The Amish Nanny

by Mindy Starns Clark

  As we waited for the man to show up, I asked Alice what she knew about him, and she explained that George was Daniel’s partner in their new business venture.

  “What kind of business?”

  “Why, their tour company, of course. Didn’t we tell you about that?”

  I shook my head and then listened as she explained further. She said that Daniel and George had been working for months putting together a new tour company, one that would serve the needs of Plain travelers—Amish, Mennonite, Brethren, and more. Their main focus was going to Anabaptist heritage tours, primarily in Europe. In fact, that was how Daniel had first become involved with our property deed situation. He’d been in Langnau doing research on several potential tour stops when he was approached by the Wasserdorf Historical Society and asked to help with the hydro plant issue.

  “I have the feeling that if we can wrap this legal stuff up in time that George and Daniel would like to practice a little of their tour-guiding on us afterward,” she added.

  I smiled, thinking that we’d probably make quite an interesting sight as we trouped around: three Amish women and two Mennonite men, with an age span between youngest and oldest of more than sixty years.

  Holding tightly to Alice’s hand as we continued to wait, Christy asked her great-grandmother how we were going to recognize the man if we’d never met him before. Though George was a Mennonite, he wasn’t Old Order, so we didn’t even know what he’d be wearing.

  “We don’t have to recognize him, dear,” Alice replied brightly. “We’re just going to wait right here until he finds us.”

  Christy looked to me as if for confirmation, so I winked and said, “We’re much easier to spot than your average tourist, don’t you think?”

  She giggled and looked away.

  Ten minutes later, we were still standing there, waiting, when Christy began to get antsy.

  “I’m tired,” she said.

  “We all are,” Alice answered.

  “And hungry.”

  “We’ll get dinner when we get to the hotel.” Alice pulled a bag of peanuts from her purse and handed them over. Christy took them from her sullenly, but at least she complained no further.

  Finally, a man with a beard and no mustache emerged from the crowd and came toward us, a broad smile on his face.

  “Hello!” His voice rang with enthusiasm. “Mrs. Beiler? Miss Rupp? Miss Gundy?”

  He was George, no doubt. A man of about fifty, he had gray hair and a round belly, and he was dressed Plainly in suspenders, a plaid shirt, and black trousers. He held a coat over one hand and a satchel in the other, and I realized that the reason he was late was probably because he’d just come from a train himself.

  We all shook hands and then he helped with our bags, leading us through the throngs of people not upstairs to the exit but instead down a side hallway, to the subway. After handing us tokens and showing us how to move through the turnstiles, George explained that we would be getting on here and going down to the financial district, which was close to the harbor. We’d spend the night at a hotel there and then board the ship in the morning.

  We reached the area beside the tracks and waited for the subway to come. Nearby stood a man whose bare arms, neck, and even part of his face were covered with tattoos. With him was a woman who had tattooed arms as well, along with piercings all over her ears and nose. I had to force myself not to stare, but then I noticed Alice was staring too, not to mention Christy. It was practically impossible not to.

  After a little wait we heard a distant rumble followed by the startling appearance of a sleek silver subway train that screeched to a stop in front of us. After a moment its doors slid open with a whoosh.

  “This is us,” George said, moving us forward into the train. We all managed to make it on board with our bags intact, but just barely. We hadn’t even been able to sit before the doors slid closed again and we were being propelled forward.

  I glanced over at Alice, who was standing across from me, gripping a silver pole so tightly her knuckles were white. An orange plastic seat was open right behind her, so I caught her eye and motioned for her to take it. Once she did, Christy leapt forward and squeezed into the seat with her as well. That left me and George to wrangle all of our bags and make sure they didn’t tip over and nick anyone in the shins, especially not the tattooed guy, who had pulled out a small knife and was using it to clean his fingernails.

  At the next stop a woman in a very normal-looking business suit stepped aboard, but as soon as she settled across from me, I realized that the large purse she was carrying wasn’t a purse at all. Instead, it had mesh windows on each end—and a little dog inside! I hoped Christy would notice it, but she was still focused on the couple with the piercings.

  Fifteen minutes later, George announced that we were almost to our stop. The next time we came to a halt and the doors opened, the four of us were ready. As one, we got off, gripping our bags tightly and moving forward against the throng of people who were waiting to get on.

  Leading the way through the crowd, George was clearly in his element, but I was worried for Alice, who seemed pale and shaken. Once the train had pulled away and the crowd of people had thinned out, I told George we needed a moment to regroup.

  “Oh! Of course!” he said, glancing back at the three of us and realizing what was going on. Taking Alice by the arm, he led her over to a bench near the wall. It was filthy, but she gratefully plopped right down on it anyway, apologizing for the delay. Looking at her as she sat there resting, for a moment I was afraid she might not be up to the trip, physically speaking. But then I decided this was more about her being overwhelmed than being exhausted. To be honest, I had found my first-ever subway ride pretty overwhelming as well.

