Seventeen.

Did you sleep?" Annie handed Penny her largest mug filled with hot coffee.

Eyes closed, Penny inhaled the steam. "I didn't think I would, but I did."

"Must be the mountain air." Annie gestured to the dining room table. "I made blueberry muffins."

"From scratch?"

"From scratch."

"I'm impressed."

"You should be." Annie picked up a muffin and bit into it.

"You have hot water in this joint? I need a shower."

"We are a five-star camping facility. But me first. I know how you dawdle."

Upstairs, Annie showered and dressed. Then half listening to the sounds of Penny's progress, she opened the folder she had retrieved the night before and stuck an envelope in the bag she always carried. An hour later, with Penny at the wheel, they rolled into the Beiler driveway.

Ruth was ready, sitting on the porch with her small bag and her head back against the top of the Adirondack chair. She looked weary to Annie. When Ruth spotted the car, she leaned forward and lifted herself out of the seat.

Annie got out of the car and met Ruth coming down the porch steps. "Excuse my bluntness, but you look like a truck hit you."

Ruth rubbed one hand over an eye. "I didn't sleep."

"Your next visit will be more restful. The Stutzmans will move out and you'll get your room back."

Ruth shook her head. "There's just so much to think about when I come here."

Annie considered probing, but Ruth moved toward the Prius and did not meet her eyes. A car door slammed, and Annie saw that Penny had gotten out and was walking toward them.

Annie pulled an envelope out of her bag. "Ruth, before you go, I have something for you."

Ruth twisted at the waist to look at Annie. "You do so much for me as it is."

"I want to give you some papers." Annie slipped a form out of the envelope and unfolded it. "This is the title to the Prius. I've signed it over to you."

"What?" Ruth's sluggish steps froze.

Penny came near. "Yes, what she said. What?" She took the paper from Annie's hands. "You really did sign over the title to Ruth Beiler."

"You have to take it back," Ruth said.

Annie shook her head. "Nope. I already put your name in and signed."

Penny handed the paper to Ruth. "Looks legal to me."

"It may be legal," Ruth said, "but it's crazy."

"Why?" Annie set her jaw in challenge. "You need a car."

"I've been getting along without one."

"It's stressful to get around in Colorado Springs without a car. You can't do that indefinitely. You have a permit, after all."

"For ID purposes," Ruth said.

"Then why have you been learning to drive?"

Penny's eyebrows went up. "You've been learning to drive?"

"Shh. Not so loud." Ruth glanced toward the house. "My mother doesn't know and this is not the way to tell her."

"Of course not." Penny lowered her voice. She turned to Annie. "But what about insurance? Repairs?"

"It's still under warranty for two more years." Annie handed the envelope to Ruth. "The papers are in here, along with enough cash to put insurance in your name for the next six months."

"But your car," Ruth said.

"Your car." Annie blew out a breath. "I've been thinking about this constantly the last few days. And about what I did on Saturday. I can't have the car sitting there, tempting me, making it so easy. I would always know I could get it whenever I want. You need it. I don't."

Penny looked from Annie to Ruth. "You really have a permit?"

Ruth nodded.

"Then this is yours." Penny dangled the Prius key in front of Ruth.

Ruth softened. "I don't know what to say, Annalise."

"Just drive carefully."

"I will," Ruth said. She looked back toward the house. "But not until we're out of town. I don't need to rub it in Mamm's face."

"Then let's hit the road," Penny said. "We'll drop Annie off and get going."

Annie shook her head. "I don't have to be at the shop until two o'clock. I'm going to hang around here awhile. Maybe work on my quilt."

"I'm sure Mamm would love that," Ruth said.

Something in Ruth's tone sounded off to Annie, but Ruth was already putting her bag in the car so the moment for conversation passed. Annie hugged her sister then waved good-bye as Penny turned the car around and aimed for the road. What would Penny and Ruth find to talk about? she wondered. Or would they be content with silence? She hoped not.

Annie turned, went up the steps, and crossed the porch. Tapping lightly on the front door, she turned the knob with the other hand. She glanced over her shoulder and across the clearing to Rufus's workshop. Franey would know if Rufus was around.

No one was in the front room. Jacob would be in school, and Joel should be out in the fields with his father. Franey, Lydia, and Sophie must be scattered in the house, Annie thought, or perhaps in the barn. She heard no sound of any of the Stutzmans, either. Perhaps they were busy readying their own home.

Annie moved to the cedar chest under the window. If she had a few minutes alone, she could surprise Franey by making some progress. her palms stroked the polished finish of the chest. She imagined Rufus's hands insisting on perfection in his craft. The touch of the solid chest that he had labored over started a tremble in her fingers. She wished Rufus would feel that way about the quilt she labored over. Annie knew it was far from perfect, though. Perhaps this would not be the quilt he admired, but the next one, or the one after that. Her throat thickened. How long would it take before she could offer Rufus what he deserved in a wife?

