I could see Ella’s reflection in the car’s side mirror. As if sensing my gaze, her eyes suddenly met mine, and I knew she was the one who was starting to cry. After wiping away her tears with her fingertips, she gave me an encouraging smile and then followed it by reaching forward, placing a hand on my shoulder, and giving it a squeeze.
Ella could try my patience sometimes, but her heart was good.
Though the rest of the drive was uneventful for us, Sophie received several calls from a patient who seemed to be moving into the first stages of labor. The woman was a month early, and I could see the concern on Sophie’s face as she talked to her over her speaker phone. When we reached Portland, I told her she could just drop us off at the station and go, that we could find our way inside and onto the train ourselves. She did not protest.
Traffic near the entrance was heavy, so she pulled to the curb half a block away and we jumped out, quickly unloading our things onto the sidewalk. After a quick hug and round of goodbyes, she was gone.
Gathering up our belongings from the ground, I was feeling somber and very quiet, but Ella and Zed were the opposite, babbling excitedly about the train trip ahead. We walked toward the station, and as we neared the entrance, I noticed a familiar figure coming toward us from the opposite direction: Silas Yoder.
Growing up, Silas was the kind of boy who had never been any good at baseball or volleyball, but when it came to wilderness-type activities—hunting, fishing, hiking, and camping—he had turned out to be a natural. I had known he would be out here on his own Oregon adventure, so prior to the trip my mother had given his parents our travel dates and times, saying that Silas would be welcome to join us for the return home if things worked out that way for him. I hadn’t expected to see him at all, but now that he had come, I was glad.
“Silas!” I called out, waving.
He looked up, squinting through his glasses, and then he hurried toward us, the pack on his back bouncing up and down as he came. “Ada! Hi! I’m so glad to run into you folks out here. I was afraid I’d have to search the whole station.”
Grinning, we greeted each other, and though Ella and Zed vaguely knew Silas already, I reintroduced them just to be polite.
I had always thought of Silas as the reserved, quiet type, but soon he was acting the very opposite, chatting excitedly about his wilderness adventure and emphasizing his words with broad, sweeping gestures. He kept talking as we all moved into the building, got in line, and checked our bags. As we followed the signs to our gate—Zed and Ella walking ahead and the two of us falling into step behind—Silas’s nonstop chatter continued. He quieted briefly as we found the waiting area and sat down, but then Zed asked Silas if he’d seen any bears while he was hiking, and Silas was off again, telling us a long story about how he’d woken up one morning and come out of his tent to find fresh animal tracks not five feet away from where he’d been sleeping.
“I think they were bear prints,” he told my wide-eyed cousins, “and there’s likely nothing I could have done to protect myself if the animal had decided I’d make a tasty breakfast.”
“You’re so brave,” Ella gushed, but Silas merely shrugged.
“‘Courage is merely fear that’s said its prayers,’” I told them, echoing a proverb familiar to all four of us.
Nodding solemnly, Silas continued the saga of the animal prints and then went on to explain what he would have done if he’d come face-to-face with a bear. I tuned them out after a while, keeping my eyes on the wall clock and the sign that was to tell us when we should head to the tracks.
That time finally came, so we all stood and gathered our belongings and fell in step with the crowd filing toward the door. Our little group of four was separated in the confusion, but we managed to find each other again once we reached the boarding area outside. There, I expected Silas’s chatter to resume, but instead he surprised me by taking my elbow and apologizing for his verbosity, his cheeks blushing a vivid pink.
“It’s just that I’ve been alone for so long, up on Mount Hood,” he explained. “Except for a few polite exchanges with other hikers, I’ve barely spoken to another living soul for more than a week.”
Poor thing, he really did seem embarrassed. “Then it makes perfect sense,” I replied reassuringly. “You have lots of words stored up that just needed to come out somewhere, ya?”
