The Amish Nanny (27 page)

“Is that unusual?”

“Are you kidding? Of course it's unusual.”

Shrugging, I explained that our generations always spent a lot of time together.” I thought of
Mammi
. Sure, in the last few years since the stroke her health hadn't been good, and before that she sometimes had sad spells, which I now understood. I told Morgan I spent as much time with her as with my mother, working alongside her in the vegetable and flowers gardens, doing the washing and mending, and cooking together. She had read to me when I was little and helped me with my homework all through school when I needed it.

“Wow.” Morgan stretched her hand out on the bench. “I only saw my grandparents once or twice a year. I wish I had seen them more. I really loved my grandmother.” Her eyes were moist. “She used to pray for me. Every day, she said.” She sighed. “Everything I learned about God, I learned from her and from reading
Jane Eyre
.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“It's true,” Morgan said. “It's quite a spiritual story. Where did we stop? Right when Helen dies?”

We definitely had gotten to that part.

“Helen teaches Jane a lot about God. It affects the rest of her life. You'll have to read to the end.”

I nodded. I'd like that.

Morgan sat up a little straighter and squared her feet on the tile floor. “I wish I could have gone on a trip like this with my grandmother. She wasn't always in a hurry. If I went on a trip like this with my mom, we'd kill each other.” She grimaced.

We were silent for a moment, and then I felt compelled to expand on the conversation from the night before. “Why were you uncomfortable when we prayed?”

“Ouch,” she said. “Was I that obvious?”

“
Ya
.” I smiled.

She took a deep breath. “Probably for a lot of reasons.”

“Such as…”

She shrugged. “I don't see God really caring about how I feel, let alone what I need.” She repositioned her backpack at her feet.

There was no way to say it politely, but I had a feeling that one reason she thought God didn't care was because her parents didn't seem to care—at least not like they should. I shuddered, grateful to the core that I had parents who
did
care, even if sometimes they showed it too much.

We were silent for a moment and then she asked, “Do you like being Christy's au pair?”

“Au what?”

“It's French. For nanny.” She laughed. “It sounds better, don't you think?”

“Better?”

“Than babysitter or child care provider or nanny.” She shrugged. “Do you like it?”

“Au pair,” I repeated quietly and then answered, “Yes, very much. It's the next best thing to teaching.”

Her eyes lit up. “Can you do that?”

“I'm hoping for a position back home.”

“But you could only teach until you get married? Right?”

“Pretty much.” I knew of teachers who taught after they wed, but they quit before they had children.

She glanced toward the exit of the station and then back toward me, meeting my gaze. “I don't get it,” she said. “Why do you want someone else telling you what you can and can't do?”

“What do you mean?”

“All those rules. About how you can dress. What you can drive. What job you can have. You must have a superthick what-not-to-do manual.”

“Actually, it's called the
Ordnung
and it's not written down. We just know it. It gives structure to our lives.”

“But it doesn't give you any choices.”

I had to think about that for a moment. Then I said, “It isn't about choices. It's about a way of behaving that helps us follow Christ's teaching. It helps us avoid vanity, pride, and envy. That sort of thing. And remember—it's not as though we're told a bunch of rules and have no choice but to follow them.” My mind raced for an example. “That's like saying a husband and wife have no choice about dating other people. Of course they don't. They took a vow that bound them to each other, and certain rules go along with that. When we commit to the faith and join the Amish church, we take a vow and
willingly
agree to do the things that go along with that.”

She nodded thoughtfully.

“Plus, our rules keep our priorities straight,” I added.

“How so?”

“Take telephones—land lines. Back when Amish families first started having them installed in their homes almost a hundred years ago, there was a fear that the telephones would take the place of face-to-face visiting, so that was one reason it was decided they would be put in sheds and barns instead, plus phones weren't as invasive that way too. For us, direct contact between people is more important than convenience. From what I've seen of the rest of the world, that decision was a pretty good one.”

“So people come first? Instead of things and careers and stuff like that?”

I shook my head. “Jesus comes first. Then others. Then yourself. All of our decisions come down to that. Christ taught us to live in community. He wants us to be His hands and feet.”

She shifted her eyes to the floor and, again, I was afraid I'd offended her, but then she said, “That's really cool. Thanks for the explanation.”

We were still waiting for her father when the others returned. Daniel handed me a sandwich and Alice handed one to Morgan.

As we were finishing our food, a man approached. He had broad shoulders and silver hair and was wearing a suit and tie.

