Taken for English Read online

  VALLEY OF CHOICE SERIES

  Accidentally Amish

  In Plain View

  Taken for English

  © 2014 by Olivia Newport

  Print ISBN 978-1-61626-714-8

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-62836-383-8

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-62836-384-5

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design: Müllerhaus Publishing Arts, Inc., www.Mullerhaus.net

  Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Dedication

  For my siblings, because of the host of characters they are and the ones they inspire.

  Acknowledgments

  Writing is often solitary, but I do not find it lonely. I bump into too many people on the road between idea and book to feel lonely.

  The largest portion of this story came into being on Saturday mornings at a local coffee shop, with my friend Erin sitting across the table crafting her own story.

  Rachelle shares her favorite books with me. Since she has terrific taste, reading these books propels me toward writing more, writing better, writing swiftly.

  My family grounds me in reality while also understanding my need to withdraw to another world.

  I was working on this manuscript when Accidentally Amish, the first in this series, released and I began to hear from readers. If I started to lag, their enthusiasm thrust me back into the game. I admit I was not quite prepared for this particular experience, but I am thankful for the cause and effect.

  One

  A siren screamed down the highway. Ruth Beiler turned her head half an inch toward the sound, catching the reflex before curiosity about events outside her family’s home could distract her from the solemn occasion before her eyes. In a minute, the congregation would sing another hymn from the Ausbund and Ruth would savor every note. No matter how many times she went to an English church in Colorado Springs, her heart yearned for the plaintive rhythm of the Amish hymns she had grown up with. Music should have space to think, to reflect, to absorb.

  And after the hymn and a prayer would come the moment that had Ruth’s heart beating fast today.

  Annalise Friesen was presenting herself for baptism. Joining the Amish church. This should be all Rufus needed to formally ask Annalise to marry him. If he did not, Ruth intended to have a firm conversation with her older brother.

  Ruth glanced at Rufus seated across the aisle with the men. He was twenty-nine and still clean shaven—unmarried. Anyone outside the community might have thought that the small boy next to Rufus was his son, but Jacob was their littlest brother.

  Next to Ruth, her mother shifted slightly in her chair, leaning forward. Normally the Beiler women chose to sit toward the back of the congregation of about sixty people, especially when the faithful gathered in their own home. But this day was different. Eli Beiler sat with bearded men at the front of the assembly on the men’s side of the aisle. Rufus sat farther back, with the unmarried men, but he had taken a seat on the aisle where he could see well, with Jacob and Joel next to him. Ruth sat with her mother, Franey, and her sisters Lydia and Sophie toward the front, where they could see well but not seem ostentatious.

  Because Annalise was being baptized.

  Heaviness pressed against Ruth’s efforts to breathe. They would not speak of it, but she was sure her mother would be remembering the same event, the fall baptism service, almost three years ago.

  Ruth had knelt before the bishop as Annalise was doing today. And during the prayer preceding the baptism, with all heads bowed and eyes closed, she slipped out.

  Just left. Ran. Hid. Rode with an English man to a bus stop and moved to Colorado Springs, where she was now a student in the university’s school of nursing.

  Ruth had briefly considered not being present for Annalise’s baptism, but her mother would remember Ruth’s baptism day whether Ruth was there or not. This was a day of joy for her dearest friend! Ruth did not want to miss a moment.

  Another siren shrieked on the main highway that ran past the Beiler property outside Westcliffe, Colorado. In Colorado Springs, two sirens could mean anything. Emergency medical technicians answering a 911 call. A police car chasing a speeder. Fire trucks on the way to a kitchen grease fire. When she was driving, Ruth got out of the way of the emergency vehicles but otherwise went about her own business.

  Among Custer County’s thin population, sirens were rare.

  Ruth heard the slight rustles behind her. Others had noticed the sirens and looked at each other, wondering.

  The bishop began his prayer for the baptismal candidates. Ruth bowed her head but kept her eyes open and watched Annalise.

  Annie’s heart pounded.

  Not out of doubt. Not out of fear. Not with regret.

  Until now she had only imagined what it might be like to truly belong to the community of the Amish. She had lived in Westcliffe for more than a year, worshiping with these families every other Sunday. Nothing in her home off Main Street ran on electricity. She had given her car to Ruth Beiler months ago. Her quilt was almost finished. Jeans and T-shirts had gone to a thrift shop in favor of the Amish dresses she had learned to sew for herself.

