Esther did not know what to make of Zeke’s peculiar behavior. Nearly all day he stayed close to the house, except for doing necessary barn chores. He was spending more time with their boys than any other weekday she ever recalled—playing with them indoors, in the yard, and even washing their faces after the noon meal.
But each time she looked at her husband this day, she was keenly aware of a painful softness around his eyes. Something she hadn’t seen in years. Was it the herbal potion she furtively mixed into his coffee each morning? Or was it linked to the bishop’s surprise visit?
Is someone dreadfully ill? Or has Zeke’s father gotten in touch with him at long last? If so, wouldn’t Zeke say something?
She couldn’t stop thinking about the bishop’s mysterious visit, the good half hour he spent alone with Zeke in the barn. To get her mind off whatever it was, she set about baking an angel food cake for their supper tonight. Zeke’s favorite . . . and Laura’s, too.
‘‘Cousin Julia!’’ called Annie at the back stoop and let herself in, holding the door for Louisa.
Molly and James came running to meet them, and the sight of the children cheered Annie’s heart. ‘‘I’ve brought along my very good friend today,’’ she told the smiling youngsters. ‘‘James and Molly, can you say hullo to Louisa?’’
James grinned, showing his little white teeth. ‘‘Hullo, Louisa,’’ he said, mimicking Annie. ‘‘You look just like Annie.’’
‘‘Well! I’ll take that as a compliment.’’
Molly reached for Louisa’s hand and smiled shyly. ‘‘Molly . . . that’s me.’’
Louisa was clearly taken with the little girl. ‘‘It’s nice to meet you, honey. Your long braids are beautiful.’’
Nodding, Molly reached up to touch her hair. ‘‘Mommy makes ’em.’’
‘‘She does good work,’’ Louisa said, touching Molly’s head.
Soon, Cousin Julia hurried into the kitchen, face aglow at seeing Louisa.
‘‘Julia, I want you to meet my English pen pal.’’ Annie quickly explained that she wanted to ‘‘be one of the People, at least in looks, for the time bein’.’’
‘‘How thoughtful!’’ Julia extended her hand to Louisa.
Annie was most grateful for the warm reception, especially since she’d never told Julia about this peculiar friendship. And once the children had gone outside to play, she asked if it was all right for Louisa to have a shower or bath sometime today while they were here.
‘‘Oh my, yes. Help yourself, Louisa . . . anytime, really.’’ Julia’s eyes twinkled when she smiled. ‘‘I see you’ve brought your laptop along, but if ever you want to simply use our computer, you can do that, too.’’
‘‘I appreciate the offer,’’ Louisa said, looking a bit surprised. ‘‘So . . . then, you’re permitted to use computers?’’
Julia nodded. ‘‘Well, yes, we are. You might not guess by looking at us, but many Mennonites embrace the whole gamut of technology. We are more conservative than some, but even our little church has its own Web site as an outreach ministry.’’
They stood and talked awhile longer, and then Julia gave Annie the list of chores for the day. Louisa offered to help, but Annie insisted she should get her shower done. They argued jovially about that, but Annie finally said she could have the ironing out of the way by the time Louisa finished upstairs.
‘‘Well, if you’re sure,’’ said Louisa.
‘‘Oh, jah, I am . . . now go and get yourself cleaned up.’’
Louisa shrugged and smiled, then followed Julia upstairs to the only bathroom in the house while Annie set to work ironing, realizing anew how much easier this task was with the use of an electric iron. But as she pressed Irvin’s Sunday shirt, she pushed away envious thoughts, including what fun Susie would be having with Rudy tonight.
She thought instead of Louisa, ever so eager to show her the attic art studio. I’m truly gaining a sister, of sorts, she thought. If only Mamm hadn’t caught us drawing. . . .
‘‘Come, it’s time for you to see my studio,’’ Annie told Louisa once the ironing was finished . . . and when Louisa’s hair was dry from her shower, hanging loose over her shoulders.
‘‘Well, hey, you’ve described it to a tee in your letters, but I’m dying to see it with my own eyes.’’
Annie motioned for her to follow. ‘‘I need your opinion on something else, too.’’ She wanted to know what Louisa thought of her painting, the one featuring the London Vale covered bridge, the cluster of locust trees, and the nearby creek.
When they arrived at the top of the attic steps, Annie reached for the skeleton key high over the doorjamb and unlocked the door. ‘‘Have to keep this locked, for obvious reasons,’’ she explained.
‘‘Wow . . . this is a top-secret room.’’
Annie stepped aside. ‘‘You go in first.’’
Louisa walked into the room and slowly moved toward the center. She stood like a slender statue, simply staring. Then, slowly, she turned around, taking in every nook and cranny. Pursing her lips, she said, ‘‘What a place. It’s terrific.’’
Annie felt like she might burst. ‘‘I want you to spend the rest of today painting here . . . if you’d like.’’
‘‘You mean it?’’
‘‘Well, since you can’t just turn it off or on . . . sure. It’s been a while since you painted . . . since comin’ here.’’ She smiled at her dear friend.
‘‘This is too cool, Annie. I love it!’’
Annie paused. Was now a good time to reveal the painting that had been driving her lately? ‘‘Uh, just real quick, I want to show you something I’ve been working on.’’
Louisa went to stand near the empty easel. ‘‘I traveled a long way for this, Annie.’’
Turning to the artist’s desk, Annie gingerly carried the dry canvas, setting it just so on the easel. ‘‘This painting has a sad, sad story behind it. For the longest time, I wasn’t even sure what to call it.’’
