Charlotte parked her truck amid all the buggies, like a red-spotted beetle among a bunch of pristine gray ants. For a group of people who defied pride, the Amish had clean houses, impeccable yards, and even their buggies sparkled on a day filled with sunshine, like today.
“This is gonna be weird.” Andrea pried open the passenger door. Then she worked to get Bella out of her car seat, which barely fit between two people in the ’57 Chevy. “What if they don’t like me?”
“They’ll like you,” Charlotte said before clearing her throat. She’d considered not bringing Andrea to the barn raising. Bishop Miller already had his eye on Charlotte, and considering she never knew what Andrea might say, the entire day might end up a bust. But Charlotte liked the Stoltzfus family, and she wanted to be a part of erecting a new barn for them.
Lightning had hit their farm during the storm, started a fire in the barn, and destroyed most of it. The day before, members of the community had torn down what was left, and now stacks of wood were waiting on the members of the community to rebuild.
“Are we going to actually be hammering nails and all that stuff?” Andrea set Bella on the ground. Charlotte’s niece toddled around to Charlotte’s side of the truck, lifting her hands in the air. Bella seemed like a different child than she did the first day she and Andrea had shown up at Charlotte’s house. She wasn’t nearly as fussy, and even if Bella was upset, it was easier to comfort her now.
“No, we’re not.” She scooped Bella into her arms and walked toward a group of women setting platters of food and pitchers of tea on a picnic table. “We’ll help with the meal, get the men drinks, and make sure the younger children stay away from the work area.”
“Why don’t you become Amish?” Andrea smelled like the cigarette she’d smoked outside Charlotte’s house before they’d left home. Now, her sister was smacking on a piece of gum Charlotte had offered her in the truck. Once again, Charlotte thought about the three-year age difference between them and how it felt like much more.
“Quit smacking,” Charlotte said as she cut her eyes at Andrea. “And be polite.”
“You act like you’re my mom sometimes instead of my sister.” Andrea spit the gum in the grass.
Charlotte lifted Bella higher on her hip and rolled her eyes. “I feel like your mom sometimes. Now pick up that gum. Someone will step on it. Here, put it in this.”
Charlotte held out a piece of tissue, and Andrea dropped the gum and then shrugged as she shuffled along in blue jeans, tennis shoes, and a red T-shirt she’d borrowed from Charlotte, along with a red jacket. Andrea almost always wore her long dark hair down, but today she had it up in a twist, which made her look a couple of years older.
“You don’t have electricity. You’re friends with all of these people. And your Amish boyfriend is kinda hot too. Just seems to make sense that you’d convert.”
“It’s a lot more complicated than that, and you know it.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Charlotte stopped walking and glanced at her sister, who had just echoed Lena’s words about the same subject. “Well, it is.” She scanned the women, most of whom she knew, then unraveled a little when she spotted Edna. They gazed at each other, but Charlotte quickly looked away. This was a day for fellowship and an opportunity to introduce Andrea and Bella to her Amish friends, not a verbal catfight with Edna.
Even if it did mean the bishop might pull her aside for a little chat about Daniel and her. Even if it did mean Andrea might embarrass her to death at some point. But as she snuggled with Bella in her arms, she was eager to show off her niece.
“And who is this beauty?” Lillian Stoltzfus reached out and touched Bella’s arm. Charlotte had been told that Lillian decided to join the Amish years ago, but Charlotte didn’t think anyone would ever know. She fit in as if she’d been one of the Plain People her entire life. Lillian had children and grandchildren and was married to a wonderful man, Samuel. After spending a few years in Colorado, most of the Stoltzfus family had moved back to Lancaster County to care for Lillian’s mother, Sarah Jane, who had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease a few months ago.
Bella played shy and buried her head in Charlotte’s shoulder. “This is my niece, Bella.” She nudged the little girl. “Say hi, Bella.” Charlotte tried to be like the Amish in many ways. She tried to be truthful, helpful, strong in her faith, do for others, and avoid being prideful. But right now, she was proud to be holding Bella in her arms and briefly wondered how it must feel to hold her own child.
