Double Take Read online

  Madison let out a sigh. “I really don’t want to go to Tuscany, Mom. I feel bad about it, but you told me it was my decision, right? I hope Grandmother will get over it in time. I just can’t deal with all the pressure. Can you understand that?”

  Her mom frowned. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I just need some downtime.” Now this was the honest-to-goodness truth. “I don’t want to go to Italy and I don’t want to go to Palm Beach and I don’t want to go to Boston. I feel stressed and I need a break. Okay?” Madison felt on the brink of tears.

  Mom put her hand on her shoulder. “Okay. I’m not thrilled with your choice, Madison. But I understand. Nadya will be here, and you can always call your dad if you need something. Or if you change your mind, just call me and I’ll arrange for your ticket.”

  Madison hugged her mom. “Thanks for understanding.”

  Mom looked at Madison’s bag. “Are you going out?”

  “I just need some fresh air to clear my head.” She smiled. “Tell Grandma I’m really, really sorry. You guys have a great trip!”

  “Our flight leaves around two.” Mom looked at her Chanel watch. “I still have a million things to do.”

  “Have fun, Mom!” Madison turned away, hurried out of the penthouse and into the elevator, and counted the seconds as it went down. The sooner she got away, the better she would feel.

  Relieved not to have collided with Garret in the lobby, she went directly to the under-park and waited impatiently for the garage guy to bring her car out. The Mini Cooper had been a present for her sixteenth birthday. Naturally, everyone questioned her choice—she wondered how many other teens had to fight their parents to get a less expensive car—but she liked that it was green. Of course, it had taken her another six months just to get her license, but that was behind her now. Although her driving skills weren’t stellar, and despite the fact that her mother thought she was crazy to keep a car in Manhattan, Madison liked the feeling of being behind the wheel—in control.

  Of course, that control was questionable as she pulled out onto the busy avenue where taxis were blaring horns and traffic was moving at a snail’s pace. Still, she knew it would’ve been worse on a weekday during the business commute. Driving in the city required two basic things—patience and courage.

  As she turned onto a less busy street, she had no idea where she was going or when she would come back, but to start with, she would go with the flow of the traffic. After that she intended to just drive and drive—like she was running for her life. Maybe somewhere out there, on the open road, she would find what she was looking for. Perhaps she would even find herself.

  2

  Anna Fisher was bored. But she knew better than to say that out loud—especially when everyone was busy with farming and fixing and all the additional chores that came with springtime. Anna knew from experience that her mother’s response would be simply to heap more work on her. Not as punishment, mind you, but as discipline—or so Mamm would say. Despite being seventeen, Anna still had trouble distinguishing between punishment and discipline. In fact, it seemed the older she got, the more confused she grew about much of the Ordnung.

  As a child she hadn’t questioned the community rules, but now she was unsure. To make it even more confusing, as a teenager she wasn’t even subject to the rules. According to the bishop, Anna needed to discover for herself whether or not she wanted to be part of this community. If so, she needed to be baptized. In the meantime, no one seemed to really care what she was doing. Call it rumspringa or just plain indifference, but Anna felt caught in the middle, and there was much she did not understand. Yet she kept most questions to herself.

  Now as Anna hung the morning wash, she felt unusually restless, and as she looked down the road toward the Glick farm, she felt exceedingly sad. Anna’s heart ached whenever she thought about Jacob Glick. The two of them had been best friends since childhood. As they entered adolescence, Jacob had become the love of Anna’s life, and everyone in the community seemed certain the two would marry.

  But Jacob had always questioned everything, and not just silently. He sometimes argued with the deacon about doctrine and faith and the ever-changing rules of the Ordnung. Then last fall his attitude and actions were described as rebellious. Jacob had been nearly eighteen when his parents decided to take action. Although their community’s form of rumspringa didn’t usually include exiling a teen, when Jacob explicitly informed the bishop that he never intended to be baptized, Jacob had been allowed to leave. He’d seemed glad to go, but Anna felt it was unwise.