  But this moment. This would make it all real and true and lasting. Anyone who thought she was just playing house the Amish way might drop their jaws, but Annie was going through with this.

  Pressing her lips together, Annie tried to focus on the bishop’s prayer. Her German still had a way to go, but she picked out the main themes. Faith. Commitment. Vows.

  Annie’s scalp itched under her prayer kapp. She ignored the sensation. The prayer ended, and she let her eyes rise enough to see what was happening. The bishop moved to the first of the b
aptismal candidates. Annie was one of four and the only one well out of her teen years. The deacon followed the bishop closely, carrying a wooden bucket of water. Behind him was the bishop’s wife.

  One by one the candidates answered the baptismal questions and made their vows.

  “Do you believe and confess that Jesus Christ is God’s Son?

  “Do you believe and trust that you are united with a Christian church of the Lord, and do you promise obedience to God and the church?

  “Do you renounce the devil, the world, and the lustfulness of your flesh and commit yourself to Christ and His church?

  “Do you promise to live by the Ordnung of the church and to help administer them according to Christ’s Word and teaching, and to abide by the truth you have accepted, thereby to live and thereby to die with help of the Lord?”

  When Annie gave her final vow, the bishop’s wife removed her head covering. The bishop dipped a cup into the water bucket and poured the water into his hand then poured it on Annie’s head three times, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.

  “Rise,” the bishop said, “and be a faithful member of the church.”

  Annie accepted the hand of the bishop’s wife, stood, turned, and grinned at the Beiler family.

  A siren blared. The third one.

  Rufus Beiler could not take his violet-blue eyes off Annalise.

  She was a resolute woman. Whatever she decided to do, she did with her whole self. When she spoke her vows, he believed her. Even her posture had taken on a new demeanor in the weeks of her baptismal instruction. In Amish garments, she no longer looked uncertain about how to move around efficiently and gracefully. Her gray eyes and keen mind absorbed detail after detail about Amish life, and her actions moved from awkward imitation of the patterns she observed to fluid heartfelt expression of inward conviction.

  Though she had come to them from the English world, Annalise Friesen was one of the truest people Rufus had ever known.

  And the only woman he had ever loved.

  The final hymn began, its tempo slightly faster as an expression of joy. The words emerged from Rufus’s mind without the assistance of the hymnal, and he sang with robust belief.

  In the few seconds of silence between the final note of the hymn and the bishop’s first words of benediction, Rufus heard the footsteps on the front porch. A form crossed the curtainless wide window and paused.

  An English form. Rufus did not catch enough of the movement to recognize the visitor. It was someone with the good sense not to burst into an Amish worship service, yet a messenger of urgent news. For no other reason would one of the English of Westcliffe approach an Amish worship service in progress.

  The bishop’s voice faded. The service was over. Rufus’s glance bounced between Annalise and the front door.

  Annalise. Of course Annalise. He moved toward her even as the congregation pressed around her with their congratulations. Many in the community harbored doubt. Rufus knew that much from overhearing tidbits of conversation not meant for his ears. “You have to be born Amish,” they said.

  Yet Annalise had made the same promises as the three teenagers who had been born Amish. In God’s eyes, there was no distinction.

  Rufus was tall enough to look over the heads of most of the gathering and catch Annalise’s gray eyes. They brightened, and he knew the smile that raised her lips at that moment was meant for him. A strand of hair fell loose from her braided bun, as it always did. He hoped it always would.

  He turned when someone tugged on the elbow of his black jacket.

  “It’s Tom Reynolds,” his brother Joel said. “He says it’s urgent. He’s waiting on the porch.”

  Rufus glanced again at Annalise and then maneuvered through the congregation toward the front door. The living room windows were open to the fine September day, but the volume of the interior conversations dropped when he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

  “What is it, Tom?” Rufus had counted three sirens.

  “One of Karl Kramer’s houses just burned.”

  The air went out of Rufus.

  “It’s the one you worked on,” Tom said. “Your cabinetry…”

  Rufus nodded. “All right. Thank you for telling me.”

  “I could take you out there.” Tom turned a thumb toward his red pickup truck parked among the buggies.

  “It’s the Sabbath. And Annalise was just baptized.”

  The front door opened behind them. Annie stepped out.

  “Did I hear my name?”

  “Hello, Annie,” Tom said. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” She looked from Tom to Rufus. “Why so glum? The sirens?”

  “Everything will be fine,” Rufus said. “One of Karl’s houses burned. But the English have insurance for these things.”

