I asked Daniel about himself, and he said he’d grown up in Ohio on a small dairy farm. Besides tending the farm, both his mother and father had taught at the local high school, education being a big deal in his family. Travel was important to them too, Daniel said. He’d traveled a lot with his parents growing up, and on his own he’d been to Guatemala and Brazil on mission trips, and he’d spent the previous summer in Europe.
“It must be exciting, to travel so extensively,” I said.
He nodded, adding that it was also a lot easier when that travel was done by air. By the tone of his voice, I realized he wished we were on a plane right now rather than on this ship. He could have been, if not for us. As Mennonites he and George were free to fly, whereas we Amish were expected to limit flights to emergency or special situations. An Amish person on an airplane wasn’t completely unheard of, but it certainly wasn’t encouraged, and in some districts it was totally forbidden.
“I like traveling this way,” I said, thinking of the nice taxi driver who didn’t get it either.
He smiled. “In comparison to?”
“Well, a buggy. Or train. Or automobile.”
He laughed. “Basically everything but an airplane?”
I smiled back, and though I felt no great need to experience flight, I couldn’t help but envy him his freedom, including that he could spend the night in Manhattan by himself. I asked him what the Y was, as I wasn’t familiar with that term.
“It’s like a hostel,” he answered. “Bare accommodations—bathroom down the hall, lousy mattress—but it’s cheap.” He grimaced. “Poor George. I’m what you might call a very organized airhead. I can track down an obscure piece of history in no time—but then forget to sleep for three days.”
I couldn’t imagine that. I asked how he managed to survive schooling, and if he had compromised his health for the sake of his studies.
He laughed, saying he’d been known to miss a meal or two, not to mention that he’d seen more than his share of sunrises without benefit of having slept.
“I hope to go to the University of Zurich for my master’s degree,” he added. “I suppose I’ll end up being just as bad there, especially if the library is open twenty-four hours.” He started to go on but then hesitated, saying I probably wasn’t very interested in hearing about his educational plans.
“Oh, no. I’m fascinated by the life of a scholar.”
“Even though it’s not an option for you?”
I must have bristled because he immediately apologized.
“Apology not necessary,” I said, and then I explained that I hadn’t stopped studying just because I’d graduated, and that I loved to learn. “If you go to school in Zurich, all your classes will be in German, right?”
“Ya,” he said. “But it’s not a problem. I speak fluent German, and I’ve been taught High German and Swiss German too.” Glancing at me, he added, “I’m kind of hoping that by the end of this trip I will have picked up a little Pennsylvania Dutch as well.”
Smiling, I glanced away. I didn’t tell him that even though Pennsylvania Dutch was our first language, we tended to shift into English when with others, lest we seem rude or exclusionary.
“So is there a family in your future?” I teased, changing the subject.
He blushed. “God willing. A small family. I can’t see being able to support too many children—but a wife and one child would make me very happy.”
Now it was my turn to blush. I hadn’t meant to be forward. There was no doubt about it. Daniel Hart was an easy person to talk with. I would have to take care not to let my tongue run away with me in the future, but I couldn’t resist saying, “I hope you’ll have more than one child.”
“Why?”
“It’s so lonely. I hated it.”
“No way! I was an only child, and I loved it,” he said. I wrinkled my nose, and he laughed. “Of course you would feel that way. Look at who I’m talking to. What’s the average number of children for an Amish couple now, anyway? Seven? Eight?”
I shrugged. I had no idea, though that sounded about right. Amish or not, I couldn’t imagine not wanting a house full of children. I couldn’t imagine loving someone who did.
Suddenly, images of Will filled my mind. Showing the twins how to dive into the pile of leaves. Sipping tea from an acorn handed to him by Mel. Holding Mat in his lap. That was the world I wanted, the world I would never have. My good mood evaporated at the very thought.
