“I’ve kept you out too long.” He gestured toward the pathway.
We didn’t speak as we walked the few steps to the cottage, and when we reached the door he said a quick goodbye and turned to go.
“Thank you, Will,” I said, and he turned back toward me. “Thank you for telling me about Lydia.”
He nodded and then disappeared into the night.
I woke quite a while before dawn and crept into Giselle’s room to see if she’d returned. Her bed was empty, just as it had been last time I checked. I entered the studio. I knew she wasn’t there because it was dark, but still I flipped on the light and looked around. The plastic boxes she and Morgan had moved from the shed were still in the middle of the room. The weaving on the loom was the same as a couple of days before.
I stepped toward the back wall, to the weavings hanging there, my eyes falling on the one of the Amish woman with the three little girls. Before I’d only focused on the people in it. Now my gaze was drawn to the terrain. Rather than the lush farmland of Lancaster County, these Amish were standing on a rocky hillside, with a waterfall nearby. Moving closer, I decided that it was supposed to be the waterfall next door, on the Kessler Tract. I thought of Giselle’s weaving in the shop in Bern with the same waterfall. Now here it was again: the waterfall. It was a recurring theme in her artwork.
Then it struck me. What if she’d gone to the waterfall earlier, to sketch or to think or to explore? She could have gotten injured there and been unable to get back. It wouldn’t hurt to check.
A few minutes later, dressed and bundled in my down coat with a gloved hand gripping a flashlight, I ventured out into the night. I had left Morgan and Christy a note, saying exactly where I was going just in case I hadn’t returned by the time they awoke. As I reached the creek, snow began to fall, big white fluffy flakes that floated slowly from the black sky. Daniel had pointed out the lone pine, far down from the tree line near the waterfall, where he said rocks went across the creek. I stopped at the bank near there and shone the flashlight around. The snow melted as soon as it hit the water, swallowed in an instant. There were several boulders—but they didn’t look like a bridge. The creek was wide, at least twenty feet or more. I hurried along the shore, toward the waterfall, bouncing the beam of the flashlight across to the other side. A few yards beyond the tree, I stopped. There were several flat rocks, one after the other. If I had a sturdy stick I thought I could cross. I hurried back toward the tree, hoping to find a fallen branch. On the far side, under the edge of the canopy, was a small one. I broke off the twigs and then held it firmly. It came to my shoulder and was the right size for me to grip. I hurried back.
Stepping from the bank, I planted my foot firmly on the first stone. I had to stretch to get to the next one and the next and most of the others. I concentrated on each one, determined not to slip. The leap to the far shore was by far the worst. I stood on the last stone, both feet planted firmly. The snow swirled around me now, big, heavy, wet flakes, coming down faster, like powdered sugar out of a sifter. I took a deep breath and lunged forward.
I almost made it.
My left foot landed in the mud and slipped backward into the freezing water. I jerked it out, scrambling up the bank, sloshing up to the field. I stomped around, trying to force the water out of my shoe but it only squished around, freezing my foot. The best thing to do was keep moving. The hem of my dress was wet too, but at least all of me wasn’t soaking. I decided to keep the branch as a walking stick.
I made my way over the uneven and rocky ground, trying to remember what it looked like in the light. The foundation of the house should be ahead. I waved the flashlight back and forth, finally finding it to the left. I redirected myself and skirted around the cornerstones. The terrain began to slope upward. The ground was covered in a dusting of snow now, and I stumbled a few times over invisible rocks jutting out of the soil.
I directed the light ahead, toward the waterfall, trying to figure out the best route to the cave. As I approached it, the mist of the spray mixed with the snowflakes, and the roar seemed deafening in the darkness. I could see that a trail half circled around, still bare of the falling snow because of the spray from the water. In another half hour I thought the path might be icy, though. I turned my face away from the spray and stayed to the edge of the trail so I didn’t get overly wet. A minute later the beam of the flashlight was on the open cave ahead. I stepped inside, leaving the roar of the waterfall but feeling as if the blackness might swallow me. Even with the flashlight, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. There was a fire pit that looked fairly fresh. Probably used by youth from Langnau or Wasserdorf. The cave was quite deep, and I began to wonder how many bats or other creatures might live in it. Now I was waving the beam around wildly.