We both chuckled. It struck me that I was relieved to have someone along for the ride home who was closer to my own age. On the trip out I’d had the company of our older chaperones, of course, but they had kept to themselves for most of the trip, barely interacting with us at all. As for Ella and Zed, though they were quite mature for their ages—and I did love them dearly—there was still a big difference between thirteen, sixteen, and twenty-four. Silas seemed older than his twenty-two years, probably because his many travels made him so worldly-wise.
I didn’t explain any of this to him. I simply told him that I was glad he’d been able to wrap up his trip in time so he could join us for the ride home.
“We were hoping you’d make it, but we didn’t think you would,” I added.
“Me either, but I finished early. The trail was in good shape, so that last leg didn’t take nearly as long as I’d thought it would.”
I was about to reply when I heard someone gasp. Startled, I looked up to see an older, well-dressed woman standing nearby, gaping in our direction. Glancing around, I realized a lot of people were watching us, whispering to each other behind their hands, some also openly staring. Though this had happened a lot on our trip out, there hadn’t been as much of it for the past week. In Lexie’s small town, people had been polite enough not to be so obvious, not to mention that practically everyone knew who we were anyway and why we were there. Now that we were back in a more populated area, among strangers, their attention had caught me by surprise, even though I knew it shouldn’t have.
“Welcome back to the zoo, fellow animals,” Silas muttered under his breath. I nodded, and the four of us exchanged knowing glances.
As we stood there stoically waiting for the train, a man sidled over and asked if we were Russian Orthodox. Everyone else within hearing distance seemed to perk up their ears so they could hear our answer as well.
“No,” Silas replied evenly. “She and I are Amish and they are Mennonite.”
The man nodded politely and stepped away, but to my surprise, the woman who had gasped earlier now snickered rudely behind one hand.
I glanced at Silas, who was working his jaw but remained silent. None of us said much after that, not until the train arrived and we had climbed aboard and found four seats together. After putting our things in the overhead racks, Ella and I sat side by side with the boys directly across from us and facing our way. Once we were all settled, we relaxed a bit, putting the incident behind us.
The train pulled out of the station and quickly gathered speed, the city of Portland flying past. Soon we were rumbling alongside the incredible Columbia River Gorge, Silas acting as our own personal tour guide as he pointed out Mt. Hood and Beacon Rock and told us all sorts of interesting facts about the region.
Though he was obviously more familiar with the geography of the area than the three of us were, we all knew what to expect on the trip home, which would be a reverse of the trip out. After crossing Washington and a little ribbon of Idaho, we’d reach West Glacier, Montana, by morning, where Sam and Lizzie would be joining us. After that, we would continue on through the rest of Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Illinois, finally getting to Chicago by tomorrow afternoon. There we would change to a different train and spend our second night passing through Indiana and Ohio, reaching Pittsburgh by the next morning. Then we would change trains one last time for the final six-hour leg across Pennsylvania, all the way to our final destination of Lancaster. We would arrive there in the early afternoon, three days from now.
If our ride home was anything like the trip out, then what remained of our voyage would be by turns f
un, irritating, fascinating, boring, and exhausting. Along the way we would relax in our big, comfy seats in the passenger car, spend hours playing board games in the lounge, eat as inexpensively as possible in the dining car, and try to sleep through the nights back at our seats, which never seemed nearly as comfortable once bedtime rolled around. Still, it was worth all of the trouble, especially when the sun would come up to reveal the vistas outside of rolling plains, city skylines, and endless trees. I wanted to savor every minute of what was left of our trip, but something about moving eastward, toward home, felt completely different than had moving westward, toward Oregon. In a sense, if the ride out had been like one long, extended intake of breath, the return home was its exhale.
I thought about all of this as Ella, Zed, and Silas continued to babble almost nonstop. They seemed so happy, but I continued to grow more melancholy. I was eager to get back, yes, but I was also sorry our trip was ending. Mostly I was afraid to face whatever news awaited me in Pennsylvania, terrified that once I got there I would learn the horrible truth: I wasn’t wanted, wasn’t needed, and wasn’t going to be of any use to the school after all.