  “We let Jacob leave so he can return,” his father had announced at a December meeting. “As you know, the apple will fall but not roll far from the tree.”

  Anna wasn’t so sure about that. For all she knew, Jacob might never roll back to the tree. That felt wrong—and it made her begin to secretly question things even more. One of the things Anna had always loved about Jacob was his questioning mind. He was always thinking deep thoughts, searching for answers. Like she’d read in a book recently, Jacob thought “outside of the box.” And now he was living outside of the box.

  “I want to experience New York City,” he had told her last summer on one of the evenings when they’d sneaked out to meet by the irrigation pond. “I want to see the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building. I want to walk through the Guggenheim Museum and Madame Tussauds.”

  “How do you know about all these places?” she asked.

  “My great-grandfather’s photo album,” he confessed. “He wasn’t born Amish. He was born in New York and then he went to war—World War II. I think it was hard on him. He became antiwar—I’m sure that’s why he came here to live.”

  “I did not know that.”

  “It’s an old story. My family doesn’t speak of it. But someday I will visit New York City. I know it deep inside of me.”

  As much as Anna enjoyed listening to Jacob, his dreams had sounded impossible to her. Yet it was possible he was living them out right now. She hoped he was all right, safe from danger and not starving . . . but perhaps just hungry enough to roll back to the tree. Every night before going to bed, Anna said a secret prayer for Jacob, praying he would return to his senses, return to the community—and return to her.

  In the same way Anna longed to see Jacob again, she longed for something different in her own life too. She couldn’t put her finger on it exactly, but deep inside of her she desired something exciting or unusual or interesting to happen. Although she knew that was unlikely, since every day seemed to be almost the same as the one before. She knew she was supposed to practice contentment and give thanks for the goodness in her life—she was supposed to appreciate what God had given her. Sometimes she did, but not today. Perhaps it was spring in the air, or perhaps it was missing Jacob, but Anna was not simply bored and restless, she was discontented.

  Anna knew this was a time in her life to practice some independence—this era was called rumspringa, and all teens were allowed to experience some safe exploration of life within the confines of the community. But that was as far as Anna planned to take it. She had no desire to be exiled out into the English world. She had heard horror stories about other teens, and the mere idea of being cast out like that was unsettling. To be out in that great big world all alone, fending for oneself, exposed to God only knew what . . . no thank you. Anna was not that bored. Better to be content with the morning sun on her back and the smell of the ripe earth, knowing today was pie-making day.

  As Anna pegged the last towel on the line, she wished she hadn’t finished her novel last night. She had read too fast. She should have been able to make it last at least one more day, perhaps even two. Now she wouldn’t get another new book for almost a week. Why hadn’t she considered that instead of selfishly devouring the words as fast as her eyes could move?

  This “guilty pleasure” (a phrase she’d learned from last night’s book) was something Anna and Mamm had shared for more than a year now. While the prac
tice of reading novels was frowned upon by the deacon in their settlement, it was not against the rules, thankfully. However, her father did not approve.

  “Why do you let your daughter read English trash?” her father had asked her mother the first time he’d caught Anna with one of the bright-colored paperbacks.

  “It is not trash,” her mother had patiently responded. “Grace Riehl recommended this book to me. Her Leah has already read it. Grace says it improves her reading skills.” The Riehl family was respected in the community, so her father would not fault them. Still, Anna knew he was not convinced.

  “Is it a true book?” he had demanded as he waved the book in the air.

  “It is a story,” Mamm had quietly explained.

  “So it is not true.” Her father’s dark beard jutted out even farther, a sign that his stubbornness was kicking in.

  “It is a story,” her mother said again. “A story about life.”

  “But not real, not true,” he insisted.

  Her mother simply shrugged, returning to her darning.

  For the sake of reading these books, Anna decided to step forward. “Jesus Christ told stories,” she offered. “Jesus told stories to teach principles. Is that not right, Daed? Is that not real?”

  His blue eyes grew troubled. “Ja, ja. What are you saying?”

