The Amish Nanny (16 page)

D
aniel left first, departing in his little white car. As I helped
Mammi
across Will's porch, his two-year old twins, Melanie and Matty, came running across the lawn.

“Ada!” Mel yelled. Their little
kapps
bounced around on their heads and their bare feet were dirty.

At the sight of the two children,
Mammi
and I paused, smiling. It wouldn't hurt to take a minute for a quick visit, so I helped
Mammi
sit down in a chair on the porch, in the shade. By the time I turned back around toward the children, however, I realized my mistake.

Not far behind the twins I spotted Leah Fisher, who was just jumping down from the fence and starting toward us. It appeared she hadn't joined her family for their reunion in Shippensburg after all. Instead, she had been here, out in the field with Will's children, more than likely playing a game of hide-and-seek among the rows of Christmas trees.

Behind Leah came Will's older daughter, Christy. She climbed down from the fence tentatively and then shuffled after her soon-to-be teacher. The preteen seemed short for her age and a little peaked, but at least she looked better than she had in the spring. Her hair was strawberry blond and her skin was fair, with a few freckles sprinkled across her nose.

“Ada,” Leah called out, hurrying her pace. “Welcome home!”

Somehow her apron was still clean, even though she'd been out there running around with the children. A curly lock of chestnut hair had fallen free from the pins that secured her hair, and she swiped at it quickly with her hand. She was cute as a bug, there was no way around it.

“I hoped I'd see you soon,” she added, reaching the lawn and scooping up Mat, who giggled. Mel ran ahead of them, up the stairs, and then flung herself at me. I lifted her and kissed the top of her bonnet. She smelled like soil and warm grass and the sweet sweat of a toddler. I hugged her tightly.

“How was your trip?” Leah was a little out of breath by the time she reached me.

“Good, except for what I lost while I was gone.”

Mammi
clucked her tongue at me, but I ignored her.

“Yes, I wanted to talk with you about that,” Leah replied quickly, her cheeks coloring just a bit.

I cocked my head, waiting. I wasn't going to make this easy for her.

“When they offered me the job, I had no idea you wanted it. I felt horrible when I heard you thought it was yours.” Her green eyes widened as she spoke. “I'm truly sorry.”

I needed to forgive her, but the only way I could do that was by telling myself that this was all part of God's plan. If He had truly intended for me to get the job, then I would have. It was that simple.

“No matter,” I finally answered. The issue was settled between us.

Then Will came through the kitchen door, and I realized I had much further to go before I would be able to forgive her for the theft of his heart as well.

Seeing her father, Mel squirmed in my arms. I lowered her to the porch, and she bolted toward him. He picked her up as if she weighed no more than a loaf of bread.

“There you are,” Leah said to him, turning on her brightest smile as she stepped closer. He didn't seem to notice but was instead anxiously scanning the yard in front of him.

“Where's Christy?” He stepped to the railing.

We all looked out to find her, spotting her under the oak tree, her back toward us.

“I'll go get her,” Leah said, putting Mat down and heading toward Christy, the twins running after her like two little ducklings following their mother. Watching them all, my heart grew heavy.

“Is your daughter okay?”
Mammi
asked Will from her perch in the shade.

Moving closer to her, Will nodded and lowered his voice. “Christy had a rough go of it last spring in school, both from being sick and from the loss of her mother. I thought it might do some good for her to spend time with Leah before school started as she'll be her teacher this year.”

Unaware of the pain his words caused me on several fronts, Will glanced my way, eyebrows raised, as if waiting for my approval. I couldn't help but picture it: Will confiding in Leah his concerns for his daughter and the two of them coming up with a plan to make this school year a better one for her. Unable to respond, I was relieved when
Mammi
spoke instead, saying something about how difficult it was for a child to lose her mother but especially so at such a tender age.

We fell silent after that, watching as Leah knelt down beside Christy and they quietly talked, the twins running in circles around them.

“Maybe I should go out there too,” Will said, moving toward the steps.

Unable to bear the sight of such a scene, I began helping
Mammi
up, saying that we needed to be off. Will hesitated, one hand on the porch railing.

“About the passport,” he said. “Bishop Fisher has given permission for the photos. Alice and I had ours taken at Miller's Drugstore in Lancaster. They give them to you right there.”

I nodded, saying that I would go tomorrow myself, first thing.

“File at the post office, and make sure and tell them to rush it,” he added. “You should get it in about two weeks.”

Then he continued on down the steps and across the lawn toward his children and the woman who intended to be his wife. My stomach churning, I turned away, eyes blurry with tears as I helped
Mammi
move toward the buggy.

On the way home she and I were both exhausted, mentally and physically, and we didn't talk much. In fact, we shared only two brief exchanges the whole way there.

The first was when I asked how I could tell my parents.
Mammi
replied simply, “You're going on my behalf, Ada, I should be the one to do it.”

In fact, she didn't even want me around for the argument we both knew would ensue. Thus we agreed that she would speak with them tomorrow morning while I was out arranging for my passport.

That was the extent of our exchange the rest of the way until we turned into the drive. As we did, I put a hand on
Mammi
's arm to gently shake her awake.

“I'm not sleeping, I was praying,” she said, opening her eyes and sitting up straight.

I smiled sympathetically. “About tomorrow's conversation?”

“No, about Giselle.”

As we drew to a stop near the
daadi haus, Mammi
suddenly turned to me, eyes filled with pain and regret.