“Giselle,” I managed to croak, softly at first and then louder until I had worked up to an all-out yell. “Giselle!” My voice echoed in the cave, over and over.
When it stopped I heard a faint voice call out, “Ada!”
At last.
“Where are you?” I pointed the flashlight to where I thought the sound came from.
“Ada!” The voice was louder now.
I stepped farther into the cave, bouncing the light to where I thought the voice was coming from, skimming across a pile of rocks that looked like steps but stopped in midair. I pointed the light up straight above them. Sure enough, an opening to another cave was just above.
“Giselle!” I shouted again.
“Up here!”
I dropped my stick and scrambled up the pile of rocks and reached toward the opening of the cave. If Giselle, who wasn’t any taller than I was, could make it, I could too. My hands landed on the opening, but I couldn’t feel anything I could hold onto to hoist myself up.
“There’s an iron rod on the right-hand side,” she said.
I felt around and found it. It was a single, vertical rod that felt secure, as if it had been anchored in the mountainside. I edged the flashlight onto the lip of the cave and then pulled myself up, scraping my leg as I did.
“Where are you?” I was on my hand and knees now, but when I shone the light above me, I realized this cave was nearly as tall as the one below.
“Back here.”
I stood and made my way over the rocky bottom of the cave. At first it looked as if Giselle were resting. Her back was up against a rock. She had on her heavy coat and hat, and a backpack was beside her.
“My flashlight died,” she said, as if that explained everything.
“And you couldn’t leave the cave without it?”
She shook her head. “It’s my foot.” She pointed to it, but I couldn’t see it. “I was coming back here to sit and slipped. My foot got wedged between two rocks, and then the bigger one slipped, pinning me in.”
I’d reached her now and handed her the flashlight. “Hold this,” I said. “I’ll lift it.”
“I don’t think you can—”
I tried my hardest. The rock was bigger than it looked and much heavier. I couldn’t budge it.
“Are you in a lot of pain?” I asked.
She shook her head. “My foot’s gone numb.”
That didn’t sound good. “I’ll go get help.” I reached for the flashlight.
She nodded but didn’t hand it over.
“I can’t get help without it,” I said gently.
She extended it to me. “Hurry back.”
I said of course I would and went back to the lip of the cave and lowered myself onto the staircase formation, my feet flailing to find a footing until they kicked against the rock and then settled on the top step. When I reached the bottom, I grabbed my walking stick and kept on going.
My heart raced as I hurried out of the cave. I’d found her! I breathed a prayer of thanks. She hadn’t tried to harm herself, as I had feared. But nonetheless, she was harmed.
“Be with her,” I prayed. “And help me as I go for help.” I still had to cross the creek again. If something happened t
o me, no one would know where Giselle was.
THIRTY-FIVE
I slipped on the wet trail coming around the waterfall but steadied myself and kept going. In just the time I’d been inside the cave, the ground had been completely blanketed in a layer of white. As the trail disappeared, I forged ahead in the heavy snow, my feet growing wetter by the minute. I passed by where I thought the cornerstone of the house was and started veering toward the creek, shining the flashlight in the direction of the tree.
I squinted through the falling snow. It looked as if there was a light bobbing in the distance. I focused on it, bouncing my beam around, hoping to draw attention to myself. There were two lights and they seemed to be heading toward the natural bridge too.
“Giselle!”
“It’s me, Ada!” I shouted back over the rushing sound of the creek.
I could make out two figures. In a moment I realized they were Daniel and Will. I exhaled deeply.
