The Preacher's Daughter (26 page)

Chapter 26

M
uch of the night and now this morning, too, Annie had been stewing over Esther and their impulsive conversation. Esther's comment about wanting to disappear upset Annie horribly.
Surely she won't lose her head and do something stupid!
Yet Esther had been clearly distraught out on the farm road.

Annie's thoughts were jarred by Yonie's voice as the two of them worked together, milking the cows before breakfast. ‘‘How do you expect your fancy friend to be content at all if she doesn't have any wheels while she's here?'' Yonie asked her. ‘‘Louisa's used to drivin' a car, ya know.''

Annie considered that. ‘‘Well, on one of her first days here, Louisa did say she wanted to learn how to drive the team. Both Omar and I volunteered.''

‘‘So, did ya teach her then?''

‘‘Haven't yet.''

‘‘What're you waitin' for?''

She smiled. ‘‘Christmas, I guess.''

‘‘Which is almost here.'' He patted the backside of a cow.

Annie watched Yonie move from one cow to another, so at home with the farming routine. She was dying to ask him about his English girlfriend, but she thought better of it, aware that both Daed and Luke were coming and going, hauling five-gallon milker buckets between here and the milk house.

‘‘You say Louisa's plannin' to stay longer.'' Yonie removed his black work hat and scratched his head where it was flattened and oily. ‘‘But if she does, it'll be right surprisin'. I can't imagine her giving up her car for too long. Downright odd.''

She had to speak her mind. ‘‘You've got cars on the brain, ain't so?''

‘‘Aw, Annie, why would you say that?'' He looked sheepish.

‘‘You're smitten with talk of wheels, that's what.'' But there was more to it. She'd heard through the grapevine that not only was Yonie taking joy rides with Dory Zimmerman, but that she was teaching
him
to drive, too.

He eyed her, holding her gaze. ‘‘I'm not ashamed of running around. If this is the worst thing I do, well, then . . .'' He put his hat back on. ‘‘Besides, I'm doin' what I want to, just like you.''

‘‘What's that s'posed to mean?''

‘‘Don't play pretend. You have your secrets.''

Her heart was hammering.
What's he know?
‘‘I think you'd better tell me what you're accusin' me of, Yonie-boy.''

He looked over his shoulder and all around the milking area. Then, leaning closer, he said, ‘‘Where'd ya ever learn to paint a picture, sister?''

Her breath caught in her throat.
Who spilled the beans?

‘‘What picture?'' she replied, trying to keep her composure.

He took his time answering, shuffling his feet a bit and looking away, as if he were in trouble. ‘‘Well, I've been spendin' a lot of time at the Zimmermans', to tell you the truth, and you best be keepin' what I'm going to say quiet, ya hear?''

‘‘I won't say anything. What picture?''

He looked relieved and continued. ‘‘Just listen. Dory's father lets me sit in his office there at the house and read.''

‘‘What're you gettin' at?''

‘‘Yesterday, I was sitting and soakin' up the sun, on such a cold day. And I happened to be poking around in one of his new magazines, and, well . . . your name was listed on the inside cover, as a winner in an art contest.''

She gasped inwardly.

‘‘There you were:
Annie Zook of Paradise, PA
.''

This was the last thing she'd expected to hear. ‘‘You're pullin' my leg, Yonie, I just know it.''

He studied her curiously. ‘‘No, I think you're pulling
mine
.''

‘‘What do you mean?''

‘‘It seems you've won yourself a place on a magazine cover.''

This cannot be!
She froze, scarcely able to breathe.

His probing gaze held hers. ‘‘Unless there's another Annie Zook round here . . .''

She wouldn't lie. Yonie would see right through her.

Such horrid news!
And, right then, the tiniest possible thrill, the joy of winning something, vanished completely.

Even so, on some uncanny and wonderful level, this was lovely news to her ears. Someone besides Cousin Julia and Louisa was now aware of, and appreciated, her work.

All of a sudden, the terribleness registered in her brain.
My painting will be seen by all who subscribe! My lifelong secret will be discovered
.

She leaned down and reached for a three-legged stool nearby. Daed's eyes would offer a stern yet silent warning at first, if found out. Then he would open his old Bible and read slowly, thoughtfully. If she did not adhere to the Ordnung and abandon her artwork, she would be asked to leave home.

