The Amish Nanny

by Mindy Starns Clark

  Overwhelmed with exhaustion, I told Daniel I would think it over and pray about it, and let him know.

  Then I closed my eyes and slept the rest of the way to Langnau.

  It was early evening by the time we arrived back at the hospital. After visiting with Alice for a while, some of us were getting hungry for dinner. Morgan offered to take us on a grocery run, so George said he would stay there with Will for now and give him a ride up to Amielbach for the night later.

  We were just about to go when the telephone beside Alice’s bed rang. Will was closest to it, so he answered.

  “Hello,” he said tentatively, but then he smiled. “Oh, hi there, Leah. I see you tracked us down.”

  Inwardly, I groaned.

  “Let’s go,” Daniel said to Morgan. Christy gave her daed a quick hug and then kissed her grossmammi. I told Alice I would see her later, and she waved to me. Will was listening intently to Leah as we left the room.

  While Morgan, Christy, and I shopped for groceries, Daniel found a pay phone and called Herr Lauten. Once we were all back in the car and on the road again, I asked Daniel how the conversation had gone, certain that the old man must be feeling as disheartened as we were about the fact that our search today had been fruitless.

  “Actually,” Daniel said with a smile, “Herr Lauten had a good idea about the letters he gave to Giselle. As you know, she can’t remember what she did with them. We’ve all been assuming she just threw them away, but if not, there is a logical place where she might have stashed them. For all we know, they’re still there.”

  “Where?”

  “In the shed near her cottage. He lets her use part of it for storage.”

  “Wouldn’t it be locked?” I asked. “What if she’s not home to give us the key?”

  “She isn’t home, but he said we can use his key instead.”

  When we reached Amielbach, Morgan and Christy headed down to the cottage to start dinner, while Daniel and I went up the steps to the main house to find Herr Lauten. We arrived at the door just as he was coming out, one hand on his cane, the other gripping a small metal key.

  He greeted us eagerly and began moving toward the steps. Watching him, I realized he intended to go down to the shed with us. I wanted to tell him not to bother, that Daniel and I could take care of it, but I could tell by the determined gleam in the man’s eye that he wanted to come along no matter how precarious for him the walk might be.

  Standing close, hands at the ready to catch him if he fell, I held my breath as he made his way downward, one step at a time. Daniel, apparently oblivious to the whole situation, waited at the bottom, talking about the journals of Abraham’s we had read in the car. He asked Herr Lauten about one particular entry, wondering if he knew what Abraham’s big sin—his Überschreitung—had been. Herr Lauten said no, that he’d been hoping one of us might know.

  We finally reached the bottom steps and moved onto the pathway. As we walked slowly along the uneven ground, I asked Herr Lauten if he was sure we wouldn’t be violating Giselle’s privacy by going through her things in the shed.

  “Nah,” he said, dismissing the thought with a wave of his hand. “She and I share the space. I haven’t been in there in a long time, but she’s never minded me going in before.”

  I wondered if she would feel the same way about me specifically. Of all the people in the world, I was probably the last one she’d want rooting through her stuff.

  “Where is she now?” I asked.

  “Out shopping with Oskar,” Herr Lauten replied. “They went into Bern this afternoon to find some special hardware to hang her weavings in the gift shop.”

  “Oh.” That surprised me. For all her aloofness with me, here she was interacting with yet another person.

  Daniel walked ahead of us, and soon he was waiting by the shed. When we caught up to him, he stepped aside so that Herr Lauten could unlock the door. As it swung open, my nostrils were greeted with the smell of dust and must.

  We stepped inside. Looking around, I spotted a collection of old furniture against one wall—a bed and dresser, a camelback couch, a table with rickety chairs, and a bookcase. Shelves lined the other walls and were filled with large plastic boxes. By my rough count, there were almost a dozen of them.

  Herr Lauten clucked his tongue. “Giselle’s added more things since the last time I was down here. Isn’t she organized?” He lifted his cane. “Just look at this.”

