"Are you visiting Colorado Springs?" She shook Randy's hand awkwardly and stepped away from her family. Thankfully, they continued greeting other people down the aisle, and would not hear her awkward fumbling.

"I live here now," he said. "New job." He named a technology firm she knew well and pulled out a business card.

"Oh. The Springs is a beautiful place to live." She could not help looking at the fingers of his left hand. No ring. She hated that she did that.

He nodded. "You look beautiful yourself."

Annie flushed and moved one hand down the silky skirt. Randy Sawyer had never needed a silk dress to want to kiss her- and much more. She moistened her lips, unsure what to say next. The crowd thinned around them.

"I've heard that you've done quite well since college." Randy put one hand in a pocket.

Annie nodded. Randy did not seem nearly as unnerved by this encounter as she was. Had he selectively forgotten their frequent furtive quests to find some place on campus to be alone, and what they had done when they found those places?

"I read that you sold your business last year," he said, "but I lost track of what you went on to next."

She lifted her shoulders slightly. "I'm slowing down. Trying to enjoy life."

He smiled. "If the reports I heard are anywhere close to true, you should be able to enjoy life quite comfortably."

She had no response. What was she supposed to say? I gave away my fortune and despite what this dress might imply, I'm thinking of becoming Amish?

"Annie," he said, "I want you to know that I've grown up since college. I know we didn't always make the best choices in our relationship, and I'm sorry."

She put her hands up, palms out. "We made those choices together."

He nodded. "It's good to see you, Annie. Be happy." He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

Buried sensations stirred. Annie's breath caught as she watched her first love turn and walk up the aisle of the church. She closed her fingers over his card.

Rufus sank into the Adirondack chair on the front porch, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. The spring mountain air heralded late-afternoon rain. If a storm rolled through, Rufus wanted to be right in that spot to watch it. The porch was deep enough and the overhang broad enough to keep storm watchers dry.

He opened his eyes to conduct his daily study of vegetation on the slopes of the Sangre de Cristos. Evergreens and snow kept shifting colors on the mountains all winter long, but rushing weeks of spring left pale green hues that Rufus waited for all year. On the Sabbath, with the worship service and shared meal finished, he could sit as long as he liked breathing in the fragrance of a new season.

Rufus grimaced slightly at the sound of the front door opening behind him. Clattering footsteps meant at least some Stutzmans were among the entourage about to burst into his peace. Rufus was still getting used to the added commotion in the house.

His mother appeared-and right behind her Beth and Johanna Stutzman.

"There is a singing tonight, ya?" Franey looked at her son expectantly.

"Ya, Mamm. At the Millers'."

"Gut. It will be a good time for the Stutzmans to get to know other young people."

Beth pushed past her sister. "I would love to go. It would be the first singing in our new community."

"I'm sure you would be welcome," Rufus said.

"Then it's settled," Franey said. "Rufus will take you in the big buggy."

Rufus startled and sat up a little straighter. He felt too old for the biweekly singings and seldom went. His mother knew that. More than a year had passed since his last time.

Before Annalise.

Franey began to count on her fingers. "Rufus, Beth, Johanna, Essie, Lydia, Sophie, Joel, Mark, Luke. You'll need both buggies. Joel can drive the smaller one with the boys and you can take the larger one with the girls."

Rufus blinked blandly, seeing no gracious way out of this. "I suppose we should plan to leave about five."

Franey and Johanna withdrew into the house. Beth settled into the chair beside Rufus. "This will be the first singing ever for Mark and Luke. Perhaps they are too young to think of pairing off, but they can at least meet some of the other boys."

Rufus refrained from pointing out that the other boys would be older than Beth's brothers, as would the girls. He supposed it could not hurt for all the Stutzman children to at least learn the names of others they would worship with every two weeks.

"I didn't know it would be so beautiful in Colorado." Beth's eyes were on the mountains.

"It's a different kind of beautiful than Pennsylvania."

"I think it's spectacular. It's a wonderful place for a new settlement."

Beth's face glowed with enthusiasm. Rufus wondered whether to believe her.

"We've had to learn to farm differently," he said.

"Of course it will be hard work." Beth nodded earnestly. "But the land is beautiful, and my parents are so pleased that they will be able to help Mark and Luke have property of their own when the time comes. I hope my brothers can find something half as beautiful as your land."

Rufus was not blind. Beth was the prettiest of the Stutzman sisters. Not a hair was out of place on Beth's head. Her kapp perched perfectly, and her clear eyes and rosy complexion brightened any room she entered. She also was an expert quilter and had prepared last night's dinner for fourteen all on her own. More than once his mother had mentioned in Rufus's hearing how helpful Beth was around the house while her family stayed there, which was high praise for only two days' time.

He knew his mother liked Annalise, but did she think he did not have it in him to choose her over an Amish girl? Whatever she was afraid of, pushing Beth Stutzman on him was not the answer.

A vocalist and a four-piece band all crowded onto a small performance stage in one corner of the restaurant.

Ruth Beiler's heart pounded harder than the beat of the music. She was in a restaurant on the Sabbath.

Lauren took her to a small artsy restaurant downtown, which somehow increased Ruth's sense of guilt. Twice already Lauren had been mistaken for a soldier by people eager to thank her for her service to their country. Lauren was quick to explain that wearing fatigues was her way of showing support for her father and her brother, but she basked in conversation about the military with anyone. Ruth hoped Lauren's family members would be safe, but beyond that she hardly knew what to say. Her family never spoke of the military, and Lauren seemed to speak a language foreign to Ruth. Munitions and weaponry and incendiaries and military acronyms and abbreviations.