“Promise me something, Ada,” she said, her voice low and urgent.

I nodded. Of course. I would do anything for this woman I loved so much.

“Promise me that before you come home you'll talk to Giselle about God, about her soul. I don't expect her to become Plain again, but I need to know that she hasn't rejected Christ and that she's managed to make her peace with God.”

I inhaled deeply, knowing the depth of the burden my grandmother had just laid at my feet. Yet on so many levels, how could I refuse? Meeting her eyes, I swallowed hard and spoke.

“I promise I'll try,
Mammi
,” I said. “If she's willing to see me, I'll try.”

The next morning after breakfast I told my parents I had some errands to run and had already hired a driver, a middle-aged woman that we sometimes used. I mentioned I'd be visiting the library but didn't bring up the passport. I felt guilty for not elaborating further, but as
Mammi
had said yesterday, it would probably be best if she talked to
Mamm
and
Daed
by herself. Just thinking of their conversation—and the fact I was going to have to face my mother upon my return—made me feel sick to my stomach.

Traffic was heavy, as usual, but eventually the driver was dropping me off in front of the Lancaster courthouse, saying she would run some errands of her own and return for me in two hours. As she drove away, I oriented myself and then began walking toward Miller's Drugstore down the block, not realizing until I got there that it wouldn't be open for another twenty minutes. I was just settling down on the front step to wait when I heard a voice call out my name. Looking up, I spotted Silas standing at the far curb, waving at me. After a minute, traffic slowed and he darted across the busy street.

“What are you up to, Ada?” he asked, coming toward me with a grin. His straw hat was off kilter, just a little, and he held a large, plastic box in his hands that was empty.

“Killing time until the drugstore opens. How about you?”

“Just made a delivery to the toy store down the street.” Silas's father had several businesses, including a woodworking shop. “But I'm in no rush to get back. Let's grab some coffee.”

We went to the café on the corner, the smell of coffee perking me up as I stepped through the door. Choosing a booth near the window, we sat and ordered coffee and biscuits. Though Silas was as chatty as he'd been on the train, something about his demeanor today seemed a little down in the dumps.

“I heard you're going to Switzerland,” he said after our order came. “With Alice, right?”

My eyes widened. “How did you know that?”

“Leah told me. I saw her yesterday.”

Leah! Of all people! I didn't understand why Alice had told her, especially this soon, but I could only imagine what might happen next. If word was already out, there was a good chance that
Mamm
or
Daed
would hear about it before
Mammi
even had a chance to talk to them herself. I couldn't imagine the sort of firestorm that could kick off. Swallowing hard, I prayed that God would keep the lips of our neighbors silent even as He gave
Mammi
the right words to say as soon as possible.

“She really does feel for you, considering she got the job you wanted,” he said, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

“What?”

“She hadn't realized the two of you were competing for the same job.”

I nodded, knowing that was a complete and utter lie.

“She's sure you must despise her.”

I tilted my head. It wasn't our way to despise people. “Over the teaching job?”

“And Will.”

I tried to look perplexed, as if I had no idea what he was talking about.

“Come on, Ada, everyone knows Will was interested in you—”

“Silas,” I chided. “No one knew any such thing.”

He gave me a pathetic look and picked up his hat from the table. “Do you realize if you're all the way over in Europe that there's nothing to stop the two of them from courting? They could be married before you even get back.”

“Weddings aren't till November, Silas. You know that.”

“
Ya
, but Will's a widower. The bishop can make an exception.”

Silas was right. I swallowed hard, trying not to picture it.

Across from me, he was obviously sick over Leah as well. I felt sorry for him, but I didn't want to talk about it anymore. Just hearing the mention of Will's name filled me with pain.

It was nearly noon by the time the driver dropped me off at home, plenty late enough for
Mammi
to have had her conversation with my parents. Stomach churning, I wondered what would happen now as I walked toward the side of the house with my stack of library books, listening intently for the sound of voices, perhaps even yelling. Instead, all was oddly silent. I moved quietly into the backyard, looking around, but saw neither of my parents. No
Mamm
at the clothesline, no
Daed
at the tool shed. Nobody anywhere.

Taking a deep breath, I veered off toward the
daadi haus
, deciding I would go straight to
Mammi
and find out from her how it had gone.

The moment I stepped inside, I knew that the answer was “not well.”

She was in her chair, eyes red, a handkerchief clutched in her hand.

“Well?” I whispered.

She hugged herself tightly. “It's done.” Her eyes filled with tears.

Trying not to cry myself, I crossed the room quickly and hugged her. “What did
Daed
say?”

“Not much, but he wasn't opposed.”

“And
Mamm
?”

My grandmother looked away, saying, “She'll come around eventually.”

I nodded. “Did she bring up Giselle? Is that part of it?”

“Of course it is. But there's so much more. It's hard enough being a parent, and harder still when you only have one child. Then that child grows up, and, well…” Her voice trailed off, but I knew what she saying. In more ways than one, my mother did not want to let me go.

But I was going anyway. In more ways than one.

When I left the
daadi haus
, I spotted
Mamm
standing out by the flower garden near the windmill, which was completely still. I couldn't help but move toward her. She didn't turn or acknowledge me as I approached.

“
Mamm
,” I said as I walked closer. She held her apron up to her face but lowered it as I stepped in front of her. Seeing that her eyes were red and puffy, a wave of compassion swept over me. “Talk to me,” I said softly.