She pounded the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. Still, at least she was here. Joseph would help her, wouldn’t he? He’d always had a tender spot for his baby sister.
Mindful that Gracie still slept, Anna slid out of the car, leaving the door open for air, and straightened, groaning a little. Her muscles protested after all those hours in the car, to say nothing of the tension that had ridden with her.
She glanced down at the faded blue jeans, sneakers, and wrinkled shirt she wore. It might be less harrowing for Joseph and Myra if she’d arrived in conventional Amish clothes, but she’d certainly have drawn attention to herself driving a car that way.
Not giving herself time to think about their reaction, she walked quickly to the back door.
She knocked on the screen door, paused, and then knocked again, louder. Nothing. The inner door was closed—odd on a pleasant September day. She opened the screen door, tried the knob, and the realization seeped into her. The luck that had gotten her all the way here from Chicago had run out. No one was home.
She stood on the back step, biting her lip, frowning at the car. The dark blue compact, liberally streaked with rust, had been her friend Jannie’s, and now it was hers, the only car she’d ever owned. Pete knew it well, too well. If he’d followed her—
That was ridiculous. Pete couldn’t possibly have known where she was going. She had to stop jumping at shadows.
But her common sense seemed to have fled. All she could think was to get the car out of sight and submerge herself and Gracie in the protective camouflage of the Amish community as quickly as possible.
Joseph and Myra were away, but one of their horses might still be in the barn. If she could hitch it to the car, she could tow the vehicle out of sight. Hurrying, she checked the sleeping baby. Gracie still slept soundly, her head turned to one side in the car seat, a small hand unfurling like a leaf next to her face.
Gracie was all right. She just had to keep her that way. Anna turned and jogged toward the barn, urged on by the fear that had pursued her all the way from Chicago.
She slid the heavy door open and blinked at the dimness, inhaling the familiar scents of fresh straw, hay, and animals. From one of the stalls came a soft snort and the thud of hooves as the animal moved.
Thank heaven
. If the horse had been turned out in the field for the day, she might never have caught it.
The bay mare came willingly to her, nosing over the stall boards. It was Myra’s buggy horse, most likely. Wherever they were today, they’d taken the one Joseph drove. Did he still have that big roan?
Lifting a lead line from the hook, Anna started to open the stall door.
A board creaked behind her, and she whirled toward the sound, her breath catching.
“What are you doing with that horse?”
A man stood in the open doorway, silhouetted against the light behind him. Not Joseph, for sure, but Amish, to judge by the outline of him and the cadence of the words he’d spoken in English.
Well, of course he’d spoken English. That was what he thought she was, standing there in her jeans and T-shirt—an English woman. A horse thief, maybe.
He moved toward her before she could find the words for an explanation, and she could see him better. Could recognize him.
“It’s . . . Samuel Fisher, ain’t so?” The Amish phrase she hadn’t used in three years came readily to her lips. Samuel was her sister-in-law Myra’s brother. Maybe Joseph and Myra had asked him to look after things while they were gone today.
He stopped a few feet from her, assessing her with a slow, steady gaze. Slow, she thought. Yes, that was Samuel. Maybe
deliberate
would be a kinder word. Samuel had never been one to rush into anything.
“So. Anna Beiler. You’ve come home, then.”
He’d switched to Pennsylvania Dutch, and it took her a moment to make the mental change. After so much time away, she even thought in English.
“As you can see.”
“It’s been a long time.”
“Three years.” She shifted her weight impatiently from one foot to the other. She didn’t have time to stand here chatting with Samuel. The baby could wake—someone could spot the car. “Do you know where Joseph and Myra are?”
He took his time about the answer, seeming to register every detail of her appearance as he did. “They’ve gone over to Fostertown for the day. Joseph didn’t say anything to me about you coming.”
“Why should he?” The words snapped out before she could moderate them.
Samuel’s strong, stolid face didn’t register much change—but then, it never had. His already-square jaw might have gotten a little squarer, his hazel eyes might have turned a bit cold, but that was all.