  When Alice decided she was ready to continue, George led us to an elevator tucked in near the stairs, and though it was a tight squeeze, we all managed to fit inside. Once its doors opened again, we emerged at street level. We, who were used to a horizontal world, now found ourselves stepping out into a vertical one, an astonishing jumble of towering skyscrapers, flashing signs, and honking horns. This place was amazing—and about as different from our Lancaster County landscape as I could imagine.

  “Now we’ll walk to our hotel,” George announced, taking the handle of Alice’s bag and once again leading the way.

  “Will Daniel be there?” Christy asked, falling in step behind him.

  “Not until later. He’s doing research right now at the New York City Historical Society. He’ll probably stay till they close.”

  We continued walking, and after a few minutes Christy spoke again.

  “How much farther is it?” she asked with a slight whine to her voice.

  George said it was just a few blocks. But those blocks were long, and as we continued, Christy’s steps seemed to grow shorter and shorter. I kept an eye on her, concerned for her health. Then I remembered her saying how much she hated to walk and realized she was just being lazy.

  I felt a little nervous when George paused at a street corner, pulled a map from his pocket, and compared it with the signs overhead. But then, after craning his neck to look in several directions, he finally grinned and pointed off to our right. Sure enough, halfway up the block was a sign indicating The Harbor Hotel, though it was hard to imagine a harbor anywhere around here when all we could see were skyscrapers.

  Alice and Christy and I were soon settled in our room, which was small but clean, with a large window, two medium-sized beds, and a tiny little bathroom. Alice still looked tired, so I insisted that she stretch out on the bed to relax. As she did, I went into the bathroom with my comb to tidy my hair. All the while Christy busied herself with flipping various light switches on and off before turning on the television and playing with the remote control. Just when I was starting to get a headache from the barrage of sound, Alice told her that was enough and made her turn it off.

  In the quiet, I tried to remember what I’d heard about Christy’s medical
condition. I wasn’t sure of the name, but it had something to do with her heart and was the same disorder that had caused her mother’s death. Lydia had died because she hadn’t even know she had the condition and had ignored numerous symptoms, including extremely high blood pressure during pregnancy. My aunt Marta had been Lydia’s midwife, and despite Marta’s many warnings on the subject, Lydia had never gone to her doctor to get checked out. Consequently, she’d ended up dying in childbirth. Christy, on the other hand, wouldn’t share the same fate, simply because knowledge was power. Being fully aware of her condition meant Christy could safeguard her health in all of the ways that would prevent the same thing from ever happening to her.

  Daniel still hadn’t shown up by dinnertime, so when we met up with George in the lobby, he said we would have to eat without him. George took us to a little Italian restaurant down the street, and though I’d never had real Italian food before, I found it to be quite tasty. Christy was especially taken with an appetizer called “calamari,” though once George explained it was fried squid, she seemed to lose her appetite for it a bit.

  By the time the main course arrived, George was telling us all about the new tour company he and Daniel were establishing. He thanked us for being a part of their research voyage, but we didn’t remind him that our main reason for coming on this trip had nothing to do with his tour company’s research and everything to do with settling a property issue.

  “I couldn’t have done any of this without Daniel, of course,” George continued, sticking a fork into his platter of spaghetti and turning it slowly in a circle. “That kid is brilliant. I can’t believe the information he’s dug up. When all is said and done, we’re going to have some amazing tours, with a number of stops that are exclusively available only through us.”

  Christy was watching George with fascination as he finished spinning the fork and lifted it from the plate, revealing a perfect, spiraled ball of spaghetti wrapped around the tines. Pausing, he added, “The only problem with that boy is that he gets so caught up in his work that he forgets to eat or sleep. I’m sure that’s what’s keeping him now. Probably doesn’t have a clue how late it’s gotten.”

  “Who could forget to eat or sleep?” Christy replied as George slid the large bite into his mouth and began to chew. “He sounds weird.” I remembered Christy hadn’t met him the day I did at her home.

  “He’s not weird,” Alice corrected. “Daniel is a very nice young man.” Clearly, through all of their dealings, he’d managed to win her trust.

  Considering that in the morning we’d be boarding a ship to sail across an ocean, I could only pray that that trust was well founded.

  FOURTEEN

  The next morning we rose well before dawn, dressed, and packed our bags. When we reached the lobby, George directed us toward a room with coffee and pastries, and then he darted back out to the lobby, his cell phone in his hand. Daniel was nowhere to be seen. A few minutes later George came back in just as we’d settled down at a table and told us to hurry, that the taxi had arrived to take us to the ship.

  Alice caught up with George in the lobby. “What about Daniel?”

  “I’m not sure,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I hope he’ll manage to meet up with us. That kid…”

  “If he doesn’t make it,” she persisted, concern furrowing her brow, “would we leave without him?” Clearly, this was not an idea she was in favor of.

  Obviously hearing the tone of her voice, George assured her he had no doubt Daniel would get there in time.

  The streetlights were still on as we hurried through the revolving door and out into the cool morning air, wrestling with our luggage while also trying to keep a grip on our pastries. Out on the sidewalk, Christy held back a little as the driver loaded our bags into the trunk of the taxi. “Seven days is a long time on a ship,” she said.

  I agreed. “But it’s going to be a lot of fun.”

