The Amish Nanny

by Mindy Starns Clark

  “So many were martyred, Christy. They were hanged, drowned…”

  She put her hands over her ears.

  “…burned at the stake. It’s in the book on your lap.” It registered that she couldn’t hear me, so I stopped talking but kept my face straight without a hint of frustration.

  She removed her hands.

  “You’ll see,” I said to her, “history won’t be boring on this trip. Not the way I’m going to teach it. It will all be very much alive.”

  She didn’t answer as she closed the book and placed it on the grass.

  “What do you like to read?” I scooted to a sitting position beside her.

  “I don’t.”

  I couldn’t imagine not liking to read and couldn’t quite believe her. “What’s your favorite book so far?” I prodded.

  “My mamm read me the Little House books when I was young. I liked those.”

  I agreed. Those were wonderful stories, but she hadn’t actually read them—they had been read to her. I decided to change the subject. “How are you feeling about the trip?”

  “Fine.”

  “Have you been away from home before?”

  She shook her head.

  I remembered spending the night at Aunt Marta’s when I was ten, when Ella was two. It was the first time I had ever spent the night away from home, and by midnight I’d worked myself into a full-fledged bout of insomnia. That was when Uncle Freddy was still around because he stayed with Ella while Aunt Marta drove me home. There would be no getting Christy home in the middle of the night when we were in Europe. I told her my story and she rolled her eyes. I added that the next time I stayed at Aunt Marta’s I was fine.

  “I’m not worried about being away. I’ll have my grossmammi,” she said.

  And me, I wanted to add but didn’t. Christy stood and I followed her toward the house.

  “What are you looking forward to the most?”

  She shrugged.

  “Have you ever been on a train?”

  She hadn’t. We stopped and sat on the steps to the porch, the heavy book balanced on her knees. Sitting there, I told her about my first train ride—my trip to Oregon—and what it was like. “And then, just think, we’ll go on a ship. I’m really excited about that.” I was aware I sounded as if I were speaking to a little kid. Suddenly I couldn’t remember what it was like to be eleven.

  “Are you worried about anything?” I ventured.

  “Grossmammi said we’ll be walking a lot. I’m a little worried about that.”

  “Because of your health?”

  “No,” Christy responded. “I take a pill every day for that. I just don’t like to walk.”

  I took a deep breath to keep from laughing.

  A buggy approached, and I lost Christy’s attention. I followed her from the steps to the driveway, expecting to see Hannah or her husband, Jonas.

  It was Will, his sorrel prancing along, and beside him on the bench of the spring wagon sat Leah Fisher. Her horse was tied to the surrey hook in the back.

  “A wheel fell off my buggy,” she explained as Will stopped his horse, and she climbed down. “Will came to my rescue.”

  Will nodded his head toward me. “Leah’s going to call and see if she can reach one of her brothers or her father.”

  I stood and offered her my cell phone. She took it and said, “I just gave mine up. I’m joining the church, you know.”

  I didn’t tell her I’d heard that. She must have dialed one of her brothers because someone picked up right away. From the one side of the conversation it seemed he would be on his way to collect her soon. She hung up, handed me the phone, and thanked me.

  “Come on in to the house,” Will said to all of us. “We’ll have a snack.”

  I hesitated, sure Christy didn’t want to spend any more time with me and knowing I didn’t want to watch Leah spending time with Will. Leah was already leading Christy inside, so I decided I should check in with Alice and then go.

  She was in the kitchen slicing apples, and Leah was settling onto a bench at the table, the twins clamoring to sit on either side of her. I wondered how much time she was spending at the house that made the little girls so taken with her.

  “Hi, Ada,” Mel said, and Matty nodded her head in agreement.

  Christy handed her grandmother the book, and Alice set it on the desk near the counter. I told her my passport had arrived but that Zed still hadn’t heard from Giselle. The carved box from Lexie hadn’t arrived either, but I didn’t mention that. We discussed a few last-minute things about the trip, and then I decided to head for home. It was becoming clear that Leah was right. It was going to be difficult to get to know Christy. I’d never known a child who was so distant.