As for the rest—black suspenders crossed strong shoulders over a light blue work shirt, and a summer straw hat sat squarely on sun-streaked brown hair. He seemed taller and broader than he had when she’d last seen him. Well, they were both older. He’d be twenty-six, now, the same as Joseph.
“Joseph and I are partners in the business, besides him being my brother-in-law,” Samuel said, voice mild. “Usually he tells me if he expects somebody, ’specially if he’s going to be away.”
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Joseph didn’t know I was coming.”
“Ja, I see. And you thought you’d take Betsy to go and look for them?”
“No, of course not.” Her fingers tightened on the lead rope. “Look, Samuel, I need . . .” How to explain? There wasn’t any way. “I need to put my car in the barn or the shop, but the engine died. I thought I could pull it with Betsy. Will you help me?”
He kept her waiting again, studying her with that unhurried stare. Her nerves twitched.
“Well?” she demanded.
Samuel’s firm mouth softened in a slow grin. “I see you’re as impatient as ever, Anna Beiler. Ja, I will help you.” He took the rope from her, his callused fingers brushing hers. “But I wish I knew what you are up to, I do.”
She stepped out of his way as he opened the stall door, talking softly to the animal. He didn’t seem to expect any answer to his comment, and she couldn’t give one.
What could she say? She could hardly tell him that she’d come home because she had no place else to go—and that she was only staying as long as she had to. Little though she wanted to deceive anyone, she had no choice. Gracie’s future depended on it.
Samuel
looped the lead rope through the ring in the upright and went to get the harness. The deliberate movements gave him a few moments to consider. Was he doing as Joseph would want?
Well, Joseph might not be happy to have a car stowed in his barn, but he would be wonderful glad to see his little sister home again. Samuel knew him well enough to be sure of that.
He lifted the harness from its rack and carried it to where the mare stood patiently waiting. Anna was not quite so patient, moving back and forth like a nervous animal pacing in its stall.
“I’ll harness her up and use a chain to attach her to the car. That should be plenty gut enough to move it, long as we’re not going uphill.”
She caught the harness strap on the other side of the mare as Samuel tossed it over, pulling it into place. “Where should we take the car, do you think? The barn or the shop?”
He considered. “Joseph might not want it in the shop, where people are in and out every day. Let’s put it in the back of the barn for now.”
If she was home to stay, she’d be getting rid of the car first thing, he supposed, so what difference did it make? When he’d first spotted the car, and then seen the woman going into the barn, he’d thought it was someone looking for the English couple who lived down the road. Anna Beiler had never entered his mind.
Anna ran her hand down the mare’s shoulder, crooning to her, and then reached underneath to fasten a strap.
“Seems like you remember how to do this,” he said. “I thought you might have forgotten, after living as an Englischer so long.”
“It’s coming back to me.” Her voice was dry and clipped, all her softness saved for the animal.
Anna had changed, no doubt about that. Those jeans and shirt didn’t leave a lot to the imagination. She’d always been slim, but now she was almost skinny.
The blond hair he’d always seen braided neatly back under her prayer covering was now pulled into an untidy knot at the back of her neck. Her slim shoulders were stiff, as if she couldn’t let herself relax.
The strain showed in her face, too, in small lines around her blue eyes and in the tight way she held her mouth. He remembered a rosy face always alive with feeling—either passionately happy or sad or angry. Anna had never done anything by halves. She’d always felt everything more intensely, it had seemed, than anyone else.
Now—well, she looked as if the outside world had knocked all that youthful spirit out of her. The English world could do that. His own experience had taught him well.
He veered away from that thought. What had happened to him outside had nothing to do with Anna.
“What took Joseph and Myra to Fostertown?” She asked the question as if tired of the silence rather than from any need to know. Or maybe she was trying to ease her own tension with talk.