Right then, she saw Daniel in a group of men who looked like they were sorting tools and nails. She locked eyes with him and smiled. No matter their differences, Daniel still made her heart flutter.
“And this is my sister, Andrea.” Charlotte held her breath.
“Hey.” Andrea gave a half wave to Lillian as she smiled at the other women standing nearby. “Nice to meet ya’ll.”
Charlotte released the breath she was holding, hopeful that Andrea would behave herself today.
Andrea’s eyes widened when another group of women began laying out dishes and flatware on the picnic table. She brought a hand to her forehead to block the sun as she studied the ladies, recalling the box she’d found and its contents.
“Hey . . .” She nudged Charlotte, then whispered, “Who’s that woman, the one in the green dress?” She pointed to six women.
“Well, that narrows it down”—Charlotte grinned—“since four of them are wearing green.” She hoisted Bella higher up on her hip.
“Her.” Andrea pointed, and Charlotte gently slapped down her hand. “The tall one.”
“That’s Edna Glick.” Charlotte sneered, turning up her nose. “She used to see Ethan.”
“Wait a minute. I thought Ethan used to date your friend Hannah.”
“Ethan did date Hannah, but I think he was secretly in love with Edna, and they had a thing for a while.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “And Daniel also dated Edna, and she ended up marrying John, the man she supposedly wants to leave now.”
Andrea scowled, lifting an eyebrow. “Geez. She gets around.” But why bury the box in your ex-boyfriend’s yard?
“Obviously, I don’t really care for her.” Charlotte plastered on a fake smile.
Andrea was starting to enjoy living with Charlotte, and Bella had certainly taken to her new aunt, so Andrea didn’t want to rock the boat. But she sure did want to question the tall, pretty Amish woman she’d seen digging in the yard—Edna Glick. She sighed and decided to put the issue to rest. For now.
Bella reached for Andrea, so she took her and followed Charlotte toward the house as Amish ladies passed by them carrying more dishes of food and pitchers of tea. Once inside, it was a beehive of organized activity. Andrea figured she’d carry out a couple of platters, then go find a place to smoke.
“You can put Bella down if you want to. Everyone watches all the kinner.” Charlotte smiled. “I mean children.”
Charlotte even talked like an Amish person. Bella squirmed out of Andrea’s arms as if she’d understood what Charlotte said. After Bella moved toward some other children in the living room, Andrea picked up a platter of pickles and olives, then followed Charlotte out the front door.
“So, all these guys will build the entire barn today?” As they walked down the porch steps, Andrea noticed that part of the frame was already erected.
“Yep. Or most of it, anyway. Sometimes a few men come back the next day to finish the inside or do cleanup.”
“How much do they get paid?” Andrea held the platter steady with one hand as she picked up a pickle with the other.
“No one gets paid.” Charlotte waved to a couple of women they passed.
“Well that’s”—Andrea cleared her throat, careful of her language around her sister—“messed up.”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, it’s actually really cool. Everyone helps everyone. If someone gets sick, the community pitches in to help with plowing fields, planting gardens, cooking food, or whatever else a family might need. If someone falls upon hard times in some other way, they have the support of the community. And, as in this case, Samuel and Lillian’s barn burned down, so everyone is pitching in to help.”
“I guess all these people believe all these good deeds will get them into heaven.” Andrea wished more than anything that she had that to look forward to. Even if she believed—and she didn’t—no way she’d be allowed in.
“Their belief that Jesus died on the cross for all of us and the way that they live their lives as a result of that belief.”
Andrea stifled a grunt that threatened to spew as she recalled her and two boys robbing a convenience store when she was fourteen. They’d gotten away with it, even though they shouldn’t have. They were young and stupid, not thinking about the security camera. They’d heard later that the camera didn’t catch any of their faces. Andrea remembered how hungry she was that day, hoping that she’d go to jail where there would be food and a bed. Instead she lived off the food they’d stolen from the store. That’s all she and her friends had taken—chips, lunch meat, bread, crackers, and whatever else they could fit in their backpacks and carry out.