  As I drove the buggy, I thought about how comfortable Leah looked with Mel and Matty on either side of her, but Christy puzzled me. I knew how special it was to have one’s teacher stop by. I’d had that happen many times during my growing-up years. But Christy didn’t seem impressed. She was definitely hard to figure out. Then again, maybe she could see through Leah the way I did. Maybe Christy was a lot smarter than the average eleven-year-old.

  When I turned down the lane to our house, I saw Aunt Marta’s car parked near the pine trees. Daed met me as the lane curved toward the barn, and he said he would unhitch Rikki for me because Marta and her children were waiting in the house to tell me goodbye. When I walked in, Ella hurried toward me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

  “I wish I were going with you,” she chirped.

  I wished she were too. For all her faults, she had been a fun and lively traveling companion, and during our trip west we had established certain rhythms and routines that had made our journey run much more smoothly. I hoped Alice and Christy and I could do the same.

  Aunt Marta stepped toward me and gave me a hug too. Zed just smiled and waved as he flicked his bangs from his forehead. “I have an email for you,” he said. “Giselle finally wrote back.”

  I snatched the message out of his hand.

  Sorry I took so long to respond. I’ve been busy. Not sure of my schedule during the time you’re in Switzerland, but call when you arrive and I’ll let you know if I’ll be around.

  She left a number, her cell I assumed, and that was all. I felt sick to my stomach as I folded the paper. Zed and Ella both looked at me with sympathy.

  “May I read it?” Mamm asked.

  I handed the piece of paper to her and watched her as she read it, her expression growing smug. No doubt she was feeling vindicated that her sister obviously would have preferred not to hear from me at all. Once she was finished, though, the smugness faded, and when she looked at me, she did so with compassion in her eyes.

  “It’s better than nothing,” she offered, handing the note back to me. Considering the circumstances, all I could do was agree.

  “Your package came today,” Daed said, nodding toward the table.

  I rose and quickly opened it. Lexie’s box was inside. I ran my fingers over the carving of Amielbach—the turrets and balconies and surrounding trees, and then over to the waterfall. I’d begun to think Lexie had forgotten to send it. I knew she’d been busy with work and being newly married, and I was grateful she took the time to get it in the mail. It comforted me to bring my sister’s box with me, and I decided I’d fill it with Christy’s schoolwork to justify the room it would take up in my suitcase.

  After I’d said goodbye to Marta, Ella, and Zed and they had left, Mamm put an arm around me. “I’m sorry about Giselle.”

  I leaned against her shoulder. “See? You were worried about nothing.”

  “Ya,” she answered. “It looks that way.” She sighed. “Giselle was so warm and caring when we were little. Then she made some bad decisions and became self-centered, thinking only about her own wants and not caring how her actions affected all of us. But I realized just now that I have no idea anymore who my sister is. Is she warm and caring again? Or did she stay selfish and self-centered? I
actually do hope you’ll be able to find out.”

  I shivered as my mother pulled away. This wasn’t like going to Oregon. It wasn’t like taking the train across the country, knowing Lexie would meet me at the station and Sophie would take me back. No. This was a journey of uncertainty.

  I was traveling to Switzerland as the nanny of a child who didn’t even like me, looking to straighten out a property matter that was more than a hundred and thirty years old, and hoping to see a birth mother who didn’t want to meet me.

  For a moment, I questioned whether going was something I was meant to do at all.

  THIRTEEN

  We said our goodbyes the next day beside the van Will had rented to take us to the train station. The sun was high over the cornstalks, but the weather had turned cool during the night and the first hint of fall was in the air. Mamm stood with a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her face was pale, but it seemed she was doing her best.

  “Just come back to us, ya?” she whispered when she hugged me one last time.

