He shook his head, reminding me that the last letter we had was the one where Abraham said that he had some “important information” for Elsbeth and he would send it soon. “That information must have had to do with his big sin, whatever it was.”
“What else does it say?” Morgan prodded.
Daniel skimmed for a moment and then continued. “After talking about the letter where he pours out his heart, he writes that he’s too tired to write much more, but he’s told the truth and he hopes it will set him free. He says, ‘Just like the Israelites, I did not inquire of God. I am proud of her for doing what I haven’t and pray her children and grandchildren will follow her good example.’ That’s it,” Daniel said. “Then he died.”
I wondered what sin Abraham Sommers had confessed and what Elsbeth had done with the letter after she’d read it. If the letter didn’t exist—or couldn’t be found—we’d never know his secret.
I thought of my own father and how sad he would be if I never returned from my trip across the sea. Elsbeth was younger than I when she left. Where did she find the strength to leave her home, a place like Amielbach, no less, and her father, who obviously cared deeply for her, to go all the way to America? Worse, how could her father abide seeing her go—especially knowing she would most likely never come home in his lifetime?
I mulled these things over as we rode on in silence. Christy leaned against my shoulder and fell asleep, but when we reached the outskirts of Zurich, I woke her up, not wanting her to miss anything.
Daniel pointed out the two towers of the Grossmünster Church, which would be our first stop. The buildings around us had steep, pointy roofs and lots of small windows, their architecture very medieval looking. We bumped onto the bridge crossing the Limmat River, and I thought of the old prison tower that used to stand in the water. Early Anabaptists had been imprisoned and martyred there.
A few minutes later the driver parked the van across the street from the church parsonage. We all exited from the vehicle, walked around to the front of the church, and approached a large bronze door that consisted of molded panels depicting scenes from the Bible. As Morgan snapped photos, the door opened and a man stepped through it, greeting George and then Daniel. He was middle-aged, with gray hair, a mustache, and wire glasses. The three men spoke for a moment and then Daniel excused himself, saying he was off to look for the agreement.
George introduced the man as our tour guide. After welcoming us, the fellow began by saying that the original building on the site had been erected in the ninth century and founded by Charlemagne, although not much of it remained except for the crypt. The bulk of the existing structure had been built in the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries, although the towers had been added later.
As we toured the church, the guide explained that officials of the Reformed Church in Zurich had recently begun addressing the dark side of their history, the past persecution and execution of Anabaptists. “What started out as a movement of renewal turned into a story of separation and death,” the guide said. He looked at us sincerely. “For that we are truly sorry.”
Daniel had told me the Swiss government had been making a concerted effort lately to demonstrate their regret and take steps toward reconciliation with Anabaptist groups. George, Christy, and I nodded solemnly at the guide’s apology. Though we as a people had long ago forgiven the matter, I felt touched and, in an odd sense, healed by his words.
Next we passed by stained-glass windows, through the nave, and then down the stone staircase to the crypt. Christy needed the restroom, and when she saw a sign at the top of the staircase, she pointed to it and we ventured down the hallway together. On our way back to find our group, she stepped into a little alcove. A table and a chair were there, and above the setting was a carving. I stepped closer. It was an empty cross towering above a village with a mountain peak rising behind it.
We hurried to find the others back in the nave and asked the tour guide about the carving. He couldn’t recall it, so he led the rest of us back down the hall to take a look.
“Oh, that one,” he said. “We don’t know who carved it. But isn’t it something?”
Morgan took a photo of it, and then George stepped closer and examined it. Both shrugged their shoulders. “It’s hard to tell,” George said, “but it might be Abraham’s work.”
“It could be the one we just read about. The one he sold to a priest,” I said.
Morgan explained our line of thinking to the tour guide, and he said he would surely be interested in knowing more about Abraham Sommers in case the work belonged to him.
“Someone needs to inventory Abraham Sommers’ work,” Morgan said to me as we continued on with the rest of the tour. “A small carving like that one could be worth five hundred bucks, maybe more. And that giant, wall-sized one at Amielbach? I’m just guessing, but I’d say it could bring… oh, I don’t know, probably well over ten thousand dollars.”
I gasped at the very thought.
“We would never sell them,” I said, realizing even as I said it that it wasn’t up to me. It was up to Herr Lauten. Someday, it would be up to Oskar.
“Oh, I know. No one would want them sold,” Morgan said. “But it would still be good to know what they are worth. And one like this, in a public place, should definitely be labeled. People need to know.”
As we finished the tour, I kept my eyes out for other carvings that could be Abraham’s but saw none. Daniel joined us just as we finished, and it sounded as though he’d had no luck in his search for the agreement.
On a regular day, we would have enjoyed visiting the other sites within the old-walled city of Zurich, but for now we needed to keep moving. Our next stop was the University of Zurich. Daniel had thought of several places we could look for the document. As long as we were already there, he also hoped to accomplish a personal errand regarding his future enrollment. Either way, given the time I had a feeling this would be our last stop for the day. If it didn’t pan out, we would have to visit the other places on Daniel’s list tomorrow.
