Waking up the next morning, Annie was thankful for a few minutes to stretch and relax beneath her colorful quilts before getting up for the day. She snuggled down in her warm bed, staring at the window across the room, noting the slowly-shifting glow as dawn inched its way into daylight.
Eyes fixed on the light, she pondered Louisa’s visit thus far. She knew one thing sure, she was beginning to see her own surroundings through her friend’s eyes . . . grasping a glimpse of the peace she and the People seemed to take for granted. Right along with the rigid expectations weighing her down at times, though she attempted to conceal any negativity from her family.
She thought back to Sunday night, following their buggy ride home from the singing, when Louisa had said the most surprising thing: ‘‘The peacefulness here . . . it’s like a sort of blessing hangs in the air.’’
Funny, hearing Louisa say such a thing. . . .
Louisa had never expressed this before, and Annie hadn’t ever thought of Paradise that way. But she guessed the immense contrast between city living and Amish country was rather severe to Louisa. The farthest she had ever ventured into the populace of Lancaster was to the town of Strasburg. Which was enough of a jolt to her, what with tourists driving here and there, milling about, and in and out of the quaint little shops on the cobblestone sidewalks.
Today, though, she was anxious to accomplish her home chores quickly and head to Cousin Julia’s for the remainder of the day. Still upset at Mamm’s discovery of the two artists at work, she decided it would be nice if her friend could possibly paint to her heart’s content in the attic studio while Annie did her housework for Julia.
A wonderful-good surprise, she thought, slipping out of bed and hurrying to put on her house slippers and long white cotton robe.
She went to the dresser and picked up the small hand mirror. Pouring a bit of water from the pitcher to the ceramic basin, she began to wash her face in the cold water. Quickly, she patted her face dry with an embroidered linen towel.
Just then she spotted a gold-framed picture Louisa must have left on the corner of the dresser. ‘‘For goodness’ sake!’’ She studied the long-ago drawing of herself. I hope I’ve improved since this, she thought, knowing without a doubt she had. The early morning surprise brought a smile, and she could scarcely wait to thank Louisa.
Best not have this on display anymore! She placed the picture in her bathrobe pocket and tiptoed over to Louisa’s room.
Jesse rose earlier than usual, still both mystified and shaken by the unearthing in Al Fisher’s pastureland. The bishop had been quite prompt in meeting him last night, and together they’d decided upon an out-of-the-way spot for the suitable burial— a safe distance, deep into the walnut grove, behind the Amish cemetery, where they left no grave marker to signal the shared secret.
As for the bishop’s plan to visit the Hochstetler farm last evening, Jesse speculated how Zeke had taken such hard news. The headstrong man was also known to be quite outspoken. But Jesse had always assumed the fiery nature had more to do with Zeke’s inability to forgive himself for his brother’s disappearance than anything else.
Jesse shuddered and considered how such information would have affected him . . . if I were the son of Ichabod. . . .
Then and there, he purposed to reach out to the younger man, the first chance possible.
For now, though, he best get himself across the road for milking, because following breakfast he must head to an all-day wedding, where he was expected to give the Anfang, the opening comments, prior to the bishop’s main sermon. He also must shake off his impending feeling of doom, wishing to convey a cheerful countenance on behalf of the bridegroom and bride.
Annie offered to take the horse and buggy over to Julia’s, but Louisa insisted they walk, just as Annie always liked to. ‘‘Look over there.’’ She pointed to their neighbors’ farmhouse as they made their way along the road. ‘‘That’s where the girl lived who first requested you as a pen pal. See how the electric lines run right up to their house and barn?’’
‘‘So that’s how you know who’s Amish and who isn’t?’’
Annie laughed softly. ‘‘Well, it’s one way. You also have to watch for horsey apples in the lane.’’
This got a sniggle from Louisa, who looked as Amish as Annie was, except she’d twisted the sides of her hair looser than Annie ever would have. At least she’s learning.
‘‘What’s Jenna Danz doing these days?’’ Louisa asked. ‘‘Haven’t heard from her in years.’’
‘‘If you’d like to, we could stop by the house and ask ’bout her. The Danzes are ever so friendly.’’
‘‘No, I’m here to hang with you.’’ Louisa was lugging her laptop in a leather case, evidently ready for some connection with the outside world.
‘‘So . . . does hanging with someone ever hurt?’’ Annie tried not to giggle.
Louisa wrinkled her nose. ‘‘You’re as bad a tease as I am.’’
‘‘That’s for sure.’’ Several horse-drawn buggies went by, and Annie waved at each one.
‘‘Where’s everybody going?’’
‘‘It’s Tuesday, so I’d have to say they’re headed for weddings. Most families get multiple invitations. They might have relatives in other church districts, so they must decide which one to attend . . . a busy time.’’ She hated saying it, worried that another mention of a wedding might upset Louisa.
‘‘How many in a single day?’’
‘‘Oh, oodles, really.’’
‘‘Do you ever stay home,’’ Louisa asked, ‘‘just skip going?’’