  “Were Jesus’s stories true?” Anna persisted. “Were his stories real?”

  Her father simply nodded. He reluctantly handed the paperback back to Anna and returned to fixing a harness. Fortunately, that had been the end of that discussion. Just the same, Anna had sewn herself a plain brown removable book cover that she claimed was to protect the books from wear and tear, but was in actuality her way of protecting her father’s eyes from the book covers.

  A few women in the community shared books, but the best resource for “Christian fiction” was found in the general store in the nearby town. Mrs. McCluster kept quite a large rack of these books right next to the kitchen utensils section. To Anna’s delight, new books seemed to arrive with the same regularity as the fresh eggs and produce that Anna’s family delivered to the store. Thanks to money earned from Anna’s sewing plus the reselling of her gently used books, she always made sure she had the funds to purchase a new book or two whenever she got the chance to go to town. Unfortunately, her next trip wouldn’t be until late next week.

  “Anna!” Mamm called from the back porch, waving a white dish towel to get her attention. “Come—come fast!”

  Using one hand to hold the empty wicker basket, Anna used the other to hold up the full skirt of her dress so she could run full speed. Her mother did not usually call with such urgency—not unless something was wrong.

  As Anna sprinted across the dew-dampened grass, she wondered if her mother’s anxiety was the result of the jangling of the telephone Anna had heard while hanging the wash. Their telephone, like that of their neighbors, was kept in the barn. There were many reasons for this inconvenient location, but primarily, Anna suspected, it was to discourage its casual use. Everyone knew the telephone existed primarily for business, and occasionally for emergencies.

  “What is it?” Anna breathlessly asked her mother as she set the basket down on the boot bench.

  “My sister Rachel is in a bad way.”

  “What happened?”

  Mamm patted her tummy. “Aunt Rachel is with baby—she must not work so much.”

  “Oh dear.” Anna tried to recall how many children Aunt Rachel had. Was she expecting her fifth or sixth?

  “You know how Rachel is regarded in her community.”

  Anna nodded. She had seen it herself the last time she went to help Aunt Rachel. For some unknown reason—whether love or desperation—Aunt Rachel had chosen to marry into a different community. One where the Ordnung was Old Order and much more conservative. Unfortunately, Aunt Rachel did not always agree with the Old Order. As a result, she had been warned by the bishop, and although she hadn’t been shunned back then, Anna didn’t know how she stood in her community now. Many women in her settlement had distanced themselves from Aunt Rachel, almost as if she’d been shunned. But she did not seem to mind, except when she needed help. The last time Aunt Rachel had been in need—a couple of years ago—Anna had been called upon. It had not been an easy time then, and it might be worse now.

  “You must go help Aunt Rachel, Anna.”

  Anna wanted to protest. She wanted to argue and say it was unfair and ask why someone else couldn’t go help her aunt. But she knew it was worse than pointless. Perhaps Anna had brought this on herself. Was this God’s answer to her boredom?

  “Run and gather your things,” Mamm urged. “Hasten! Daed is gettin’ the wagon ready. Matthew will drive you to town, but you must be quick. Daed and Matthew must to finish planting the west field.”

  With a heavy heart, Anna hurried up to her room. Why this? Why now? Anything would be better than getting stuck at Aunt Rachel’s. The last time Anna had visited, she had begun to suspect another reason Aunt Rachel’s neighbors avoided her—her uncontrollable children. Who could stand to be around such wild things? The twins, Ezra and Noah, had been four or five and full of mischief. Two-year-old Jeremiah had been unstoppable and into everything. Even baby Elizabeth had been colicky, crying day and night. And her solemn uncle Daniel, unless he came in to eat, which he did silently and sullenly, had spent all his time in the barn. Anna had been so relieved to leave that place.