The driver turned onto the campus and parked. We all climbed out and followed Daniel across the tree-lined grounds. The leaves were turning, although they weren’t as glorious as the colors back home in Lancaster County. The day was sunny, but the air was growing cooler.
Daniel turned around, a smile on his face. “Just think of the learning that’s gone on here through the centuries.”
I couldn’t help smiling with him. I’d read that several early Anabaptists studied at this university and other places in Europe too, including Italy.
Unfortunately, none of the places he’d had in mind for the agreement panned out. In the end we headed toward the admissions office, glad at least that our visit wouldn’t be a total wash. On the way Daniel stopped walking and pointed to a bench.
“Ada, look.”
The back of the bench was carved. I stopped in front of it. It was the same style as the boxes.
“That’s a carving of the church where we just were,” Christy said. She was right.
Morgan took a photo of it. Then Daniel posed by it, and she took another. As she moved in to get some close-ups of the gleaming wood, Daniel came and stood by me.
“You have quite a history, Ada,” he said softly as the others laughed and chatted nearby. “If we could only figure all of it out. That’s the challenge.”
Suddenly, I felt the pressure of Daniel’s hand at my waist, and I realized he had put his arm around me and was pulling me closer to him. I froze, afraid he might even try to steal a kiss if he though no one was looking. He must have sensed my discomfort because he just chuckled before releasing me and stepping away.
I stood there, stunned, until I caught Morgan smiling at me. Cheeks burning with heat, I reached up and pretended to adjust my kapp, wondering if Christy had seen us as well.
Perhaps it was best that Will hadn’t come with us after all.
THIRTY-ONE
The rest of us waited in the lobb
y of the admissions building while Daniel talked with the woman at the desk. He returned with a stack of brochures. “At least this part of the stop was fruitful.” He grinned. “This master’s program is looking better and better.”
I could see him in a few years, living in Zurich, married with one child. Conducting tours and still doing research. Always learning. Always seeking. As if he could read my thoughts, he stepped close to me. “Can you imagine living here? Going to school here? Wouldn’t it be wonderful?”
“For you, yes,” I said, laughing. “But not for me. Remember, I have an eighth grade education.”
“You could get your GED. That would qualify you for college. And who knows after that? You love learning so much. Maybe you’d like to get your master’s too. You’re certainly smart enough.”
I gave him a funny look and then glanced behind me, hoping no one else was listening. Morgan was taking photos of the buildings. Christy was a few steps away, but I couldn’t tell if she’d heard him or not.
I met his eyes. “And who would I hang out with if I went to school here?”
“Me, of course,” he said.
“You and your wife?” I asked, turning up my nose a little. “And your one child?”
He looked hurt. “You can be so dense.”
My heart fluttered. What was he saying?
“Walk with me.” He increased his pace, and I matched him stride for stride. “Ada,” he continued, his voice low and firm. “I would like to court you.”
“Pardon?”
“Court you. In the proper sense. Get to know you with the intention of moving toward marriage.”
“Daniel—” The word came out as a gasp. “You hardly know me.”
“But I do,” he said. “I’ve been watching you closely. In a sense, I feel as if I know you better than any woman I’ve ever met.”
I could understand what he meant. Honestly, in a short time, I felt I knew him pretty well too.
“I can’t move to Lancaster County,” he continued, “but you could move here. It would be the only way for us to spend enough time together to know if this is what’s right for us.”
“I would have to leave my family. Everything I know.”
“But you haven’t been baptized yet. You wouldn’t be shunned.”
Did he have any idea what he was asking of me?
I was quiet for a long moment as we continued to walk. I wondered if he could be the answer to my prayers. Maybe I didn’t have to grow old alone after all.
I heard footsteps from behind and turned. Christy was running toward us.
“Think about it,” he whispered.
Christy grabbed my hand and swung it back and forth, and then the three of us stopped, waiting for George and Morgan to catch up. I stole a look at Daniel. He was watching me, smiling. Blushing again, I returned his smile.
Once we were all together, we walked as a group toward the parking lot, Morgan commenting along the way that we had “struck out again.”
That led to everyone else bemoaning the probable loss of the waterfall and those ever-important caves behind it. As they talked, I could feel myself growing even more disheartened, afraid this entire trip had been for naught. Finally, Morgan admitted that, while the treasure hunt was great fun, she still didn’t quite understand the historical significance behind our efforts. “Why are those caves so important to you guys?”
Taking a deep breath, Daniel began to explain. “For many years, being Anabaptist was against Swiss law and at times even punishable by death. Those who persisted in their beliefs had no choice but to gather in secret. One of the places where they did so was in the caves behind that waterfall. Each time they worshipped together there, they were risking their freedom and, in some cases, their lives. But they did it anyway. If the Anabaptist hunters had found them, the group members would have all been arrested and perhaps even executed.”
“Why take that risk?” Morgan’s face was troubled.
“Because we’re commanded to worship together,” Daniel said simply.
