Accidentally Amish (8 page)

“Even the Mennonites do not speak to us,” Verona whispered.

“It’s just as well. We separated from them for good reasons. What do we have to say to each other?”

Verona knew Mennonites slid their children into the sea just as the Amish did. Mennonite stomachs rumbled from hunger just as loudly as Amish stomachs. Mennonite babies whimpered just the same as Amish babies. She squelched her doubt about whether the separation had been for good reason and watched the progress of the Mennonite mothers, knowing they must share her fear.

None of the adults among the passing Mennonites turned their heads toward Verona and Jakob, and when one of their children smiled at her, a hand reached out and redirected his gaze.

Verona sighed. Perhaps Jakob was right. Perhaps it was just as well. Twenty-one Amish families boarded the
Charming Nancy
along with the Mennonites. It was enough of a burden to bear the loss of Amish passengers. She was not sure she had room in her heart for the others. She supposed that not speaking to each other was one way of living peaceably together, at least for the weeks on the ocean.

“I’d better go check on Christian,” Verona said, “and Lisbetli should be waking from her nap.”

Jakob nodded. “I see Hans Zimmerman at the end of the deck. I want to speak to him. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Verona watched her husband stroll across the deck, his dark red hair showing the extra inches of the journey. She would have to trim it soon. When he greeted his friend, she turned her attention to the immediate task. Glancing into the opening she had sent her daughters down a few minutes ago, she gathered her dark skirt in one hand. With the other she gripped the railing that would guide her way down the ladder.

Though the Beyelers were a family of seven, they had only two berths, meant to hold a total of four people. Other families did the same. Some of the children were still small, so Verona wasted little energy feeling sorry for their lack of space. What meager belongings not in barrels in the cargo hold were crammed under the bottom berth—clothing, a few eating utensils, cloths for washing up in scarce freshwater.

Jakob was right, as he always was. The life that lay ahead held so much more potential than what they had left behind. They would miss their families, of course, but no one had suggested they should not go to Pennsylvania, a land of wide-open opportunity for anyone willing to work hard. She would be glad to be in the new Amish settlement, away from the threats that pursued the true believers in Europe.

At least their berths were curtained off with quilts, reminders of their families. The quilts offered some sense of privacy, though the makeshift separations did little to muffle the moaning of the sick or the impatient speech of a weary parent. Neither did they disguise the smells of hundreds of passengers packed into close quarters.

Verona brushed the heads of Anna and Maria, who sat on the floor with a handful of pebbles their only toys. Their prayer
kapps
were missing—again. She cringed at the thought of the scum beneath her daughters and promised herself she would sweep the floor around the family’s bunks again before the day was over. Pushing aside the quilt hanging on the upper berth, she found Barbara, fourteen, sitting cross-legged at one end of the compartment, while Christian, eight, sprawled across most of the space.

His eyes were open, which made Verona’s mouth drop open in relief.

“He’s been talking a little bit.” Barbara twisted the ties of her
kapp
in the fingers of one hand. “I gave him a few sips of water. I don’t think he’s as hot as he was.”

Verona laid a hand against her only son’s cheek and agreed with her eldest daughter’s assessment. “Maybe we’ll try a little broth for supper,” she said, searching Christian’s face for further confirmation of his recovery. He nodded just enough to give encouragement.

Lisbetli squawked from the lower berth. Anna jumped up from the floor and peeked behind the quilt. “She’s awake.”

Verona hoped Lisbetli would celebrate her second birthday on their new homestead. She smiled at the toddler, who should have been scooting across the berth determined to get down but was instead lying listless, glistening. Verona scooped her up and kissed her ruddy cheek. Was it warm, or was it her imagination?

Maria popped up and tickled the baby’s feet. “
Mamm
, what are these red spots on Lisbetli’s belly?”

V
iolet-blue eyes stared down at her. Annie stared back. Footsteps drummed across the brown-tile floor.

“Is she all right?” Mo knelt beside Rufus.

“My head.” Annie gasped in pain.

“Don’t move!” Rufus and Mo said in unison.

“She needs a hospital,” Mo said.

“I’m fine,” Annie insisted, unsure which hurt more—her back or her head.

“I’ll call right now.” Mo moved to the phone on the desk. “But it takes forever to get an ambulance out here.”

“Who needs a hospital?” Annie said.

“Quite possibly, you.” Rufus glanced in the direction she had come from. “I don’t see what you tripped on. I was careful to keep my tools out of the way.”

“It wasn’t your tools,” she said.
It was seeing you.
“I’ve been known to be clumsy at various points in my life. This confirms the theory.”

Rufus plucked the rubber ball from behind Annie’s knee. “Here’s the culprit.”

Annie moistened her lips and turned her head toward the dining room, where forks, momentarily frozen in air, now resumed their purpose in the hands of hotel guests. Rufus rolled the ball back toward the little girl who stood staring at the scene.

“I’m calling an ambulance.” Mo picked up the phone.

“No!” Annie said, surprising even herself with her volume. “Just give me a few minutes.” Gingerly she tested one leg and then the other. Both bent at appropriate angles.

“There’s an urgent care center much closer than the hospital,” Rufus said. “Let me take you there. My little brother fell out of a tree once and needed an X-ray. They were very thorough.”

