The Englisher Read online

  ‘‘Hope everything’s all right.’’ Annie frowned slightly.

  ‘‘But you know more ’bout all this. . . .’’

  ‘‘Oh, it won’t be much longer.’’

  Annie excused herself, asking Louisa to ‘‘stay put,’’ then headed toward the ladies’ room.

  Louisa hoped Annie wouldn’t have any trouble finding her way back again. But then she realized how easy it would be to spot Annie here in this rather smallish airport with not another Amish person anywhere in sight.

  In a few minutes, Courtney came gliding down the escalator, lanky as a model, her carry-on bag slung over her shoulder. Louisa gave a little wave when Courtney got closer, but Courtney kept walking.

  ‘‘Court?’’ she called after her, very aware of how pretty her friend’s shiny brown hair looked swinging loose around her shoulders. A slight twinge of envy nagged her, but Louisa pushed it away, keeping an eye out for Annie.

  ‘‘Courtney?’’ she called again.

  Turning, Courtney stared at her. Really stared. ‘‘Louisa?’’ She literally gawked, her sea green eyes wide. Then, as if to shrug off her surprise, she said, ‘‘Well . . . hey, look at you.’’ Courtney held her at arm’s length, still studying her while Louisa wondered how she might explain her Plain attire to her longtime friend.

  She felt terribly out of place, wishing Annie would hurry back from the rest room. ‘‘How was your flight?’’

  ‘‘Fine . . . just fine, thanks.’’ Courtney scrutinized Louisa with a droll expression. ‘‘You said you were trying to fit in here, but . . . I had no idea you’d come out in public like this.’’ At once she laughed as if making a joke.

  Louisa was instantly glad Annie wasn’t near. ‘‘You know what they say: ‘When in Rome . . .’ ’’

  Courtney still looked a bit shocked. And she was speechless now, which was a good thing, especially because Louisa turned and spotted Annie walking toward them. ‘‘There’s my pen pal, Annie—the one I told you about.’’

  ‘‘So that’s your famous Amish friend,’’ Courtney said. ‘‘I can’t wait to meet her.’’

  Annie was smiling as she hurried to Louisa’s side.

  ‘‘Courtney, I’d like you to meet Annie Zook. And, Annie, this is Courtney Engelman.’’

  Annie smiled, nodded. ‘‘Welcome. Nice to meet you.’’

  ‘‘Thanks,’’ Courtney said, looking Annie over, obviously unable to suppress her interest. ‘‘Same here.’’

  When the luggage from the flight arrived, Louisa went with Courtney to pick up her second bag—with five more pairs of shoes, no doubt—wondering if it was such a good idea for Courtney to have come after all.

  ‘‘How long have you been dressing . . . uh, like this?’’ Courtney asked quietly while they waited at the carousel.

  ‘‘Since day one. But that’s a long story.’’

  ‘‘Oh?’’

  ‘‘I’ll tell you all about it, Court.’’

  When Courtney spotted her bag, she excused herself, waded through the other passengers and snatched it up.

  Together, they returned to join Annie, who waited demurely near the luggage carts in her plum-colored dress, her long wool coat draped over her arm. ‘‘We’re all set,’’ Louisa said, and the three of them walked out to the curb where their driver was waiting.

  ‘‘I wish you would have let me in on the dress code before I came, Louisa,’’ Courtney whispered. ‘‘I hope you don’t expect me to go around like that.’’

  Louisa grimaced.

  While they placed the luggage in the trunk, Louisa wished she hadn’t said a word about filling Courtney in on her reason for dressing Plain. Suddenly, she felt it was flat none of her business.

  Annie sat quietly in a white wicker chair in the upstairs bedroom at the Maple Lane Farm B&B while Courtney got herself settled. Situated in the midst of a wide meadow, near a winding brook, the colonial inn was only a short walk to Amish neighbors, one an accomplished quilter Annie knew.

  Courtney gabbed up a storm with Louisa as she plugged in her portable computer and then rustled about to find a place in the empty bureau drawers to put away her clothing.

  ‘‘How’s it going with your roommate?’’ asked Lou.

  ‘‘Oh, I’ve got two now . . . one’s a guy,’’ Courtney said, lowering her voice and glancing at Annie.

  ‘‘Well, when did that happen?’’ Lou seemed very interested.

