Almost Amish Part 19

"Not to worry, little lady. I'll just go a.s.sist ya." Brian said this in an almost perfect John Wayne imitation as he set the books back on the ground, then offered his left elbow to his teacher.

Julie laughed outright. "Brian, this little adventure has done wonders for your sense of humor."

"Yeah, yeah." He grinned, then turned to Charlotte. "We got us some water bottles to wrangle. Don't wait up."

"Good grief." Whitney adjusted her books into her right hand and started walking toward the schoolhouse. "What's Aunt Susan so angry about?" She looked at Julie and grinned. "That better?"

"It is more respectful, yes. And I don't think it's my place to go into a private matter between Susan and Angie."

"But you do know?"

"I know enough. I'm guessing you probably have a good idea what it might be, too."

"Aunt Susan's this berserk because Angie has actually acknowledged a member of the opposite s.e.x? I mean, I know Angie's shy and all, but she is seventeen years old. Surely she can't find it that offensive."

"I think it's more the way it happened. There are rules that we are supposed to be abiding by, and that includes not talking to people on the crew. Besides, there's a bit more to it than that."

"Oh, man, tell me they didn't bust her for sn-uh, I mean, for uh . . ."

"Yes, Whitney, they did. Why didn't you tell me she was doing that?"

"I knew it would put you in the position of either having to lie to Aunt Susan or ratting me out for ratting Angie out."

"What if something had happened to her?"

"Chris?" She snorted. "He wouldn't do anything to her. Trust me."

"I wish I could be as confident of that as you are."

"You would be if you'd been around him for five minutes when he was actually allowed to speak. Or sing. Trust me, he's a good guy."

They walked into the school building, where Whitney put her books in her desk. Julie did the same with Angie's; then they walked back outside. "Angie's scooter is still here. You want to ride it home, or shall we just walk ours together?"

"Shouldn't we wait for Brian?"

Whitney looked toward the creek. "He's probably hoping we leave. That kid's got a huge crush."

"So I've noticed." Julie picked up Angie's scooter. "I'm thinking I want one of these when we get back home."

"Mom, I'm thinking it's a necessity." They laughed.

Whitney dawdled along, in no apparent hurry. "I suppose we want to give Aunt Susan and Angie enough time to get home ahead of us, huh?"

"Probably a good idea."

"So are they super mad at her about the whole Chris thing?"

Julie shrugged. "I don't know. To be honest, I think Kendra is looking for a fight because of me, but I just felt what we were doing was wrong."

"I'm glad you did that." Whitney pulled at her long skirt. "Maybe next time you should push a little harder, though. All right?"

"I'll do my best." Julie put one foot on the scooter. "Oh, by the way, we're not supposed to talk about this anywhere inside or near the house. They don't want the hidden cameras picking up anything."

"Ew. I keep forgetting about the hidden cameras and stuff." Whitney reached down and lifted the scooter back into position. "I can't even begin to imagine what they may have captured at this point."

Julie laughed. "Isn't it the truth?"

Chapter 30.

Susan ironed her s.h.i.+rt for the third time. The wrinkles just didn't want to come out. This butane-fired iron just didn't seem to be cutting it today. "I'm going to get a cup of water and try dampening this a little."

Julie looked up from her quilt squares. "You know what I think would help you more than anything?"

Susan poured some water into a cup, not bothering to respond. Julie would tell her anyway.

"I think what would be most beneficial would be for you to stand up and walk outside. Sit down somewhere all by yourself and read that paper that's burning a hole in your skirt pocket."

Susan sprinkled water on the placket and pressed the iron hard into the fabric. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't give me that. Angie spent all yesterday evening upstairs in her room, she handed you some folded-up papers on her way out the door today, never bothering to look at you. You, on the other hand, never looked at the papers. It's obviously something that's eating you up inside, so why don't you take five minutes."

"I don't have five minutes."

Julie didn't say anything, just stayed put for what seemed like forever. Finally, she walked across the room, grabbed Susan's right hand, effectively stopping her from ironing anymore. "How about I finish this up, and you go do what you need to do?"

