“I need you to understand that we don’t have a lot of time. The commission has given us a limited period to solve this matter, and the clock is already ticking. But Alice is not willing to fly, for religious reasons, which means we’ll have to go by boat. I can get us on a cargo ship that leaves New York City on the nineteenth—which is just as well, I suppose, because it’ll probably take that long for your passport to come through—but even once we take off, the transatlantic crossing takes seven days. Then, once we’re in Europe, getting from the port at Le Havre to the village of Wasserdorf will take us two more days. By the time we finally arrive at Amielbach, we will have only five days left to get that title cleared before our deadline is up.”
“And if we can’t make it happen by then?” I asked.
“Then the fight for the waterfall is over. We lose. Frannie loses her land to the Swiss government, Herr Lauten loses the ambience of his inn, and we all lose an important piece of our Anabaptist heritage.”
That was a scary thought. Then again, I couldn’t help but think of what I would lose if I didn’t make this trip: all hope of ever meeting my birth mother.
TEN
Daniel left first, departing in his little white car. As I helped Mammi across Will’s porch, his two-year old twins, Melanie and Matty, came running across the lawn.
“Ada!” Mel yelled. Their little kapps bounced around on their heads and their bare feet were dirty.
At the sight of the two children, Mammi and I paused, smiling. It wouldn’t hurt to take a minute for a quick visit, so I helped Mammi sit down in a chair on the porch, in the shade. By the time I turned back around toward the children, however, I realized my mistake.
Not far behind the twins I spotted Leah Fisher, who was just jumping down from the fence and starting toward us. It appeared she hadn’t joined her family for their reunion in Shippensburg after all. Instead, she had been here, out in the field with Will’s children, more than likely playing a game of hide-and-seek among the rows of Christmas trees.
Behind Leah came Will’s older daughter, Christy. She climbed down from the fence tentatively and then shuffled after her soon-to-be teacher. The preteen seemed short for her age and a little peaked, but at least she looked better than she had in the spring. Her hair was strawberry blond and her skin was fair, with a few freckles sprinkled across her nose.
“Ada,” Leah called out, hurrying her pace. “Welcome home!”
Somehow her apron was still clean, even though she’d been out there running around with the children. A curly lock of chestnut hair had fallen free from the pins that secured her hair, and she swiped at it quickly with her hand. She was cute as a bug, there was no way around it.
“I hoped I’d see you soon,” she added, reaching the lawn and scooping up Mat, who giggled. Mel ran ahead of them, up the stairs, and then flung herself at me. I lifted her and kissed the top of her bonnet. She smelled like soil and warm grass and the sweet sweat of a toddler. I hugged her tightly.
“How was your trip?” Leah was a little out of breath by the time she reached me.
“Good, except for what I lost while I was gone.”
Mammi clucked her tongue at me, but I ignored her.
“Yes, I wanted to talk with you about that,” Leah replied quickly, her cheeks coloring just a bit.
I cocked my head, waiting. I wasn’t going to make this easy for her.
“When they offered me the job, I had no idea you wanted it. I felt horrible when I heard you thought it was yours.” Her green eyes widened as she spoke. “I’m truly sorry.”
I needed to forgive her, but the only way I could do that was by telling myself that this was all part of God’s plan. If He had truly intended for me to get the job, then I would have. It was that simple.
“No matter,” I finally answered. The issue was settled between us.
Then Will came through the kitchen door, and I realized I had much further to go before I would be able to forgive her for the theft of his heart as well.
Seeing her father, Mel squirmed in my arms. I lowered her to the porch, and she bolted toward him. He picked her up as if she weighed no more than a loaf of bread.
“There you are,” Leah said to him, turning on her brightest smile as she stepped closer. He didn’t seem to notice but was instead anxiously scanning the yard in front of him.
“Where’s Christy?” He stepped to the railing.
We all looked out to find her, spotting her under the oak tree, her back toward us.
