The Amish Nanny

by Mindy Starns Clark

  Daniel nodded in agreement, whispering to me that he’d visited here last summer and found lots of helpful information.

  We passed various classrooms as we circled around the building and finally ended up in the sanctuary. The pews were clean and polished, and I ran my hand along the back of one as the guide explained that the pastor preached in Swiss German, although some of the hymns were in High German. She went on to say that in 1947 the church officially joined the state church of the canton of Bern so they wouldn’t have to pay taxes. Daniel met my eyes. It seemed we both caught the irony of the decision, and I was sure Alice and George did too. The early Anabaptists had suffered greatly to separate themselves from the state. Now, it seemed, this church had willingly joined back up for financial reasons. None of us said a word, but my heart felt heavy just thinking about it.

  As the guide continued on with the history of the church, Alice moved toward a back pew and sat. She was pale and tired looking, and I wondered if the tour had been too much for her after our long morning at the lawyer’s office. I walked over to her, but just as I got there she stood and whispered that she needed some fresh air. She began moving toward the door, so I went with her and Christy followed as well.

  Outside, the three of us sat on a bench near the building’s entrance, the afternoon sun warm on our faces. At first I thought Alice was reaching for something because her movement was so graceful, but by the time she hit the cobblestones, I realized she had fallen.

  “Go get help!” I commanded Christy, kneeling beside Alice. She was unconscious. I put my fingertips to the side of her throat, searching for a pulse.

  “Christy?” I turned toward the child. She was frozen to the bench. “Go!” I urged, but she didn’t move.

  Once I found her pulse, I sprang to my feet, calling for help as I ran, pushing through the door and running toward the sanctuary. “Alice fell!” I shouted.

  Daniel tore past me and out the door, reaching Alice first. Then came George. The guide stopped a few feet away, saw what was happening, and ran back inside, I hoped to call for an ambulance.

  Through it all, Christy remained frozen on the bench, her hands tightly gripping the edge.

  Daniel and I knelt down on each side of Alice, who was still unconscious.

  “Alice,” I said, gently shaking her by the shoulder. “Can you hear me?”

  Her legs moved a little and then her hand. I reached for it. She opened her eyes.

  “What happened?” She turned her head toward me.

  “You fainted.”

  “Oh, dear.” She tried to push up on her elbow, but Daniel told her to stay still.

  “Where’s Christy?” she rasped.

  “Right here, on the bench,” I said. Turning, I motioned for Christy to come to her great-grandmother, but she shook her head and wouldn’t even look at us.

  Alice insisted on sitting up, but when she did her face grew ashen and she held her arm in a funny way.

  “Put your head back down,” George said, rolling his jacket and putting it under her neck as Daniel and I helped lower her again.

  The tour guide returned. “I called for a Krankenwagon. It’s on its way.”

  “Did you hear that, Alice?” Daniel said, patting her good hand. “The ambulance is coming.”

  “Oh, please. I don’t need that. I bruised my arm, that’s all.”

  “Just lie quietly,” I said, hoping she was just tired from traveling but afraid it was something more.

  Christy stayed statue still on the bench as the rest of us tried to make Alice more comfortable. I thought of the last time an ambulance had come for someone Christy loved. It was the middle of the night. Had she been awake and downstairs? Looking out her bedroom window?

  The guide went back into the church and returned with a blanket.

  The Swiss equivalent of EMTs arrived, examined Alice, and then readied her for transport to the hospital. Daniel rode in the ambulance with her so he could communicate with the paramedics, although it seemed that they all spoke at least some English. George was trying to figure out the fastest way to get the rest of us to the hospital when the tour guide offered to drive us over in her car.

  On the way I sat with Christy in the tiny back seat and tried to comfort her. But she was acting as stoic as an old woman, looking straight ahead and telling me she was fine. Closing my eyes, all I could do was pray for her and for Alice, begging God to let them both be all right.

  TWENTY-THREE

  By mid afternoon, the doctor joined us in the waiting room. “There are two things of concern,” he said in near-perfect English. “First, she has broken her arm. It’s a clean break but still very painful. We will cast it. But the more serious issue is that she has congestive heart failure.”

  “Failure?” I gasped, glancing toward Christy and lowering my voice. “Alice’s heart is going to fail?” I was glad to see that the girl was on the other side of the room, watching TV.

  “It is a chronic, long-term condition. The heart can no longer pump enough blood to the rest of the body, which in Alice’s case has caused congestion to build up in her lungs. We are working on reducing her fluid levels. They need to come down before she can travel home.”

  “How long will that take?” I asked.

  He hesitated. “It is difficult to say. A few days. Maybe longer.”

  I looked at Daniel and then back at the doctor, processing that.

  “I’m sorry doctor, but by home, do you mean the place we’re staying while we’re here? Or are you talking about her home in America?”

  The doctor looked confused, so Daniel explained that we were staying locally for a week, at which point we’d be taking a cargo ship back to the States, where we lived.