  Courtney’s eyes twinkled. ‘‘It’s not what you think. We’re just sharing a house. And Jared’s terrific in the kitchen.’’

  ‘‘He cooks?’’

  ‘‘Bakes bread, too.’’ Courtney again glanced at Annie.

  Lou mentioned a dozen or more other names Annie had never heard her say before, as Annie curiously observed Lou’s interaction with her English friend. It was fairly clear Lou was hungry for information about the outside world, and Courtney seemed more than willing to respond to the many inquiries, filling Lou in on the life she’d so abruptly left behind.

  Annie soon began to feel like a fifth wheel but did her best to show interest. Courtney paused from the chore of unpacking and perched herself on the high canopy bed, patting the rust red and white homemade quilt.

  Lou glanced sheepishly at Annie, then stared pensively at Courtney’s makeup bag. Saying nothing, Lou reached up to run her fingers across the delicate edge of the lacy ecru canopy.

  Courtney let herself fall back on the bed, staring up at the underside of the canopy. ‘‘Now this is elegant stuff,’’ she muttered, looking again at Lou’s plum-colored dress and black full apron, which matched Annie’s. Courtney’s pretty eyes drifted to Lou’s white head covering and lingered at the middle part in Lou’s hair.

  Lou must have sensed the scrutiny and resumed her chatter, asking about Courtney’s plans following graduation. Annie felt increasingly awkward, listening in on their banter like a moth on the stenciled wall.

  At one point, Lou glanced at her watch. ‘‘We need to get going, over to Zooks’,’’ she said.

  Courtney frowned. ‘‘I should freshen up.’’

  ‘‘Ach, you’re just fine,’’ Annie said.

  ‘‘Yeah, let’s go,’’ Lou said. ‘‘Annie’s mom’s the best pie baker in the civilized world.’’

  Courtney’s eyebrows rose at that.

  ‘‘Let’s not keep her waiting,’’ Lou urged.

  Courtney shook her head. ‘‘Really, Louisa. I need time to unwind. I feel like I’m still flying. I’ll join you tomorrow.’’

  Lou gave in. ‘‘All right, I suppose you do look like you could use a bubble bath.’’ The way she said it, Annie guessed she might long for one herself. ‘‘Glad you’re here safely, Courtney. I guess Annie and I’ll head home.’’

  ‘‘Home?’’ Courtney gave Lou a curious look.

  Annie wondered what her friend would say, but Lou only winked as if revealing a private joke. ‘‘You know . . . home for now.’’

  Courtney nodded, then reached to feel Lou’s dress sleeve, grimacing as if she’d touched a hot burner. ‘‘What sort of fabric is this, anyway?’’ Lou looked sheepish again, but Courtney’s expression turned animated. ‘‘I think we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’’

  Lou’s smile returned.

  Annie spoke up, offering to return for Courtney with the horse and buggy first thing in the morning.

  Courtney shook her head. ‘‘Maybe if I had directions, I could walk over.’’

  ‘‘Too far. But if it’s any consolation, I’ll bring the team over myself,’’ Lou offered.

  ‘‘You?’’

  ‘‘Sure. I know how to manage a horse.’’

  Courtney raised her eyebrows as if to say, Now, that’s interesting.

  Lou seemed momentarily pleased. ‘‘Welcome to Amish country,’’ she said. ‘‘Loosen up. Have some fun!’’

  Annie was surprised by Lou’s sudden offhand approach.

  ‘‘So what time is breakfast?’’ Courtney asked. />
  ‘‘Six-thirty.’’

  Courtney’s mouth fell open. ‘‘You’re kidding, right?’’

  ‘‘Too early?’’ Annie asked, stifling a grin.

  ‘‘And don’t forget,’’ Lou added, ‘‘church is right afterward.’’

  Courtney groaned. ‘‘Uh, that’s a really long ordeal, right?’’

  Annie and Lou exchanged glances.

  ‘‘C’mon, Court,’’ Lou said. ‘‘We talked about this. You’ll have a front-row seat.’’

  Courtney sighed audibly. ‘‘Fine. A three-hour history lesson.’’

  ‘‘Yeah, that’s the spirit,’’ Lou said.

  ‘‘Cool. See ya,’’ said Courtney.

  They said their good-byes, but Annie could not shake her unsettled feeling. Not because she wasn’t somewhat accustomed to worldly folk but because Courtney seemed to have something up her sleeve. Surely she wasn’t here simply to tour the countryside or to visit an old friend.