  “Ya, of course,” I said in return. Of course.

  She pulled away from me and reached into her apron pocket. “I put together a list of emergency phone numbers for you—Dr. Morton, Bishop Fisher, the Gundys, Marta, a few others…” she said, handing me a piece of paper. “Just in case.”

  “But I told you, I’m not taking my cell phone—”

  “I know, Ada, but you never know what might come up. Better safe than sorry.”

  “You’re right. Thank you.” I slipped her list into the inside pocket of my purse, feeling appreciative of the gesture and smothered by it all at the same time.

  Daed hugged me next, but he kept silent, probably to keep the tears in his eyes from spilling onto his cheeks. Alice had stepped from the van to hug Mammi, and the two friends clung to each other for a long moment. Then Alice let go and climbed back into the vehicle, returning to her place on the front bench seat next to Will.

  I hugged my grandmother tightly, thanking her for making the trip possible. She squeezed me in return, saying, “Tell Giselle I love her. Tell her God loves her.”

  Unsure if I would get the chance to meet Giselle at all, I merely nodded and asked Mammi to keep us in prayer. I hadn’t had the heart to show her Giselle’s email. Instead, I’d simply said that she’d sent her phone number with instructions to call once we arrived.

  I sat in the backseat of the van, next to Christy, and as we pulled out, I turned around to look through the rear window. My parents and grandmother were standing in a huddle in the driveway, watching me leave—once again. Far behind them towered the windmill, its blades slowly rotating in the breeze.

  The last time I’d been driven to the Lancaster train station, it had been to set off on an exciting adventure with my cousins, one that would culminate in the sharing of my sister’s special day. This trip, however, was far more complex than that, and my stomach was gripped with equal amounts of excitement and fear. All I could do was pray for peace and wisdom—and I hoped they would come soon. Right now my emotions were like our windmill during a storm, spinning wildly out of control.

  At the station our driver stayed with the van while Will helped carry our bags to the check-in area. He planned to wait with us until our train was called, which was a good thing, given how sullen and withdrawn Christy had begun acting on the way. We settled in a row of chairs, with the little girl between Will and Alice, and me on Will’s other side. Will and Christy talked for a while, but when she grew silent, eyes closed as she rested against Alice, he turned to me and spoke softly.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “For?”

  “Going along. Helping Alice. Taking care of Christy. I’m afraid it’s caused some division in your family. We never intended that.”

  I inhaled deeply. He must have heard about my mother’s fears. Perhaps Ella had told Ezra, who told Will. Or maybe Mammi had said something to Alice directly. I shook my head, wishing I could explain how hard Mamm was trying, how much I needed to do this, how desperately thrilled I was at the very thought of meeting my birth mother in person. But none of that seemed quite appropriate.

  “It’s not too bad,” I murmured as I gave him a reassuring smile.

  He shifted his leg, accidentally pressing his thigh against mine. Quickly, he sat up straighter and pulled it away. We remained silent for a couple of minutes, and then he spoke again. “I’ll be praying about you seeing Giselle. I hope it will work out and that it will be a good thing.”

  I thanked him even as I felt my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. I wondered how much he knew about Giselle, about the fact that I had been conceived out of wedlock, the product of an adulterous relationship she’d had with an older man, one who had left his wife and child to run away and play house for a while with her. Since learning the facts of my life, I had struggled some with the shame of it all, but never more so than now, sitting next to this upstanding man from a perfect family, where the worst thing anyone had ever done was maybe fall asleep during church or tell a little white lie. He must think of me as damaged goods, with an ugly background to go with my very average face.

  “I’ll also be praying for safety for all of you,” he said. Then he smiled, his brown eyes lighting up, and I felt that jolt I often got when I was with him. “I have to admit, I sure wish I were going too.”

  Before I could think of how to respond, he added, “Make certain Christy gets plenty of rest, will you?”

