late," she told him. "She'll be out in a few minutes."
"Thank you. Please tell her I'll wait outside."
A car full of tourists had parked near his buggy. Two children sat in the car playing with some sort of little box. A man and a woman stood beside his buggy, taking photos.
"Oh, look, there's the man who owns the buggy!" the woman said loudly. She started toward Matthew, snapping pictures.
Matthew held up his hand.
"Tiffany, maybe you should stop," the man called to her.
"Oh, I just want a few photos," she told him, continuing to take pictures. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Yes, ma'am, I do mind," he told her. "I would prefer that you not take pictures."
She gaped at him. "I thought that was just something they said. You know, to make you more mysterious, live up to the whole image."
"Image?" Matthew stared at her, confused.
"What, is it like the Indians? You know, how they used to think if someone took a picture that the camera would steal their soul?" The woman snapped her gum as she let her camera drop on a strap around her neck.
"Matthew?"
Glancing back, he saw Jenny walking toward him. "There you are."
Instinctively, he turned his body to shield her from the woman with the camera as he did when he was out with Hannah and the children. Then he remembered that she was used to being photographed. Phoebe had told him it was her job.
He held out his hand to Jenny to help her down the walk.
The woman raised her camera and then paused and stared at Jenny. "Gee, how come you're not wearing your costume?"
"Costume?"
"You know, the Amish dress and hat thing."
Jenny was too polite to roll her eyes. But she wanted to. "I'm not Amish."
"Oh." But the woman aimed the camera at her anyway.
"Ma'am, please don't do that," Jenny said firmly. "You're invading our privacy."
The woman bristled. "Well, you don't have to get snippy about it."
"I'm not," Jenny told her evenly. "I'm simply making a request." She climbed into the buggy.
"Say, you look familiar." The woman peered at Jenny.
"Yes, I'm told that a lot."
Matthew tipped the brim of his hat at the visitors and joined Jenny. As they pulled away, he couldn't help looking back. "She listened to you."
"You just have to use the right tone."
He sighed. "It happens a lot during tourist season. I don't know why they want to take so many pictures. What is it the Englisch find so fascinating about us?"
"I vant to be alone," she said loftily in a bad German accent.
"I apologize, I—"
She laughed and shook her head. "No, it's a quote, something Greta Garbo said."
"I don't know Greta Garbo."
"She was a famous movie star many years ago. She retired at the peak of her career, but people pestered her. So that's what she said. The trouble is, I think the more she wanted to be left alone the more people wanted to approach her."
She tilted her head and studied him. "You know, the fact that Plain People want to be left alone has made others even more curious."
Matthew nodded. "Now we're a tourist attraction."
His tone was so dry she didn't know whether he was being serious or joking. Then he glanced at her and she saw the twinkle in his eyes.
"You know, when I first visited my grandmother it seemed strange to me that she had no photos."
"And what did she say?"
"That not all Amish dislike having their photos taken, but many feel that posing for a picture is an act of pride and it's considered unacceptable."
"Amelia let me take a picture of her," Matthew told her quietly.
"She did?"
"I told her I would never forget her face. But Annie was so small and would never have a memory of her mother. It seemed right to do it. I'll show it to Annie when she's older— the other children, too, if they wish."
Jenny reached over spontaneously to touch his hand, and he turned it over to clasp hers.
"You know how hard it is to lose a mother," he said quietly.
She nodded. "It helped to come here to visit my grandmother after Mom died."
"Perhaps losing your mother and then your
"Thank you. Please tell her I'll wait outside."
A car full of tourists had parked near his buggy. Two children sat in the car playing with some sort of little box. A man and a woman stood beside his buggy, taking photos.
"Oh, look, there's the man who owns the buggy!" the woman said loudly. She started toward Matthew, snapping pictures.
Matthew held up his hand.
"Tiffany, maybe you should stop," the man called to her.
"Oh, I just want a few photos," she told him, continuing to take pictures. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Yes, ma'am, I do mind," he told her. "I would prefer that you not take pictures."
She gaped at him. "I thought that was just something they said. You know, to make you more mysterious, live up to the whole image."
"Image?" Matthew stared at her, confused.
"What, is it like the Indians? You know, how they used to think if someone took a picture that the camera would steal their soul?" The woman snapped her gum as she let her camera drop on a strap around her neck.
"Matthew?"
Glancing back, he saw Jenny walking toward him. "There you are."
Instinctively, he turned his body to shield her from the woman with the camera as he did when he was out with Hannah and the children. Then he remembered that she was used to being photographed. Phoebe had told him it was her job.
He held out his hand to Jenny to help her down the walk.
The woman raised her camera and then paused and stared at Jenny. "Gee, how come you're not wearing your costume?"
"Costume?"
"You know, the Amish dress and hat thing."
Jenny was too polite to roll her eyes. But she wanted to. "I'm not Amish."
"Oh." But the woman aimed the camera at her anyway.
"Ma'am, please don't do that," Jenny said firmly. "You're invading our privacy."
The woman bristled. "Well, you don't have to get snippy about it."
"I'm not," Jenny told her evenly. "I'm simply making a request." She climbed into the buggy.
"Say, you look familiar." The woman peered at Jenny.
"Yes, I'm told that a lot."
Matthew tipped the brim of his hat at the visitors and joined Jenny. As they pulled away, he couldn't help looking back. "She listened to you."
"You just have to use the right tone."
He sighed. "It happens a lot during tourist season. I don't know why they want to take so many pictures. What is it the Englisch find so fascinating about us?"
"I vant to be alone," she said loftily in a bad German accent.
"I apologize, I—"
She laughed and shook her head. "No, it's a quote, something Greta Garbo said."
"I don't know Greta Garbo."
"She was a famous movie star many years ago. She retired at the peak of her career, but people pestered her. So that's what she said. The trouble is, I think the more she wanted to be left alone the more people wanted to approach her."
She tilted her head and studied him. "You know, the fact that Plain People want to be left alone has made others even more curious."
Matthew nodded. "Now we're a tourist attraction."
His tone was so dry she didn't know whether he was being serious or joking. Then he glanced at her and she saw the twinkle in his eyes.
"You know, when I first visited my grandmother it seemed strange to me that she had no photos."
"And what did she say?"
"That not all Amish dislike having their photos taken, but many feel that posing for a picture is an act of pride and it's considered unacceptable."
"Amelia let me take a picture of her," Matthew told her quietly.
"She did?"
"I told her I would never forget her face. But Annie was so small and would never have a memory of her mother. It seemed right to do it. I'll show it to Annie when she's older— the other children, too, if they wish."
Jenny reached over spontaneously to touch his hand, and he turned it over to clasp hers.
"You know how hard it is to lose a mother," he said quietly.
She nodded. "It helped to come here to visit my grandmother after Mom died."
"Perhaps losing your mother and then your
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