  Why’d she come here really?

  Years ago Jesse had learned everything he would ever need to know about cows and milking procedures. The practical aspects and the shortcuts allowed by the bishops, including the use of an air compressor to keep fresh milk cooling and stirring in a bulk milk tank, powered by a diesel engine.

  But this night, with lantern in hand, he heard only the mooing of Holsteins chained to their wooden stanchions. Milk cows were such an enormous part of his family’s livelihood.

  The memory of lowing cattle had been planted in his mind for nearly two decades now, since the fateful evening he’d met with Isaac’s stubborn father, Daniel, in the Hochstetlers’ barn. ‘‘You are God’s anointed.’’ Jesse had been adamant, cautioning Daniel of the dire situation at hand. ‘‘You’ve rejected almighty God, don’t you know? It is imperative that you take up the office of preacher as ordered by the drawing of the divine lot.’’

  Imperative. The word had pounded in Jesse’s brain even then. Alas, Daniel had chosen that dark and different path, against the angels of heaven. The first-chosen of the Lord God had stated his decision, slapping his black hat against his thigh for emphasis. ‘‘The deed’s done. I’ve made my bed.Now I’ll lie in it,’’ Daniel had told him.

  Jesse wandered outside, making his way through the snow, strangely drawn to the tall scarecrow over yonder. He stared at it, gritting his teeth. No need to protect a sleeping garden against the boldest of birds in winter, and spring was months away. One look at the arctic gray sky and anyone could see that.

  Anger, long suppressed, rose in him and overflowed in one hasty gesture. Marching forward, he set down his lantern and began to dismantle the straw man, first tearing away the cold-hardened shirt to reveal the straw body, then the worn black britches. His gloved hands fumbled repeatedly as he breathed in icy air.

  Helpless Isaac, his life snuffed out like a wee candle. Barbara’s dreams fraught with empty hope, when the reality is in the buried truth.

  Jesse thought of his daughter, welcoming yet another worldly outsider into their midst. Where will it end?

  His disturbing thoughts pushed Jesse beyond the brink of good sense.

  The old hat was next to go, and the wooden crossbeam. When Jesse was done, the pieces lay on the desolate ground.

  He piled up the scraps of clothing, along with the wooden structure itself. He carried the whole of it to the refuse pile behind the barn, conscious of a pounding in his temples and heat on his neck.

  The raucous cawing from the backyard willow made him stop and look up as he made his way toward the house. In the moonlight, he saw half a dozen blackbirds perched boldly on the uppermost branches.

  Predators will come no matter. . . .

  Chapter 2

  Ben Martin had a hankering for a turkey sandwich on toasted rye. He clicked out of the Churchill Downs Web site, having navigated around each location on the site for a solid hour. Stomach growling, he headed to the small galley-style kitchen and opened the fridge and the seethrough vegetable drawer for some lettuce and half a tomato. Then several slices of smoked turkey, the allimportant mayo, and two pieces of dark rye.

  He dropped a handful of ice into the largest glass mug in the cupboard—a gift he’d received for being a groomsman for his good buddy’s wedding last year. Back before everything broke loose. . . .

  When he’d finished making the sandwich, he cut it in half diagonally, as his mother always did. He remembered as a boy lifting the lid on his Aladdin lunch box and finding the sandwiches halved. One of Mom’s trademarks. That and the cored whole apple, wrapped in aluminum foil. Why she didn’t quarter it and cut out the seeds like his classmates’ mothers did, he’d never known.

  While eating his lunch, he flipped through his mail, spying an overnight letter from his mom, which included his Social Security card. Finally, he thought. He was one step closer to acquiring a Pennsylvania driver’s license.

  Weeks ago he’d asked her to mail his birth certificate as well, since due to 9/11 Homeland Security measures, two additional forms of ID, along with his Kentucky license, were required. Unfortunately, his mother hadn’t had time to unearth it, having moved important files to the attic when their basement partially flooded during a severe storm in mid-November last year. Although she was rather apologetic, it didn’t seem she was trying all that hard, most likely hoping Ben would give up this nonsense and return home, upsetting as all this had been to her.

  Not wanting to wait any longer, and tired of asking for it only to realize he was rubbing salt in the wound of his leaving, he had decided to apply directly to the Office of Vital Statistics in Frankfort, Kentucky, for another official copy.