  I nodded, telling him not to worry and that enough sleep was a requirement for me to keep up my health as well. I didn’t know if Will was finished with instructions or not, but that was all he had a chance to tell me because it was time for our train. As the other passengers began moving toward the boarding area outside, we stood and gathered our things.

  Will hugged his grandmother, and then he lifted his daughter and spun her around.

  “Christy Gundy,” he cried happily, “you are going to Europe! No one in this family has been there since 1877!”

  She rolled her eyes, but once he set her back down and let her go she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. I could see in her closed eyes and scrunched forehead how very much she loved him. Just because she wasn’t expressive with her words didn’t mean the feelings weren’t there, somewhere deep inside.

  Then Christy followed Alice toward the door, a cloth bag over her shoulder and her coat in her other hand. After a quick goodbye to Will, I fell in behind. At the doorway I glanced back to see him still standing there. His face was solemn, but when he spotted me he grinned and waved. I smiled and waved in return before continuing on to the train.

  We settled into our seats, with Christy and Alice side by side and me facing them. As we waited for the train to leave the station, Alice said when she was Christy’s age she had ridden a train with her brother to visit their older sister in Maryland. Later, as a teenager, she had gone with another sister and her husband on a mission trip to Honduras.

  Christy’s eyes grew wide. “In Central America?”

  “Yes. I was gone seven months.”

  Christy was clearly impressed. And so was I.

  Alice leaned back against the seat. “As the youngest of fifteen children, I was always tagging along with someone.” She turned her gaze out the window. “They have all passed away, though. Every single one of them except me.”

  The train lurched a little and Christy held on to her armrest. When we started moving, Alice clapped her hands together, her moment of sorrow behind her, and we all smiled.

  “Oh, girls!” she exclaimed. “Our adventure begins!”

  Adventure, indeed. As the train continued to pick up its pace, I felt as if my very soul was rising up inside of me, breaking free from something, surging with strength for whatever lay ahead. Thinking back to the last time I was on a train, I remembered the prayer I’d uttered that one morning, asking God to bless me with even greater adventures ahead. Now here I was traveling to Europe! I knew there wa
s no way that any of this could have happened unless He’d made it so.

  The scenery zipping by outside the window mesmerized Christy, and when she wasn’t being lulled by it, she was staring at our fellow passengers. A businessman spoke nonstop on his cell phone as he worked away on his laptop. A woman dressed in a short skirt and high heels sat across the aisle from us, her head back against the seat and her eyes closed. Christy stared at the woman, soaking in the scene, until Alice gently patted her great-granddaughter’s knee and shook her head. Christy stopped.

  A woman with an infant and a little boy sat a couple of rows ahead of us. The little boy kept turning around to stare at Christy. The mother seemed too tired to care. I smiled at the little boy, and he shyly hid his head for just a minute but then grinned, his eyes twinkling.

  Three hours later, when the train pulled into New York’s Penn Station, I was practically bouncing in my seat with excitement. I’d always wanted to see New York. When others bemoaned the crime and worldliness, I defended it for the museums and the architecture and the people. I knew there would be no museums for me this time—and maybe never—but I was excited to see the city life just the same.

  Once we’d collected our bags, we followed the signs to the main lobby, grateful that Daniel had told us to get suitcases that had wheels on them. Each of us rolling a bag behind, we moved quickly up the wide hallways, but everyone else seemed to be walking even faster, streaming around us as if we were rocks in a river. People were in such a hurry that they scarcely even noticed our unusual garb, which came as a welcome relief, especially compared to my trip out West.

  When we reached the lobby, it was easy to spot the big schedule board hanging from the ceiling at its center. The three of us made our way to it and then stood directly underneath, as instructed, to wait for the man who was to meet us there. I didn’t know what he looked like, just that his name was George Mast, and that he would be escorting us to our hotel and would likely take us to dinner as well. Daniel would be joining up with us at some point later this evening.