  We scanned the pile of furniture and then the shelves, looking between each plastic container, but there was no sign of the box. I peered through the plastic walls of one of the containers, but I saw nothing inside that resembled an old wooden box or a pile of letters.

  Daniel started to pull off the lid.

  “I don’t think we should do that,” I said.

  He hesitated, looking to Herr Lauten. I looked as well, only to see that the man was already digging through a different box himself and was even pulling things out of it. He held up a weaving, and even though this felt wrong, I couldn’t help but gape at it. The colors were Plain: blue, forest green, maroon, brown, and black. It featured two stars, side by side, with three larger stars above them. That larger star in the middle seemed fractured somehow, as if it were about to implode. The image was similar to one I’d seen in the gift shop but far more disturbing.

  Putting that one back, he pulled out another. It showed a flower garden, almost my garden, with petals flying up in the air as if the flowers had all exploded. Silver pieces of a windmill soared above the flowers into a dark sky.

  “I really don’t think we should go through her things without her permission,” I said, stepping toward the door. I knew it was our windmill. And I was pretty sure the three stars represented Giselle and her sisters, and the smaller ones, Lexie and me. And the garden was definitely from home. I felt as if we were stealing something from her.

  “All right,” Herr Lauten said, returning the wall hangings to the box and sliding it back onto the shelf.

  I pushed opened the door quickly, and nearly knocked it into Giselle. She bounded backward. “I saw the light and wondered who was in here.”

  We all must have had guilty expressions on our faces because then she said, “What’s going on?”

  “We were looking for the letters,” I said.

  She shook her head. “Well, I know they are not in here. I reorganized this whole shed a few months ago.”

  I nodded.

  “Did you look at my weavings?” She was staring at me.

  I must have blushed because she put her hands on her hips and said, “Well?”

  “Two of them.”

  “That’s all? There are close to thirty.” She stepped around me.

  “I didn’t think we should go through your things.”

  She must have been able to tell that the plastic box Herr Lauten had gone through wasn’t pushed back all the way because she opened the box next to it and held up a wall hanging of abstract dahlias, again three and then two. She held up hanging after hanging, and over and over there were similar sets of objects. Stars. Suns. Moons. Flowers. Trees. Finally she held up a hanging in the colors of a traditional Amish quilt with small squares, but each square had been woven as a separate jagged piece that looked as if it had been torn. “This is the last of my early work,” she said, looking directly at me again. She glanced at the plastic boxes. “The other weavings are early versions of commissioned work.”

  I thanked her for showing us, realizing how far from Plain she was. A member of my community would never draw so much attention to themselves over something they had created. I also was surprised, when she wouldn’t talk to me about the past, that she would so willingly bare her emotions through her art. That’s what I thought about as Daniel and Herr Lauten headed up to Amielbach and I followed Giselle back toward the cottage.

  After dinner Giselle retreated to her studio, while Morgan, Christy, and I cleaned the kitchen. I told Morgan about Giselle’s artwork in the shed. She was appalled.


  “She’s storing her weavings out there?” she cried. “Between the temperature fluctuations and the humidity, they’ll be ruined!” Morgan put down her dishtowel and marched toward the hall. A moment later, she and Giselle hurried out the front door. Christy and I kept working on the dishes.

  Morgan returned after a while carrying two of the boxes. “She’s consolidating them. Getting as many as possible in one box. We’re going to cram them into her studio for now.”

  Back and forth Morgan went until she returned with Giselle, both loaded down with more. Altogether, they had brought in nine boxes. It would be a wonder if Giselle was able to move around in her studio at all now. I didn’t say anything but turned back to scouring the sink. After I’d finished, I suggested to Christy that we walk up to Amielbach and see if her daed had arrived so she could tell him goodnight.

  As we headed up the pathway, I felt overwhelmed with the complexity of everyone I was around. Each person seemed to have issues. Giselle and her past. Morgan and her future. Christy and death. Will and his family. Me—with more than I could count.

