The saltiness that hung heavy in the air across the Atlantic thinned now as the Charming Nancy navigated the channel into Philadelphia. The ship had entered Delaware Bay two days ago and was fighting the winds the last miles of the journey. Christian hoped for an early glimpse of Philadelphia. So far he had not seen more than lanterns along the shoreline.
Now the sun was shrugging away from the horizon and pinking up the eastern sky. Christian kept to the starboard side so he could watch dawn’s hues meld into the waiting day. He moved toward the bow, determined to be the first one in his family to see Philadelphia.
His parents were doing a brave thing. Of that Christian was sure. Europeans had been moving to the Americas in fits and dribbles for two hundred years because they believed enormous profit lay in the new land, but Christian’s father had explained that no one had attempted anything like William Penn’s holy experiment. Christian’s eight years were pockmarked by sores of exclusion because of what his parents believed. But in Pennsylvania, belief would be as free and abundant as air. He was as sure of that as anything he had ever known.
Jakob watched his second daughter climb the ladder from the third-class passenger quarters to the deck. Barbara had gone up ahead. He glanced over his shoulder at Verona, who sat on their lower berth with Lisbetli limply on her lap and Maria leaning into her shoulder. He had promised he would go up and check on Christian. Once Anna clambered through the opening at the top of the ladder, Jakob began his ascent.
In the time it took him to emerge on deck, the girls had wandered in separate directions. Jakob caught a glimpse of Anna going toward the bow and Barbara toward the stern. Christian was nowhere in sight. Jakob’s instinct told him to chase the younger daughter. Anna always had a nose for where her only brother would show up. Barbara was fourteen, practically grown. She would know to return to their berths when the time came.
Jakob had to move quickly to keep up with Anna, dodging rigging, barrels, mops, and idle planks. He breathed a prayer of thanksgiving that the scourge that sent passengers into the sea had calmed. Verona thought the baby was still fragile, but Jakob believed that if she had survived this long, they were unlikely to lose her now. They were so close to Philadelphia. By the end of the day they should be on solid ground and out of the cramped quarters where disease thrived. Perhaps Verona would start to believe again that a better life lay ahead, not behind.
“Anna,” he called, “wait for me.” He recognized the posture of her reluctance, but she did stop and turn toward him.
“I see Christian.” She pointed. “He’s right up there, close to the bow.”
Jakob followed the line of her finger and saw his towheaded son transfixed as he watched the Pennsylvania coastline with its evidence of settlements and promise of civilization. The boy looked thin, he realized. All the children did. Jakob was suddenly alarmed by his own acquiescence to what the journey had done to his family. Clothing hung on all their frames as if it were made for husky strangers rather than stitched by Verona’s fingers for their familiar frames.
But it was over. They had survived. All of them. Many families around them bore sickness compounded by death, but the Beyelers were whole and present. Moving to a new life was not for the fainthearted. If they could survive the journey, they could survive homesteading their own land and living in the freedom of their own beliefs.
“Are we going to have real beds in Philadelphia?” Anna wanted to know.
Jakob stroked the back of her head. “You’ll still have to sleep with your sisters, but at least the bed won’t be riding the waves of the sea.”
“Good.”
They reached Christian. The three of them stood, wordless in a sacred moment, peering ahead and scrutinizing the view for any sign of the port city.
“Are we going to have a garden in Philadelphia?” Anna asked.
“No, not in Philadelphia,” Jakob answered. “We will only stay there to get the papers we need. Then we will go to our own land. Die Bauerei. The farm.”
“Will we have a big house?”
“Not at first. But someday, if God blesses us. We will be with other Amish families, and we will be grateful for whatever God gives us.”
“Will Lisbetli have to be baptized?” Anna asked. “Will I?”
“Not until you are all grown up and decide to join the church.”
“I’m going to join the church as soon as I can,” Christian announced. “I already believe in my heart.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“There’s Barbara.” Anna pointed.
The ship listed to one side as it turned. Anna slid toward Jakob, but it was Christian who caught her.
Verona rubbed circles in the center of Lisbetli’s back, a touch that had soothed the little girl since she was a newborn. With her other hand, Verona coaxed the baby to sip water from one of the three tin cups the family shared. Lisbetli had little weight to spare.
At her mother’s knee, Maria picked up the loose nail she had gripped every day of this journey. Near the base of the berth’s wooden frame, she scratched a mark into the wood.
“How many is that, Mamm?” Maria asked.
Verona did not have to think to answer. She had counted every day on the sea, too. “Eighty-three.”
“That’s a lot, isn’t it?”
Verona nodded. “We’re almost there. Try some letters now.”
Maria put the nail down and poised her finger over the coating of dirt on the floor. “Sing, Mamm.”
Verona began to hum a quiet hymn, adjusting first her kapp, then Maria’s. The little girl made four tedious strokes until she formed an M. The truth was Verona recognized only the most basic words and could barely spell her own name. She would have to depend on the schooling of the older children to help Maria.