‘‘Most of the weddings in the past few years have been for my first cousins—close in age—or friends of mine.’’ She sighed, not sure how to explain that it was beyond rude not to attend. ‘‘For me not to go would be similar to shunning someone for a whole day. It’s just not done.’’ No matter how difficult, she thought, aware of the wrench in her heart again, relieved that the couples marrying today were not close kin.
‘‘Fascinating . . . to set aside a time of year just for weddings,’’ Louisa replied. ‘‘Like we moderns have our June weddings . . .’’
Annie smiled. ‘‘My father’s glad to be finished with plowing, ’specially with his responsibilities for tying the knot for quite a few couples. He’ll be busy for the next few months.’’
‘‘Well, he certainly looked busy last night, too.’’
‘‘What are you talking about?’’
‘‘I saw him carrying a shovel . . . out to the road. Must’ve been round nine o’clock.’’
Annie shook her head. ‘‘You must be mistaken. Daed always goes to bed with the chickens.’’
‘‘Say what you like, but I saw what I saw.’’
‘‘And you also must’ve spotted an owl, too, jah?’’ Annie covered her mouth, stifling a laugh.
Louisa pulled a face. ‘‘As a matter of fact, I did! Didn’t you hear him?’’
‘‘I heard him, all right. I almost got up and went downstairs. Sometimes I creep out into the night and shine a flashlight on them. Daed’s caught me several times.’’
‘‘I felt the silent flap of his wings and saw the hind end of him. Amazing. So . . . can you guess what I plan to draw the moment my peacock painting is finished?’’
‘‘My father chasing an owl?’’ She couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing.
‘‘Very funny, Annie.’’
Annie was exceptionally surprised about Louisa’s encounter with the owl—hindquarters or not. But she wasn’t about to reveal the common superstition: if a person sees an owl up close it sometimes points to a death. No sense causing Louisa to freak out, as she liked to say. Still, the bird of death had flown over them.
They walked farther, soaking up the sunshine and enjoying the fresh air as the tension between them subsided.
Louisa brushed off her apron. ‘‘Does your cousin have an indoor bathroom? I would love a shower!’’
‘‘Sure. Julia won’t mind at all if you shower there.’’ Annie found Louisa’s need for soap and water interesting. Not even half a week had passed since their Saturday night baths!
‘‘I’ve been thinking about something else, too, Annie. If it’s not a problem, would you care if I washed my hair more than once a week? I don’t think I can stand it for more than three days, which it is today.’’
‘‘Oh, you can shower at Julia’s on Tuesdays and Fridays, take a bath at my house on Saturday night . . . and, in between, there’s always the makeshift shower Daed and the boys use out in the barn. Goodness sakes, you’ll be the cleanest girl round here!’’
They counted fifteen more buggies coming their way, and at one point Louisa said, ‘‘I’ve never felt so strangely miserable and wonderful at the same time. Except for maybe the summer I spent with one of my aunts.’’
‘‘Why’s that?’’
‘‘I think it comes down to the basics, and I’m not talking baths or showers or indoor plumbing.’’ Louisa slowed her pace. ‘‘Sure, I miss all the conveniences of my home, yet I feel somehow closer to all that is good.’’
‘‘To the Lord God, you mean?’’
‘‘I don’t know.’’ Louisa turned to look at her. She had an almost sad expression. ‘‘Do you ever wish, sometimes, that there was something way more tangible to believing? I mean, than just a bunch of one-way prayers?’’
‘‘Well, my cousin Julia has conversations with the Lord. I’m not kidding, she honestly does.’’ Annie wondered if she should go on, but she forged ahead. ‘‘I say silent rote prayers first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. I’ve never considered addressing God the way Julia does.’’
‘‘Really? You don’t speak your prayers?’’
‘‘Never.’’
‘‘Well, then, I’ll have to get acquainted with this cousin of yours.’’
A lone horse and carriage was coming their way, and at a fast clip. When Annie spied Susie Yoder and her older brother, a surprising lump caught in her throat. Instead of calling out her usual cheerful hullo, she merely raised her hand to wave.
Susie, wearing her for-good blue cape dress and white apron, was quick to return the wave, smiling and glancing at her brother who held the reins, wearing his best black suit and bow tie. When Susie looked back at Annie, there was a noticeable twinkle in her eyes and a radiant smile on her dimpled face.
She looks too happy not to be in love. . . .
Annie’s heart sank like a millstone. Oh, what’s-a-matter with me?
After all, it was to be expected that Susie would spend the afternoon and evening, following the all-day wedding festivities she was apparently headed to, playing games and attending a late-night barn singing with Rudy, along with many other courting couples. There was no other reason for Susie’s big brother to be driving her today otherwise.
Annie swallowed hard. Since I refused to marry Rudy, why should I begrudge Susie her happiness?
Momentarily she wondered what it might be like to somehow get Rudy’s attention back for herself. To abruptly abandon the near-delirious joy of mixing colors, painting whatever her heart desired. But such thoughts troubled her greatly. No, she could not substitute a man—not even Rudy—for her dearest love.