"Sorry to disturb you. I was looking for Kendra."

"She's gone for the afternoon. Something I can help you with?" He swung the guitar to his left hand and stood up.

"Not really. We were just worr-" Julie thought better of what she was about to say, and rephrased. "We were just wondering what the arrangements are for the kids tonight, as far as getting into town."

He leaned the guitar against the desk. "I'm the designated driver for this evening's events."

Julie nodded. "Good. That's good. And you'll be driving the . . ."

"The smaller buggy. We can all fit in it, and it's easier to maneuver than the big one, plus easier for cars to get around."

Julie nodded and looked down at her hands.

"Don't worry, I'll keep it under the speed limit." He smiled. "Besides that, we've got some lanterns to put on the back. They're pretty sick, actually. I'm thinking of snagging some to take home and put on my car back in L.A."

"I'm sure they would make a big hit."

"Absolutely. So . . . you okay with that plan, or do you want me to cook up something else?"

Was Julie completely relaxed about this plan? No. But if she only allowed her kids to do things that never worried her, she supposed they would be locked up in a padded room somewhere. It sounded like a fun adventure.

"It sounds okay. So will you drop them off and come back here, then, or will you stay there and wait? In case they need to leave early or something."

"I'll stay there."

"The studio wants someone there for security, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure they do, but that's not why I'm staying."

"Then why?"

"I'm in the worship band."

"Oh. Okay. Great." Julie walked back into the farmhouse and found Susan arranging and rearranging the same flowers. "Well?"

"Let's just say, arrangements have been made. I think the kids are going to be in fine hands."

Several hours later, after the dinner dishes were washed and put away, Julie and Susan sat on the back porch and watched the kids loading into the buggy. Brian was about to climb in when Chris shook his head. "Ladies first."

Angie's face blushed a deep red, and in spite of obvious effort, she was unable to conceal her grin as Chris offered his hand to help her up. Whitney was next, but just clambered right past Chris's offered hand. Brian climbed in last, but then crawled over the girls. "We men have to sit together."

"You can't even talk to him, remember?" Whitney said.

"We're men; we don't need to talk!"

Chris gave a quick glance at Angie before looking back toward Brian and giving him a thumbs-up. As the buggy pulled away from the barn, Julie was convinced that once the buggy disappeared over the first hill, any talking rules would be utterly forgotten.

"From what I've seen, that Chris is actually a nice kid."

"I don't envy the poor mother whose daughter brings someone like him home. Can you imagine? I guess someone who's raised a girl with no more common sense than to date a boy with that hairdo deserves what she's getting, though." She stood up and stretched. "You want to tackle the downstairs bathroom or the hall closet?"

Julie bit her bottom lip until she trusted herself to answer without laughing. "I'll take the bathroom, I guess." How was it that Susan could note a dirty closet from a half-mile away, and yet have no idea about what was happening in her daughter's heart? For Angie's sake, Julie hoped the attraction was short-lived, because if it ever came to Susan's attention, she didn't think the results would be pretty.

The smell of cleaning solution burned Julie's nose as she worked on all fours, scrubbing the bathroom floor. The tiny octagonal-shaped tiles looked as if they could very well be as old as the building itself. And she couldn't be certain if they were once white or if this dingy gray color was actually the color they were intended to be.

No matter. Susan was convinced that they should be white, and so this scrubbing session would continue either until the tile turned white, Susan conceded, or Julie pa.s.sed out from the fumes. Starting in the far corner, she scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. Her back and shoulders ached from the exertion, but she kept pushing. At least now, with the kids away, she didn't mind Susan's obsessive need to clean so much. In the evenings, when the kids were home, she wanted to spend a little downtime talking about the day, playing games, whatever it was that a slower lifestyle was supposed to entail. So far, the only thing slower seemed to be the lack of noise and the variety of activities. Now they just worked longer and harder at the same few activities, over and over again.

"My, my, my, aren't you the industrious one?"

Julie turned toward the voice, but before she could answer, she began coughing. "Hi, Kendra." She finally got the words out. "I thought you were gone for the day."

"I'm back. Where is Susan?"

"I think she's cleaning out the hall closet. Either that, or arranging more flowers, I'm not sure which."

"I'll go find her. Why don't you find a stopping point and come join us? I've got a few things to talk to you both about."

"All right." Julie wasn't sure whether she liked the sound of that. But, since there was no other option, she put her brush and gloves in the sink and went to join the others.

She found them standing in the living room, Kendra looking crisp and put together as usual. Susan, however, looked a bit rumpled-like someone who'd had her head in an old musty closet or something. Julie hadn't seen her own reflection leaving the bathroom and didn't want to think about what a person who'd been scrubbing fifty-year-old bathroom tile on her hands and knees might look like.

"There are just a couple of things I need to tell you," Kendra said. "First of all, what are you planning for dinner tomorrow night?"

"Beef stew," Susan said. Julie knew she had menus for the entire next week in her head.

"Perfect. We'll be doing a crew sampling."

"A crew sampling?" Julie held her breath and looked toward Susan, whose jaws were clenched tight.