  “Was anyone hurt?” Annie asked.

  Tom shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard. It should have been empty on a Sunday.”

  “Then what caused the fire?” Annie moved farther out on the porch.

  Tom turned his hands palms up. “That will be for the fire department to figure out.”

  “Custer County runs on a volunteer firefighting force,” Annie said. “Do they even have forensics capability?”

  “I’m sure they have someone to call in if the cause is not obvious,” Tom said. “I wanted to take Rufus out there. Maybe it didn’t get his cabinets.”

  “They are no longer my cabinets,” Rufus pointed out. “The English will sort out who they belong to when a house is almost finished.”

  “I think you should go.” Annie leaned against the porch’s railing and looked back into the house. The transformation of the benches into tables was already under way. “Aren’t you at least curious?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then go.”

  “It’s your baptism day, Annalise.” Those irresistible eyes sank into her.

  “I know,” she said. “But even Jesus would take an animal out of a well on the Sabbath. You should go see how bad it is, whether you can help to salvage anything. You might reduce the sense of loss somehow.”

  She could see him thinking as his head turned toward the barn where the Beiler buggies were parked.

  “Let Tom drive you,” she said. “You’ll be back soon enough. The food will still be here.” I will still be here, she wanted to say.

  Two

  Tom’s truck jerked to a halt. “We’re still four houses away.” Rufus leaned forward and peered through the windshield. “Looks like half the emergency vehicles in the county are here.”

  “Might as well get out here.” Tom killed the ignition.

  “Are you sure we should have come? It doesn’t look like we’ll get any closer. We’ll just be in the way.”

  “You have a vested interest.” Tom pulled the latch to open the driver’s door.

  “No I don’t. And it would not matter if I did.”

  “You may be right about the cabinets,” Tom said, “but what about the peace of this community? What’s going to happen when Karl Kramer finds out about this?”

  Tom had a point. A year ago, the hotheaded construction contractor had no use for an Amish cabinetmaker. Rufus had stayed out of his way long enough to gain Karl’s trust. Over the last few months Rufus had nurtured an unlikely relationship that drew the two of them together in a community improvement project, a joint effort between the English and the Amish. Karl had even gained a few popularity points and practically insisted that Rufus build the cabinets in the house now hidden by emergency vehicles.

  And now this.

  “He’s out of town,” Rufus said. “I don’t know how to reach him.”

  “Somebody will,” Tom said. “Let’s get out.”

  They slammed the truck’s doors and walked the few yards to where a crowd had assembled.

  “We don’t know that it’s foul play.” Rufus wished he had left his black jacket in the car. The warmth of the day and the smoldering remains of the fire
made him sweat.

  “No, we don’t.” Tom slid his hands into the pockets of his khaki work pants. “But if it was an accident, that means something went wrong with workmanship somewhere.”

  They inched through the crowd, for what purpose Rufus was unsure. Smoke filled his nostrils and hung in a wall of gray above the house. The front support of the two-story structure had collapsed, taking half the roof with it. Cinders floated on the breeze.

  “The fire must be out.” Tom pointed to the largest fire truck. “They’re not shooting water.”

  Whatever was left of the house would be too smoky and water damaged to salvage. Certainly the kitchen cabinets, with their carefully sanded white oak finish, would be reduced to scrap.

  Tom reached out and grabbed the shoulder of a passing firefighter. “Bryan, what happened?”

  The young man turned toward them and gestured for his companion to pause as well. “Hi, Tom. This is my friend Alan.”

  “Tom Reynolds.” Tom offered a handshake. “This is Rufus Beiler.”

  “All that’s left is the cleanup,” Bryan said. “Alan and I are here to make sure the scene is secured and the evidence is not compromised.”

  “Evidence?” Rufus asked. “So you think it’s arson?”

  “Too soon to say, but the fire chief doesn’t want to take any chances in a situation like this.”

  Annie suspected women were hugging and congratulating her for the second or third time. Surely she had already received more embraces than there were women present during worship. Though she had a plate of food in front of her on a table in the Beilers’ dining room, she hardly got to swallow a bite before someone else was tapping her on the shoulder and smiling broadly. Each time, Annie stood and allowed a pair of arms to fold around her.

  “It was perfect to have your baptism here at our home.”

  With her teeth about to close on a forkful of ham, Annie looked up to see Franey Beiler’s eyes brimming. Annie reached for Franey’s hand. “I confess I’m glad it was here, too. This is where it all began for me, after all.”