  “Oh,” the doctor replied, looking surprised I had even asked. “I am sorry, but right now it is unsafe for her to fly, much less get on a ship. You must alter the plans for your return entirely. We will stabilize her and reduce her fluid levels, but once she is released she will need to stay somewhere locally for another day or two, just to be safe. After that, you can see about getting her back to the U.S.—but via airplane and absolutely not on a cargo ship.”

  Ignoring the disdain in his voice at the last two words, I said I understood and we would take care of it. More than anything, I needed to talk to Will as soon as possible.

  Daniel asked if Alice should be transferred to a larger hospital, maybe in Bern.

  “That’s up to you, but we’re well equipped to deal with this. It’s quite common, especially in elderly patients. We can stabilize her so she can get home. Then her own doctor can take over any long-term care.”

  “When can we see her?” My eyes were on Christy as I asked.

  “In an hour or so, but for only a short time.”

  After the doctor left, George, Daniel, and I spoke softly. I said I would leave a message for Will, and George said he would rent a car. That way, he could get us back and forth to the hospital as needed. Oskar had given us a lift into Langnau that morning, but we couldn’t expect him to keep shuttling us around. At least a rental would be cheaper and more convenient than hiring a van and driver every time.

  Daniel asked how we were handling the hospital expenses, and I told him about the conversation George and I had had with the admissions office when we first arrived. With George’s help as translator—which had left a lot to be desired, compared to how Daniel would have handled it—I had tried to explain to the woman there that the Amish usually paid for their medical expenses in cash, but that when the cost was catastrophic, we used a faith-based type of community insurance that would cover expenses above and beyond what we could handle. The woman had never heard of such a thing, but she’d admitted Alice anyway, telling us to round up the necessary documentation and get it back to her as soon as possible. Obviously, Will was going to have to find out how Church Aid worked when the patient was in another country and then fax over whatever paperwork he could.

  “What are you going to tell Christ
y?” Daniel whispered.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I think I’ll just tell her about the broken arm and say that Alice will be in the hospital for a while.” Figuring out what a child needed was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I hoped Will would have some ideas for me.

  I opened my purse and pulled the folded piece of paper with emergency numbers on it, including the one for the Gundy farm. I felt grateful that Mamm had compiled the list and insisted I take it.

  Because Christy and I wouldn’t be able to see Alice for at least an hour, I’d go ahead and call Will. It was 3:30 p.m. here, which meant it was 9:30 in the morning back home.

  “I can call the main office of the nursery. They’ll know where he is,” I said, adding I would get some change and find a pay phone.

  “No, use my satellite phone,” George told me, handing it over. “If you have to leave a message for him to call back, just give that number.” He grabbed a pen from his pocket and wrote it out at the bottom of my phone list. “I can always use the phone at the front desk to make the car arrangements.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be right back, then.” Moving down the hall so I could speak privately, I found a quiet alcove beside a water fountain and dialed the Gundys’ farm. I’d expected someone to pick up, but instead it went to a machine, so I left a brief message for Will saying Alice was going to be all right but that she was in the hospital in Langnau, and I needed him to call me as soon as he received this message. I read out the number for George’s phone and then hung up.

  George arranged for the car, which he and Daniel would pick up at a hotel a few blocks away. Once they headed out to do that, I asked Christy if she’d like to go to the hospital cafeteria for a snack. She shrugged, not seeming to care one way or another.

  Once we were seated at a table and sharing a bag of chips between us, I told her what the doctor had said, leaving out the part about Alice’s heart, thinking Christy might confuse it with her own heart condition and the death of her mother.

  “We can go in and see her in a little while,” I said.

  Christy shrugged.

  “She’s worried about you,” I added. “Remember at the church when she asked where you were?”

  Christy shrugged again. I reached across the table and tucked a lock of hair back under her kapp.

  “I don’t want to see her.”

  “But that would help her by easing her mind that you’re all right. You do want to help your great-grandmother, don’t you?”

  “I guess,” she said reluctantly, reaching for the last chip and popping it into her mouth.

  Will returned my call a little while later, soon after Christy and I had gone back to the waiting room. I took a deep breath as I answered, but my hands were shaking as I said hello.

  “Ada,” Will said, his voice sounding far away. “I got your message.”

  My heart pounding, I stood and walked away from Christy so I could speak more freely. Sounding far calmer than I felt, I gave him the details of what had happened to Alice and what the doctor had told us. I also explained about the insurance issues and read off the fax number the admissions woman had given me. Then, finally, still trying to keep a handle on my emotions, I told him I was worried about Christy too, and I explained her reaction to Alice’s collapse.

  “Let me speak to her.”

  I walked back into the waiting room and handed her the phone, leading her away from the TV. She mostly nodded and said yes or no. After a little while she handed the phone back.

  “It’s Ada again.”

  Will told me he thought she’d be all right. “She’s frightened, that’s all.” Then he said he would buy a plane ticket and leave as soon as possible.

  “You’re coming here?” I choked.

  “Of course. I’ll call this number as soon as I know when. Tell my grandmother. I already told Christy I would see her soon and that she needed to stay strong and be of help to you.”

  Will said he’d try to fly into Bern instead of Zurich because it was closer. “Maybe Giselle could pick me up.”

  “She’s not here.” I explained to him about her exhibit and how it didn’t sound as though we’d be seeing her at all.