“I’ll go get her,” Leah said, putting Mat down and heading toward Christy, the twins running after her like two little ducklings following their mother. Watching them all, my heart grew heavy.
“Is your daughter okay?” Mammi asked Will from her perch in the shade.
Moving closer to her, Will nodded and lowered his voice. “Christy had a rough go of it last spring in school, both from being sick and from the loss of her mother. I thought it might do some good for her to spend time with Leah before school started as she’ll be her teacher this year.”
Unaware of the pain his words caused me on several fronts, Will glanced my way, eyebrows raised, as if waiting for my approval. I couldn’t help but picture it: Will confiding in Leah his concerns for his daughter and the two of them coming up with a plan to make this school year a better one for her. Unable to respond, I was relieved when Mammi spoke instead, saying something about how difficult it was for a child to lose her mother but especially so at such a tender age.
We fell silent after that, watching as Leah knelt down beside Christy and they quietly talked, the twins running in circles around them.
“Maybe I should go out there too,” Will said, moving toward the steps.
Unable to bear the sight of such a scene, I began helping Mammi up, saying that we needed to be off. Will hesitated, one hand on the porch railing.
“About the passport,” he said. “Bishop Fisher has given permission for the photos. Alice and I had ours taken at Miller’s Drugstore in Lancaster. They give them to you right there.”
I nodded, saying that I would go tomorrow myself, first thing.
“File at the post office, and make sure and tell them to rush it,” he added. “You should get it in about two weeks.”
Then he continued on down the steps and across the lawn toward his children and the woman who intended to be his wife. My stomach churning, I turned away, eyes blurry with tears as I helped Mammi move toward the buggy.
On the way home she and I were both exhausted, mentally and physically, and we didn’t talk much. In fact, we shared only two brief exchanges the whole way there.
The first was when I asked how I could tell my parents. Mammi replied simply, “You’re going on my behalf, Ada, I should be the one to do it.”
In fact, she didn’t even want me around for the argument we both knew would ensue. Thus we agreed that she would speak with them tomorrow morning while I was out arranging for my passport.
That was the extent of our exchange the rest of the way until we turned into the drive. As we did, I put a hand on Mammi’s arm to gently shake her awake.
“I’m not sleeping, I was praying,” she said, opening her eyes and sitting up straight.
I smiled sympathetically. “About tomorrow’s conversation?”
“No, about Giselle.”
As we drew to a stop near the daadi haus, Mammi suddenly turned to me, eyes filled with pain and regret.
“Promise me something, Ada,” she said, her voice low and urgent.
I nodded. Of course. I would do anything for this woman I loved so much.
“Promise me that before you come home you’ll talk to Giselle about God, about her soul. I don’t expect her to become Plain again, but I need to know that she hasn’t rejected Christ and that she’s managed to make her peace with God.”
I inhaled deeply, knowing the depth of the burden my grandmother had just laid at my feet. Yet on so many levels, how could I refuse? Meeting her eyes, I swa
llowed hard and spoke.
“I promise I’ll try, Mammi,” I said. “If she’s willing to see me, I’ll try.”
The next morning after breakfast I told my parents I had some errands to run and had already hired a driver, a middle-aged woman that we sometimes used. I mentioned I’d be visiting the library but didn’t bring up the passport. I felt guilty for not elaborating further, but as Mammi had said yesterday, it would probably be best if she talked to Mamm and Daed by herself. Just thinking of their conversation—and the fact I was going to have to face my mother upon my return—made me feel sick to my stomach.
Traffic was heavy, as usual, but eventually the driver was dropping me off in front of the Lancaster courthouse, saying she would run some errands of her own and return for me in two hours. As she drove away, I oriented myself and then began walking toward Miller’s Drugstore down the block, not realizing until I got there that it wouldn’t be open for another twenty minutes. I was just settling down on the front step to wait when I heard a voice call out my name. Looking up, I spotted Silas standing at the far curb, waving at me. After a minute, traffic slowed and he darted across the busy street.
