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‘It’s incredible that communities like this can still exist in the twenty–first century,’ said Brooke quietly.
‘Actually the Amish are one of the fastest–growing communities in the world,’ said Matt. ‘They marry within other Amish communities and have lots of children.’
‘That’s so … so old fashioned,’ said Brooke.
Matt smiled. ‘Not really. People tend to marry their own kind. Look at you and David. In fact all the way through college you had boyfriends like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘Boys with trust funds and sports cars.’
She blinked at him for a moment, then decided silence would be the best response. She wanted to disagree with him but her ex–boyfriends were of a type. No bad boys or losers. Just a string of Mr Rights. The one time she strayed off the path of nice boys from good f
amilies – with Dr Jeff Daniels, her former tutor who had bowled her over with his suave intelligence – it had ended quickly and badly. Looking back, that relationship had started when she had been in the throes of grief after her father’s death, and he had been in the throes of a mid–life crisis. After that she’d reverted to type. And now she was getting married to David Billington – the prototype rich, successful, all–American male.
They took a right down a quiet dusty road. Finally they passed through a picket–fenced field and into the grounds of a small farm.
‘Matt, we can’t just drive into here,’ Brooke hissed. ‘This isn’t Disneyland, it’s someone’s home!’
‘Relax,’ he said. ‘A friend of mine from Brown, Tom Chance, knows this family. He’s a doctor at a local hospital with an outreach programme for the Amish.
As they got out of the car, a woman came out to greet them. She was dressed in a blue dress with a long full skirt, white apron, and a bonnet. Brooke thought she looked like Kelly McGillis in the film Witness – it was her only reference point for the Amish community.
‘Welcome, Matthew,’ she said with a smile. There was a faint inflection to her accent. German? thought Brooke. Dutch perhaps?
‘Good to see you, Ruth. How’s your little girl?’
‘She’s fine now. Tom is a good doctor. Now who is this?’ she asked, turning her attention to Brooke.
‘Ruth, may I introduce Brooke Asgill? She is an old friend from college.’
‘Friends?’ she said mischievously.
‘Yes, Ruth,’ Matthew said seriously.
‘A man should not be without a wife, Matthew,’ she said. ‘It has been too long for you.’
Brooke watched his cheeks redden and smiled to herself.
‘Okay, okay. Now how about this buggy ride we were talking about?’
The horse and buggy was standing outside a red barn. Ruth climbed into the front seat of the buggy, taking hold of the reins. Brooke and Matt clambered into the seat behind her.
‘Our journey is going to be about three miles,’ said Ruth as she geed the horse into a trot. She turned and gave them a mischievous smile.
As they jogged along, Ruth told them all about her life, using the various landmarks in the valley to illustrate her story. She showed them the simple wood–framed houses of their neighbours where they worshipped on Sundays, and the one–roomed Amish schoolhouses.
Brooke closed her eyes and let the warm spring breeze stroke her face. It was the most pleasant sensation she’d felt in weeks. Simplicity. Anonymity. No one in this valley had any idea who Brooke Asgill was; they had no interest in where she bought her clothes or where she went out to eat. When they pulled up back in front of the farm, Ruth invited them into her large white house. It was simply decorated but the furniture – the long wooden table and dresser – were beautiful. It was scrupulously clean and there was a delicious smell in the air. She gave them a plate of pretzels that were thick, warm, and spicy. Brooke had not tasted pastry this good since she had been skiing in St–Moritz a few years ago. She didn’t mention it as she didn’t know if Ruth would approve of a place like St–Moritz.
‘Do you work, Brooke?’ asked Ruth after a pause.
She nodded. ‘I edit children’s books.’
‘Well, that’s wonderful,’ she smiled. ‘That is a true calling.’
Ruth asked a few questions about life in New York, which seemed to both fascinate and repel her in equal measure, and then Matt gestured that it was time to go.
‘That was great,’ said Brooke as they climbed into the car. ‘I might bring David. You should bring a date. Ruth wants to see you paired off again.’