Louisa stepped back, studying the picture. Then, finally, she said softly, ‘‘This is very good.’’ She paused, tilting her head a bit sideways. ‘‘You have some really wonderful contrasts here . . . and I can feel the mood. It’s an undertow of something portentous. Bravo, Annie.’’
‘‘You honestly sense something?’’
‘‘Absolutely! It pulls me right in.’’
‘‘It’s titled ‘Obsession.’ ’’ Louisa turned to look at her. ‘‘Meaning what?’’
‘‘I’ll tell you tomorrow. We’ll go up to the covered bridge and walk around.’’
‘‘Now you have me riveted. I can’t wait.’’
‘‘Well, since Julia’s not payin’ me to stand here and yak, I need to get busy.’’ She turned toward the stairs.
‘‘So, just like that, you’re going to leave me hanging?’’
Annie wiggled her fingers in a dainty wave. ‘‘You like ‘hanging,’ remember? Besides, I’ll be anxious to see what you paint today!’’
With that she headed back to her domestic work, most excited about Louisa’s response to the Pequea Creek painting. Yet, once again, she was torn by what the People would think of her if Mamm’s discovery got out . . . how disappointed Daed would be. She hated letting her parents down.
The Lord God must be terribly displeased, too.
Louisa sat quietly in bed snuggling with her sleepy kitty long after Annie had left the room for the night. They’d talked about their day, and Annie had been quite elated over Louisa’s colorful peacock painting, saying she ‘‘just knew’’ this would capture her imagination.
But it was not her own sketching and subsequent painting that intrigued Louisa. Annie’s startlingly real depiction gripped her even now as she propped her head up higher with an additional pillow. She wished for a way to offer Annie some technical pointers—to share a wealth of knowledge she had gleaned in L.A. at art school—although Annie was unmistakably on her way to becoming a superb artist under her own steam.
Remarkable . . . considering her humble background, she thought. Shoot, no one even knows! Except now Annie’s mother was on to Annie’s talent. . . .
Louisa contemplated what Annie’s mom might do at having accidentally discovered Annie’s ability—at least in part. It was bad enough for the Zooks to innocently open their home, let alone allow Louisa to influence Annie.
Her eyes roamed the wide plank floorboards to the windowsill, the flush of a full moon all around, and she was taken with the pronounced difference in the wispy, nearly ethereal light she experienced here in this country setting. It was as if she were nestled on the edge of the world as she knew it. Annie’s world. Nothing at all like the glaring light of Denver’s metropolis.
Annie was born into this, so how can she possibly appreciate what she has? wondered Louisa.
But she also pondered the flip side. What if Annie were to leave the only life she knows? Louisa shuddered, aware of the fierce competition within the artistic community. How could an Amish woman possibly survive?
Louisa decided quickly that Annie was probably better off staying here . . . that is if she would even be allowed to remain for much longer. From everything Annie had shared regarding the strict denial of individual self-expression, Louisa didn’t see how Preacher Jesse would allow Annie to stay past a certain age, barring some unexpected turn. And if Annie’s pull toward art was as strong as Louisa’s own, which she surmised it was, how could Annie simply walk away from that?
High in the cozy attic earlier today, Louisa had gotten so completely lost in her peacock painting she’d forgotten to charge up her Palm. She’d even snoozed checking her email or connecting with her students by IM, too. Friday’s soon enough, she thought, relishing the hours spent in Annie’s delightful studio. Unless Preacher Zook sends me packing before then!
Jesse cradled his wife in his arms as they talked in bed, careful to keep his voice low. ‘‘I wish I’d known years ago,’’ he told her. Hearing that Louisa was an art teacher did not set well with him. Nor did his wife’s recent discovery—Louisa’s teaching Annie how to draw. Had Annie tricked all of them, bringing Louisa here? ‘‘You were right to tell me, love,’’ he said.
‘‘I do wish you might’ve seen what I saw. I think you would’ve been quite surprised. Our Annie, I daresay she may have a gift.’’
‘‘Now, Barbara . . .’’
‘‘No . . . I mean it.’’
Her words troubled him greatly.
‘‘The best gifts are compassion, serenity, and joy. You know that. Patience, gentleness . . . self-control. And surrender to God, the Ordnung, and the ministry.’’ He paused, thinking how he ought to say further what was on his mind. ‘‘Annie’s gifts dwell within the confines of the church, not in self-expression.’’ He felt her body tense. ‘‘No matter how much talent you may think our daughter has, you cannot encourage Annie in this. We must, all of us, offer ourselves up to God as a community—pure, unspotted, and without blemish. Nothing less will do.’’
Barbara’s breathing came more slowly, yet she did not verbally agree to abide by his wishes.
‘‘Have we made a mistake, bringing the blind and perverted world to our doorstep?’’ he said.
‘‘Well . . . maybe so.’’ Barbara’s voice quivered, and for this reason sleep did not come to Jesse for another wretched hour.
He could not bring himself to think about Annie rejecting the faith, yet he could see she was most surely on the path right out of the community. And having Louisa to talk to and spend an inordinate amount of time with, well, he could kick himself for agreeing to invite Louisa here. Beneath the façade of Amish attire and head covering, she was no more interested in the Plain life than any ungodly outsider. He’d heard her talking on her little phone late into the night, even thought he heard her singing threads of a worldly song alone in the room. Aside from all that, it was rather remarkable how she had made an attempt to fit in. To please Annie, no doubt. Despite Moses’ prediction, Jesse could see no evidence of Louisa’s visit moving his daughter closer to joining church.
I ought to give Annie a time limit, he thought. At what point does a father simply give up hope?