"Yes. Periodically we'll get a bit of whatever you've cooked for dinner, or breakfast, and take it over to the shack. We'll give samples to the crew and allow honest feedback. It'll help give us an idea of whether the average American consumer would prefer more traditionally prepared foods."

"Okay." Susan's head kept nodding as she stared off in the distance. "We can do that. Sure."

"Secondly, I wanted to let you know that Thomas will be here for the weekend."

Thomas? Julie realized then how much less her thoughts had turned to him since the beginning of this adventure. "That is wonderful. When will he arrive?"

"Tomorrow night. He'll be here until Sunday afternoon."

Susan smiled and nodded. "I'm glad we're getting the place in such good shape, then." She gestured around the room. "He would have been appalled if he'd arrived last week."

"About that . . ." Kendra walked over to the living room table and the gla.s.s cup full of artfully arranged flowers. "These all need to go. I've done some research, and especially for the more conservative Amish that live in this area, this amount of decoration would never be allowed in their home; it would be considered prideful."

"But these are from the flower garden that was already planted here, plus the wildflowers that grow down by the creek. G.o.d's creation, not man-made."

"Turns out, the Swartzentruber Amish don't grow flowers around their homes. In fact, that will be one of your tasks for this week. Tearing out the flower garden."

Susan opened her mouth, as if to argue, then shut it. She swallowed hard enough that Julie could see it; then she nodded. "Okay, then. That's what we'll do."

She picked up the plain gla.s.s full of beautiful flowers and started toward the back door. "I'll just go put these in the trash."

Julie had never seen Susan back down so quickly from anything. She wondered what kind of power she thought Kendra wielded over her.

By the time the clip-clopping of hooves sounded from the driveway, every trace of floral decoration had been removed from the house. The gla.s.ses had all been scrubbed clean, the hall closet was spotless and organized, and the bathroom floor was still a shade of dirty gray-although Julie would have dared anyone to find a single speck of dirt within the confines of the small bathroom. She walked into the dark back bedroom so she could look out the window without being noticed from outside.

The kids, back from youth group, were singing and laughing. This time, Brian was sitting on the outside edge; beside him was Whitney, next to her, Angie. Angie was saying something, to which Chris replied. They all laughed again.

Chris pulled the wagon into the barn, and Julie could see no more. She went into the living room and sat down with her scissors and some sc.r.a.p fabric. She cut out squares from the new fabric Rosemary had brought at her last visit, thinking about all that was happening around here, and about Thomas's upcoming visit. Would he be happy to see them and simply enjoy the visit, or would he look around with eyes that noticed how much had yet to be done? He and Susan, at times, shared more than the same eye color and chin. Julie felt a clench of worry, a feeling she'd begun thinking of as her former life.

The back door squeaked open, and the kids shook the floor as they bounded into the room. Julie kept cutting, trying to appear nonchalant. "How was it?'

"Interesting." Whitney deposited herself in the middle of the living room floor.

"At first, it was a little bit . . . awkward," Brian said, toying with the hem of his blue shirt. "But still kind of fun."

"The kids were a little standoffish, especially in the beginning," Angie said.

"I think it took them a while to move past these getups." Whitney motioned toward her skirt and top. "And then the fact that we're from California seemed to make us suspicious."

"But, in the end, they mostly moved past all that and it worked out pretty well. Hey, Mom, some of the kids from the youth group help run a weekly club for some kids in one of the poorer neighborhoods. Can I start helping?"

"I don't know, Whitney. It took a lot of convincing just to get them to let you go tonight. I'll see what I can do, though."

"Well, as long as we can keep going to youth group. I really liked it." Angie smiled.

"I thought the music was excellent, didn't you?" Whitney looked at her cousin, and they exchanged a grin.

Julie looked toward Susan, who seemed completely oblivious to the exchange that was happening. "Okay, off to bed with you all. We've got lots of work to do tomorrow."

"Good night." Angie practically sighed the words as she floated up the stairs, one graceful step at a time.

Chapter 18.

Susan stood at the counter chopping carrots into half-inch discs. Kendra's alert about the taste test-or was it a warning; everything Kendra said seemed like a threat or a warning-rang in her mind. The crew had to think this was the best stew they'd ever tasted; there was absolutely no margin for error. At all. Carrots done, she reached next for an onion and concentrated on dicing it into perfect, even pieces.

Next to her, obviously feeling no pressure at all, Julie hummed some tuneless melody while she poked at the fire in the stove. After a bit, she stood and stretched, then walked casually to the window and pulled back the curtain. Watching for Thomas.

The onion was taking its toll, and Susan's eyes were beginning to tear. She wiped her eyes across her upper arm. "I think we need some fresh parsley, and I'll want to mince some garlic. Perhaps we should go pull a couple of peppers from the garden. Do you think a hint of rosemary would be nice, or would that be too much?"

Julie frowned. "Susan, you've been talking about adding this, or more of that, for the last half hour. It's just stew."

"I don't want to make just stew, or anything else for that matter. That's not good enough. To me, cooking is like an art, and I don't want to be a finger painter. In fact, I want to do everything to the absolute best of my abilities." Julie continued to look out the window, obviously not taking the hint. "You haven't seen your husband in two weeks; don't you think he deserves more than a halfhearted attempt?"

