She shrugged. “Now we’ll never know.”
“Was it torture?”
“Let’s just say my High German is not any better than my Pennsylvania Dutch.”
“When you learn one, you will no doubt learn the other.”
When. He said “when.” Annie soaked up his countenance. These were his people. This was his life. And he had honored her by inviting her to share it for these few hours.
“Are you hungry?” His face crinkled.
“Let me guess,” Annie said. “Men eat separately from women.”
“You are learning our ways well.”
“The ways are new to me, but I have a feeling they are very old.”
Rufus adjusted his black felt hat. “We do not rush into change.”
“But you do change, don’t you?” Annie gestured toward the house. “Lights, hot running water. This is not exactly camping out.”
“We consider our choices carefully. Are they good for the family? For the community? Our old ways remind us that we live apart, separate from the ways of the world.”
Annie resisted the impulse to raise her fingers to her gold chain. “Yet when I blundered in bringing the twenty-first century with me, you welcomed me.”
“We welcome anyone who seeks truth.”
Annie’s reply caught in her throat. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps she wanted more from Westcliffe than a place to hide from Rick Stebbins. She could have gone somewhere else when she had the chance. And yet she was here.
“Maybe after lunch you could give me the abbreviated English version of the sermon.”
“Which one?” He grinned.
“The one you think would do me the most good.”
A voice boomed from beyond them. The only word Annie could pick out was Rufus’s name.
“They need my help,” he said.
She nodded, and he walked backward away from her, smiling. She again watched the activity, mesmerized by how little it must have changed in the last couple of hundred years.
Thirteen
October 8, 1737
I want to go right now.” Maria pulled on her brother’s hand.
Christian held his position solidly. “We can’t. We just have to wait a little while longer.”
“No more waiting!” Maria hollered.
Christian clamped a hand over her mouth and turned her around to face him. “Maria Beyeler, you hush,” he hissed. “This is important.”
This was no time for child’s play. While he knew Maria was too young to appreciate the solemnity, Christian did not intend to miss the moment. The ship’s deck was at capacity with families ready to debark after one last formality.
Captain Stedman lined up the men, sixteen years or older, and prepared them to march off the ship.
“Why can’t we go?” Maria wanted to know.
“It’s the law,” Christian said. “First Daed has to promise to be a good subject to the king of England. We have to wait for him to come back.”
“I’m tired of waiting.” Maria stomped away, and Christian let her. He could see she was headed for their mother, standing only a few yards away. He was tired of waiting, too.
When the men began filing off the ship, the officials watched them carefully. Small boys were another matter, Christian realized. At the moment, no one cared what he did. His heart pounding in triumph, he found himself on the pier a few minutes later. He could see his father’s height among the throng of men and ran sideways to keep up with the march yet not lose sight of his daed. The words the men spoke would mark their decisions to settle in the New World, and Christian wanted to see his father’s face when he took the oath.
Christian felt his feet lift from the ground as his shirt tangled around his neck. “Daed!” he screamed.
A gruff, middle-aged man picked Christian up and set him atop a barrel on the pier. His red face spouted angry English words, and he shook his finger in the boy’s face, but all Christian could do was shrug.
“Daed!” Christian screamed again before the man clamped his hand on Christian’s mouth.
The man pointed toward what looked like a market to Christian—but they were selling people. Christian remembered his parents had said they were fortunate to have funds to pay for their passage, while others crossed the ocean as redemptioners who would work for years to redeem the price of their journey. Panicking, he struggled against the man’s grip.
Christian managed to free his face. “Amish!” he shouted, “Amish!”
The man stepped back to look at him more closely.
And then Jakob was there, scooping up his son. He rattled at the man in German. The man screeched at him in English. Christian clung to his father, and Jakob hustled to rejoin the march before anyone could stop them.
“What were you thinking?” Jakob had a firm grip on the back of Christian’s shirt.
“I just wanted to see you take the oath,” Christian said.
“You almost got yourself sold as an indentured servant,” Jakob said. “I’m sure he thought you stowed away on the ship. The men who run these shipping lines are not known for their mercy toward boys who are able-bodied workers.”
“Es dutt mirr leed,” Christian said. Triumph dissipated into shame. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
“I do forgive you.” Jakob did not break stride. “But you must be more careful.”
There was no going back now. Shamed or not, Christian would see his father swear allegiance to King George. The oath would be in English, which amused Christian, because his father knew only about two dozen words of the language, which he had picked up from the crew of the Charming Nancy.
At the courthouse, an official with a sheet of paper for reference began to call out phrases, which the men, whether Amish or Mennonite, in a collective rich bass, echoed.
We subscribers, natives and the late inhabitants of the Palatinate upon the Rhine and places adjacent, having transported ourselves and families into the Province of Pennsylvania, a Colony subject to the Crown of Great Britain, in hopes and expectation of finding a retreat and peaceable Settlement therein, do solemnly promise and engage that we will be faithful and bear true allegiance to his present majesty King George the Second and his successors, kings of Great Britain, and will be faithful to the proprietor of this province and that we will demean ourselves peaceably to all his said majesty’s subjects and strictly observe and conform to the laws of England and of this province to the utmost of our power and best of our understanding.
