The Amish Nanny (12 page)

The heat and the gentle, rhythmic jolt of the wheels nearly put me to sleep, but I perked up by the time I reached their house. Sharon stood on the porch, holding her diaper-clad baby on her hip. I stopped the buggy.

“Come on in,” she said. “I have a fan blowing in the living room. It's a bit cooler in there.” Then she turned toward her oldest son and told him to run along and get his
daed
. Levi's blacksmith shop was on the other side of their barn. I couldn't imagine how hot it must be in there.

I followed Sharon into the kitchen, closing the door quickly to keep out the heat. We sat near the fan and chatted uncomfortably about my trip, the whirl of the battery-operated motor competing with our words. A couple of times we simply paused as the fan passed by, our faces turned toward it. It wasn't long until Levi stepped into the living room, mopping his forehead with his handkerchief. He sat in a straight-back chair, probably so he didn't dirty the couch. Sharon stood and handed him the baby, saying she'd get some lemonade.

I started to speak but Levi put up his hand. “I know why you're here, Ada,” he said, as the baby grabbed at his fingers and smiled. “And before you say a word, I have to apologize for the way I handled this. It was all wrong. I should never have promised you the job. It was too soon.” His hair was matted to his forehead over his kind brown eyes. “I hope you can forgive me.”

I nodded. How could I not? “I was hoping it wasn't true,” I said.

“It is.”

Sharon returned, handed each of us a tall cold glass, and then she took the baby and headed back into the kitchen. I appreciated that she didn't give me that long, sympathetic look I'd already received from so many others.

Levi drained his lemonade in one continuous gulp and then looked at me as I sipped mine. It was delicious—the perfect mix of sour and sweet.

Finally he said, “The other members were concerned about your health.”

“My health is fine. It has been for months. As I told you before, I've never felt better. Who brought up my health?”

He blushed again. “A few of the members said someone mentioned it, out of concern.”

“Leah?” I whispered.

“I'm not sure.”

My face grew warmer. “Did it make any difference that she is the bishop's daughter?”

“Of course not. It did matter that she's a few years younger than you. The thinking is that you may be a little old to start teaching now.”

“So age and maturity are considered disadvantages?” I leaned back against the couch.

He blushed again. “It helps if a teacher stays on a few years. Members thought that at twenty-four you might be marrying soon.”

Now it was my turn to blush. In our schools girls usually stopped teaching once they got married, yes. But everyone on that board knew I'd never even been courted. “From what I hear, that's more of a concern for Leah than for me.” My face grew even warmer and instantly I regretted my words. There was no reason for me to be snide.

Levi dropped his eyes and stared at the floor.

I took a deep breath. “Anyway. Thank you for your time and the lemonade.”

He nodded and we both stood. I followed him into the kitchen with my glass. Sharon sat at the table, smiling at the baby and bouncing him on her knee. He grinned back at her. Levi stood behind Sharon and bent down over her shoulder toward the baby, causing him to chortle in delight.

“If I hear of another school that's hiring, I'll let you know,” Levi said, stroking the little boy's cheek and then standing up straight again. I knew he had no idea of how much this job had meant to me.

Tears stung my eyes as I returned to my buggy, unhitched Rikki from the post, and started out for the road again.

Images of the usurper filled my mind as I clip-clopped slowly along the highway. Pretty and energetic and fun, Leah had always been a real go-getter. Three years younger than I, she wasn't nearly as interested in classes or reading or books as I had been. In fact, she'd never seemed to have much interest in learning at all. To my core I knew I had far more natural talent for teaching than she ever would.

On the other hand, she had always run circles around me when it came to playing volleyball or baseball or any of the other activities that usually sent me to the sidelines. And I had to admit she'd been a born leader, full of enthusiasm and bright ideas.

I had to see Leah Fisher, face-to-face, before going on to the Gundys'. Her parents' farm was only a few miles out of the way. Clicking my tongue and tugging on the reins, I steered Rikki in that direction now, turning from the busy highway onto an emptier side road.

When I finally arrived at the Fishers' house, I knocked and knocked on the door, but no one answered. I walked through the barnyard and peered into the stables. Their horses were there, but not a soul was in sight. That was probably for the best, I decided as I climbed back into the carriage. Had Leah been home, I might have said something I would later regret.

I was just looping the carriage around when two boys dashed across the drive in front of me.

“Do you know where the Fishers are?” I called out, and they stopped running to look up at me. I recognized them both, neighbors from another farm just up the road.

“At a family reunion. In Shippensburg,” the taller one answered.

I thanked them for their information, realizing the Fishers must have hired a driver, which explained why the horses were here. Clearly, my speaking to Leah so soon wasn't meant to be.

The boys continued on toward the barn, so before driving off, I called out to them again. “Should you two be running around like this on the Fishers' property when they are not even home?” I asked, unable to keep my voice from taking on a very teacherlike tone.

“We're doing their chores for the day,” one replied earnestly, holding out both hands, palms up.

Smiling, I gave them a wave as I urged Rikki forward.