"See? Isn't this better than being stuck in the dorm?" Lauren stabbed her blackened trout and moved an ambitious bite toward her mouth.

Ruth let out her breath and smiled. Sabbath or not, she was here. She might as well enjoy it.

When Ruth ordered a salad, she expected a modest bowl of greens. Instead she faced a plate heaped with fresh spinach, red peppers, feta cheese, and grilled salmon.

And she liked it. Her fork crunched through a pepper slice and into four spinach leaves. As Ruth lifted it to her mouth, she wondered how difficult it was to grow spinach in Colorado. Ruth knew she could buy fresh spinach at dozens of grocery stores or farmers' markets in Colorado Springs. Still, the ingrained question of growing her own food, as her family always had, popped up at odd moments. Perhaps someday she would live in a place where she could serve as a nurse and still grow vegetables. She missed her mother's garden.

"I know you take the bus around town," Lauren said. "You could borrow my car if you ever get in a jam."

Ruth swallowed hard. "Thank you, but I don't have a license."

"No license?"

"I do have a permit." Ruth savored the tang of vinaigrette on her tongue. "A friend at work was teaching me, but her husband got transferred to Kansas City."

"Well, we'll work on that starting tonight. You can drive home."

Ruth inhaled. "No. I would be too nervous. I've never driven in the dark."

"Everyone has to learn to drive at night." Lauren maneuvered her fork with one hand and tapped the other on the tabletop in rhythm with the band's beat.

Their conversation dangled as the music's presence filled the room. Ruth realized she was tapping a foot. The music, a ballad of lost love, tugged its soft beat out of her. She watched the drummer, and her foot met his tempo. The vocalist sang with her eyes closed and a fist over her heart, as if she were singing her own heartbreak.

Ruth thought of the words in Elijah's letter, the most candid of all the letters so far. So far. How could she consider continuing this correspondence? She would surely break his heart.

Again.

Ten.

You're going out?" Two days later, Annie set the last of the lunch dishes in the sink and looked at her sister.

"I'll be back before dinner." Penny took a set of keys off a hook. "Mom said she couldn't get out of her committee meeting, but Mrs. Metzger is picking her up. I figure I can use her car."

"To do what?"

"Gonna catch up with Mahalia. She has the scoop on everybody from high school."

"Oh. Okay." Annie had not thought she would find a moment alone during this visit. Suddenly the afternoon yawned wide.

"It's already Tuesday. My visit will be over before I blink twice. I'd better grab the chance while I have it." The keys jangled in Penny's hand. "Did you want to go somewhere? There's always your car."

"I don't drive it. You know that. It's up on blocks."

"Nope. It's in the garage right next to Mom's."

"But the tires are probably low on air."

"They looked fine to me."

Penny led the way into the garage, pressed the button to lift the garage door, and got in the new silver Toyota. Annie waved as Penny backed out. Annie's blue Prius was indeed in the garage. When had her father taken it off the lifts and filled the tires?

Back in the kitchen, Annie stared at the lone key still on its hook.

Rufus dipped his brush in the paint and stroked a muted seafoam shade onto the trim around an interior door.

"Did anybody talk to Elijah Capp?"

The sonorous voice of the bishop rose above the hum of people working to get the house ready for the Stutzmans to inhabit. Rufus glanced around the dining room, where three young Amish men were painting walls. They did not interrupt their rhythms. Rufus leaned around a ladder to see Bishop Troyer standing in the living room with his sleeves rolled up and his thumbs hooked in his suspenders.

"Elijah is coming this afternoon," someone finally said. "He doesn't think it will take very long to do the conversions. Not more than two days."

The bishop nodded. Rufus dipped his brush again. With a crew of a dozen Amish men, the painting progressed swiftly. Rufus had set aside his own work for the day, as had all the others. This sacrifice meant the Stutzmans would be in their own home soon and not living among a deluge of paint cans, ladders, and spackle tools.

Rufus glanced around. Where was Joel? he wondered. Joel was supposed to come down as soon as he and Jacob looked after the animals.

And what about Mark and Luke? This was to be their home, but they were nowhere in sight.

Neither Eli nor Ike had said anything about their missing sons, but Rufus could not help watching the pair of fathers closely for signs that they noticed the absence of the boys as the morning wore on. The women would come with lunch soon.

"I hear Elijah is eager to take up with the English on their project to make a park."

On the surface, Old Ezra's words were a simple remark, but Rufus heard their meaning.

"The project has merit." Eli Beiler wiped paint off the side of his hand.

"Bah!" Ike had his mind made up. "Ezra is right. It is an English project."

"It doesn't have to be."

Rufus smiled slightly at his father's persistence. Eli could be every bit as stubborn as Ike.

Gideon and Joshua stopped their brushes and turned toward the conversation. From across the room, Samuel and Levi did the same. Opinions rushed through the discussion.

"We should mind our own business."

"They invited us to help. We will offend if we don't."

"They do not yet understand what it means that we live apart and have nothing to do with the English ways."

"We'll be using the land. Why should we not help care for it?"

"We use it only if we choose to. We can choose not to."

"I still say we should mind our own business. That is our way."

"That land is right between several Amish farms. Of course they want our cooperation."

"No need to be uncharitable."

"Who is in charge, anyway?"

"So far, it is just talk. No one is named as leader."

Rufus dipped his brush yet again and continued working on the trim.

"The word in town is that Karl Kramer wants to have a hand in it," Old Ezra said.