At that moment, several fat raindrops landed on my face. Wiping them away, I looked around and realized that the sky had grown dark—as dark as dusk—and the waves of the sea had begun to churn wildly beneath us. More rain began to fall, giving me an excuse to tell Daniel goodbye for now and head back down to my cabin.
Once there, I entered quietly, glad to see that Alice and Christy were still asleep. Moving toward the couch, I sat and leaned my forehead against the porthole, watching through the glass as the driving rain, like sheets of metal, cut sharply into the water, much as the pain was cutting through my heart.
SIXTEEN
At dinner all anyone wanted to talk about was the storm. Rain had been pelting the ship for a couple of hours, and we could feel the waves rocking us to and fro. I took comfort in the fact that our vessel was a big one, as I hoped that meant it would weather the storm well overall. At least none of us was feeling seasick thus far.
Morgan joined us late again, arriving just after we’d said the prayer. Sliding into her seat, she apologized for the interruption and immediately began serving herself from the platters of food at the center.
Making conversation, Alice asked Morgan about her plans once we reached Europe. She replied that she would be taking the train from Le Havre, France, where the ship would be bringing us, to Basel, Switzerland, where her father lived.
“We’re going to Switzerland too,” Christy volunteered, though Alice shot her a look for interrupting.
Nonplussed, Morgan went on to say that her parents had divorced when she was in high school and her father worked for an international bank. He’d lived in Switzerland for the last three years, but this was her first time to visit him. She planned to stay two months.
“I’ll be taking a lot of short trips to other locations from there,” she added. “Obviously, there’s a lot to see and learn. It’ll be handy to have him as my home base, so to speak.”
“Will your father be able to travel with you?” Alice asked.
Morgan shook her head. “Nah, he’s not one for museums and historical sites anyway. He’s all about business. I’m afraid my mother is too. She’s the vice president of a land management firm. I’ve always been the odd one out.”
“How so?” Alice probed.
Morgan passed the mashed potatoes to Christy. “Oh, I’m just not into all that corporate stuff. I took an economics class my freshman year of college and nearly flunked it. I’ve never been so bored in my life.”
“But all of life is business,” George said. “Running a household. Making a living. Planning for retirement. There’s no way around it, you know.”
“I get that.” She passed the gravy. “But I didn’t want it to be my main focus.”
“So what did you major in?” Daniel held his fork in his hand but hadn’t started eating yet.
“Art history.”
“I imagine your parents were pleased about that,” Daniel teased.
She smiled at that, just a little. “Thrilled. They flipped, said a degree like that was useless and that I’d never amount to anything.” She frowned. “Of course, given that I’ve been out of college for two years now, they may have had a point.”
“Why? What have you been doing since you graduated?” Daniel asked.
“Nothing much, really. Mostly just trying to figure things out.” She shrugged. “I did some volunteer work. Helped my mom start a recycling program at her office. Took a few classes, for fun, at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.” She started to take a bite of her food, paused,
and then added, “This trip was my mother’s idea. She thinks there’s something I have to get out of my system first and then I’ll be ready to settle down.”
Listening to her, I decided we had that in common. During my memorable morning in Montana on the train, I had realized there was something I needed to get out of my system too, and thus I’d resolved to embark on my rumspringa for real. Whether Morgan used that word to describe it or not, her longings didn’t seem all that dissimilar to mine.
“When I get back to L.A., my mom thinks I’ll be ready to find a real job. But I’ll probably just try to get on somewhere as a barista or a waitress. Something to carry me over until I decide about graduate school.”
I felt a pang of empathy for Morgan McAllister, and it struck me that she was nothing like Leah Fisher at all. While Leah was flirty and giddy and upbeat, Morgan was darker, more serious, and most of all kind of sad.
The next morning, after breakfast, Christy, Alice, and I strolled along the deck of the ship. A light mist hovered in the air, but at least it wasn’t raining. Ahead, Morgan was huddled under a blanket on one of the deck chairs, reading a book. We stopped and said hello, and Alice asked what she was reading.
