And Louisa had missed them.
Soon, though, she wanted to begin sending letters to Pennsylvania—a long one to Annie and one to Mammi Zook, maybe with a few Dutch words included just for fun. And, sometime later, when she truly knew how to express what was most important, she would write to Sam again.
Back in the full swing of teaching her art students, she was already planning the next exhibit. It wasn’t as if she had given up too much back in Lancaster. She had called Janet Blake on her cell to apologize for any inconveniences her leaving had caused the museum. She had merely traded one locale for another. Paradise for Denver. The People for the modern rat race.
With all of her heart, she hoped Sam—most of all— would forgive her. If only he could know how his love had given her a fresh perspective on nearly everything. She hoped something of her fondness for him had opened a door on his future, as well.
I won’t forget you, Sam,
she often thought while driving to and from her art studio, her heart full with the memory of him.
I won’t. . . .
The afternoon sun twinkled through new green needles on the tall white pine tree as Annie happily settled herself into Ben’s car, more excited than she wished to let on.
A
play based on Christ’s final days on earth . . . on an enormous
stage, and set to music!
She had already shared her disappointment with Ben over Lou’s leaving. So she decided not to mention it again, at least not during
this
special day.
‘‘Your hair’s different,’’ Ben said, winking at her. ‘‘I like it.’’
She couldn’t help but smile. She had pinned it up just long enough to get out of the house. Then, on the walk to meet Ben she’d removed her bonnet and let her hair down, clipping the side back with Lou’s gold barrette. ‘‘If you think this is different, wait till you see my English clothes.’’ Her long black coat covered up the skirt and blouse Lou had so kindly left for her.
‘‘I’m sure they’re lovely.’’ He looked at her. ‘‘Just like you, Annie. You’re always my beautiful girl. . . .’’
My girl
.
‘‘Maybe I’d better show you now, so you’re not too awful embarrassed . . . later on at the theater, I mean.’’ The car was plenty warm enough. Still she was glad for the blouse’s long sleeves, sheer though they were. Her fingers found the top coat button.
She wondered if he would be surprised at the length of this skirt, only two inches below her knees.
Not that an
Englischer should mind. . . .
Slipping her heavy coat off her shoulders a bit, she said, ‘‘What do you think?’’
The car swerved ever so slightly. ‘‘You look . . . very pretty.’’
She felt she ought to tell him ‘‘thank you,’’ but she didn’t. She was almost scared he might prefer such fancy clothes to what she usually wore.
‘‘Did you buy this just for tonight?’’
She explained that Lou had purchased the clothes when Courtney was visiting but had graciously left them for her.
He reached for her hand and she thrilled to his touch, glancing down at their entwined fingers.
Then, while still holding her hand, he lifted it to his face and kissed it. The sweet sensation lingered all during the ride down Route 30, to the turnoff toward Strasburg. Secretly she was glad she hadn’t worn gloves.
The grand well-lit entrance to the Sight and Sound Millennium Theatre appeared on the right, and he released her hand before making the turn. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out two tickets.
‘‘Julia said it was awful hard to get a reservation,’’ she said, eyeing them.
‘‘The guy at the box office said they’re usually sold out weeks, even months ahead. Of course, this presentation only runs another week.’’
‘‘Oh, I can hardly wait.’’ She felt giddy.
Ben agreed, breaking into a grin. ‘‘It’s an enormous tourist draw—busloads come from all different states, even from other countries.’’ He pointed toward several large buses in the vast parking lot. ‘‘From what I hear, it’s one of the biggest local attractions, next to the Amish themselves.’’
There was an awkward pause.
‘‘Uh . . . I hope that didn’t come out wrong,’’ he said.
‘‘ ’Course not. We both know how interested outsiders are.’’
They both had a good laugh over his blunder, and he seemed relieved.
He pulled into a parking spot far from the main entrance and turned to face her, his eyes shining. ‘‘About what you said earlier. I want you to know I would never, ever be embarrassed of you. Please remember that.’’
‘‘All right,’’ she replied and was not startled when he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.
Still, she wondered what he would think when he saw her wearing fashionable suede boots and this relatively short skirt. Her thoroughly English appearance would be revealed when she removed her coat in the bright theater lobby.
