Anna's Crossing: An Amish Beginnings Novel (25 page)

Bairn saw Felix and Dorothea, babe in her arms, stand
by the railing, watching the seagulls dive for some hardtack that Johnny Reed threw on the deck. Watching and laughing.

An invisible cord yanked at his heart. He picked up the spyglass and studied his mother through it, finding her much changed. The lines about her eyes seemed more pronounced. And her fire red hair—could it be?—was now silver. The transformation shook him. She was but . . . how old was she, anyway? . . . he couldn’t remember, but guessed she was but forty.

Over the last week, he’d observed the Peculiars every chance he could, with awe, with disappointment, mostly with fascination and wonder. They were not perfect, but they were his.
His
people. She, she was
his
mother. The laddie, he was
his
brother.

He felt a movement beside him and turned to find Anna standing at the top of the ladder. He felt a surge of emotion for her and blinked back tears.

She shielded her eyes from the sun to peer up at him. “Do you think this is how Noah must have felt when a dove returned with an olive branch?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “We will be seeing land soon. Very soon.” His smile faded when he added, “Anna, tonight, meet me at the ship’s helm at third watch.” The time had come for a talk.

She nodded, looking puzzled.

The moon, round and creamy, had risen, shedding a soft light over the waters. From the feel of the air, this night brought the first hint of winter’s coming. Bairn leaned against the rail and scrubbed his hands over his face. Beyond him a
dozen feet away, he sensed the helmsman looking on with concern.

When he noticed Anna standing at the top of the ladder, with her hands linked behind her back, he turned to the helmsman and relieved him. “Carter, I’ll take the wheel for the next hour.” He closed the distance between Anna and himself and he held a hand out to her. “Come, lassie.”

She stood at the helm, with Bairn behind her.

“I wanted a few moments alone with you.”

She didn’t press him, but he knew she was curious about why he asked her to meet him tonight. Curious and impatient.

His chest moved against her back as he eased out a held breath. “I’m n’ good at this, Anna. It’s like lettin’ the wheel go free in a storm.” His arms, which had been wrapped loosely around her, tightened a little.

“Maybe I can help. I have a question I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

Bairn drew a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Ask away.”

“Why do you have those deep scars on your ankles?” She dipped her head down, as if she could see through his boots.

Lord, where to begin?
It occurred to him that he had just prayed again, that somehow he had developed a respect for the power of prayer. What change had come over him, headstrong and foolish, who only weeks earlier had found the whole idea of prayer to be a joke?

Start at the beginning
, came the answer.

“Anna, do you recognize this frock?” He reached down and picked up his father’s red coat to hand to her.

She held it in the air. “It’s a mutza. A red mutza.” She turned it over. “One or two men in my church have these red mutzas.
Most of the mutzas are homespun brown. But those who came from Oberländer in the Bern of Canton, in Switzerland, they had these fine red coats.”

“Do y’happen to remember if Jacob Bauer wore a red mutza?”

She tilted her head. “Why, yes. Yes he did. But it was long ago.” She opened the interior of the coat and saw the initials
JB
embroidered into the lining. “Is this . . . Jacob’s coat?”

Bairn nodded. “Aye.”

“Bairn, were you the cabin boy for Captain Stedman on that crossing?”

Bairn lowered his head. He didn’t trust his voice. He shook his head. “Nay.”

After a lengthy pause, Anna said, “But you were on the ship with Jacob?”

“I was on the ship with Jacob Bauer, because . . .” He cleared his throat. It felt as if he had ground glass in there. “I am his son. Thought to have died from smallpox. I am Hans Bauer.”

It took a moment for Anna to catch up to what Bairn was confessing. Then she spun around to look at him. Her face blanched, her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes widened in disbelief while she stiffened as if struck by lightning. “B . . . Bairn?” At last her hands fluttered downward and she stammered again in a choked voice, “Hans?” She closed her eyes. Though she made no sound, tears began to slide down her cheeks. She opened her eyes and sought his. “Can it be true? Is it really you? You are . . . Hans Bauer?”