  “Call her again,” he said firmly. “Tell her what’s going on. She’s family. She should be there to help you, Ada.”

  I shivered a little at the sound of my name.

  After we hung up, I cried just a bit, out in the hall away from Christy, mostly from relief that Will was coming to help. Then I thought about what he said and pulled out Giselle’s number. I stared at it a moment, not sure of what to do. What if I asked her to come and she said no?

  Just then a nurse motioned to me and said we could see Mrs. Beiler now. I put the phone in the pocket of my apron and called to Christy, and then we went into Alice’s room together. There were two vinyl chairs, one on each side of the room, and Alice was propped up in the bed, her broken arm in a sling, with an IV tube going into her good arm. She wore a hospital gown and no kapp, her straight white hair hanging down in a single braid instead of tucked up in a bun the way it usually was. Lying there, she looked so vulnerable—not to mention almost naked without her kapp—and I was shocked that in the span of a few hours she went from seeming so healthy to being so frail. But the fact was she hadn’t actually been in good health. I’d just thought so.

  “Come here,” she said to Christy.

  The girl obliged, even though she seemed uncomfortable. She approached the side of the bed.

  They didn’t say anything for a moment. Then Christy stepped closer and Alice reached out with her good arm. “See, I’m fine,” she said. “I do have a break—all these years I’ve never had a broken bone, and then I end up with one in a foreign country. Isn’t that something?”

  Christy shrugged, offering up a small smile.

  “Once the swelling goes down a little, I’ll be getting a cast. Do you want to be the first to sign it?”

  Christy smiled a little more, but she didn’t say anything, so I told Alice Will was coming.

  “Why ever for?” Alice sat up a little straighter. “And leave the twins? And the business? He shouldn’t do that.”

  I hadn’t thought that someone else could come—Benjamin, Will’s dad, or his mother, Nancy. It was harder for me to imagine them navigating the trip. Will would do much better.

  “It was his idea to come.”

  “I’m sure it was.” I could tell she was in pain by the edge to her voice. She was probably thinking about both the loss of work and the cost of Will traveling. “I’ll be fine. They’ll put a cast on my arm…”

  I wasn’t sure if she wasn’t talking about her congestive heart failure because of Christy or because she didn’t comprehend the condition.

  “The doctor said you’ll be in the hospital for several days, maybe longer.” My voice was calm and gentle. “And then once you are out, after resting a couple more days, you will need to be flown home, not go by ship.”

  Alice closed her eyes. “We’ll see.”

  We were all silent for a moment. I wondered at Alice’s denial, while Christy picked at the cotton blanket.

  The nurse shooed us out then, and I left Christy in front of the TV again. Stepping back out into the hall, I thought of Mammi and of how much she wanted me to see Giselle.

  I leaned against the wall, touching the phone through the pocket of my apron. No matter how much my birth mother might not want to see me, we still needed her here regardless of how it turned out. I had to try, for Alice’s and Mammi’s sakes, if not my own.

  I took the paper from my purse again and dialed slowly, expecting the call to go into her voice mail. It didn’t. Giselle picked up on the second ring.

  “Ada.” She must have recognized the number. “I’ve been meaning to call you. It turns out I can’t—”

  “Alice is in the hospital in Langnau,” I interrupted. “We need you to come.”

  “Pardon?”

  I repeated myself, verbatim, adding, “She
collapsed. Besides breaking her arm, the doctor said she has congestive heart failure.”

  There was a long pause. Then she said, “I’ll leave within the hour.”

  I thanked her and hung up, realizing I had no idea how far away Frankfurt was or when she’d arrive. I slipped the phone into my pocket, and only then did it occur to me that I hadn’t thought to ask her about the letters. Somehow, at the moment they seemed like the least important thing going on here.

  Christy stood in the doorway of the waiting room, watching me. “Is your aunt coming?”

  “Ya,” I answered.

  “What’s wrong?” Christy stepped closer to me. “Besides that my grossmammi is sick.”

  I sighed. She would find out sooner or later anyway. “Giselle is my aunt,” I said. “But she’s also my birth mother. I was adopted by Mamm and Daed.”

  “Oh,” was all Christy said. But when we went back into the waiting room she sat next to me on the couch. “Did you bring the book?” she asked.

  “Which book?” I thought she was referring to her schoolwork.

  “Jane Eyre.”

  “It’s in my purse.”

  “Would you read it to me?” She scooted a little closer.

  I pulled it from my bag and we settled in, the weight of her shoulder warm against my side, the scent of her hair sweet and calming to my soul.

  I opened the novel, but before I found our place, Christy said, “Ada?” Her voice was soft and pained.

  “What is it?” I put my arm around her and drew her closer.

  “Did I make Grossmammi sick?”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “I was really mean to her this morning in our room, when she told me where we were going and I thought I’d have to sit in some dumb lawyer’s office all day. Then, of course, there was that whole shopping thing, at breakfast.”

  “What shopping thing?”

  She thought for a moment and said, “Oh, right. You’d left the table by then.”

  She squirmed a bit, so I tried to look into her eyes as I asked what had happened.