“Myra’s expecting again. I suppose you know that.” He raised an eyebrow in her direction, not sure how closely in touch she’d stayed with the family.
“No.” A faint flush stained her cheeks. “I didn’t know.”
“The doctor wanted her to have some special blood tests done at the clinic over in Fostertown, so naturally Joseph wanted to go with her. Your sister Leah is watching little Sarah.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Myra or the baby, is there?”
“Nothing I know about.”
He’d seen the worry on Joseph’s face lately when he looked at his wife, but if there was a problem, it would be Joseph’s decision whether to tell his sister or not.
“How is Leah? And her family?” Anna put the question carefully, not meeting his eyes.
“They’re well, as far as I know.” He hesitated. How much had Anna been in contact during these past three years? “Your mamm . . .”
She stiffened. “I know about my mother’s death.”
“I wasn’t sure.” He picked up the chain and slung it over his shoulder.
“Because I didn’t come back for the funeral?” She shot the question at him, hands on her hips.
Defensive, that’s what she was.
“It’s not my business,” he said quietly, and began to lead the mare out of the barn, leaving her to follow.
Anna caught up with him in a few steps. “I’m sorry.” She bit off the words.
He shrugged, a little uncomfortable. “It makes no matter. I’m sorry for your loss.”
They headed for the car parked in the lane by the kitchen door. “I’m sure Joseph wouldn’t mind if you left the car where it is for a bit,” he ventured.
“I can’t. I don’t want to.”
Which is it, Anna? Can’t or don’t want to?
He wouldn’t ask the question, because it wasn’t his business and she wouldn’t tell him, but he did wonder. Something was going on here besides the obvious fact of Anna’s return.
“What about you?” Anna glanced at him, maybe wanting to change the subject. “You fence-jumped before I left. When did you come back?”
“I wasn’t gone long. Less than a year.”
He had a feeling she wouldn’t press him on it, not that he couldn’t have evaded questions if he’d had to. He’d had plenty of practice.
But Anna wasn’t really interested in him—not in what had taken him away or in what had driven him back. She was preoccupied with her own worries, only talking to fill the silence.
“You work with Joseph, you said?” She made it a question.
“Ja, he took me on as partner two years ago. That’s my place over there.” He jerked his head toward the neighboring house, surrounded by fenced pastures for his horses.
She followed the direction of his nod, staring at the two-story frame house. “That place was owned by an English couple, I thought.”
“They sold up and moved south, to get away from the winters, they said. I’m still taking out the electric and such.”
It was a big job, but he could take his time about doing it. He had only himself to please. He could do it as he wanted.
Anna shot another glance at him, maybe wondering why he was clean-shaven like a boy. “You’re not married?”
“No.” It was his turn to be short. He’d had practice evading that question, too, and it surely wasn’t Anna’s business.
They’d reached the car, and he spoke soothingly to the mare as he backed her up. Betsy was inclined to be a little skittish about anything strange, but he could talk her into doing this.
“Wait a second.”
He stopped the horse where she was. Anna darted to the back door of the car and ducked inside. He heard the soft murmur of her voice.
And then she was out again, holding a baby in her arms.
He took his time absorbing that. Anna wouldn’t be surprised that he didn’t immediately respond. After all, she’d always thought him tediously slow, maybe even stupid, as he recalled.
So, Anna had come back with a child. The little girl looked to be about a year old, with rosy cheeks that hinted she’d just woken up.
Anna had no husband, it seemed. Her ring finger was bare.
Ach, this would set folks talking, for sure, the news flying around the valley faster than fast. As to how her family would take it—well, that he couldn’t guess.
“This is my daughter. Her name is Grace. Gracie.” Her chin lifted as she spoke, and he saw in her blue eyes a spark of the defiance that the old Anna had had in such abundance.
The child had blue eyes, too, round and wondering as he approached and held out his hand to her. Her hair was silky and as white-blond as corn silk. She considered him for a long moment, her face solemn, and then grabbed at his fingers and giggled.