“I’m hungry, Mamm.”
Verona had little food to offer. She unwrapped a napkin and handed Maria the last piece of salted pork. The ship’s rations had been far from adequate, and Verona early had formed the habit of saving some of her own meals for the inevitable request from one of her children.
“Let’s go find Daed.” The distraction might keep Maria from saying she was hungry again. Verona took her warmest wrap, and the three of them stepped over the baggage and personal belongings of other passengers to get to the ladder.
Maria had learned to do well on the ladder, but for Verona climbing with Lisbetli was always challenging. On deck, Verona squinted as her eyes adjusted to the growing light. She settled Lisbetli on one hip and took Maria’s hand as they walked the deck scouting for the rest of the family. Even after eighty-three days on ship, Verona’s legs were unsteady. This should be the last day, Jakob had told her. Verona hoped he was right.
Lisbetli seemed to perk up in the daylight, lifting her head off her mother’s shoulder. Verona dared to hope that the baby would find her cheerful disposition once again.
Verona supposed she was one of the last to come above. It was not hard to decide where to go stand. The Mennonites were portside, and the Amish had gathered starboard. Her son would be on the bow. If Captain Stedman would let him, Christian would steer the boat.
When Jakob saw her, he opened one arm wide, and she stepped into its arc.
“I knew Christian would be at the front of the boat,” Verona said.
“That is because he is looking forward and not back,” Jakob said. “He is a wise little boy.”
“Like his daed.” Verona leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder for a fraction of a second.
“How is the baby?” Jakob asked.
Lisbetli squirmed and reached for her father. Jakob took her in his arms.
“Does that answer your question?” Verona asked.
“This little one won’t remember Europe,” Jakob said. “She has only hope to look forward to.”
They stood a long time on the deck. As the channel narrowed even further, Verona tried to remember the map Jakob once showed her and the slender, crooked finger of water that
led from the Atlantic Ocean, through the Delaware Bay and to Philadelphia. Parents stood more erect, their countenances brightening. Children took their cues from the adults and began to point and squirm with increasing frequency.
“Is that it?” they asked again and again. “Is that Philadelphia? Is that where we’re going?”
Christian kept his face forward, his features raised in determination to the breeze. His feet were planted squarely, shoulder width apart. He had no need of the rail. His body adjusted immediately to every shift in the ship’s motion. Jakob took delight in his four daughters, but Christian, his only son, lit his face with a color that he did not reproduce for any other occasion.
We are humble people, Verona thought, but surely it is not a sin to feel this way about your own child. Surely God knows the joy of an only son. Her son was well. Her baby was well. In a few hours they would be in a city with markets and merchants and an October harvest of vegetables. Her tongue salivated at the thought of food not dried in salt, food that came directly from the ground and not through a barrel.
No one in the crowd wanted to surrender a position with a view of the approaching city. There would be plenty of time to go down and collect belongings later. After almost three months on the ocean, the families on board had eyes only for their new home, their new future.
Verona sighed and put a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun. Looking after five children and keeping their living area from becoming squalor, Verona had spent much of the journey below deck.
She turned her head and coughed once, a motion that sliced through her head. Determined not to pass out, she gripped the rail. I’m just not used to the light, she told herself when the throbbing behind her eyes made her want to empty her stomach. The important thing is we’re almost there.
Ten
No more lollygagging,” Annie said to the empty room. She was stiff, sore, and slow moving, but she pulled on her jeans and T-shirt and sat up at a small table in the room, rather than on the bed.
She needed a phone—her own phone, preferably. It had been turned off for most of two days, but in the middle of her haze, Annie’s systematic brain determined that if she disabled the global positioning feature on her phone, anyone trying to track it would face frustration. Triangulation with wi-fi alone would be a lot harder. She turned the phone on, tapped her way through several screens, and turned off the GPS. Annie let out a slow, controlled breath. At least she could use her phone freely.
Two days of dozing in concussive haze carried consequences. E-mails stacked up to the point it could take Annie hours to sort out the technical issues and respond to her regular clients. Jamie forwarded several inquiries from potential clients. Jamie also reported that Barrett was not spending much time at the office, and the marketing assistant was floundering for direction. The bank was calling with questions the bookkeeper could not answer. Three software writers who worked for the company were nervous.
Where are you? was the clear message. What’s going on?
But Annie could not lose time dealing with the details when the entire company was at stake.
What would Barrett and Rick be trying to do now? That was the question. Jamie’s report that the bank was calling the office suggested they were trying to move funds. Calmly, she logged onto the company’s primary bank account and inspected recent transactions. So far everything looked routine. Her personal accounts seemed secure as well. So what were the questions?
Barrett and Rick couldn’t turn back now. They were in too deep not to win.
The attorneys. Annie brought the list up on her laptop and dialed the first number on her phone. While she listened to the ring, she checked the charge indicators on both devices. Within a few hours, she would need a place to plug in, and she was pretty sure it was not going to be at Rufus’s house.