The next time they’d tried to steal a car, with plans to drive to California. They weren’t so lucky that time. But Andrea had been a juvenile at the time, so she’d done some time in a youth detention center before being returned to the streets. As an adult, she’d kept up the same lovely behavior, so, nope. She didn’t foresee God opening the pearly gates for her.
“Hey, I’m gonna go look around the property, okay?” Andrea scoped out the house, hoping she could sneak around to the back without anyone noticing.
“You’re going to smoke,” Charlotte whispered as she set a platter of bread on the table next to the pickle tray Andrea had carried out.
Andrea sighed. “I’m gonna quit. I only smoke one or two a day as it is.” Whenever she could scrape together a little cash or Charlotte reluctantly agreed to get her a pack. “I’ll be back shortly.”
As she shuffled across the yard, she could feel Amish eyes on her, checking her out. But she needed a smoke too badly to care. She rounded the corner to the back of the house, leaned down, and pulled a cigarette out of her sock. When she lifted it up, she noticed an Amish guy on the other side of the septic tank behind the house.
Smiling, Andrea headed his way. “I knew there was bound to be some Amish people who smoked.” She took a lighter out of her front pocket, lit her cigarette, inhaled the smooth flavor, then blew it in the guy’s face.
He waved a hand in front of his face. “Do you mind? I’m not smoking.”
“Oh, great. Even worse.” Andrea took another drag, blew a smoke ring, then grinned. “Relieving yourself?”
The Amish kid looked to be eighteen or nineteen. “Nee. Just wanted to be alone for a few minutes.”
Andrea looked him up and down for a few seconds as she puffed on her cigarette. This kid’s hair didn’t look like all the others. His blond bangs weren’t cropped, he had bags underneath his eyes, and he didn’t have the chipper demeanor the others seemed to have.
“What’s eating you? You look depressed or something.” She flicked an ash in the grass. “Guess I’d be depressed, too, if I had to live the way you people do. What in the world do you do for fun?”
Andrea thought she probably had a few years on this guy, but if he could enlighten her about extracurricular activities, she was all ears.
“I ain’t depressed. Just tired.”
Andrea waited for a few seconds, until she presumed that’s all he was going to offer up. “I’m Charlotte Dolinsky’s sister, the only other person here who isn’t dressed in funky clothes.”
“You’re kidding me.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“Why, you know my sister?”
“Ya, I do.”
“What’s your name?” Andrea dropped her cigarette and pounded it out with her shoe.
“Jacob.”
“Ah . . .” Andrea nodded. “I’ve heard about you from Charlotte—the prodigal son returned home because your mother is sick.” She paused. “I’m sorry about that part, about your mom.” She briefly thought about the woman who had raised her, but as a chill ran the length of her spine, she stowed the thought.
“Danki.”
Not very talkative. “Okay. Well. Nice to meet you, Jacob.” She smiled. She gave a slight wave and started walking along the backside of the house.
She rounded the corner and bumped right into the digger lady. Edna.
“Ach, I’m sorry.” The woman grabbed her chest and smiled. “There’s a crowd moving through the living room to the kitchen, so I was going to sneak in the back door to use the facilities. Someone pointed you out to me. You’re Charlotte’s sister, ya? I’m Edna.” She extended her hand.
Andrea didn’t move, her feet rooting with the grass as her heart pounded in her chest.
A puzzled look on her face, Edna finally lowered her hand to her side when Andrea didn’t shake it. Andrea took a step closer to her, then another step, close enough that Edna backed up.
“Don’t pretend you don’t recognize me. I’ve caught you twice digging in my sister’s yard.”
First Edna’s neck turned red, then the color rose like hot steam all the way to her forehead. “I—I, um . . . I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Lady, I saw you.” Andrea smirked.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Edna turned on her heel and rushed away.
“Oh, I think you do,” Andrea said softly.