Maybe never. Even if she could learn to be perfectly Amish, she had done things in her past she was not sure she would ever want to admit to Rufus.

Penny's words knocked around in Annie's head. Was she sure becoming Amish was not just for Rufus? She could be wrong. With a sigh, she lifted her eyes to the ceiling. Lord, make me sure. I'll go or I'll stay. Just make me sure. But at the thought of a future without Rufus her chest heaved in protest.

She had begun to lift the lid when she heard the familiar weight on the outside steps.

Rufus opened the front door, an empty tumbler in his hand that he intended to refill in the kitchen.

The cedar chest's lid thumped closed. Annalise spun around and smiled at him. He loved her smile. Today, though, it left him doubting her state of mind.

"So our sisters are off together," Rufus said.

Annalise nodded. "They may spill all our secrets to each other."

"More likely they'll stare at each other for an hour or so."

"No doubt." Annalise moved toward him and reached for the glass. "Let me pour you a cold drink."

He let go of the glass but did not miss the tremor in her hand. "Just finishing a few odd jobs." He looked around. "Is no one home?"

"Not that I can tell," Annalise said.

She turned toward the kitchen, but he touched her wrist then held her hand. "I don't really care about the drink. We haven't talked in ages. I want to know how you are."

She was trembling. He was sure of it. And her eyes were puddles.

"How was your visit home?" He nudged her gently to the sofa and sat down beside her.

Her lips moved through about twenty poses without settling on words.

"Complicated, eh?" he said.

She nodded and put her hands up to the sides of her head, squeezing. "My family doesn't understand what I'm doing. Sometimes I think I don't understand what I'm doing myself."

Now the tremble was in her voice. He took her hands in his and lowered them to her lap, holding them there. Under his fingers, he felt the resistance slide away. He waited a few more seconds, holding her with his eyes, urging the tension from her.

"You're listening," he said, "and trying to obey."

She took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. Her hands, still under his, relaxed.

Rufus raised a finger to her lips. "You don't have to explain everything now." He traced her lips, lightly, barely touching them. In the months he had known her, he could count on one hand the times he had kissed her. But he had lost track of the number of times he wanted to kiss her. If he gave in every time he wanted to-every time she wanted him to-he would not be thinking of her good, but only his pleasure.

The tremble was in her face now, and he knew he should stop. If he did not, he would move his hand to her hair, and his face close to hers. This woman, this English who dared to take up Amish ways, turned him inside out.

He brushed the back of his hand across her cheek and moved away from her. "I can take some time away from my work," he said. "Let's go for a walk."

Her eyes brightened, the puddles cleared. "Yes, I would like that."

He heard the faint rattle of a buggy turning down their lane, and his mind rapidly indexed who it might be. The horse's steps were solid, the trot steady. The axle of the buggy creaked. Ike Stutzman almost had not bought the buggy because of that creak.

When the front door opened, Annalise stood up. Rufus rose and turned to see Beth come through the door.

"Oh, good," Beth said, "you're not busy. Daed asked me to come fetch you. He wants your advice about some cabinets in the new house. He wonders if you might be able to repair them."

"Perhaps I could come by later in the afternoon."

Annalise moved out of his peripheral vision, but Rufus forced himself not to glance at her in Beth's presence.

"He was hoping you could come now. If you don't think you can fix them, then he'll tear them out today. He doesn't want any more delay in making the house ready for us to move in."

"Ya, I suppose every day matters. You go on, though. I'll get my tools and bring my own buggy."

"I would be happy to take you." Beth took a step toward him and smiled. "I'd love the company."

"I may need my buggy to go on to a job site anyway." Rufus stepped back. "Let your daed know I'm coming and I'll be right there."

"If you insist."

He let out a sigh when she retreated through the door. When he turned, though, Annalise was not in the room.

Rufus went through the house to the kitchen, where Annalise was washing the tumbler he had carried in.

"I'll come right back," he said. "We'll take that walk."

She shook her head. "I'll just walk back to town. I have some thinking to do." She set the glass in the dish rack.

Rufus regretted not kissing her when he had the chance.

Eighteen.

If he had just kissed her, she would feel better. Annie had not expected Rufus to kiss her, though, because he hardly ever did. Still, if only he had.

Annie hit the button on the cash register and the change drawer kicked open, nudging her just below the ribs. She counted back change to a customer who left happily with a small silver-framed mirror Annie had priced and set out only two hours ago. When Mrs. Weichert returned, she would be pleased to hear of several sales that made the day profitable. Two other couples still lingered in the shop, unusual for a Thursday afternoon. Annie picked up a rag to wipe down an empty shelf before she began bringing knickknacks from the back room to fill it.

Of course Rufus was not interested in Beth. Annie knew that, even if Beth did not. But the undefined nature of her own relationship with Rufus left her feeling uncomfortably exposed. She did not have to be Amish to see that the community would love to see him married-to an Amish woman. Beth Stutzman would be a better Amish wife than Annie could ever hope to be.