He nodded.

“But . . . what happened? Why weren’t you with your father?”

“We both took sick and became separated. The ship was in utter chaos, with ailin’ bodies scattered everywhere. When
I recovered, I was told my father was dead and I was taken off the ship. I’m guessin’ that he recovered after me and was told his son had died. I’m sure he would’ve searched the ship until he was satisfied I was gone.”

Bairn gave Anna an abbreviated version of a story that was etched on his mind. He still remembered the rain that was pounding the ship, the wind that moaned in the tops of the masts, the mournful sounds of other sick passengers. He remembered lying on his pallet after he had been told that his father had died. Set suddenly and unexpectedly adrift in the world, uncertain of what to do next, he was filthy, dazed, and hungry. Fear and loneliness weighed on him, pressing down on his chest, pushing him into despair. He did not want to get up, did not really care if he ever got up. Finally, though, he did get up and was led off the ship. Despite his despair, his body was healing.

And in a way, so was his determination to survive. His father had taught him that the very problems a man must overcome in life also supported him and made him stronger in overcoming them. Somehow, he would survive.

Her hand lighted on his arm, tugging him back with a questioning gaze. “Is that when your ankles were shackled?”

“Aye. I was handed off to a redemptioner to be auctioned off,” he said, his voice gone flat and cold now. “Georg Schultz bought my debt and sold me off to a shipping agent named Otto Splettshoesser, who treated me like he treated his hogs. Worse. I ran away first chance I got, but he caught me with dogs that he bred for fighting. He dragged me back to his place and put shackles on my legs and chained me to a post in the barn.

“He kept me chained to that post in the barn when he
wasn’t workin’ me like a coolie.” His throat locked up for a moment. The darkness and the silence of the night lapped around them. He’d never told anyone this much before and he wasn’t sure he could finish the tale. His voice felt raw, hoarse, as if someone had his hands on his throat. Anna held herself completely still, holding her breath, waiting for the rest of the story. As if she might’ve guessed the ending.

Sensibly, he hurried on, trying to get this story out while he had his wits about him. “It took me months to work a link loose. And on the day that I finally did, Splettshoesser came into the barn and discovered that I was free. He picked up a hayfork and threw it at me, but it missed. We tussled and I pushed him. His head hit the beam of the barn and he dropped like a stone. I dinnae mean to kill him. I dinnae ken me own strength. To my surprise, Georg Schultz was standing at the open barn door. He’d seen the whole thing. He told me t’get in his wagon and wait for him, so I grabbed the red coat and left the barn, sure I was heading straight t’ the gallows. Awhile later, Schultz came out of the barn and said he’d buried Splettshoesser, and not to worry meself over it. Said he knew it was an accident but dinnae think others would see it that way. Said he would take care of everythin’, that he would keep me secret. He took me t’the docks and promptly lost me in a Pharo Bank game. Thankfully, he lost to Captain John Stedman. The captain was the one who named me Bairn. It was the closest he could get t’pronouncin’ me name.” He let out a deep sigh. “And I think you know the rest of the story.”

But he was leaving out the heart of his story, leaving her to fill in the blanks. How the burden of guilt over the terrible thing he had done to Splettshoesser lay heavily over him,
how Georg Schultz frequently reminded him of the information he held over him, how he had made his way but his world had grown dark, narrow, and lonely. How a shadow had been cast over his soul. And how he had remembered another thing his father had taught him: Don’t ever depend or trust Outsiders.

To Bairn, everyone had become an Outsider.

He could survive on his own, he figured, if he just kept his wits about him, if he kept his eyes open for opportunities, and if he didn’t allow his life to be dictated by other people.

Anna was quiet for a long moment. The only sound was the sharp prow of the ship cutting through the seething sea. When she spoke, her voice was almost a whisper. “Was he good to you, this Captain John Stedman?”

“Aye. John Stedman has been very good to me. Fair and generous. He realized that I was capable of learnin’ and saw to it I was educated.”