A thunderous cheer rose from the men, Christian’s voice among them. He caught his father’s eye and grinned.
Verona was frantic when she discovered Christian gone, but Jakob managed to calm her when he returned to the ship with their son. Now the family stood in line to debark. As they inched forward, Jakob shoved the heavier barrel and the older children managed the lighter one together. Verona cradled the subdued Lisbetli and gripped Maria’s hand as much as she could. In addition to the barrels, they had three small trunks that Jakob hefted easily one at a time and bundles the children carried.
This was what it came down to. Fifteen years of marriage, five children, a life of being ostracized for daring to stand by their beliefs, and what she had to show for it was right before her eyes in shades of gray and brown crammed into barrels and bundles. Everything she had for setting up housekeeping in a wilderness was within her reach.
On the ship, Verona had traded away a few items for things that seemed more pressing at the time. When Christian wanted a book of botany descriptions that no longer amused the Stutzman boy, Verona parted with a tin platter. When Maria fell in love with a small bucket, Verona parted with two wooden spoons. She could do so little to give her children pleasure during the months at sea. Trades among passengers seemed to provide diversion that made the journey less tedious. Jakob assured her they could find what they needed in Philadelphia. Ships came in every week bearing goods from Europe and the Caribbean, and he had budgeted funds for bedding and a few simple
pieces of furniture.
Verona absently let go of Maria and put her hand to her own forehead, not sure whether it was her hand or her face that was clammy. The headache that began several hours ago had not abated, but the demands of getting the family ready to leave the ship left her no time to indulge in rest.
“Maria, come back here,” Barbara called. “We have to wait in line.”
Verona snapped to attention, only now realizing that Maria had left her sight.
“No more waiting!” Maria pouted. But to Verona’s relief, she returned.
One by one the passengers filed past a makeshift table where their names were checked off lists. Jakob gave the sonorous announcement of his name and the names of everyone in the family. Barbara stood at his side, her eyes flicking from one set of papers to another and watching pens scratch and spill ink. Finally, Jakob turned and grinned at Verona, signaling their freedom.
“Daed,” Barbara said, “they didn’t spell our names right.”
“What does it matter?” Jakob said. “We know our names.”
“But the ship’s list says Biler. And I saw a man write Byler.” She spelled the difference aloud.
Jakob chuckled. “They’ve made us sound properly English.”
It was not easy getting their meager belongings lowered to the dock. At one point, Verona handed the baby to Barbara because her own arms were too unsteady to carry her, much less help hoist the barrels and bundles. She wanted only to close her eyes and lie down. As soon as the first crate was upright on the dock, Verona sat on it and settled Lisbetli in her lap once again.
As anxious as everyone had been to get off the boat, now they looked lost. Verona’s ears were unaccustomed to the sound of English coming from wharf workers, and her head hurt too much to try to make sense of the strange words. Passengers huddled with their earthly possessions and spoke their comfortable German. A few experimented with walking on solid ground again, while others sat on their trunks and looked around, trying to get their bearings. Verona sat with her back to the ship with its masts and sails and rigging. She was not sure what she expected of Philadelphia, but not this. Dozens of piers protruded into the Delaware River. Each was a hive of activity. Sailors roamed while stevedores moved goods off and on ships. Laborers pushed carts laden with goods. Horses pulled against the weight of wagons.
Beyond the docks, brick and clapboard structures looked solid, for which Verona was grateful, but also they were also foreign and unfamiliar.
Two mothers clutched each other in a moment of grief. Verona recognized them. Between them they had lost a husband and four children during the journey. Gratitude for the safety of her family stabbed her heart. Was it selfish to be glad her husband and children were walking around on the dock when so many had been lost? She squeezed Lisbetli tighter.
Jakob paused to catch his breath. Two barrels, three trunks, assorted bundles. Everything seemed accounted for. Around them, families gradually made their way off the dock at various paces. It was time for him to sort out his own family’s next move.
“Where will we go now, Daed?” Anna asked.
“I have an address,” Jakob answered. “An English Quaker family rents out houses to Germans and Swiss. We will be comfortable waiting there.”
“No more waiting!” Maria stomped her foot. “I want to go to the new farm right now.”
“Shhh.” Verona beckoned the protesting child to her side.
Jakob tilted his head and considered his wife. He had expected her to be more animated upon arrival. She sat on the top of the barrel, gripping Lisbetli, staring without focus.
“We have to wait, Maria.” Christian’s voice carried an authority Jakob had not heard before. “It takes time to get the papers for the farm.”
“How much time?” Maria wanted to know.
“That’s hard to say,” Jakob said. “First I have to apply for a land grant, and then we’ll have to wait for a survey.”
“I want to grow beets.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until spring to plant your beets.”
“How long until spring?” Maria stamped her foot.