“Jane Eyre. Have you read it?” Morgan lifted the book so we could see the cover.
We both said we hadn’t.
“You should.” She smiled at Christy. “I first read it when I was about your age, and I try to read it again every few years. It’s my favorite, an old-fashioned romance.”
Christy perked up a little at that, which wasn’t missed by Alice—or Morgan.
“Not to worry. It’s actually quite, um, wholesome. I’d be happy to pass it on when I’m finished.” Morgan looked from Alice to me.
“I’d like to read it,” Christy said.
Alice merely pursed her lips, so Morgan suggested she take a look at it first herself so she could decide if it was suitable for her granddaughter. “I’ll be done with it in a couple of days, and then you’re welcome to borrow it.”
The book wasn’t as big as the Martyrs Mirror, but it was large. I wasn’t sure Christy would stick with it even if she started it.
“Speaking of reading,” I said. “It’s time for our first lesson.”
Christy grunted.
“We’ll do long division first.”
Christy groaned.
“And then history and then a writing assignment.”
Christy sighed.
“Oh, lucky you,” Morgan gushed with sincerity. “Well, maybe not as far as the math, but the history…”
I agreed with her and appreciated her being so positive—minus her math comment—in front of Christy. Studying history and geography was the closest I’d come to traveling, until this year.
Twenty minutes later, back downstairs in our cabin and well into our math lesson, I realized Christy had no idea how to do long division. “Didn’t you study it at school?” I pressed. Her last teacher had had several years of experience, so I couldn’t imagine how this had managed to slip through the cracks.
“I think so,” Christy answered. “But I didn’t get it then, either.” She had probably been too distraught after her mother died to focus much on schoolwork. She’d no doubt missed a lot of days because of her heart problem as well. When I was child, some years my condition had kept me home for weeks at a time. The difference between me and Christy, though, was that I so loved learning that even when I had to miss class, I still kept up with the work.
Focusing on my young charge, I wrinkled my nose. I hadn’t prepared myself to teach her long division. “Let’s see.” I did my best but soon realized the problem was that she didn’t know her multiplication tables either, at least not well. She always came up with the answer eventually, but every time was a struggle. Encouraged by my assessment, I quickly made some flash cards from the paper I’d brought, explaining I would create a complete set in our spare time. If I could drill her enough to imbed these multiplication tables in her brain, I knew long division would be a piece of cake.
I was totally engrossed in the lesson and couldn’t believe it when Christy said, “It’s noon.”
Surprised, I looked at the clock on the bedside table. She was right. How had three hours disappeared so quickly?
After lunch, Daniel, Christy, and I headed toward the rec room to play Ping-Pong. Daniel said he needed to forewarn us that he’d studied Ping-Pong in college and was quite good. That made me laugh. Was that the sort of thing I’d missed out on by not having a higher education?
“For a gym credit,” he said in his own defense. “We also did bowling, horseshoes, and shuffleboard.”
Daniel said that if we had another person, we could play teams, so along the way we drafted a reluctant Morgan to join us. First up were Daniel and Christy against Morgan and me. Though Christy had never played Ping-Pong before, she mimicked the way Daniel held his paddle and was soon slamming the ball with a flourish. She also laughed and giggled a lot, showing a playful side I hadn’t seen in her before.
She also grew far braver, at one point openly mimicking Daniel as she tucked her foot behind her and swung for the ball.
“Is that really how I look?” he cried.
“No, wait. I left something out,” she said. Then she did it again, only this time as she swung she called out, “Give me your weak, your tired, your poor people!”
We all exploded in laughter, even Daniel. Soon our game was done, with Daniel and Christy the victors.
“How about we play Round the World this time?” Morgan proposed, explaining a game that sounded as though it would have us running around the table a bit. We played it for a while, and it did. Eventually I dropped out, saying I needed to take a break.