  I sighed. Except Daniel. He was the least complicated of us all. Somehow I had the feeling that all he really needed to be happy was a library full of books and an interesting topic to research. The question was where a wife and children—correction, child—would find room to fit into that scenario.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Christy and I found Herr Lauten, Daniel, and Will sitting around the table in the dining room, finishing up a hearty stew.

  “We’re bemoaning our plan,” Herr Lauten said. “At least Daniel and I are.”

  Will shrugged. “I just said if it’s God’s will, the waterfall and caves will be saved.”

  “But you heard the judge,” Daniel said. “If we can’t find that agreement…” His voice trailed off.

  Herr Lauten looked just as forlorn. “It’s ridiculous,” he said. “The hydro plant is as good as done. Instead of the melody of the waterfall, I’ll have the constant hum of turbines.”

  “At least if we had those letters, we might stand a chance,” Daniel said. “But where could Giselle have put them?”

  “The landfill. The secondhand store. The burn pile. Who knows?” Herr Lauten threw up his hands. “I had no idea she didn’t care about such things when she arrived.”

  Glancing at Christy, I saw that she looked extremely tired, and I suggested that we get on to bed. Instead, she asked if she could move back up here so she could stay with her daed instead of at the cottage with me.

  “Sure,” I told her, adding that I would go down to the cottage and retrieve her things. Daniel said he would go with me. We hurried on our way, me fretting over Christy, wondering if perhaps the tour of Zurich was too much with all the talk of martyrdom and death.

  Daniel was still obsessing about the letters. “Have you looked all through the cottage?” he asked. “High in the cupboards in the kitchen? That sort of thing.”

  I hadn’t. I’d relied on what Giselle had told me. “I think she’d know if the box was anywhere in her house. Every room except her studio is extremely sparse and organized.”

  “Can you ask, though, if you can look?”

  “I’ll try,” I said, though I knew Morgan would have better luck asking than I would.

  When we arrived at the cottage, neither Morgan nor Giselle was in sight. I assumed they were both in the studio. Quickly, I packed Christy’s bag. I knew it was perfectly natural for her to want to be with Will, but I would miss not having her with me after spending so many days with her. I pulled her bag out into the hall and into the entryway, and then I turned the handle around for Daniel. Our fingers brushed as he started to take it, but instead of pulling away, he clasped my hand. “It would be so perfect if it all comes together.”

  “Ya,” I answered. “If only we can find the agreement.”

  His blue eyes focused on mine. “I meant more than that.” He squeezed my hand. “I meant if you could stay here. If we could get to know each other. If we could—”

  “Ada?” It was Morgan’s voice, coming from down the hall. “Is that you?”

  I pulled my hand away from Daniel. “Ya. And Daniel, but he is just leaving.”

  She practically skipped down the hall. “Oh, look at you two,” she gushed.

  My face grew warm, but he smiled.

  “Hey,” he said, as an afterthought. “Morgan, have you looked through all the cupboards and closets in this place?”

  It was her turn to blush. She lowered her voice. “As a matter of fact, I did, tonight when I was fixing dinner. I’m so taken with all of this. The boxes. The letters. The journals. The mystery. I decided to look just in case…”

  “And?”

  “Nothing. Nada. Nil.”

  Daniel’s face fell. “Where could they be?”

  Morgan shook her head. “Who knows? I tried to get Giselle to talk about them this evening, but she gave me the cold shoulder. That’s why I came out here.”

  Daniel told us goodnight, and I stepped out of the cottage with him. He gave me a quick hug and then started up the path.

  The next morning I didn’t see Giselle at all. By the time Morgan and I left the cottage, she still hadn’t emerged from her closed bedroom door, which I assumed meant either she was still asleep or she was working in her studio.

  When we arrived at Amielbach, we went straight to the dining room. Daniel was already there, and we joined him at the table. He talked about other locations we could look for the important documents. “Abraham lived in Bern before moving to Amielbach and sometimes went there on business. Maybe he left the agreement there, in a bank or a government building.”