I reached the bank first and waited, relieved I wouldn’t have to cross it to find help. “Giselle is in the cave,” I shouted. “She’s injured.”
Will cupped his hand to his ear, and I realized he couldn’t hear me. I motioned for them to come to me, shining my flashlight over the rocks. Daniel had crossed before, but surely never in the dark.
Will reached me first. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” I answered as Daniel joined us. “But Giselle’s stuck in the upper cave, pinned by a rock.”
As we hurried along, I asked how they had known to come out here. Will explained that he couldn’t sleep and was standing at the window of his room when he’d seen a light. Thinking maybe it was Giselle, he had woken Daniel.
“I could tell it was across the creek,” Daniel added. “I never thought it would be you. What were you doing out here?”
I told them about noticing the waterfall on the weaving and deciding to follow my instincts.
“Good instincts,” Will murmured.
“That upper cave is quite the trick to get into,” Daniel said.
I agreed. “And I couldn’t budge the rock pinning her foot.” Then it dawned on me that my walking stick might give Will and Daniel the leverage they would need. I held it up. “This might do the trick though. As a lever.”
Daniel led the way past the now-invisible foundation, up the trail to the waterfall, and behind it into the cave. When we reached the formation, Daniel said I could wait below. He placed his flashlight on the edge, found the steel rod, and then quickly swung himself up over the lip of the upper cave. Will followed his example. I handed my stick up to Will and told him Giselle was toward the back.
They called out her name as they walked, and I could barely make out her soft reply. I waited a few more minutes, pacing and praying, and then I hoisted myself back up into the cave to join them. I couldn’t take it anymore. When I reached them, I could see that Daniel and Will were trying to move the rock.
“It’s so hard to get a hold of,” Will said, bending down, his big hands wedged down between the stones. I’d seen him lift a tractor wheel as though it were a child’s tinker toy. I just knew he could take care of this too.
The soft sound of the waterfall caught my ear, and I thought of the Anabaptists worshipping here centuries before. I could imagine the melody of nature mixing with their own musical voices, echoing off the rock walls. Perhaps my ancestors had sung hymns in this very cave that we continued to sing today. Surely Alice’s ancestors, and Will’s, had met here too.
I breathed in deeply, realizing that it was just as lovely and peaceful as the cathedrals we had visited. I felt a warmth, even in the cold, an overwhelming sensation of “The Spirit talking,” as Mammi would say. This was a holy place, paid in part by the blood of the martyrs.
Will’s voice brought me back to the present. “There are some small rocks down here,” he said. “If I could get them out…”
“I could try,” I said, taking my gloves off my hands. Slowly I worked a small rock out and then another and another.
“Let me try the stick again,” Will said.
I stood and he shoved it into the hole and leaned back, pulling the fat branch. The rock shifted a little. Daniel stepped forward and began pulling too. The rock rose some more.
“Hold it,” Will said to Daniel. He bent down, reaching as far under the rock as he could. He planted his feet and lifted, getting the rock up far enough so that he could roll it up onto the others and away from the hole.
“Got it!” Daniel cried.
I sucked in my breath and held it as Will squatted and felt Giselle’s leg and foot. She winced as he did. “I had a horse who fell on a trail and a rock rolled over her foreleg,” Will told her.
“Did you have to put her down?” Giselle asked.
“No.” Will met her eyes. “But I might not be able to say the same for you.”
Despite her fear and pain, she smiled at his attempt at a joke.
His face growing serious again, Will felt around some more, asking about the pain. She said her leg and foot were numb. Will lifted her pant leg and pinched her skin.
She winced, and he laughed. “That’s a good sign,” he said. “But I don’t suppose you’re going to be able to walk back home, are you?”
She shook her head. “You’re not going to be able to get me out of here.”
“Sure we are.”
In a minute Will had Giselle on his back. He moved across the rocks gingerly, taking care with each step, his arms linked around Giselle’s legs. Daniel walked ahead with a flashlight and I walked beside them, my stick in one hand, shining my light where Will needed to step, practically holding my breath until we made it to the mouth of the upper cave.