"What I need to do is to get my ch.o.r.es done." Julie just looked at her, waiting. "Fine, I'll go outside and work in the garden."

"Suit yourself."

Susan let the screen door slam behind her. She started down the back steps, but as she did so, she put her hand into her pocket and felt the paper. Three sheets of paper, just like she'd asked, were folded neatly inside her pocket. When she reached the bottom of the steps, instead of turning left toward the garden, she turned right and walked around the side of the house. There she leaned against the wall, took a deep breath, and pulled the papers from her pocket.

Dear Kendra and Mom, I am very sorry that I broke the rule about talking to crew members. I know that was something we weren't supposed to do, but I did it anyway.

As for the visits to the car when Chris was on watch, as I've previously stated, that was my fault. I was having trouble sleeping, and I was worried about something that Chris understands very well. It just made sense to go talk to him about it.

"Say what?" Susan banged the back of her head against the farmhouse. Angie must have just put that part in to goad her. She started to fold the paper back up, but in spite of her intentions, unfolded it again.

I am sorry that I was selfish enough to risk his job because I wanted to talk to someone. At home, I could have talked to my friends, called someone, at least sent an email. Maybe a real Amish girl might drive her buggy down the road to visit her friend, but we don't have that here. We are not living in a true Amish community. We are isolated. I don't think this is a fair expectation.

I understand that Chris took the blame for me going out there, which is obviously ridiculous. How could that possibly be true? Do you think he snuck into my room and kidnapped me? I am responsible for my own choices, and it was my choice to go outside and talk to him. The fact that he tried to do that makes me all the more happy that I've gotten to know such an unselfish person during my time here.

Susan finished the letter, which basically reiterated the same themes, then folded up the paper, her anger beginning to cool just a little. Part of Angie's argument bothered her just a little more than she cared for. Was it possible that this was true? And what could Angie possibly believe that Chris understood more than she did? This would be something they would talk about tonight-if they somehow managed to survive this day.

Now it was time to get back to work.

Julie couldn't help but smile as she watched the kids in their World Champions.h.i.+p Checkers event. Team Girly-Girly was currently down two games to one, but they were making a hard charge that seemed to have Team Boy nervous. Brian sat studying the board, not saying a single word. Slowly, he slid his black piece forward, moaning as he did so.

Whitney showed not even a trace of humility as she double-jumped him, then said, "King us."

"There's no reason to king you; the game's over. I don't have any checkers left."

Julie laughed at her son as he scowled at his duo of opponents, and couldn't help but think this was what it was all about. This kind of thing was the reason they came here. When did her kids ever have time to play checkers in their real life?

"Just because you don't have any checkers left still doesn't mean that we don't want to be treated like queens. Right, Angie?"

"That's right." All evening long, Angie had said all the right things, made the right strategic moves, but there was no smile in her eyes. Julie wondered if she ought to try to talk to her about what was going on, since Susan obviously was done talking about it. It wasn't really her business, she supposed, but then there was that gift thing again. Maybe she noticed things like this so she could talk to her niece when she needed some grown-up advice-from a grown-up that wouldn't ground her.

"Attention, everyone, attention." Kendra had let herself in the kitchen door as always and came walking into the living room as if she, too, lived here. "Mail call." She held several envelopes high above her head.

"Woot!" Whitney stood up and hurried toward her. "Got anything for me?"

"I'm sure I do. But these"-Kendra lowered her hand-"are for your mother."

"Great." Julie walked over and got the stack of a half dozen letters. "Thanks." She thumbed through the stack, seeing return addresses from Thomas, a couple of friends, a neighbor, and her Bible study leader.

"Susan, we've got several for you. Whitney, Brian, Angie, here you go."

Julie watched everyone take their mail. Whitney immediately ripped open an envelope and pulled out a stack of photos. Angie sorted through her cards. One in particular seemed to bring a smile to her face. She opened it as carefully as Julie's grandmother used to open Christmas presents-so she could keep the wrapping.