“With all due respect, Rufus, the buggy is too slow,” Mo said, “and you’ll bounce her around like a broken bedspring. I’ll take her in my car.”

Annie pressed one forearm against the floor and shifted her weight to it, rolling to one side as she began to stand up. Her bag suddenly felt like a hundred-pound weight. As if reading her mind, Rufus slipped the strap over her head and off her shoulder then offered himself for support while Annie painfully sat upright.

“I’ll bring the car around.” Mo disappeared before Annie could protest further.

“You should let her take you,” Rufus said. “Let
der Dokder
look.”

Annie had to admit she had taken a solid smack. Pain radiated out from her spine in at least three places, and already the back of her head was tender.

“No more arguments,” Annie said. “But I hope it doesn’t take long. I have a lot to do today.”

“First make sure you’re all right.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Considering how you ended up in my barn the other night, perhaps I understand more than you realize,” he said, “but you need medical attention.”

“I thought you people didn’t believe in modern medicine.” Annie lay back down on the floor with her head turned to one side. Lying flat was less painful than propping herself up.

“Who told you that?”

She tried to shrug and winced instead. “I don’t know. Isn’t electricity against your religion?”

“It is not that simple.”

“You’ll have to explain it sometime.”

“Gladly. But right now you’re going to a doctor.”

Mo honked then jumped out of the green sedan parked outside the glass lobby door.

“I’m going to pick you up,” Rufus said softly. “Very slowly. You tell me if it hurts too much.”

She nodded as his arms slid under her knees and behind her shoulders. She looped her arms around his neck. Once upright, he took a few test steps toward the door.

“You okay?” he asked.

Annie nodded and leaned her head toward his chest for balance, her cheek brushing the soft black fabric of his shirt. He smelled faintly of sawdust and hay, but she was afraid a deep breath would stab her rib cage.

A cell phone rang, and Mo dug in her purse for it. “I can’t talk now,” Mo barked into the device.

Then she froze and listened. She held up her free hand, and Rufus halted.

Mo snapped the phone shut. “My mother is having some kind of crisis. I’m sorry, but I think I need to head over there right away.”

“We’ll take the buggy, then.” Rufus resumed his careful pace but changed the direction slightly. “I’ve got you, Annalise.”

She nodded against his chest and took a deep breath, not caring about the pain it caused.
I’ve got you, Annalise.

Rufus stepped easily up into his cart as if he routinely carried around an extra hundred and fifteen pounds. “I’m sorry. This is not as comfortable as a car.”

Annie winced as he set her in the seat. “My bag,” she grunted.

“I have it.”

The room was cold, and Annie was not fond of the beige printed cotton examination gown.
Some things are stereotypes because they are true,
she thought.

She had not persuaded Rufus to go home. Annie had imagined she could call a cab to get back to her room at the motel. Then she reminded herself where she was and that cabs might not be as plentiful as she presumed. Besides, she had to admit that moving any of her limbs involved pain.
“Accepting a little help is not a sign of failure.”
Her mother said that all the time. Annie seldom acted like she believed it, but the fall left her with little choice. She pictured Rufus in the waiting room, guarding her denim bag. At least she had her phone, which she had taken custody of when a nurse helped her out of her coffee-sodden jeans. She searched “Amish medical care.”

Rufus sat in the waiting room, sharing a vinyl seat with Annalise’s bag. He felt the hard form of her laptop pressing against his hip. Rufus considered using a computer a couple of times in a public library to look up specific information but resorted instead to asking a librarian to help him find books he could carry home. It seemed so much simpler than learning how to communicate fluidly with a machine. He spoke English, High German, and Pennsylvania Dutch, but learning the language necessary to think like a computer did not appeal. What could possibly be on Annalise’s computer to make her so attached to it when a live, wild, vibrant world was right before her eyes?

Still, the computer mattered to her, so Rufus would put it in her hands personally. He stood up to approach the reception desk cautiously.

“Excuse me, but can you tell me if Annalise Friesen is all right?”

The gray-haired receptionist glanced up at him. “Is she your wife?”

“No! She’s … a friend who was injured. I brought her in. I just want to know how she is.”

The receptionist glanced at her computer screen and hit several keys. “The doctor is getting ready to discharge her.”

“When she comes out, she will come this way,
ya
?”

“Yes.” The woman softened slightly. “I’ll see if she’d like you to wait with her.”

She was gone before Rufus could object, and when she returned a moment later to lead him to Annalise’s room, he no longer wanted to object. When a nurse pushed the door open, Rufus hesitated in the door frame.

“You can come in,” Annalise said. “They’re about to spring me, but they say I can’t go unless I have a ride. I guess that’s you.”

“I guess so.” She was dressed in her own shirt and oversized pink sweatpants that made her appear frail. Though he had only known her a day, already Rufus knew Annalise did not tolerate frailty.

The nurse held a clipboard and flipped through forms. “Sorry about the wardrobe. It was the best we could do. Nothing is broken, but she may have a mild concussion. She might be a little sleepy and confused for a while, and it’s better if someone is with her. The doctor says three days of rest. We’ve given her something for the pain.”

Rufus nodded.

“Expect considerable bruising and tenderness.” The nurse stuck the clipboard in front of Annalise. “Patient signs here.”