  Was it only yesterday that Rufus had shown her his vision of their future together? Had it only been a day since they had agreed to marry? Ruth should be the first person to hear the news—and not when the banns were read. Fatigue rolled through Annie as she pushed open the back door and the trio entered a house hushed in the shadows of a fading afternoon.

  Leah moved ahead of the other two, walking in her soundless way through the house to her makeshift bedroom in the living room.

  “Is she all right?” Ruth whispered.

  “It’s a long story.”

  Annie was not sure how much she could share with Ruth. The story was Leah’s more than it was hers. Certainly she would not try to recount the afternoon’s events while Leah was in the other room. She turned the switch on a propane lamp that sat on the end of the kitchen counter.

  “I could make us something to eat,” Ruth said quietly.

  Annie nodded. “I’d like to freshen up.”

  “Maybe I’ll change first, too.”

  When she passed through the dining room to the stairs, Annie was surprised to see Leah sitting at the table. Annie stopped so suddenly that Ruth nearly bumped her from behind. Their eyes fixed on Leah. She held a lit match between thumb and forefinger, and the oil lamp was positioned in front of her. Leah stared at the flame as the match burned down, only at the last minute touching it to the waiting oil and watching the mantle burst into brightness.

  Annie moistened her lips. “Are you hungry, Leah? Ruth has offered to make some supper.”

  Leah gazed at the lamp. “I don’t think I can eat. It’s been a long afternoon.”

  “We’ll save something for you, then. You can have it later.”

  The kitten grazed past Annie and jumped into Leah’s lap.