At one point Zed asked Ella for her phone so he could show Silas the film he’d made, explaining he’d titled it “Lexie and James Get Hitched.”
Silas laughed, taking the phone in his hand and holding it close to his face so that he could watch the tiny screen. As the movie played, he seemed to enjoy it, laughing in all the right places. Zed’s face beamed with every reaction that Silas gave.
I had never really considered Silas Yoder to be attractive—had never thought to look at him that way at all—but seeing him now, so relaxed and engaged, his ruddy cheeks sporting such a healthy, outdoorsy glow, there was something appealing about him in a brotherly sort of way. He hadn’t joined the church yet either, but from what I’d heard he planned to soon. I couldn’t imagine he’d stay single long after that. His family was wealthy, with enough land still available for parceling out into a second farm, a rarity in our area these days. The rumor among the youth was that once Silas married he would be getting not just the land but a house to go on it as well, which made him a vital marriage prospect indeed.
Rumor also had it that he wanted to court Leah Fisher, though I didn’t imagine he’d make much progress there. Leah had obviously set her sights on Will Gundy, and we all knew Leah Fisher got what she wanted. If Silas pursued her, he would end up in the same boat as I, rejected and alone. Too bad he and I had no interest in each other, at least not in that way. We might have made a good life together—one that could even include travel. But I knew without question that such a union would not include love, and if that were the case, what would be the point? Some of my friends wanted marriage at any cost, but as far as I was concerned, I’d rather grow old all alone, a spinster to my death, than live out life with a man I did not love and who did not love me.
Feeling weary to the bone, I leaned my head against the seat and closed my eyes, glad when it sounded as though the little wedding movie had finally ended and Ella was taking back her phone. Soon my seatmates began to quiet down, leaving me with only the rhythmic rattle of the rails to punctuate my thoughts.
More than anything I wanted a husband, some children, and a home of my own, but I couldn’t imagine anyone other than Will Gundy as the man in that scenario. If that really was not to be, then I would have to learn to fill my life in other ways, with teaching, with serving the community, with caring for my parents as they grew older. Surely God in His wisdom would eventually still the yearnings of my heart and help me find some sort of peace in such a life. Teaching would be the best, first step toward finding that kind of happiness.
Unless even my dream of teaching was not to be. Rumor or truth? If only I could know for sure. When I got home, I would visit Levi Stoltz immediately and find out exactly what was going on and why I had not been given the job he had promised me, if indeed I had not. I was eager to have that conversation and get this whole thing straightened out once and for all. But that couldn’t happen for another two and a half days, so I decided that between now and then all I could really do was to plan out exactly what I would say, enjoy the trip while it lasted, and spend much time on the matter in prayer.
Across from me Silas was busily texting away on his cell phone. Zed and Ella were resting, their heads lying back against their seats. Zed was fast asleep, judging by his snores, though Ella was not. She, too, was texting with someone, though at a much slower pace than Silas, stirring every few minutes to read her screen and type something in response before again closing her eyes. At one point, she held the phone in her lap with its screen facing toward me, and though I knew I shouldn’t, I stole a peek before it went dark. No surprises there. She was communicating with Ezra, her last text declaring that she was “literally counting the hours. LITERALLY!!!” until she would see him again.
Turning my attention back to Silas, I watched him type for a moment, his dirt-stained fingers clumsy on the tiny keys. Eventually he glanced up at me, as if sensing my gaze.
“Someone special?” I teased, gesturing toward the phone.
His face broke into a grin. “How did you know?”
“Your eyes are twinkling.”
He laughed, his cheeks flushing a bright pink. “Ya, I suppose so. It’s Leah. Leah Fisher.”