  “You know,” George told her, “not very many people in this world can say they sailed on a cargo vessel.”

  Christy smiled a little at that, even though George was appealing to her pride. Alice remained silent as we all climbed into the taxi.

  The driver drove down the narrow streets, swerving back and forth between lanes. Horns honked. A man darted across the street in front of us.

  The driver said he didn’t take many people down to the commercial part of the harbor. “I make a lot of trips to the cruise ship docks, but not the cargo docks.”

  George explained that the simplicity of the cargo ships suited our lifestyle more. But I also suspected it was easier, in this case, to book a cargo ship than a cruise ship at such late notice.

  The driver looked in the rearview mirror, directly at me, then nodded and said he could see that we were simple people. I blushed at his words and quickly looked out the window. In a few minutes, a sea of cargo containers appeared and I knew we were close.

  “What’s in all of those boxes?” Christy asked.

  Glad that I had read up on all of this with my library books, I explained that it could be anything, really. “Whatever’s shipped by sea—clothes, appliances, electronics, food…”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Wouldn’t food rot?”

  “There are refrigerator containers. Even freezer containers.” I pointed to some mammoth contraptions ahead of us. “See those big cranes? They lift the containers onto the ship. The men who work down here are called longshoremen.”

  “Can women load the ships?”

  “Sure.”

  “Plain women?”

  I smiled. “What do you think?”

  Her nose was pressed to the window now. “It looks like fun.”

  It did. Already I could feel an excitement, a vibrancy in the air, and I suspected Christy felt it too. We stopped at a little hut where a security woman in a uniform came out and checked our passports and George’s paperwork.

  “I usually just check in sailors,” she told us, smiling. “I’ve never had a van full of Amish people come through my checkpoint before.”

  “Three Amish and one Mennonite,” George corrected, smiling in return.

  She stepped back and waved us on through. “You folks have a nice trip.”

  As we continued on, containers stacked four high lined both sides of the street, in colors of blue, orange, gray, and green. It felt as if we were miniature people plopped down among a child’s game of blocks.

  Ahead of us loomed a giant ship with cargo stacked on it from bow to stern, and more was still being added. The white superstructure, with a smokestack rising above it, contrasted against the colorful containers. The name Whitebird Trader was painted on the side, toward the bow, just above the anchor.

  We marveled at the enormity of the ship. I’d expected it to be big, but the size took my breath away. It would cover our cornfield and pasture combined back home, and its height was equivalent, I was sure, to a building of at least several stories.

  Our driver pulled into a parking space close to the dock, one that was near the loading ramp but out of the way of all the activity around us. Still staring up at the massive vessel that would carry us across the sea, we climbed out of the van into the cold air.

  “It smells salty here,” Christy exclaimed.

  Eyes wide, Alice and I both agreed. Inhaling deeply, I realized I could almost taste ocean water, brine, and seaweed just from the scent of the air.

  As the men were unloading the trunk, a jet flew overhead, coming in pretty low. The driver, who had seemed to take a liking to me, nodded up to the sky.

  “This trip only takes eight hours by plane, you know,” he said with a wink.

  I smiled in return. “Ah, but just think of all the things we’d never see.”

  “Yeah.” He hoisted another bag out of the back. “Water. Lots of water.”

  He laughed at his own joke, grabbing another bag.

  “George!”

  We all turned toward the shout to see Daniel coming toward us. He wore a button-dow
n shirt with a brown jacket, faded jeans, and had a pack on his back. His hair was just as yellow as I remembered, the color of lemons in the early morning sunshine. As he got closer, I could see that there was a bounce in his step and a wide grin on his face.

  “Where have you been?” George asked, sounding less irritated than he had a right to, in my opinion.

  “The usual,” Daniel replied, laughing. “I lost track of time, so I just went ahead and spent the night at the Y. I called you this morning, but you didn’t answer. I left you a voice mail.”

  George pulled out his phone. “Is that what that symbol’s for?”

  Daniel laughed again, and as the two men shook hands he told George that while they were at sea he was going to sit down and give him a lesson on how to use the satellite phone he’d bought for the trip.

  Next, Daniel turned toward Alice, giving her a warm smile and handshake. She did not smile in return. Obviously recognizing the stiffness of her demeanor, he added, “I’m very sorry if my absence caused you any concern. If you knew me better, you’d know it was no big deal and that I would show up in the end. I always do somehow.”

  Though his statement seemed prideful to me, it seemed to have the desired effect on her. Immediately, her shoulders relaxed and her features softened.

  “Yes, well, try not to let that happen when you start giving tours for real,” she scolded him fondly. “Your customers would find such behavior quite unsettling.”

  Appropriately contrite, Daniel nodded and thanked her for her input. Behind him I couldn’t miss the gratified sparkle in George’s eyes. No doubt the man had said the same thing to his young partner before. Perhaps the words would carry far more weight having come from Alice now as well.

  The matter settled, Daniel then turned to me, saying it was good to see me again. He shook my hand, his grip warm and strong and sinewy. After that he focused on Christy, exclaiming, “And this must be Miss Christy Gundy!”