“If the captain was so fair and generous to you, I don’t understand why he didn’t try to reunite you with your family.”

“Most ships weren’t sailin’ to Rotterdam like they have been the last few years. They were goin’ back and forth between England and the colonies, totin’ goods t’sell and trade. Now and then I came across a German Peculiar—” he stopped himself—“Sorry. ’Tis a bad habit.”

“Go on.”

“I would ask if they knew of the Jacob Bauer family, but the German Peculiars were all Mennonites. No one knew of the Ixheim church. As time went by, I stopped askin’. It was too . . . difficult . . . t’hold on to hope. Each time me hope was dashed, it felt like a blow that might level me. Finally, I realized there might be a gift in acceptin’ the end of my old
life. It would sever me ties to my old life and free me fer this new one.”

“You were a boy. Just a boy, hardly much older than Felix. All alone. You must have been so frightened. You couldn’t even speak English.”

“Aye. Well, I learned it quickly.” He had to. “Anna, I dinnae want to tell my . . . mother.” He spoke it as if it was a new word to him and in a way, it was. “I’m goin’ to return to Rotterdam with Georg Schultz. I will go in Felix’s place.”

She spun around, eyes wide, trying to absorb what he was telling her. “But you’ll go to prison. Or worse. This baron . . . he hates Jacob Bauer. He could find a way to see you hang for a trifle.”

“Nay. He’ll put me in prison but I don’t think he will have me done away with. We have no history together—not like me father and the boys did. It will go easier for me than for Felix. The laddie must stay in the colonies with our father and mother. And I will nae allow Felix t’endure what I had to live through.” He put his hands on her elbows. “I’ll be fine, Anna. You taught me that. I dinnae think God was watching o’er me, but I see now that I was wrong. He never left me.”

“Let Jacob decide what must be done. He’ll know what to do.”

Bairn seized her by the arms, desperate to make her see, to understand. “Nay. My father is not t’be told of me. Not until I return. They’ve lost me once already. They don’t need to grieve me twice. Not while they’re still grievin’ Johann’s passin’.”

“But, Bairn . . . you are his son. You belong to Jacob and Dorothea and Felix. They belong to you—”

His hand went to her cheek, stopping her words as effectively
as if he had silenced her lips. “It’s decided. I dinnae want to hear another word about it. I told you so you’d take special care of me mother. My family will watch over you and you’ll watch over them.”

“Oh no.” She shook her head, and though she tried to pull away, he refused to let her go. “No, no, no. I’m going back with you. Dorothea will be fine once she is with Jacob.”

“She’s not fine, Anna. I can see that for myself. She’s ne’er been strong, I remember that, and she’s been weakened by the rigors of the ocean journey. She’s not sturdy like you are.”

“But I want to return to Germany. I’ve always wanted to return. I never wanted to go on this voyage. I was trying to get off the ship back in Plymouth but you forgot to let me talk to the captain.”

“Ah well, that was auspicious. Nay. You must stay in the New World and help Dorothea. She thinks of you as a daughter.”

“But I can’t let you go, Bairn.” Tears starred her lashes and spilled over.

“Shhh, dinnae fash yerself over me, lassie.” He brushed the tears off her cheeks with his fingertips, then tilted up her chin. “I must do this. There’s no dissuadin’ me. I’ve done many things in me life that I’m not proud of, and mayhap this will atone for my sins. Some of them, anyway. It’s just for a time, then I’ll find you.” He murmured into her hair. “Wherever you are, I’ll find you.” His arms twined around her, pulling her against the entire length of his body, his voice turning husky. This was hard for him, to say the words he wanted to say to her, needed to say to her.

He inhaled, and something inside him gave way, snapped, dissolved. “And now I have another confession t’make. I lost my heart to you the moment you gave me an order t’go get
the captain and have him turn the boat around. Then I lost everythin’ else to you when you gave water to the slaver. You have stolen me very heart away. I see yer face, I hear yer voice, I watch ye walk, even in my sleep.”