  As she stuffed her clothes and nightgown into the duffel sack that her mother had placed in her room, Anna was tempted to tuck a couple of previously read paperbacks inside as well. Except that she suspected they’d be confiscated if discovered by her uncle. Anna felt certain that English novels were verboten in Aunt Rachel’s rigid community, and not wanting to forfeit what she could possibly sell later, she reluctantly left the precious books in the drawer. Hopefully Aunt Rachel’s baby would come soon. Last time Anna had been stuck there for two whole weeks, and it had seemed like two years. But she was older now. Perhaps she could endure more.

  “I’m ready,” she told her mother as she came down the stairs.

  “I wish I could go,” nine-year-old Katie said as she expertly slipped a round pie crust into the pan.

  “I wish you could go too.” Anna kissed her sister’s rosy cheek. “Someday.”

  “Here is food.” Mamm shoved a brown paper bag into her arms. “You must to wait in town until Uncle Daniel can fetch you. He cannot leave the farm until the work is done. Not until late midday.”

  Anna suppressed the urge to show her delight at this news. A whole day in town—all by herself! Well, that might almost be worth the sacrifice she was making for Aunt Rachel. Perhaps she’d risk buying a new book. She might even have it read before Uncle Daniel picked her up.

  “How long will I stay with Aunt Rachel?” she asked as she and her mother went outside. “When is her baby coming?”

  Her mother frowned. “Rachel says late April.”

  Anna blinked. That was a month away—and last time Rachel’s baby had come late.

  “I did not promise you for all that time, Anna.”

  Anna wanted to ask how she’d been promised at all—without agreeing to it herself—but she knew that was futile. It was not as if she had any say in these things. When someone needed you, you went. If a neighbor’s barn burned, you helped build another. If a friend needed food, you shared from your table. That was how it was in the community—helping others. And if the others were your own family, even more so. But so many weeks with Aunt Rachel’s irrepressible children? Anna blinked back tears.

  “You will miss us.” Mamm hugged her. “We will miss you too, dear daughter. But God will be your strength. When you return, you will be stronger. God will make you a strong woman, ready for marriage and children of your own.”

  Anna just nodded, swallowing against the hard lump that was growing in the back of her throat. It was bad enough being sent to Aunt Rachel, but her mother’s talk of Anna becoming
ready for marriage and children—combined with knowing that her parents had recently been favoring Aaron Zook for her match—well, it was all too frightening!

  3

  By nine thirty Madison was driving west on the highway. At first she questioned herself—why west? Then she realized it was the only direction where no one was pulling on her. Dad was north in Boston, Mom would be flying east by this afternoon, and Vivian was heading south. West spelled freedom. It seemed the natural choice for escaping everyone.

  With the city traffic behind her and the highway lanes decreasing, she began to notice the countryside changing. Replacing the cityscape, urban sprawl, and industrial wastelands, housing developments, rolling hills, and small communities began to appear. She sighed to contrast this peacefully pastoral setting to her normal world of city traffic, blaring horns, and flashing neon signs. She knew by the barns and silos that she was in the agricultural section of Pennsylvania now, but it was like a totally different world. It hardly seemed possible that these seemingly endless lush green fields and cows were only a hundred or so miles from Manhattan. When she spotted a horse-drawn carriage on a side road, she realized she was in Amish country.

  The only reason she recognized Amish country was because her dad had brought her out this way when she was about nine. On his way to visit a client with a large equestrian business, Dad had stopped in a charming little town for ice cream cones. Upon seeing the horses and buggies and oddly dressed people, Madison actually believed they’d stepped into a time machine and had been transported back to the 1800s. But Dad popped her bubble by explaining about the Amish people, and how they lived a simple life without modern “conveniences,” including cars or electricity or cell phones or Nintendo.

  After recovering from the disappointment that it was still the new millennium, Madison had been so captivated by this peculiar culture that she couldn’t help but stare. Of course, that made her dad uncomfortable as he paid for their ice cream. When he said it was time to go, she was reluctant, but Dad promised to take her to another place, “even better than this,” he assured her. Of course, it turned out to be one of those fake frontier towns where the people were wearing costumes and simply pretending to be early settlers. Madison had wanted the real thing.