  Finishing off his sandwich, he began to fill out the application, recalling a long-ago exchange between himself and his sisters. And one mouthy cousin.

  He had been trying to get his mom to find some baby pictures for his ‘‘Guess Who?’’ project at school. But his mother had been busy cooking and entertaining their relatives from Iowa at the time. One of the cousins and his sisters had ganged up on him, teasing him mercilessly. ‘‘Well, maybe you’re adopted,’’ his cousin had said, sporting a mischievous grin.

  ‘‘Yeah, ever think of that?’’ said his sister Patrice.

  Yet another sister, Sherri, had joined in on the fun at his expense, holding up a mirror to his face. She made a scrutinizing frown. ‘‘Here, take a look and see.’’

  He had kidded them back. ‘‘Cool! You’re not really my sisters then, right?’’ He eyed the obnoxious cousin, too. ‘‘And . . . you? Well, figure it out, cuz.’’

  ‘‘Wait a minute,’’ Patrice had declared with seeming disappointment, still holding the mirror. ‘‘Your eyebrows have the same arch as Dad’s.’’

  ‘‘Huh?’’

  ‘‘And you have Mom’s nose.’’

  Sherri piped up. ‘‘You inherited Daddy’s funky annoying laugh, too!’’

  ‘‘Don’t forget Mom’s morning breath,’’ Patrice added.

  ‘‘Okay, that does it.’’ He began chasing them around the house, catching Patrice and holding her upside down over the toilet, threatening to douse her, head first.

  ‘‘I’m gonna die . . . and it’ll be . . . your fault,’’ she screamed. ‘‘Mom!’’

  Diana, his youngest sister, had sat in the corner, clapping and egging him on that day. He thought of all four of his sisters now, missing them. He wondered what they would think of Annie if they ever had an opportunity to meet her. But that was a slam dunk. They’d like her all right. A lot.

  He put down his pen and twiddled it between his fingers. ‘‘So . . . have I stumbled onto the girl for me?’’

  Putting both destiny and love in the same breath was foolish, wasn’t it?

  Annie was not only Amish, but of the strictest order. He knew this from hearing his employer, Irvin Ranck, speak of Preacher Zook and his family, who were cousins to Irvin. Ben had no business seeking out such a girl. How well did he know Annie, anyway? Sure, he’d enjoyed talking
with her on the road the other day, and she kept showing up at the same places as he did. But, hey, this wasn’t a metropolis. People were bound to run into each other here.

  But love?

  He dismissed his mood as relating to homesickness. After all, he sometimes felt disconnected from his family, living here instead of in his native Kentucky, having rarely left his hometown—until recently. He spent hours on email and instant messaging each week, keeping in touch with his family.

  Still, there was no denying he was captivated by the Plain culture as a whole and always had been. Even the infrequent times he had bumped into a few ‘‘horse and buggy’’ people in Kentucky.

  He leaned his head back and reclined against the exceptionally comfortable chair, pleased to have stumbled onto it at a local estate sale. A great find. He congratulated himself once more on having negotiated the price down. Another trait I inherited from Dad. He chuckled, the correlation leading him to think of a whole list of other qualities the two of them shared.

  He cut loose with a nervous laugh in the stillness of his living room, but it did not keep him from pondering, for the umpteenth time, the mystery that had brought him here to Pennsylvania’s Amish country.

  Daybreak came all too quickly, and Ben stumbled over his boots on his way to the shower. Too short a night, he thought, wondering why to this day he wasn’t one to sleep in, even as tired as he felt this quiet Sunday morning.

  He took his time shaving, combing through his hair, and dressing, all the while considering Irvin Ranck’s standing invitation to attend church. But Ben had put him off this long—why change his mind today?

  He made enough scrambled eggs to satisfy his enormous appetite, recalling Zeke Hochstetler’s recent visit. He, too, had mentioned this Sunday was to be a preaching day.

  Does everyone attend church around here?

  Ben forked into the souffle -light eggs on his plate, enjoying his meal, thinking about his growing friendship with Zeke. He was one uptight fellow but seemed to enjoy hanging around the tack shop several times a week. It was from Zeke and a few others like him that Ben had learned a great deal about the Amish in a short amount of time, and it didn’t take much to imagine a whole group of them assembled at a long table for breakfast.