“Now what?” Giselle asked.
Daniel helped her off Will’s back, and then I stepped close so she could put her hand on my shoulder.
“I’ll go down first,” Will said.
Daniel looked a little surprised as Will shone his flashlight down to the lower level and then jumped. After a moment, he called up from below.
“Giselle! Scoot to the edge.”
She followed his instructions. I peered down at Will. His flashlight was on the ground, and he had his arms raised. “Let yourself drop down,” he said.
I pointed the beam of my flashlight so Giselle could see. She scooted to the very edge and then stopped. “Are you sure?” she called down.
“Yes,” Will answered. “I promise I’ll catch you.”
In a jerky motion she propelled herself off the ledge, but before I could even register the action, Will had caught her. He lowered her down, and she balanced on her good foot. I tossed the walking stick down, and Giselle leaned against it.
“Now you, Ada,” Will said.
“No,” I protested. “I can come down the steps.”
“This is faster.”
Either way was unladylike in my dress. I decided to get it over with as soon as possible. After tossing my flashlight down to Will, I tucked my skirt around my legs and quickly sat.
Below, I could see him raising his arms up for me, illuminated by the beam of Daniel’s light. The moment stretched out as I gazed down at his safe, familiar face.
When I scooted off the edge, the moment stretched out even longer. I was falling and unafraid. Then he caught me, his arms gently slipping under mine. He held me for just a fraction of a second longer than he should have, and then he let me go.
“Thank you,” I stammered, stepping away. I took the flashlight from Giselle and turned it toward Daniel.
His face was solemn, but then he smiled and turned his gaze from me to Will. “Do you plan to catch me too?” he joked.
Will laughed and stepped aside, and in a moment Daniel jumped, landing on his feet beside us. I avoided his eyes.
The two men made a seat with their hands and scooped Giselle up. I led the way out of the cave, holding the walking stick and my flashlight. As we veered to the right, away from the falls, a gust of wind blew through and the spray came
toward us. I ducked as a splash of water soaked the side of my face and coat.
Daniel chuckled. “You’ve been baptized.”
I didn’t share his amusement as I swiped at my icy face. But as we retraced our steps down the slippery path, I did wonder if the Anabaptists had baptized each other in the waterfall.
I realized that the day was dawning, so I turned my flashlight off and slipped it into my pocket. There were now several inches of snow on the ground, and more still falling. My already soaked shoes grew even wetter as I broke the trail, and between that and my wet clothes, I began to shiver uncontrollably.
When we reached the creek, Will and Daniel let Giselle down, and then Will hoisted her onto his back again. Daniel crossed first, and then Will started over, slow and steady, deliberately jumping from rock to rock. He stumbled a bit just before he reached the other bank but caught himself and stopped. I took a deep breath, as I imagined he did too. He hoisted Giselle up a little higher, and then in a single leap he landed on the other side. I meant to follow him, but I couldn’t. The cold and fatigue of the night had finally caught up with me.
Giselle slid off Will’s back, and Daniel steadied her. Will looked at me and then bounded back onto the first rock. “Ada,” he called out. “Are you all right?”
I couldn’t answer. I tried to shake my head but my whole body shuddered against the cold.
Will leaped the rest of the way across in a single, fluid movement. “Come on,” he said. I dropped the stick but couldn’t budge. He unzipped his jacket and wrapped me up inside of it, pulling me close with his arms. I leaned against him until the shaking stopped and I could get a normal breath.
“Now, climb on my back,” he whispered gently.
“No, I’m fine. I’m not the one with the injury.” I pulled away out from under his coat and then gasped at the cold air that immediately rushed in where his warmth had been before.
“Just climb on my back and hold on, Ada. I’ll get you there.”
No longer resisting, I slid around behind him and he hoisted me up.
The Amish Nanny Page 32