I gave him a nod and a smile, though I hoped the pity I felt didn’t show on my face. Didn’t he know Leah wasn’t interested in him that way? Didn’t he realize her plan was to become the wife of Will Gundy, the handsome widower with the three adorable, motherless children—and that when it came to what Leah wanted, no other man stood a chance?
Before either of us spoke again, his phone dinged, and when he looked down at the screen, the grin on his face widened. He didn’t bother to share what he read, and suddenly I was feeling quite left out.
“So what’s the news from home?” I asked, wondering if I might be able to interest anyone in taking a walk to the club car soon for a game of Rook or Uno. “Anything earth-shattering take place while we were all away?”
After he finished returning her text, Silas shifted his attention back to me.
“Not sure about anyone else,” he said, “but Leah has big news.”
“Oh?” I asked, something shifting inside my chest. Surely that news wasn’t about her and Will. Couldn’t be. If it was, Silas wouldn’t be sitting here acting so relaxed and happy. “What is it?”
Beside me, Ella got another text. She raised her head and opened her eyes to read it, and then a small moan suddenly escaped from her lips.
“Well?” I pressed Silas, ignoring Ella and her teenage dramatics beside me. “What’s Leah’s big news?”
“Silas, don’t—” Ella began, but he was already speaking again, saying Leah had just gotten a job.
“There was an opening for a new teacher,” he added, glancing at Ella and then back at me.
I nodded, swallowing hard. “And?”
“And she got it.”
“Got it?” I managed to squeak out.
“Yes, the job. She got the job. It’s official. Leah Fisher is the new teacher at Willowcrest School.”
FIVE
Ella gave me a sympathetic look as I excused myself and headed toward the restroom, my heart racing. If Silas had said anyone besides Leah Fisher had been given the job, I wouldn’t have believed it. But I had to be honest, at least with myself. Now I was worried. There was no doubt in my mind that if Leah had wanted this job, it was hers.
As the train rumbled along, I braced myself against the counter in the tiny bathroom and called the phone in the barn at Mamm and Daed’s, leaving a message that everything was fine and I was on my way home, but I had a question for them and could they please call me back as soon as possible.
Ordinarily, of course, they might not even check for messages for several days, but I had a feeling they were keeping a closer eye on the machine while I was gone. I was hoping to hear back from them by nightfall.
In the meantime, the only choice I had was to ignore Ella’s dramatic version of what she thought was compassion and distract everyone from the subject of Leah entirely with some board games in the club car.
That and dinner got us through the rest of the evening, but by the time we were settling back into our seats for the long night, I was frustrated that my parents still hadn’t called. Somehow I managed to fall asleep anyway, and in my dreams the steady click-clack of the rails became the clomping of cows’ hooves against long, wooden walkways that had no end.
After a restless night of tossing and turning and trying to get as horizontal as possible in the angled seat, I was finally awakened in the early dawn by an odd sensation against my hip. As I struggled toward consciousness, I realized that what I was feeling was my phone, vibrating silently in my pocket. Pulling it out, I managed to rise and make my way toward the end of the car as I answered in a hushed whisper. Fortunately, the bathroom was empty, so I slipped inside where I could have a conversation without waking up my fellow passengers.
“What time is it?” I asked softly, closing the door and leaning against the narrow counter, my stocking feet cold on the metal floor.
“Almost eight thirty,” my mother said, which meant it was five thirty here, unless we had already crossed into Mountain time. There was no window in the bathroom, but I could tell from the soft gray glow that had lit my way in here that the sun was just coming up outside.
I removed my kapp and ran a hand over my hair, trying to smooth it into place as best I could. It was no use. I would have to take it all the way down and start over.
My mother was anxious to hear how I was doing, so I assured her everything was fine. Once I felt awake enough to converse coherently, I came right to the point. “I heard Leah Fisher got the teaching job. Is it true?”
“Talk to your father about that,” she said, and then after a moment my daed came on the line.
I repeated the question, pulling bobby pins from my hair as I did, soft blond waves falling loose against my shoulders.
The Amish Nanny Page 5