With everyone happily involved in their own reading, Julie opened the envelope on top of her stack. It was from her neighbor Rhonda, a particularly chatty widow who lived alone except for her dog, Petey. Most of the neighborhood avoided her because once she started talking, it was hard to get away. She often began a conversation by asking, "Have I ever told you about . . ." Even if the victim answered yes, Rhonda would immediately launch into the story. "Oh, good, because it really was so funny that time that . . ." and she'd tell the whole story from beginning to end, not omitting a single detail.

The neighborhood just isn't the same without you and your kids. No one else around here will take the time for a little friendly neighborhood conversation like you do. And I miss Whitney and her friends batting the volleyball around in the front yard. They make a lot of noise, but it's happy noise and I like it. Petey especially misses Brian and the games of fetch. Thomas seems to be getting along well enough, but I'm sure he'll be glad when you're home, too.

Can't wait to see you,

Rhonda and Petey

Julie looked up to see how everyone else was progressing. Susan was reading what looked like a multi-page letter. She was shaking her head and biting her lips together. She flipped the page over and Julie could see that it was a typewritten form. Likely from the PTA. Susan was undoubtedly thinking about all the things she was going to have to straighten out when she got home.

Whitney was laughing and wiping tears at the same time. Brian showed no expression whatsoever, but he did nod his head occasionally. Angie still had the first letter in her hand, but she was staring out the window. She shook her head slowly from side to side. She reached up to twist a lock of hair, but didn't move otherwise. Julie wondered what kind of upsetting news she'd received and hoped that the next letter in the stack would have something that would cheer her up a bit.

She went back to the next letter in her stack, but kept glancing up toward Angie. At some point, Angie folded up the letter and returned it to its envelope. "I've got a headache, so I'm going to turn in early. Good night, everyone." She walked up the stairs toward her room. Julie was pretty certain Angie hadn't bothered to open any of the rest of the letters.

Long after Angie had gone to bed, Julie sat downstairs worrying about her. Likely she was overreacting. It was just a teenager-versus-mother spat, and it would all blow over in a day or two. But if that were the case, what happened with the letters? Something was wrong. She could feel it.

Whitney and Brian were currently arguing over a game of Scrabble while Susan was busy working up a new recipe for the following week.

Julie stood up and made a show of stretching. "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go lie in bed and read awhile."

"Sweet dreams," Susan said without even looking up.

" 'Night, Mom."

"Good night."

Julie climbed the stairs slowly, taking care to be quiet. She didn't know why. It wasn't like she thought she was going to sneak up on anything. Once she peeked in the door and saw that her niece was resting, she could relax and chide herself for being such a worrier.

She knocked softly, not wanting to wake Angie if she was asleep, but then again, she didn't want to just barge in if she was awake. She listened briefly for a response and didn't hear one, so she turned the k.n.o.b slowly and opened the door. The heat of the room hit her as soon as she opened the door. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they did, she looked toward Angie's bed and found it empty, completely untouched. The window, however, was open, which explained the warmth of the room.

Julie walked down the hall to the bathroom, only to find it empty. She returned to the bedroom, some irrational hope telling her that she somehow had overlooked Angie the last time.

The room was still just as empty.

Julie looked out the window. The security car was just pulling up, its headlights cutting through the night. Julie turned to cross the room, but as she did, she noticed the trash can in the room held some ripped-up paper. She reached in and picked up the envelope. It was from James Reynolds.

The letter had been ripped in half only, so it was easy enough to reconstruct. Julie carried it over to the lamp and held the two pieces together.

Hi, Honey, I have some really great news for you. You know how you've always hated being an only child? Well, you're not going to be one for much longer. I'm sure by now you've guessed it. Serina is expecting a baby! We are so happy about it, and I know you are, too. Well, I wanted to be the first to tell you.

Love you lots,

Dad

Oh boy.

Julie walked down the stairs and went to sit beside Susan. Susan barely looked up from what she was doing. "I thought you went to bed."

"We've got a problem." She whispered quietly, hoping the microphones wouldn't pick it up.

"Really, what?" Susan still didn't look up.

"Susan, we've got a problem."

This time Susan looked up. "What is it?"

Julie held out the two pieces of paper. "See for yourself."