“About six months.”
“I don’t want to wait.”
“You have no choice,” Christian said. “Daed, we need to hire a wagon, don’t we? Someone who can take us to the address?”
Jakob nodded. “It’s a German part of town. Some of our families from the ship will be nearby.”
“I’ll go up to the road and find a wagon,” Christian said.
“We’ll go together,” Jakob said. He was not about to let his only son run off unattended again. “Perhaps we can share a wagon with the Zimmermans.”
Jakob hoped the information he received was reliable. If it was not, he would not know where to go. Although they came from England and not the Continent, the Quaker owners of the house had some sympathy for another religious group that simply sought freedom. Jakob carried a letter of reference from their sponsoring family in Rotterdam to ease introductions in the new land. The immediate challenge was to negotiate with a wagon driver. Jakob listened for every snatch of German around him.
Maria and Anna were stomping on the dock in glee, as if testing to see if it would remain solid. Jakob laughed, happy to let them dispel their excitement before corralling them into a wagon. Lisbetli began to whimper in her mother’s arms, and Jakob reached for the baby.
“She’s taking too long to get well,” Verona said softly.
“She’ll be fine.” Jakob laid his cheek against the baby’s head. “We’re here now. Everybody is going to be fine.”
“Maria, come back,” Anna’s voice called after her restless little sister, who had darted into the throng making their way up the dock. Anna turned to her parents. “I can’t see her anymore!”
Jakob glanced at Verona, as if to ask which of them would chase Maria.
Verona paled and slumped. A second later, she slid off the crate, unconscious.
Fourteen
No matter how early Annie walked through the foyer to the dining room for breakfast, Rufus was already at work. He measured and calculated and sketched and spread wood samples around, evaluating the natural light.
Eight days.
Eight days since she fled the threat to her livelihood. Eight days since meeting the Beiler family and wondering about her own Byler family history. Eight days since she looked into those violet-blue eyes for the first time. Annie shook off the sensation that came with that memory. She had moved back to the motel, where Rufus had begun the remodeling project with steadfast attention to detail.
Lee Solano had hurled a wall of paperwork against Richard D. Stebbins and successfully postponed the court date assigned to the suit Rick filed. This gave Annie time to build a case to strike back. Rick stopped trying to contact her, and Barrett seemed to have ceased trying to hack her system. Annie breathed easier and had begun to use her credit card when she ventured into town.
Today Rufus was on his knees inspecting the back of the reception desk when Annie approached the lobby with her bag over her shoulder. She slowed her steps for a moment and watched him, wishing that she could see him in his workshop crafting form and function together.
“Good morning, Rufus,” Annie said.
He nearly bumped his head getting himself turned around to greet her. “Guder mariye.” He gestured toward the desk. “It will take three men to get the desk out.”
“Are you at that stage already?”
“No. I just like to be prepared when it’s time.”
“How is your family?” Annie asked.
“They are well, thank you. Jacob asks about you every day.”
“He’s a sweet boy. Give him my best greetings.”
“Perhaps you would like to do that yourself tonight at supper.” He tilted his head. “It would make Jacob happy.”
“Then by all means.” Annie would have accepted the invitation on any excuse. Was it possible that she missed the farm?
�
��We will go together from here at six o’clock.”
Annie nodded. “That’s fine.”
Rufus turned back to the dilemma of how to remove the desk, and Annie went into the dining room to pick up an apple and a blueberry muffin to eat while she walked to town. Meaning no offense to Mo, who made passable coffee at the motel, Annie was holding out for the more robust offering of the coffee shop. In only a few days, she had formed the habit of spending her mornings there with her laptop.
Annie settled in with a mocha caramel grande nonfat latte and flipped open her computer. In a few seconds the Internet connection icon went solid and she was online, scrolling through her e-mail looking for messages from Jamie or Lee Solano. A grunt at the next table seemed just purposeful enough to make her look up.
“You have a cool computer.” A teenage boy slouched in his chair, his knees sticks poking out of baggy green shorts.
“Thank you,” Annie said, unsure if she wanted to encourage conversation. He looked to be about fourteen with a stereotypical adolescent chip on his shoulder.
“I really need a computer,” the boy said, “but my parents say we can’t afford it.”
“Don’t you have any computer at home?”
“Just a stupid desktop that’s like, ancient. It’s almost three years old. My dad says it’s good enough for homework and he doesn’t have money to throw around on a computer every time something new and better comes along.”
Annie twisted her lips to one side. “I guess it can get expensive.”
“No kidding. I’ve tried to find a job, but there aren’t any around here. I’m not old enough anyway.”
“Maybe something will turn up.”
“I have two sisters. They spend more time on the computer than they do in the bathroom. I never get a chance.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.” Annie sipped her coffee, her eyes on her screen.
“I know. My dad just says, ‘Life’s not fair.’ Like that solves anything.” He stood up. “Hey, can you watch my bag for a minute? I need a bagel.”
Accidentally Amish Page 10