Slowly, happily, they made their way to the enormous theater, hand in hand.
Ben had trouble keeping his eyes off Annie as they mingled with the intermission crowd in the vast theater lobby. She had seemed struck by the drama and music as well as the colorful costumes. Having observed Annie’s nearly childlike wonderment, her face alight, he wanted to open even more experiential doors for her.
When the lights blinked off and on to alert the attendees to find their seats, he reached for her hand. ‘‘Ready for the grand finale?’’
‘‘This is just so surprisingly real, ain’t so? It makes the Bible characters seem like they’re livin’ right there on the stage . . . the Last Supper, the Lord’s death . . . all of it.’’
Christ . . . beloved and betrayed
. He couldn’t stop thinking about the theme of the play. The music, the words—it was as if he had never heard this ancient story told quite so effectively. He had attended many movies and dinner theaters, but he agreed with Annie that this production was presented on a magnificent scale. He felt he was almost witnessing the show through Annie’s eyes, which made it all the more memorable.
Taking their seats again, he wondered how he could ever ask her to leave the Plain community, if that time should ever come.
If
was the operative thought. Such a thing smacked of pure selfishness. He would be upsetting the apple cart in more than one way, and wasn’t it presumptuous of him to think he could threaten the stability of Annie’s church district? Of course, her father’s church wasn’t really Annie’s yet in the truest sense. Still, he wondered how Annie and he could ever really be together.
He looked at her, smiling as they waited for the next act to begin. He had been more than surprised by her long hair, now parted on the side, a pretty gold barrette securing its shimmering golden thickness. She looked totally different without the white head covering he’d come to expect.
He hadn’t asked her to dress differently for tonight.
Did
she do this for me? And if so, why?
She must have wanted to blend in with the thousands of people in the audience, but he’d had no intention of putting such expectations on her. With or without her prayer cap, she was exceptionally lovely.
Too warm for his sports coat, he removed it, placing it behind him on the seat. Settling back, he ran his fingers up and down his suspenders, wondering what Annie would think of these, his most recent purchase. Funny, he’d worn something Plain for the occasion, hoping to please her, and here she was sitting next to him dressed in contemporary clothes.
Annie leaned toward him. ‘‘Your suspenders . . . they look like Yonie’s,’’ she said softly.
‘‘You like?’’
‘‘Every male I know wears them.’’ Her eyes twinkled.
He reached for her hand. ‘‘You don’t mind, do you?’’
She glanced down. ‘‘You mean . . . ?’’
‘‘No . . . the suspenders.’’
‘‘ ’Course not.’’ She smiled. ‘‘You do look a bit Amish, though.’’
He squeezed her hand, eager to watch the second half as the wide stage curtains whisked open.
How can I continue seeing her and not endanger her good
standing in her community?
he wondered as the house lights dimmed. He certainly did not want to appear reckless by anyone who might discover their secret. Yet reckless he was.
T
he sky was still bright as they drove toward Route 340. Ben asked if she wanted to stop for dinner, and Annie liked the idea. Together they decided on the Family Cupboard restaurant and buffet.
Maybe I’ll blend in there . . . not be so
recognizable in my fancy clothes,
she thought.
She could not stop thinking about the grandeur of the biblical drama and neither, it seemed, could Ben. They talked about the healings and miracles Christ had performed while on earth. And Judas’ betrayal of his Master— what had pushed him over the edge, so to speak? Was it truly Satan entering into his thinking, controlling Judas’ actions?
By the time they had finished their salads and were ready to go through the buffet line for the main course, Annie had Zeke and Esther on her mind. The children, too. ‘‘Have you seen Zeke lately?’’ she asked.
‘‘He comes around now and then,’’ Ben replied.
She paused, wondering how much to say. ‘‘I go ’n’ see Essie every chance I can,’’ Annie said, but she then quickly covered her mouth. ‘‘Ach, I shouldn’t be admitting it . . . well, ’tis all right for you to know, Ben. She’s under the shun, ya know. So I must limit my visits. But . . .’’ Her lower lip trembled. ‘‘It’s hard to see her treated so.’’