Christy pointed her paddle at Daniel. “You and me, how ’bout it? Two out of three?”
He agreed, so Morgan stepped back to stand and watch with me.
“Looks like someone has a crush going,” she said softly from the corner of her mouth.
I nodded, a little surprised at Morgan’s confiding tone. She’d seemed so distant before. Knowing she was right, I wondered if Alice should say something to Christy, or if that would be my responsibility.
“Harmless enough,” Morgan added. “And what a nice guy for her to be crushing on, huh?”
I thought of my girlhood crush on Will and relaxed a little.
“She hasn’t noticed whom Daniel is interested in, though.”
My eyebrows raised, I turned toward her. “Pardon?”
“I have knack for this sort of thing. You don’t see it, do you?” Her hazel eyes were serious.
I shook my head.
“You,” she told me, crossing her arms, her paddle bumping against my side. “She’s crushing on him and he’s crushing on you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said, but as I spoke, Daniel looked my way, a smile spreading across his face.
The next morning Christy, Alice, and I went up on deck for a walk and some fresh air. The storm had completely passed—or we had passed it, I wasn’t sure which—and the sky was a startling blue again, nearly the same color as the sea. The ocean glistened in the sunlight.
We found Morgan by the railing and joined her. Gripping the metal bar, Alice tilted her face heavenward, the ribbons of her kapp trailing down her neck. “Doesn’t the expansiveness of this make you think of the good Lord?” she said. “Except we know the ocean ends while He goes on forever.” Her face glowed as she spoke, and her snow-white hair and bleached kapp both lit up under the rays of the sun.
I stole a glance at Morgan, wondering if she agreed with what Alice said, but she stared straight ahead, her face frozen and her eyes focused on the water.
Alice and Christy decided to keep walking, but I stayed behind next to Morgan and asked what she was going to do on our third day at sea. She answered she would finish her book and then start another. “I’m afraid that’s what my backpack is full of—books.” She lowered her voice. “I was thinking, if it’s okay with Alice,
that I could read Jane Eyre out loud to Christy. In the afternoons. Maybe if we read far enough to get her interested, she’ll continue on her own.”
I said I would check with Alice and then asked, “How did you know Christy didn’t like to read?”
“Just a guess, based on her reluctance to do her lessons in general.”
I hadn’t realized it was so obvious. “Danke,” I said.
“Bitte,” she answered.
“You speak German?”
“Some,” she answered. “I’ve studied it for years. I’m hoping to get to practice it, although in Switzerland they mostly speak Swiss German and that’s different.”
“Daniel speaks German—and some Swiss German.” I turned my face toward the morning sun.
“He’s quite the Renaissance man, isn’t he?” She paused and then said, “I wouldn’t have thought it at first.”
I wasn’t sure what a Renaissance man was and asked.
“Someone who knows a whole lot about a bunch of different things.”
“Oh,” I replied, thinking that probably wasn’t a term I’d use for Daniel at all. He was certainly smart and well read, but I doubted he could shoe a horse or mend leather upholstery or grow asparagus or snare a rabbit or lots of other things. My daed, on the other hand, could do all of those and then some. No doubt so could Will Gundy.
Seeing the expression on my face, Morgan elaborated. “He’s quite proficient in literature, history, languages, music, and art. Like I said, a Renaissance man.”
“Ah,” I replied, understanding. Though I didn’t comment, I rather preferred my definition to hers.
Later, back in the cabin, Christy and I sat side by side at our little table, delving into our history lesson. I spread out a map I’d brought and showed her where Zurich was and told her about the beginning of the Anabaptists.
After a while Christy yawned and looked up at me with her big brown eyes. “Can we do math now?”
“In just a minute.” I kept on with the history lesson. When I told her that some of the Anabaptists were drowned for their faith, and that from 1527 to 1535 more than five thousand were martyred, she began shaking her head, her hands pressed against her ears.
The Amish Nanny Page 16