“Those caves are a symbol of our faith,” I added. “A reminder of those who were willing to die for their beliefs. Our beliefs.”
Morgan shook her head as we all reached the van, saying, “I still don’t get it.”
“It’s all about what you’d be willing to give your life for,” Daniel said as we climbed inside. I don’t know if she heard him or not, but she didn’t answer.
I thought about his words as the driver navigated his way out of the city. It’s all about what you’d be willing to give your life for.
Glancing at Christy, I thought of Lydia, who had risked her life to have children, whether she’d known it at the time or not. Lydia had survived giving birth to Christy and later to Mel and Matty. But the pregnancy after that had ended up killing her and the baby, thanks to the heart defect Lydia hadn’t even known she had.
I shifted in my seat, trying to get more comfortable. In a way, I realized, every woman risked her life when bringing a child into the world. Labor and delivery were serious business, and not for the faint of heart. Yet down through the centuries women took that risk, willing to trade life for life.
Even Giselle, a small voice said inside of me.
Giselle? Perhaps it was true. She hadn’t planned to conceive me, but once she did, she’d willingly carried me to the end—even though she knew once I was born that she would be giving me up. Taking a deep breath, I decided to try to change my attitude. Now that we’d met, it seemed as though it didn’t matter to Giselle whether I existed or not. But perhaps I could take comfort in the thought that, at least, years ago she had risked death simply to give me life.
We stopped to buy bread and cheese for a snack halfway back to Amielbach, and afterward Morgan climbed in the back of the van with Christy, leaving me to sit by Daniel. He opened up his packet from the university and was studying it. I asked if I could look at something he wasn’t, and he handed me a brochure on the history of the university. There were photos of the stately buildings and drawingsof men from long ago. In a minute, Daniel was looking at the brochure too.
“What would your parents think of you going to school here?” I handed the brochure back to him.
“They would be thrilled,” he said. “It would be a dream come true.”
“But what if you stay and never live near them again?”
Daniel shrugged. “They would come visit. We’d email. Talk. I’d visit them.” He looked at me sheepishly. “They want me to be independent. That’s how they raised me.” We rode on in silence for a few minutes and then he said, his voice low, “How about your parents? What if you decided to stay here?”
“It would be hard for them,” I answered, not being completely honest about just how difficult it would be. And there was the matter of my church. I hadn’t joined yet, but I’d always intended to. I knew I would have a relationship with God no matter what church I belonged to, but for me my faith and my community were woven together. I couldn’t quite fathom leaving the community part behind.
But I definitely felt a draw to Daniel’s future life. Studies. Traveling around Europe. Researching. Teaching travelers what he’d learned. There was a strong appeal to it, especially considering that I could never have anything of the sort back home. Now that Leah had stolen my teaching job, I didn’t even have that. “Have you thought of gearing any of your tours toward kids?” I asked.
Daniel turned toward me. “What age group?”
“Not Plain kids…well, Mennonite, maybe, but teenagers.” I told him about the tours of children that came through Lancaster County, oftentimes eighth grade classes from Englisch schools. “What if you did something like that? Do you think the schools would be interested in a European trip?”
“Maybe not for middle schoolers, but they might for high school kids. A graduation trip, that sort of thing. They’d have to be pretty wealthy…”
“Or the kids would have to earn the money,” Morgan chimed in. “There are plenty of
fund-raisers for that sort of thing.”
I could imagine Amielbach filled with teenagers. That would have made Abraham Sommers very happy.
Daniel was staring at me with an impish smile on his face. “Ada Rupp,” he said, “I think you’ve just created the perfect job for yourself. That would make our plan that much easier.”
“How so?” I wrapped my finger around one of the ties to my kapp.
“It would give you the perfect reason to stay in Switzerland. Authentic tour guide. Who would be better than you dressed in your cape and apron, talking about your ancestor Abraham Sommers, the history of Amielbach, your own family’s journey to America and back to Switzerland. And you’re a born teacher.” He grinned broadly.
I blushed. “Daniel…” I whispered. Surely he was joking. Such a thing would turn my clothing into a costume. My teaching into living history. My modesty into pride.
“It’s brilliant, isn’t it?” His voice was louder now.
I hesitated, not sure I could correct him without unleashing my inner teacher. I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of the others, but he needed to understand that I could never serve as some caricature of an Amish woman. Later, when we were alone, I would explain the fallacy of his reasoning in full. For now, I held my tongue.
“You could live with Giselle at first,” he continued, his voice low again, “and I could stay at Amielbach until I start my studies. We should know within a year if we have a future together.”
He made it sound so doable. I glanced toward the backseat. Christy’s head was leaning toward the window and her eyes were closed. Morgan was looking out her side of the van, seemingly intent on the countryside.
“I really would like to get to know you better,” he said. “I really do want to court you.”
I nodded but didn’t speak. Just last night I was still pining away for Will Gundy, and now I was sitting here with Daniel, listening to him say he wanted to court me. Maybe Daniel was the one who would heal my broken heart and make me forget how I’d ever felt about Will. I just didn’t know how I could know for sure.
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