She liked being enclosed and keeping the temperature comfortable.

She liked the speed.

Ruth glanced at her passenger. "Annalise, I'm going to say something I've never said before in my entire life."

Annalise smiled slowly. "Can't wait."

"Wheeee!"

Twelve.

May 1776 Christian heard the rustle of the corn and looked up, alarmed. The sound came too fast, the steps too heavy and too many. Instinctively he turned his head toward the house, though it was too distant to see from his western field. Despite his first impulse at the breakfast table that morning, he had agreed Magdalena could take the small cart for a half day to visit her friend Rebekah. No doubt she would also drop by Nathanael's family farm. That meant Babsi was home alone with the smallest children-and heavily pregnant.

Christian dropped the knife he was using for digging out weeds and stood up straight. A moment later, three men drew their three horses to a halt in front of him.

"Good morning, gentlemen." Unafraid to look them straight in the eye, Christian assessed them in turn.

"Which way did they go?" One of the riders had trouble stilling his mount.

"They? I assure you I have been alone in my field all morning." Though he refused to look at the path they had taken, Christian knew the intruders had flattened countless ears of corn. These men were British sympathizers. He had seen them before.

"Four treasonous Patriots came this way," the man said. "We saw where they turned off the road. They cannot have gone anywhere else."

Christian shook his head. "I have not seen them."

"They turned into your field not four minutes ago. You are hiding them."

Christian made a wide sweep with one arm. "I'm growing corn, gentlemen, as I do every year. That is all. I hardly think I would be able to disguise four beasts and their riders in a half-grown cornfield."

"How do we know you would not give them aid?" As the man's horse continued to strain against the reins, the hilt of his sword glinted in the sun.

"I have nothing to do with your dispute."

"Dispute! Man, do you not understand that this is war?"

"I have nothing to do with your war, either. I only wish to live at peace with all men."

"You delude yourself, good sir. If you are not for us, you are against us."

"I am against no man." Christian spoke with calm. "If I might be permitted, I ask you to kindly take care of my crop on your way back to the road. It may provide your sustenance one day."

"We are not going anywhere until we find the traitors."

Christian stepped to one side. "Then I will not detain you further."

"If we find these men in your field, we will be back for you. Your Amish pretensions do not deceive us."

"It is not my intention to deceive you. I speak truth when I tell you I have seen no Patriots come through my land."

The man snorted. "Soon enough you will have to choose a side. If you don't choose wisely, you will be as traitorous as they."

Christian said nothing. What good could come from antagonizing them?

At the crack of a whip, the horses thundered through the corn.

Jacob had had enough of the rain for one day. No doubt the farmers of Pennsylvania were happy for some moisture in their fields, but once he left the stone-paved streets of Philadelphia, the risk of a wagon wheel bogging down in muddy country roads would make the trip home to Berks County tedious.

For the moment, though, Jacob did not want to be anywhere else but in the city where his parents had met.

He had come to Philadelphia on a routine supply trip, with lists from a few of his neighbors and plenty of space in his wagon for any saltpeter that might have found its way to the city in an unrecorded manner. Only a few hours ago he was eating breakfast in his sister's kitchen. The simple note from his brother-in-law came by messenger. Nearly giggling, Sarah read it aloud. Come to the State House. We will make history today.

When Jacob and Sarah arrived at the brick-towered State House, they could not get anywhere near the building, nor catch any sight of Sarah's husband. Drays, coaches, and chaises congested the streets around the State House. Pedestrians from every neighborhood of the city swarmed the flat brick sidewalks. Despite the steady rain, hundreds-then thousands-pressed in to plant their feet in the yard behind the State House.

"There's Emerson." Sarah pointed, and Jacob saw her relief at the sight of her husband in the throng.

Even in her layers of petticoats, slender Sarah was nimble enough to twist among the crowd and devise her own path to the other side of the yard. Jacob, requiring more space to maneuver respectfully, kept his eye on the crimson dress his sister sported that day. Her feathered hat made her easy to spot. A step or two at a time, he crossed the yard politely, catching snatches of conversation in the process.

"Pennsylvania needs an assembly that represents the will of the people."

"We're here to show we mean business. We're through being bullied by the British or our own Assembly."

"By the end of the day, the Assembly will be out on their ears. We'll have men of vision running Pennsylvania."

"Is it true?" Jacob asked as soon as he reached Emerson and Sarah. "Is the Assembly to be ousted?" He wiped rain from his eyes and strained to bring into focus the scene unfolding before him.

Emerson nodded. "How fortuitous that you are in Philadelphia just now. I knew you wouldn't want to miss this, not after all the risks you've been taking for the cause."

Sarah glanced around. "Are you sure you ought to speak so forthrightly, Emerson?"

Her husband threw his head back and laughed freely. "This is a Patriot crowd if ever there was one. We are among like-minded souls."

"Can they really throw out the Assembly?" Jacob asked.

"The Assembly did themselves in. Clearly the people want them to vote for independence at the new Continental Congress. Since they refuse to commit themselves to such a path, the people will take matters into their own hands."

"I hope there will be no violence here today," Sarah said.

Emerson shook his head. "Let's hope it is only the noise of a determined crowd."

The chanting started then. "Independence now! Independence now!"

"There must be three thousand people here." Despite the sheltering brim of his hat, rain once again streaked Jacob's face.

"My guess is closer to four thousand," Emerson said. "I could hear the chanting from my office three blocks over."