Ben reached for her hand. ‘‘I think she’s a wonderful person.’’
Annie nodded, unable to respond.
‘‘Friendship . . . and family, don’t they count for anything?’’ he said.
Annie forced a smile. ‘‘Some folk observe the Bann to the hilt; others just do their best to try ’n’ stay involved quietly. I, for one, might not follow the rules so well.’’
‘‘When it comes to Esther, you mean?’’
She nodded. ‘‘ ’Tis a knotty problem for the brethren. For all of us, really.’’
‘‘Once you told me there were devils and angels in those beards. Did you mean this sort of thing?’’ he asked quietly.
‘‘Jah. Heart-wrenching, it is.’’ She sighed, but she wouldn’t allow the Hochstetlers’ issues to spoil the happiness she’d experienced with her dear beau today. And beau he surely was, although they had never discussed the subject, nor the decisions to be made for the future.
For the time being, she was content to secretly meet him. There was no doubt in her mind he was fond of her . . . and she knew precisely how she felt in her heart toward him.
We mustn’t let our feelings rule,
Annie thought.
Even with baptismal classes soon approaching, she dismissed her quandary, having allowed her relationship with Ben to progress this far.
Guess I’m not much for planning
ahead,
she thought, justifying wavering between what she
should
do and the joyful time spent with Ben.
Back in the car, she turned the conversation to commonplace things such as spring plowing and planting—how hard at work she and her brothers would be. From time to time Ben glanced at her in the passenger seat. His gaze seemed to question her comments, as if to say,
Do you mean
you’ll be too busy for me?
She couldn’t be sure on that, of course, and she had no way of knowing what was to become of their rapidly growing closeness, truly.
As they took the long drive home, Annie stared at Ben’s car radio. Soon she would hold back no longer and asked if she might press the seek button. Ben smiled and encouraged her to find whatever music she liked. She was surprised to recognize the song on the first station she found.
‘‘I think Julia listens to this station,’’ she said. ‘‘But I can’t be sure.’’
‘‘Ask her next time you see her.’’
She smiled. Ben had no urgency in his approach to life. He seemed to take things as they came, she realized, as they waited for several cars to cross at a stop sign farther up on Harvest Drive.
But as they did, she noticed a horse and buggy on the shoulder of the road, right where they planned to turn. ‘‘Ach, lookee there,’’ she said. ‘‘It’s my father . . . broken down on the road.’’
‘‘How can you tell?’’
‘‘By the horse . . . it’s definitely ours.’’
They shared a knowing and tender look of momentary indecision, although Annie knew immediately, yet painfully, what they surely must do. Ben seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion, for he made the turn and pulled in slowly behind the parked carriage.
Ben told her to stay in the car, and he jumped out to see what he could do to help. Fiddling with her hands, Annie knew too well what would happen if her father needed a ride home. She wished she might slip out and hide in the trunk, along with her ice skates.
‘‘Puh! I’m to be found out,’’ she muttered, her heart racing with worry. She thought of winding up her hair right quick and finding her bonnet, and she was looking for it even as Ben came walking toward the car . . . with Daed.
Oh, I’m a cooked goose!
She put her head down quickly, hoping he might not recognize her. The way she was dressed—with her hair down—was a true disgrace to God and the People.
‘‘Mighty kind of you,’’ her father was saying to Ben as he got in the seat directly behind her. ‘‘I’ll give ya money for gas and your time, too. Oh, looks like I’m interrupting somethin’. . . .’’
Ben promptly declined any need for payment as her father had offered, and the two of them talked a blue streak, mostly about the Rawlinsville Fire Company mud sale coming up.
Maybe, just maybe, he won’t recognize me,
Annie hoped, holding her breath nearly all the way home.
As they drove along, Daed indicated he was looking into buying another mule since one of his was ailing and old. Evidently Ben was on chummy enough terms to engage Daed in a lighthearted manner, and she was rather surprised at the camaraderie between them.
How did this happen . . . when?
For fun, she let her mind wander. What if she and Ben were husband and wife? What a right fine relationship Ben and her father would enjoy, without any of the
Schtreit
— strife—that was common between some fathers and their sons-in-law.