An answering service responded for the first lawyer on her list and she left a message with basic information. She dialed the second number, and then the third. She got live voices on the line, but the attorneys themselves were unavailable. More messages.
Annie stared at the phone in her hand. Once the lawyers got her voice mails, they could play phone tag for days. She had to leave the phone powered on.
Other than the bathroom across the hall, Annie had not been out of Ruth’s bedroom since she arrived. Her head turned toward the footsteps she heard in the hall now and saw the girl who had gone out to milk the cow.
She dug in her bruised brain for the name of Rufus’s sister. Sally? Linda?
“I’m Sophie,” the girl said softly.
That’s right. Sophie and Lydia. “Thank you for all the help you’ve been the last few days.”
“You’re welcome. Rufus made me promise to check on you.”
“I’m much better.” Annie tugged her shirt straight and wondered what her hair looked like compared to Sophie’s careful braids and pins. Wincing, she stood and began to pull the bedding into a semblance of order.
“I can do that.” Sophie stepped swiftly to the bed and took control of the sheets.
Annie’s hands rested on the quilt, pieces of blue and purple and green forming cubes that seemed to tumble over each other. The pattern made her slightly dizzy. She supposed it had a name. Later, when she had sufficient power, she would do an Internet search on “Amish quilts.”
“Mamm will want to know you’re up.” Sophie smoothed the quilt into place. “I will walk downstairs with you.”
Annie nodded. She stuffed her phone into her back pocket and hung her bag over one shoulder. Every step was pain. She couldn’t drive a car even if she had one. But electricity was out there, just beyond the Beiler property.
Franey Beiler met her at the bottom of the stairs. “Annalise! I didn’t know you were up. Would you like something to eat?”
“I don’t want to be any trouble for you.” Annie swallowed the urge to add that she needed electricity more than food right now.
“Go out on the porch,” Franey said. “It’s a beautiful day. I’ll bring you a sandwich and a glass of tea.”
“Thank you.”
Sophie held open the screen door. “Please excuse me. I need to weed in the garden.”
Sophie’s soft words drifted with her gaze as she stepped outside. Annie watched Sophie join another girl—it must be Lydia, Annie realized—squatting in the garden. Standing still, Annie thought of her own sister, Penny, and a fragment of memory about digging in the backyard. For a few minutes, Penny had persuaded Annie that they could dig to China.
On the porch, Annie found a two-seater swing, its pine slats sanded smooth along the perfect curve of the back and seat. She had to admit it was still difficult to move around. If her mind were not on an impending need for battery power, she could have surrendered to the unobstructed view of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains and her own recuperation. Instead, the mountains reminded her of her remote location. The late-afternoon sun layered the view with shifting shadows, and Annie wondered anew what she had gotten herself into. Yes, the setting was bucolic. Yes, the mountains were stunning. Yes, the air was unsullied and the land animated in ways the city could never match.
But she had no place to plug in a power cord. And without a place to plug in, the rest of it did not matter.
Annie put the swing into tentative, gentle motion.
Sangre de Cristo. Spanish for the “Blood of Christ.” It struck her as interesting that a religious group like the Amish would choose to settle in the shadow of such a religious-sounding name. Was that on purpose or just coincidence?
Was anything on purpose, she wondered, or was everything just coincidence?
Coincidence that Tom’s truck was in the parking lot that night.
Coincidence that she got in it.
Coincidence that she ended up here. On Amish land.
Coincidence that Barrett was stabbing her in the back.
Coincidence that Rick chose Barrett and not Annie.
Coincidence that a fall cost her two days of fig
hting back.
Coincidence that her great-great-grandmother’s name was
Byler.
Annie typed “Jakob Byler” into the search screen on her phone.
Cemetery listings, genealogy forums, Amish settlements. Annie could not waste battery power clicking through the links right now. She could not even be sure this was the Jakob Byler she was descended from, but she was curious. She put the phone in her pocket, but the Amish settlement link lurked in her mind. What if this were the right Jakob Byler from her family line? Had he been Amish? Was he related to Christian Byler, Rufus’s ancestor?
Franey came through the door just then with a plate and a glass. She set them down on a small table next to the swing. Annie had to admit the sandwich—ham and cheese stacked on whole-wheat bread she was sure Franey had baked herself—enticed her. For that matter, Franey had probably made the cheese and smoked the ham.
“Thank you.” Annie reached for half of the sandwich.
“I hope you’ll eat more than you have the last few days.” Franey sat in the swing next to Annie. “I was beginning to worry about you.”
“I feel much better,” Annie said.
“Gut. Now you can discover God’s purpose in bringing you to our home.”
Had Franey been reading her mind? Annie glanced at the view again, almost ready to believe she was here for a reason. But the reason would have to wait. She could not afford to be Rick’s doormat.
“I have my own business, but I can work anywhere if I have a computer and a phone.” Annie bit into the sandwich and discovered how hungry she was.
“Then no doubt you’ll need electricity soon.”
Accidentally Amish Page 7