"Imagine what it might have been if the weather were fair." Sarah gripped her brother's forearm. "Look! One of the assemblymen is trying to speak."

From their position across the yard, they could not make out the man's words, but the booing that followed left no doubt of the crowd's sentiment. Nothing he said placated the throng, and nothing short of mass resignations would satisfy. Jacob opened his mouth to speak again then abruptly took in breath and held it.

Was it even possible that he saw what his mind registered?

He squinted against the drizzle and wiped his eyes on his coat sleeve. The crowd swallowed the figure that had caught his eye just a moment ago. What had he seen? A woman. No, a man. If it was a woman, it seemed unlikely, and if it was a man, it was impossible. It had been so long, and she-or he-was far enough away to make Jacob distrust his own vision.

Jacob stepped away from Sarah and Emerson-as much as the crowd would allow-and tried to follow what he had seen, but the shifting mob obscured his view at every step. When he found a clear break in the multitude, whatever he had seen was no longer there. He squeezed his way back to Sarah and Emerson.

"Jacob, what is it?" Sarah asked.

He turned to her, uncertain whether to put into words what made no sense as it flashed through his mind.

"Jacob," Sarah said again. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"I just may have," Jacob said.

"Someone you know? You do business with a lot of people in Philadelphia now."

He shook his head slowly. "Not business. And someone you know as well." He turned to lock eyes with his sister.

"Oh?"

"Maria." Jacob exhaled the name. "I think I saw Maria."

"How can that be?" Emerson asked. "You've always said she disappeared when she was barely grown."

"She did," Sarah said. "We never knew what happened. No one knew she was unhappy, if that's what she was. I was only seven or eight myself. Jacob, you can't have been more than ten. Christian was not married yet. Are you certain?"

"No. It was someone in men's clothing. Drab, ordinary fabrics. A hat pulled down low. But the face! It was like looking at Magdalena, only twenty years older."

Sarah's eyes locked on his. "Jacob, do you know what it would mean to Mamm to find Maria?"

Jacob nodded.

"What can we do to find out if it is Maria?" Sarah turned to her husband. "Emerson, you must help."

Emerson turned his palms up. "How? I never met Maria. I've never even met Magdalena. And I certainly did not see whoever Jacob thinks he saw-which may have been a complete stranger."

"But if it was Maria-"

Jacob put a hand on his sister's shoulder. "Emerson's right. I'm not even sure what I saw. The rain distorts many things."

"But if it was Maria, then she is here in Philadelphia. We can ask around. You have connections. Emerson knows a lot of people. We could at least try for a few days."

Jacob shook his head. "Katie is due to have the new baby in a few weeks. I promised this would be the last trip for a while. This is no time for me to linger in Philadelphia. "No, it couldn't have been her.

The crowd thundered again.

"That's it," Emerson said. "They're demanding a new government, and I believe we're going to get it. The Assembly will have no choice but to vote themselves out of existence because of their own incompetence. When the Continental Congress meets next month, Pennsylvania will vote for independence."

From where Magdalena sat, she could see Nathanael clearly. He always sat in the same place during church. No matter whose home the congregation met in, Nathanael managed to put himself along the outside edge among the unmarried men. Magdalena learned long ago that she could sit on the same outside edge, in the facing women's section, and see Nathanael clearly during most services.

Nathan helped his father work both their farms, but he had never moved into his own cabin. Just last week Magdalena had stopped in at the cabin and saw that someone was squatting there. Though Nathan's mother had outfitted the cabin with basic supplies when he acquired the land, anyone passing through now could see it was untended. What was to stop someone from taking up occupancy?

Mrs. Buerki often invited Magdalena to supper, where she sat next to Nathan and smiled as she passed dishes around the table. Nathan was polite and ate well. He seemed to find some pleasure in her silent company after meals. As far as anyone knew, he slept well at night. His family said he was the first one to wake in the morning and out to the barn to tend the animals. If asked a question, he answered as simply as possible, but never discourteously.

But he was not her Nathanael any longer. Magdalena wondered if it would be worse to give up hope that he would return to her, or worse to be certain he never would.

It had been a year and a half. In a few weeks another wedding season would begin-the third since she and Nathan talked of marriage. Magdalena was tempted to stop stitching linens for her chest. What was the point?

She sang the last hymn with half a heart, feeling as if it were moving at half the usual ponderous pace of the hymns from the Ausbund. This one had fourteen stanzas, and they would sing them all. Once it had been one of Nathanael's favorites, and whenever they sang it she would catch his eye with a shy smile.

This time, as soon as the final phrase of the hymn dissipated into the air, Magdalena stood and swiftly moved out of the congregation, out of the house, out of the close air that was strangling her next breath.

She ran, and she did not answer the voices calling her back.

Thirteen.

If you do what I ask, you can see for yourself." Annie, with her feet up on an ottoman in the living room, tilted her head and snared her sister's eyes.

"I don't know, Annie." Penny tossed a pillow at Annie.

"Please." Annie caught the pillow. She intended to milk her little-sister status for as much as she could get. "You could see my house. Meet my friends."

"You mean meet Rufus."

"Well, yes, but others in his family as well, if we catch them at home."

"I'm afraid I'll stare."

"You won't. I know you have a lot of questions about what I've been doing the last few months. If you come and stay overnight-"

"Whoa. Overnight?"

"Yes, overnight. You can see what my house is really like, even at night. You always say you like to visit people where they live so you can imagine them in their own homes."