With just a little zigzagging, I could take back roads all the way to the Gundys' place, avoiding the busy highway entirely. Riding along in the warm afternoon sunshine, I forced myself to breathe deeply, open my eyes, and take in the beauty of God's world surrounding me. I knew He had a plan for my life; I'd just always thought that plan included teaching. Now that that dream had been snatched from my grasp, I felt as if He had forgotten me. Sure, I was unremarkable to others, but I'd always felt special to Him. But now I wasn't so sure. Had God overlooked me? Was I invisible to Him too?

I chided myself. I was disappointed I didn't get the job, but how many times had
Mammi
told me that failure built character and patience? How many times had she told me that trials produced perseverance?

But that had always been about my health. This was about losing a teaching job. This was about losing what I'd joyfully thought, for the last few months, was God's plan for my life.

I gripped the reins tighter as I turned down the lane, realizing I always forgot how big the Gundys' farm was until I got there. By Lancaster County standards, it was huge, with nine greenhouses, two full-size homes, and numerous other outbuildings. Nursery stock—shrubs and trees—grew in the wide fields on every side. Beyond those were the large tracts dedicated to the growing of Christmas trees, rows and rows of blue spruce, Fraser fir, and Scotch pines, all in varying stages of growth.

The greenhouses lined the driveway, and as I drove past them now my eyes scanned each one, looking for signs of activity. All of the doors to the glass buildings were closed except the last, where inside a man was moving a ladder. My heart suddenly pounding at my throat, I pulled the buggy to a stop just outside.

Will Gundy stood at the base of the ladder, looking upward, the light streaming down through the glass ceiling, illuminating him. The sleeves of his blue shirt were rolled up over his biceps, his shirtfront unbuttoned all the way down in concession to the heat. Underneath, a white T-shirt clung to his muscular chest.

He turned toward me, his dark eyes growing bright. “Ada.” He smiled and I shivered, even in the heat. “When did you get back?” Emerging from the greenhouse, he wiped his hands on a rag as he walked toward me. I noticed that his red beard was a little fuller than the last time I'd seen him. He reached the carriage and stopped, his arched brows perfectly framing his face and accenting his red hair.

“Just today.”

“And you came straight here?”

I swallowed hard, reminding myself that his tone sounded pleased and hopeful to my ears only because I wished it so.

I shook my head. “I had some errands to run, and now I'm here to get
Mammi
.”

“I see,” he answered, taking a step back. “Well, this is perfect, actually. She and Alice both want to talk with you. So does the guest they have with them.” He smiled, adding, “In fact, I think you're going to find what they have to say quite interesting.”

I tilted my head, my mind swirling with curiosity. He clearly wasn't going to tell me any more than that, though, so I thanked him and said I would see him later. As I started Rikki moving again and we drew near the house, my heart raced even faster—both from having seen Will and from the impending encounter ahead.

How many times had
Mammi
said, “When God closes one door, He opens another”? Could there be an open door ahead of me? Pulling Rikki to a full stop and swinging myself down from the buggy, I was certainly eager to find out.

I
tied my horse to the hitching post in the shade of a gigantic oak. Though Will's house was just a few years old, it fit in perfectly with the other buildings on the property. It was laid out in the classic farmhouse style, two stories high with a steeply-pitched roof and a broad front porch. The exterior was a stark white, as all of the homes in our local districts were, but still it felt colorful thanks to the flower beds and window boxes filled with blooms: red geraniums, purple impatiens, and blue lobelia. I took in the sight, relishing the beauty of it all. This was a lovely home.

A small white car was parked near the house, so I walked around it and headed up the walkway and onto the porch. But before I even reached the door, it swung open and in front of me stood Will's grandmother, Alice. Though the woman was in her late seventies, she seemed much younger than that, both in demeanor and appearance, except for her hair, that is. It was the same vivid white as her
kapp
—and had been for as long as I'd known her.

“Ada!” she cried, her face lighting up with delight. “I thought I heard a buggy. What perfect timing!”

My eyebrows raised. “Were you expecting me?”

“No, not at all,” she replied, giving me a hug. She smelled of goat's milk soap and starch. “But we were just talking about you. To tell you the truth, we'd rather be talking
to
you.”

I tried to see inside, over her shoulder, wondering what they had been saying—and whom they had been saying it to, for that matter.

“Come in, come in,” Alice said, waving me forward, laugh lines crinkling around her eyes. “I cannot tell you how happy I am that you're here. Everyone else will be too.”

“Everyone else?” I asked as she pulled me to the counter, thrust a pitcher of ice tea in my hands, and then grabbed a tray laden with a plate of brownies and three drinking glasses. As an afterthought, she grabbed another glass from the cabinet, added it to the others, and carried the whole thing on into the main room without any explanation.

I followed along behind her, spotting my grandmother as soon as I stepped through the doorway. She was sitting directly ahead on the couch, eyes sparkling, her cane propped against the cushion next to her. Moving forward, I set down the pitcher on the coffee table and then gave her a long hug, her leathery skin warm against my cheek.

“Welcome home, Ada!” she cried, holding on so tightly for so long that I truly felt welcome. “I missed you so.”

“I missed you too,
Mammi
,” I told her softly. “I can't wait to tell you all about my trip.”

I pulled away, knowing we could save that discussion for later. For now, I wanted to know what was going on—and what it had to do with me.