‘‘You all right?'' Yonie frowned.

I'm sunk, that's what
.

He squatted beside her. ‘‘What's-a-matter?''

‘‘How large is the print—for my name?'' She wiped her face with the hem of her black apron.

He looked at her with disbelief. The truth had definitely registered. ‘‘So it
was
you. Annie. What's this about? You lead a secret life?''

Slowly she began to explain how someone had talked her into entering a painting in the contest. She didn't say ‘‘one of her paintings,'' because she must keep him in the dark for as long as possible. ‘‘Being a first-place winner is a curse, for sure and for certain.'' She eyed him now, hoping he might understand her next request. ‘‘You must keep this under your hat. Promise me!''

He nodded. ‘‘And in return will you do a favor for me?''

‘‘Say the word.''

‘‘Tell no one 'bout my visits to Dory Zimmerman, all right?''

‘‘That's easy.'' With the mention of the mail carrier's daughter, the wheels began to spin nearly out of control. ‘‘Wait a minute! Which of the People subscribe to that magazine round here? Any idea?''

He shrugged. ‘‘Sure seems more geared to the English.''

‘‘Jah, good,'' she said, still thinking ahead. ‘‘But how can we know for certain? There's got to be a way, what with Dory's mother delivering the mail. Mrs. Zimmerman has a wonderful-good memory. . . . I daresay if she sees it, she knows.''

Yonie nodded, then he hurried to empty one of the milkers, pouring the contents into the tall milk can. ‘‘I take it you want to find out . . . and soon. And you want Mrs. Zimmerman's help?''

‘‘No, not hers . . . Dory's.''

Just then, they heard their father returning from the milk house. ‘‘I'll tell ya what.'' Yonie leaned closer and whispered, ‘‘I'll talk to Dory tonight. See if I can figure out a way to get you out of this jam.''

‘‘Thanks, Yonie. Let me know what she says.''

Annie made her way down the center walkway, cow tails flapping on either side. Between her and Yonie, they were a good team, and they might be able to save the day.
Just maybe
.

Letting her mind wander unchecked, she imagined confiscating next month's issue of
Farm and Home Journal
from rural mailboxes. Of course, she wouldn't actually consider committing a crime. Still, her mind was working overtime to devise a way to keep her father and the brethren from knowing of her secret hobby.

But what could she do? The December issue was already out . . . with her name on the inside cover, along with other artists, although Yonie had said the print was rather small. Still what were the chances of
that
being missed? These farmers liked to read every word!

Feeling glum, she headed through the barnyard, buttoning her old brown work coat, glad for it, as well as her holey gloves. She contemplated all the happy days surrounding Christmas and knew she must enjoy them to the hilt this year. Because unless she and Yonie could cook up a plan to thwart the arrival of the magazine in neighboring mailboxes, the end of her artistic pursuit was clearly in sight. Maybe her future here, too.

Thank goodness Louisa's here!
she thought.
My one supporter
.

She was also grateful for something else: Yonie had not asked where she'd hid out to do her painting. She was not ready to divulge that information anytime soon.

Talk about wanting to disappear!

The spare bedroom in the Dawdi Haus was large enough to accommodate two beds—a firm double situated between two windows, the other bed a plump three-quarter daybed pushed against the far wall. Annie had given Louisa first choice but then nearly insisted she take the larger bed with its attractive four posts after Louisa had picked the smaller. Now that they had been settled in for several weeks, Annie was rather glad to have the daybed, where she occasionally snuggled with Louisa's gentle and friendly kitty-cat. She and Muffin had become good pals, but only if Louisa was nowhere in sight. Then, and only then, was Annie a close second.

Tonight though, Muffin was nestled in Louisa's arms. Annie watched the kitty's eyes go half-closed each time Louisa stroked his little head. ‘‘Did you ever write back to your parents,'' Annie asked, ‘‘about the family reunion?''

‘‘I wrote a long letter, but I haven't heard back. I'm sure they're peeved at me for snubbing my nose at their idea. No doubt I'm a total washup in their eyes.''