  It sounded like a long shot to me.

  “Or maybe Thun. There was a lot of legal activity there involving the Mennonites. Imprisonments. Trials. That sort of thing.”

  I wrinkled my nose, but he didn’t notice. “Or maybe it’s in his hometown of Frutigen.”

  Oskar came in at that moment, bearing mugs and a pot of tea. We thanked him for the kindness as he served us.

  “Do you think he traveled there very often?” I asked Daniel.

  He shrugged. “Maybe he mailed them back. For safekeeping.”

  “That seems like a bit of a stretch,” Morgan said. “But we wouldn’t have anything to lose. It’s better than sitting around doing nothing.”

  Oskar paused at the doorway before going back into the kitchen. “Do you folks not yet realize that this whole thing is a pipe dream?” he said. “You were caught up in an old man’s delusions. That’s all.” Shaking his head, he continued on without waiting for a reply.

  “Pipe dream or not, I for one am having the time of my life,” Morgan said to Daniel and me.

  I agreed, but the situation wasn’t without its stresses, especially with Alice being ill and the uncertainty over the missing agreement. I also didn’t have the financial stake in the situation that the Gundys and the Lautens did—or that, ultimately, Daniel and George did either.

  The endless sunny weather had finally come to an end. The morning was overcast, and as we traveled to Bern we drove in and out of fog.

  “Abraham Sommers was a local councilman for a few years before Elsbeth left,” Daniel explained along the way.

  I still found it odd that Daniel knew far more about my own ancestors than I did.

  “He resigned after that. He might have still come to Bern on official business from time to time, though. I think it’s worth looking at the council chambers.”

  Christy had decided to spend the day with Will, and although it seemed odd not to have her with me, I looked forward to a day with just Morgan and Daniel, being with my new friends, totally focused on our search. Morgan drove and I sat up front beside her, with Daniel in the back, poring over yet another one of his books.

  Once we reached the city, Morgan parked the car, and we headed to the council chambers immediately, only to find that the archives’ office would be closed for two hours. Back on the si
dewalk, Daniel pulled some papers from his pack and said that while we were waiting we could walk through the tour he’d been designing.

  “We’ll need to backtrack through the old city to the first stop,” he told us, eyes glowing with excitement. “Come on! Let’s do this in order.”

  He turned and started walking. Morgan and I glanced at each other, both of us bemused at his excitement, knowing we had no choice but to follow along.

  Daniel said we’d begin our tour where the main gate to the city used to be back in 1350. Located near the site was the Church of the Holy Ghost, a Swiss Reformed church that was built long after the Anabaptist movement had started. We didn’t take time to go inside. Instead, we stood on the street looking up at it for a few minutes and admiring the structure. Then we started on down the Spitalgasse, the street that led into the heart of the city.

  We passed two corners, one that Daniel said used to be the site of a prison where male Anabaptist followers had been held, and the next where women followers had been held. Realizing that this was to be a very martyr-heavy day, I was thankful Christy wasn’t with us. We walked from site to site, taking in an open market, the domed parliament building, a street of banks, a section of the original city wall, and the Zeitglckenturn, a tower with a clock built in the 1520s with performing animated figures. Christy would have liked seeing this very much.

  I stared at the long hand as it ticked away, realizing that the clock was as old as the Anabaptist movement itself. Daniel explained that clocks across Switzerland had been built with money the government collected from confiscating Anabaptist land. “Not this one, but many others.”

  “Oh,” Morgan said, “that’s so sad.”

  Our next stop was the Münster Cathedral of Bern. With a 300-foot steeple, it was a landmark in the city. Inside, the colorful stained-glass windows cast jewel-tone reflections on the floor and across the pews. All the while I kept my eye out for a bench or a box or panel that Abraham might have carved. Surely, if his work had made it to Zurich, it could be in Bern too. We followed a narrow staircase to a rooftop viewpoint. From up there, we could see the cathedral gardens below, rows of houses, and then the River Aare.