"I . . ." Julie let her hand fall back from the curtain. She walked to the stove, opened the door and poked at the fire again. After a minute, she said, "I'll just go get that parsley and those peppers for you." She scurried out the door as if she were being chased.

Susan knew she'd hurt Julie's feelings, and she was sorry about that, but she had spoken the truth. Shouldn't Julie appreciate the fact that she had such a wonderful husband? Shouldn't she want to make nice meals for him? She wiped her eyes with her sleeve again. Darn onions.

A few minutes later, the door squeaked behind her as she sc.r.a.ped the carrots and onions from the cutting board into the pot. She supposed she should try a little small talk. "Is it still hot out there?"

"Yes."

Silence. It hung in the air, like the heat that radiated from the stove.

Julie picked up a potato. She pulled out the trash can from beneath the sink and held the potato over it while she cut off the peel in long strips. She didn't say anything for a while, then made a comment or two about the weather while she reached for another potato, and then the next. "The kids seem to be enjoying their one-room schoolhouse, don't they?"

"And why wouldn't they?" Susan looked up from her work with the celery. "There's no one there but the three of them and a teacher who's barely out of high school herself."

Julie was shaking her head slowly. "When I was a teenager, I didn't have all this pressure on me like our kids do now. Angie and the SATs, Whitney and the volleyball team. I spent summers at the pool-working in the snack shack, mind you, but still, the rest of my time was free time. I didn't feel like I needed summer enrichment programs, or club sports teams, or s.p.a.ce Camp, just so I wouldn't be behind when school started in the fall."

"Whether or not we like it, this is today's reality."

"Personally, I'm enjoying today's reality, here-no phone, computer, or television. There's a lot of work to do, but at least it's all focused. It's all done for a reason-namely to take care of my family and the animals and crops that we're raising. I think a lot of the other stuff we do in the modern world, a lot of the stuff we have our kids doing, is really not that important."

Susan snorted. "Yeah, you'll see how important it is come college-application time. Or job-application time, even more. With today's economy and unemployment rate, how can you not want to give them every opportunity to find true success?"

"I'm just saying, I don't think we're teaching them true success."

"And I think you are looking back to what once was and burying your head in the sand about today's reality. You've got to-"

"He's here!" Julie raced out the door and was standing beside the Suburban by the time it came to a complete stop. In spite of the fact that the windows were tinted so dark that nothing or no one could be seen inside, she was waving at the windows. The front door opened, and one of the usual drivers stepped out. He nodded at Julie and walked toward the production office. A cameraman climbed out of the pa.s.senger side and walked slowly around the car. He walked all the way around Julie to stand on her right side, and then nodded toward the car. The back door flew open, and in a flash Susan's brother was out and picking Julie up, swinging her around in circles. He kissed her, just a quick peck, then hugged her tight and said something, which Susan couldn't hear from inside, but any idiot would know that it was "I missed you" or "I love you."

Julie had no idea how lucky she was to have a man like Thomas, so full of honesty and integrity. She couldn't understand why Julie didn't work harder on taking care of him. Thomas deserved excellent meals and a sparkling home. They'd watched their own mother provide it. Susan turned to put the celery and pepper in the stew, stirred the pot and put the lid back on, then took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and pushed through the kitchen door.

"Hey there, brother of mine. 'Bout time you got here." She put on her happiest smile for Thomas, and she truly was glad to see him. He had been a rock for her this last year, and it made her feel more secure just having him here.

"Hey there, sis." He hurried over and locked her in a bear hug. "So how's the simple life treating you?" He grinned and made a sweep through her hair with his left hand. "I see you've changed your hairdo. I like it."

"This is not a changed hairdo. This is what hair looks like when I'm not allowed to use a hairdryer and the humidity hovers around ninety percent."

He leaned back and nodded. "You know what, it looks good on you." He picked up his leather overnighter. "Julie was just telling me all about the creek, and the schoolhouse, and Brian's observatory. How about I take my bag inside and then we go take a look. I'm dying to see the kids."

"Well, we're just in the process of making stew." Susan cast a meaningful gaze toward Julie, hoping she would get the hint. "We're supposed to feed the entire crew tonight, so it's quite a large pot of stew. Not to mention some sourdough bread we're just about ready to bake."

Julie looped her hand through Thomas's arm and walked toward the house. "Don't worry, though, we can finish it up in a snap, and leave the stew to simmer for a while."

Susan thought about the stew. She thought about how perfect it needed to be. She thought about trying to finish it in a snap. She thought about the plethora of horrible possibilities if it turned to mush; the flavors were wrong. "Julie, I'm really not sure that we're a snap away from finishing."

"Really?" There was no hiding the irritation in Julie's voice. "I think it's mostly ready, except for the potatoes I still need to slice up. Thomas is only going to be here for three days. I think we can shave a little time off stew making so we can spend more time with him, don't you?"

No. She didn't. And her future life depended on this. "Why don't the two of you walk over there? I'll stay here and finish up the stew."

"Ah, come on, Suse. I don't care about the stew. Walk over with us; tell me about what's been happening."