‘‘Well, I'm awful glad you're staying.'' Annie plumped her pillow. ‘‘How would you like to go ridin' tomorrow after we get home from Julia's?'' she asked. ‘‘I think you need more fun in your life.''

‘‘Don't be silly.'' Louisa lifted the cat close to her face. ‘‘I'm having the best time, Annie. Do you think I'd want to stay longer if I wasn't?''

It was surprising to see how relaxed and cozy Louisa looked under several of Mammi Zook's heirloom quilts.

‘‘Where do you want to go tomorrow?'' asked Louisa.

‘‘Anywhere, really . . . but with
you
holdin' the reins. It's time, don't you think?''

Louisa leaned forward, eyes alight. ‘‘You mean I finally get my first driving lesson?''

‘‘Jah, it'll be you, me, and Yonie.''

Louisa smiled at that. ‘‘He's nice . . . all of your brothers are.''

‘‘Yonie's fun loving, that's for sure.''

Louisa asked if it was a good idea for her to be in control of a horse, ‘‘out on the road, I mean.''

‘‘No worry. Yonie can take over quickly if need be.''

‘‘Probably a good idea,'' Louisa admitted.

They talked briefly about the weather, that a cold front was coming in and what they might do if a snowstorm hit during the night. Annie hoped they could still go, all bundled up with mufflers and foot warmers . . . with the horse hitched to their small sleigh.

Later, when Louisa was still second-guessing whether or not she ought to try directing a horse, Annie simply said, ‘‘If you can fit in round here like you do, I don't see why you couldn't manage to drive us over to stock up on some candy for the holidays, maybe.''

Louisa's smile inched across her tired face. ‘‘That could be interesting. But you might never want to ride with me again.''

‘‘I thought we could go to Sweets for Sweeties—you'll like that shop. They have every imaginable candy and then some,'' Annie said, recalling that Mamm had been asking for a purchase of some hard candy to give to the grandchildren at Christmastime. Finally, she got around to telling Louisa her news of having won first place, although she was reluctant, not wanting to sound bigheaded. ‘‘I'm shocked, truly.''

Louisa leaped out of her nest of quilts, coming around the bed to sit on Annie's. ‘‘This is so cool! How did you find out?''

‘‘Oh, from the grapevine.'' She was stuck, had spoken much too soon. Yonie would have her head if she said more.

‘‘Come
on,
Annie . . . don't be vague. How did you find out without me knowing it? You're with me twenty-four-seven!'' The green in Louisa's eyes by some peculiar means seemed to overtake the blue suddenly. Annie had noticed this once before. Whenever Louisa became overly excited, the color in her eyes would change.

‘‘You'll see for yourself the next time we go to Julia's.'' That was all she cared to say. She knew better than to say more. With Yonie working on his plan, whatever it was, she could not risk implicating him.

Louisa continued to stare at her. ‘‘So you're not going to cough up the full story? I'm dying here. I'm so excited for you!''

She'd never known Louisa to be this demanding. ‘‘It'll have to wait. I've said enough.''

‘‘I don't get it.'' Louisa shook her head, looking awfully befuddled.

‘‘Well, it's late, that's what.'' Annie scooted past Louisa on her bed. She went to the bureau and reached for the gas lamp and blew it out.

‘‘Congratulations, anyway,'' Louisa said in the darkness, finding her way back to her own bed.

Annie wished she'd kept the news to herself.
What was I thinking?

Chapter 27

T
he bejeweled ice pattern on the windowpane was so thick the next morning Annie had a difficult time finding a clear enough spot to peer out. As the sun rose past the horizon line, over distant sticks of trees, she found a singular transparent circle on the glass, through which she glimpsed the barnyard below. ‘‘Goodness' sakes, what a lot of snow. It's a blizzard out there!''

She heard the rooster crowing repeatedly and remembered how Daed's father, Dawdi Zook, sometimes said the changing of seasons was a fearsome thing. The beginning of something, as well as the end.

Feeling the cold air whoosh through the space between the base of the window and the sill, she couldn't stop thinking about the astonishing first-place announcement. The news had wormed its way into her dreams last night, as well.
A startling end, and yet a beginning in some ways, too. The end of my terrible deceit . . . forced upon me
.