“What are you up to, Ada?” he asked, coming toward me with a grin. His straw hat was off kilter, just a little, and he held a large, plastic box in his hands that was empty.
“Killing time until the drugstore opens. How about you?”
“Just made a delivery to the toy store down the street.” Silas’s father had several businesses, including a woodworking shop. “But I’m in no rush to get back. Let’s grab some coffee.”
We went to the café on the corner, the smell of coffee perking me up as I stepped through the door. Choosing a booth near the window, we sat and ordered coffee and biscuits. Though Silas was as chatty as he’d been on the train, something about his demeanor today seemed a little down in the dumps.
“I heard you’re going to Switzerland,” he said after our order came. “With Alice, right?”
My eyes widened. “How did you know that?”
“Leah told me. I saw her yesterday.”
Leah! Of all people! I didn’t understand why Alice had told her, especially this soon, but I could only imagine what might happen next. If word was already out, there was a good chance that Mamm or Daed would hear about it before Mammi even had a chance to talk to them herself. I couldn’t imagine the sort of firestorm that could kick off. Swallowing hard, I prayed that God would keep the lips of our neighbors silent even as He gave Mammi the right words to say as soon as possible.
“She really does feel for you, considering she got the job you wanted,” he said, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.
“What?”
“She hadn’t realized the two of you were competing for the same job.”
I nodded, knowing that was a complete and utter lie.
“She’s sure you must despise her.”
I tilted my head. It wasn’t our way to despise people. “Over the teaching job?”
“And Will.”
I tried to look perplexed, as if I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Come on, Ada, everyone knows Will was interested in you—”
“Silas,” I chided. “No one knew any such thing.”
He gave me a pathetic look and picked up his hat from the table. “Do you realize if you’re all the way over in Europe that there’s nothing to stop the two of them from courting? They could be married before you even get back.”
“Weddings aren’t till November, Silas. You know that.”
“Ya, but Will’s a widower. The bishop can make an exception.”
Silas was right. I swallowed hard, trying not to picture it.
Across from me, he was obviously sick over Leah as well. I felt sorry for him, but I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Just hearing the mention of Will’s name filled me with pain.
It was nearly noon by the time the driver dropped me off at home, plenty late enough for Mammi to have had her conversation with my parents. Stomach churning, I wondered what would happen now as I walked toward the side of the house with my stack of library books, listening intently for the sound of voices, perhaps even yelling. Instead, all was oddly silent. I moved quietly into the backyard, looking around, but saw neither of my parents. No Mamm at the clothesline, no Daed at the tool shed. Nobody anywhere.
Taking a deep breath, I veered off toward the daadi haus, deciding I would go straight to Mammi and find out from her how it had gone.
The moment I stepped inside, I knew that the answer was “not well.”
She was in her chair, eyes red, a handkerchief clutched in her hand.
“Well?” I whispered.
She hugged herself tightly. “It’s done.” Her eyes filled with tears.
Trying not to cry myself, I crossed the room quickly and hugged her. “What did Daed say?”
“Not much, but he wasn’t opposed.”
“And Mamm?”
My grandmother looked away, saying, “She’ll come around eventually.”
I nodded. “Did she bring up Giselle? Is that part of it?”
“Of course it is. But there’s so much more. It’s hard enough being a parent, and harder still when you only have one child. Then that child grows up, and, well…” Her voice trailed off, but I knew what she saying. In more ways than one, my mother did not want to let me go.
But I was going anyway. In more ways than one.
When I left the daadi haus, I spotted Mamm standing out by the flower garden near the windmill, which was completely still. I couldn’t help but move toward her. She didn’t turn or acknowledge me as I approached.
“Mamm,” I said as I walked closer. She held her apron up to her face but lowered it as I stepped in front of her. Seeing that her eyes were red and puffy, a wave of compassion swept over me. “Talk to me,” I said softly.
She took a deep breath. A horsefly buzzed by, and I brushed it away. The heat of the day was heavy.
