Almost Amish (5 page)

The old familiar pressure clamped across Julie’s shoulders.

Susan kept talking. “Even the UC schools today—the competition is incredible. I read UC Santa Barbara had almost forty-five thousand applications this year for less than four thousand spots. It’s even worse for UCLA. Of course, Ivy League has always been our goal for Angie.” Susan fanned herself with her left hand. “It is hot here, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is.” Julie stopped. “Won’t that be . . . awfully expensive? I mean, with the divorce . . .”

“It’s what we’d always planned for her, long before James went into his second childhood. Besides, part of our settlement was that James would pay for college.” She raised both eyebrows. “I wonder what his new bride will think about paying for four years at Princeton? Maybe it’ll make her wonder what she was doing messing around with a married man.” Her voice caught on the last couple of words.

A clattering sound came from behind them. Julie turned just in time to see the kids emerging from the house, the screen door slamming behind them. Susan called out, “Hey, careful! We don’t want to break anything on our first day.”

“Our first day and our last.” Whitney came to a stop in front of Julie, arms folded. “They lied to us.”

Julie did not like the sound of that. “What happened?”

“Ask her.” Whitney pointed behind them as Kendra emerged from the farmhouse.

Kendra had the indulgent look that said she clearly thought whatever the kids were talking about was of little significance. She glided over to the group. “The kids are all a bit upset about their wardrobe.”

“Wardrobe?” Julie asked.

“They’ve confiscated our suitcases and filled our closets with a bunch of
Little House on the Prairie
hand-me-downs. Mom, do you have any idea how ridiculous we’ll look wearing this?” Angie’s eyes were moist with indignant anger. Since Angie was usually shy, to the point of almost painful quietness, for her to speak up this way spoke volumes about just how upset she was.

This was Susan’s deal, so Julie waited for her to address this issue. And she waited. And waited, well past the point where the silence had grown long and uncomfortable. Susan’s eyes were narrowed in concentration, as if she were trying to decide something, but she still didn’t speak.

Finally, Kendra said, “I just tried to explain to the kids that those are not Amish clothes hanging in their closet. Amish wear solid dark colors. Your girls have floral skirts and puffed-sleeved blouses that the Amish would never allow.”

“Mom, those skirts are down to our ankles, and they’re gathered all around. We’ll look like we weigh an extra fifty pounds in those things.” Whitney chimed in this time. “And I won’t even mention the complete lack of style.”

Since Whitney was stick thin, Julie doubted the first argument was terribly valid. Given the fact that her idea of style usually involved athletic shorts, T-shirts, and tennis shoes, Julie couldn’t help but smile at the second assertion.

“The point is”—Kendra kept her focus on Susan—“that even though this is not the week of true Amish dress, if our show is about your family attempting something close to this lifestyle, we can’t have the girls running around in California summer apparel. Simple living means a simpler wardrobe. I don’t think people will want to see them in tank tops and short shorts. It will totally fly against what this whole experiment is about.”

“Can I see the clothes in question, please?” Finally, Susan joined the conversation and started toward the house, soon followed by the others.

Brian walked up beside Julie and whispered, “Did you hear her say they took our suitcases? That includes my telescope.”

Once again, Julie found herself wishing Thomas were here. He was so much better at dealing with situations like this. But he wasn’t here, and Brian needed her help. She jogged forward to catch up with Kendra. “What about Brian’s telescope? It was part of the agreement.”

“You shipped his telescope ahead. Remember?” Kendra’s superior attitude grated against Julie’s nerves. “The box is in the shed at the back of the property—we decided that would be convenient for Brian’s stargazing yet out of the way of the cameras.”

“We shipped the
reflector
scope ahead, the bigger one”—Brian said this in a tone that left no doubt he thought Kendra was a complete idiot—“but I brought a
refractor
scope with me. I want to keep it in my room.”

“So you’re telling me there was another telescope in the bags that Chris took?” Kendra rolled her eyes.

“Yes, it was a black hard case, and I carried it all the way up the driveway with me.”

Kendra pulled a small walkie-talkie from her belt. It beeped when she pushed the button. “Chris, where’d you put the Charltons’ bags?”

Seconds later, another beep was followed by Chris’s voice. “I locked them in the storage trailer.”

“I need you to retrieve the black hard case and bring it to the farmhouse.”

“What about our personal things?” Julie knew the kids were nearing meltdown, and she was going to help them if she could. “There are some things in our bags that we need.” She thought about the family pictures she’d brought from home, the note Thomas had written to send her off.

“Your wardrobe has been provided.”

“Well, I want my medicated face wash, and I want my own underwear.” Whitney turned toward Julie. “Honestly, Mom, we did not agree to this.”

Julie looked at Kendra. “She’s right. The kids . . . and Susan and I . . . need some of our own things. We did not sign up to do
Survivor.
There is no million-dollar prize here, and I see no reason why we can’t live simply, yet still have some of our own personal things.”

Kendra glared at her long and hard. Without ever changing her expression, she lifted the walkie-talkie again. “Bring the rest of the bags, too.” She looked at Susan. “I’ll give everyone five minutes to get any necessities from their bags.” Then she turned back toward Julie. “
Necessities
only.”

“In five minutes, we can dump out our entire bags. We’ll get our stuff, one way or the other.” Julie barely heard Whitney’s whisper and Angie’s answering snicker.

She started to turn around and tell the girls that this type of defiance was not acceptable, but something held her back. In fact, she decided that maybe she agreed with Whitney. Five minutes was plenty of time. She smiled as she followed Kendra and Susan into the farmhouse.

The air inside the house was hot and hung thick with the odor of dust, decay, and neglect. Susan sneezed several times, which only drew more of the musty, stale heat into her lungs.