“Mamm? What are you thinking?”
She looked at me then. “Honestly?”
I nodded.
She pursed her lips together and then said, “That I gave you a continent. Freely, and with love. I thought it would settle this thing inside of you. I gave you a continent, Ada, and how do you repay me? By asking for an ocean.”
Her voice caught on the last word, bringing tears to my eyes as well.
“It’s just a trip. I’ll be back.”
“What if you don’t?”
“Don’t?”
“Come back. What if you don’t come back at all?” She shook her head. “You don’t know Giselle the way I do, Ada. She’ll wrap you around her finger as tight as a thread. What if she wants you to stay with her in Switzerland?”
That was ridiculous. Of course I would come back. “There’s no reason I would stay,” I said. “And why would she want me to anyway?”
“Oh, she’ll come up with something, I’m sure.”
“Mamm, I don’t know if she wants me to come or if she’ll even agree to see me once I’m there. I’ll have Zed email her to let her know about the trip, but beyond that, there’s a good chance I won’t have much interaction with her. It’s really up to her.”
We were silent for a moment as my words hung there between us.
“What if you get sick?” she ventured. “What if your health takes a turn and you’re in the middle of the ocean somewhere?”
“My health is good, Mamm. It’s very, very good. You must see that. You must be able to look at me and know I’m not like I was. Not at all. Not anymore.”
My words were so emphatic she didn’t even reply. Again, we were quiet for a long moment.
“I wonder what Marta would say about this,” she said finally.
“She’d probably be all for it,” I answered. Considering that my taking this trip would save Aunt Marta from having to go herself, I had a feeling she’d be thrilled. “I thought I might go over there later to talk to Zed about emai
ling. I can speak with Aunt Marta too.”
“Go this evening. I’ll go with you.” Mamm let go of her apron and brushed it straight. “Maybe she can talk some sense into you.”
I bit my lip, hoping Mammi had made it clear to my mother that this trip was already a done deal. The wheels had been put into motion whether Mamm liked it or not.
Of course, it wouldn’t help matters for me to remind her of that now. Instead, with a final pat on her arm, I said, “Maybe so.”
Then I turned and walked away.
ELEVEN
Aunt Marta ended up talking sense into both of us as we sat in her tiny living room. Zed was in the even smaller dining room, at the computer, emailing Giselle. Ella was off babysitting for a neighbor, which I knew because she’d sent me a text earlier. Since the trip she’d been keeping me updated about her life regularly, no matter how trivial. I didn’t mind, most of the time.
“Maybe Giselle has changed.” Aunt Marta looked from my mother to me. “Or maybe she hasn’t. I actually think it’s a good thing you’re going, Ada. Someone in our family needs to connect with her.” She turned back to Mamm. “And honestly, Klara, why do you think Giselle would want Ada to stay? I think you’re letting your fears get the best of you.”
Of course I agreed but didn’t say so now.
“Got one!” Zed called out from the dining room.
“From Giselle?” I was on my feet before I realized I shouldn’t react so enthusiastically. Forcing myself to move far more slowly than I wanted to, I walked to the dining room.
“No. From Herr Lauten.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t realized Zed had emailed him too.
“He says he just wants you and Alice to know how thankful he is you are coming. Not only will you save an important historical site, but you’ll also be saving his home as well. He said he’s spent the last year renovating Amielbach with an eye toward turning it back into an inn.”
“I thought it already was an inn,” I said. “That’s what Lexie told me, last spring.”
“I thought so too,” Zed said, growing quiet as he read the words on the screen. “Looks like a long time ago it used to be a boarding house, but that hasn’t been the case for years. He says now that he’s retired, he’s decided to turn it into an inn and make it a lot fancier. Says he’s been renovating for a whole year.” Zed skimmed some more and then added, “Poor guy. Sounds like he’s really been going all out, but with a hydro plant next door to destroy the peaceful setting and the beautiful view, an inn would be doomed before it ever opened.”
The Amish Nanny Page 11