“It’s still a bit warm in here.” Kendra fanned herself. “We just turned on the air-conditioning units this afternoon. There are three window units in the house, but they’re rather small and the house is a bit drafty. I think it will take them a while to catch up.”

Susan nodded, still trying to catch her breath. They entered into what she assumed was the living room. It was a fairly large area, with a stone fireplace on one end and the door to the kitchen on the other. The wood floors were old and scarred and dusty. In fact, the whole place was grimy. There were cobwebs in the corners. The white lace curtains were yellowed at the tops and bottoms. The only thing that didn’t look as if it might fall apart was the furniture. Rustic, no doubt, but not crumbling. She looked toward Kendra. “I wasn’t expecting the place to be so . . . dirty.”

Kendra touched a yellowed wall and nodded. “No one has lived in this house in several years. A well-known record producer in Nashville bought it a few months ago, thinking he might do something with the place someday. One of his friends on our production staff knew about it, so when the idea for this particular segment was born it was a win-win. We gain, for free, the perfect place to film, and he gets the benefit of some much-needed maintenance on his place.”

She touched the kitchen table, which was simple and looked as if it had come from a secondhand store. “We did take out all the old furniture and replaced it with something a bit more Amish looking, but we decided to leave the cleaning to you. Amish people are known for keeping their homes spotless, you know. This will be a good test for your family, to see how well you can actually pull all this off. Our second segment will be about the Amish home, complete with before and after pictures.”

The earlier conversation still rang through Susan’s mind. Failure here meant failure at everything she had left. She could almost see the smug expression on
her
face, could almost hear the “no wonder he left her” whispered amongst
her
group of not-yet-thirty friends. That couldn’t happen. She would make this a success if it killed her, and if making this place clean was what it took to be the best almost-Amish person possible, then no one in this house would rest until it was spotless. She began mentally forming a to-do list.

Julie walked into the bedroom that Whitney and Angie would share. The two beds were covered with simple quilts, one eggshell blue and the other a soft apricot, and each had an antique-looking cedar chest at the foot. So pretty and quaint. She made her way over to the closet, prepared to calm the situation as quickly as possible.

Whitney held the door open, tapping her foot and waiting. “See what I mean?”

Julie looked into the closet, giving her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light. Then, in spite of her best efforts at being the adult, setting the good example, she began to giggle. Then laugh. Then all-out guffaw.

“What’s so funny?” Susan came into the room, followed closely by an obviously annoyed Kendra.

“Uh, well . . .” Julie shrugged, and her embarrassment at being caught quickly squelched the laughter. She pulled a skirt and shirt from the closet and held them up to show Susan, ready for her take-charge sister-in-law to handle this situation.

Susan reached out to touch the tan muslin skirt with brown and white flowers and the beige cotton blouse. She cut her eyes nervously toward Kendra, then back at the clothes. “These certainly are a bit . . . dated . . . but, Kendra, I understand your point.” She stood in place, nodded silently a couple of times, then said, “I don’t really see a problem with these. I’m sure the kids will adjust soon enough.”

Julie looked at her, searching for a trace of the sister-in-law that she’d known for the last eighteen years, the one who never backed down, never placated. “So you’re okay with this?”

Susan nodded crisply, once again cutting her eyes in the general direction of Kendra. “I think it will be good for the girls.”

Julie looked at the gathered skirt in her hand, knowing how Whitney and Angie felt about them, having at least some clue what it would mean to them in a social sense, then looked back at Susan. Was this really the same woman who when Angie had felt self-conscious about her bunny costume for the fifth-grade play had taken it to a tailor to have it fitted into something more flattering, albeit less bunny-like?

Julie wasn’t sure how this would be “good” for the girls, but could see how it might be embarrassing. Still, it wasn’t a stand she wanted to make. Part of this summer was about helping Susan, and it wouldn’t hurt the kids to make a few sacrifices to help out their aunt and mother. Still, she hoped this would not go much further.

“Well, I’ve got collared shirts and blue pants, and you don’t hear me whining about it.” Brian walked over and dropped down on the closest twin bed. “Coolness is a state of mind, not the clothes you wear.”

“And you would know that, how?” Whitney folded her arms and leaned against the wall, glaring at her brother.

“I’ve got the stuff.” Chris came into the room, leaving a pile of luggage behind in the hallway. “I believe these two go in here.” He set the girls’ duffels inside the room, then went out for another load.

Whitney dove across the room to reach her bag. “Everybody clear some space. If we’ve got a limited timeframe; we need some room to move in here.” She yanked open the zipper and started rummaging.

“Here you go, sport.” Chris brought Brian the telescope case. “I’ll bet you’ll see some really sick stars this far out of the city.”

Brian’s face lit up at the validation from an older and cooler boy. “Yeah, I think so, too. You want to check it out sometime?”

“Chris, you know the rules about talking to the families.” Kendra scowled from the doorway. “Now everyone take out any
necessities,
then bring your bags back down to the porch and Chris will take them away. You have five minutes, and it started ten seconds ago.” She looked at the silver watch on her wrist, as if to emphasize the point.

“Okay, girls, I’ll leave you to pick your things. I’ve got a few necessities I need to get out of my bag, too.” Julie grabbed her rolling suitcase and made her way to her own room. There was a pine-framed double bed with a green-and-brown quilt, a simple bedside table, a sad, small, worn dresser, and the closet door. Curious as to what her own wardrobe might entail, Julie opened the door to see essentially the same thing she’d seen in the girls’ closet, just a few sizes larger. Blah. She didn’t relish the thought of walking around looking like Mother Hubbard either, but in some ways, it was less embarrassing than today’s clingy styles.