“Morgan,” he called out. “So sorry I'm late.” He was about to give her a hug but then stopped suddenly, taking us all in, and broke into a grin instead. “I see you're still a bleeding heart, taking in strays.”

Morgan looked flustered and embarrassed as she stood, reaching out to hug him quickly and then introducing all of us. We said our goodbyes, and she promised to try and visit the Emmental while we were still there. She'd traded cell phone numbers with George, and she also gave me her email address, just in case.

Then she followed her father toward the exit. I stood and watched her go, surprised when she turned and pulled something out of her backpack.

“Ada,” she said. “I want you to have this.”

She ran back toward me, and as she did I could see it was her copy of
Jane Eyre
.

“Even if Christy doesn't want to hear the rest of the story, you should read it.”

I thanked her with a final hug, and as I turned, I almost bumped into Daniel, who had been standing just behind me. He and I joined the others in our group to take a bus to the hotel, but we ended up getting off at the wrong stop. By the time Daniel asked the driver for help and got us redirected, it was growing late. When we finally arrived at the hotel, we were all exhausted.

Alice and Christy were both looking pale, so Daniel and I managed to get their luggage to our room, and then I made sure Christy took her medicine and that she and Alice laid down. Once they were resting, I stepped out into the hall where George was talking on his cell phone. It sounded as if he was confirming our driver for the next day.

When he finished, I explained my worries about Christy's health and Alice's age, saying that I didn't think either one of them was really up to this right now. Even though Christy had seemed fine on the ship, she still had a heart condition we needed to be mindful of and overtiring her wasn't in her best interest or anyone else's. He assured me that today had been, by far, our longest and most difficult day.

“It gets much easier from here,” he said. “Make sure and call your aunt in the morning. We'll be in Langnau by tomorrow afternoon.”

As tired as I was, I tossed and turned most of the night, thinking about Giselle.

The next morning as we ate in the hotel restaurant, George handed me his cell phone. I stood and thanked him and then made my way out the front door. This wasn't a call that I wanted anyone to overhear. I'd tucked Zed's printout of the email from Giselle into the zipped compartment of my purse along with my passport. I pulled out the piece of paper now and shook it open, my hand trembling as I did. Then I dialed the number. It rang. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. I was sure she wasn't going to pick up. Six. Seven. Eight. I shifted my weight to my other foot. It should have gone into voice mail by now. Nine.

“
Hallo
?”

“Giselle?” My heart raced as I spoke.

She spoke rapidly in German, and I could only make out a few words.

“This is Ada,” I said in English. “You told me to call.” My knees began to shake, and I put a hand up against the building to steady myself.

“Oh, Ada.” There was a long silence and then, “Didn't you get my message from Herr Lauten?”

“I did,” I answered, my heart thumping against my chest. “But you'd told me to call…”

“I'm still in Frankfurt…” Her voice trailed off.

“When will you be back?” I asked, praying I could see her.

“Any chance you're coming to Germany?”

“No.”

“Well, I'm sorry our paths won't cross, but do go visit Amielbach when you're in Langnau. The owner is turning it into a boutique hotel. He might even let you stay there.”

She finally stopped speaking. I swallowed hard and then said, my voice cracking a little, “So we won't be seeing you?”

A defensive edge sliced through her voice. “No, I don't think so.”

“Alice will be disappointed.” I wasn't sure why I couldn't say I would be disappointed as well.

“Alice Beiler?” Her voice was softer now. “
Mamm
's good friend?”

“
Ya
,” I said. “Didn't Zed tell you in his emails? She's with me.”

“He said you were traveling with friends. But I was thinking friends your age. Not someone I would know.”

“Her great-granddaughter is with us too. Will Gundy's oldest girl.”

“My goodness.” Her voice was brighter now. “Alice was always so good to me.” She paused for a moment, as if she were thinking things through. “Let me see what I can do on this end. Maybe I can head home to Switzerland after all and come back here to Germany in a couple of weeks to finish then. Should I call this number if I can make it happen?”

I knew George wouldn't mind. I told her yes and that I hoped I'd be seeing her soon.

“Don't count on it, but I'll do my best.”

After hanging up I waited for a moment, still braced against the building, my insides feeling icy cold even though the morning was surprisingly warm for the first week of October. She wanted to see Alice. I took a deep breath. But she didn't want to see me.

The door to the restaurant opened and I anticipated everyone coming out, but it was only Alice.

“Ada, are you all right?”

I nodded but my face must have given my emotions away. “She's in Frankfurt. She might be able to see us.”

“Might?”

I nodded again. I thought of Lexie traveling to Pennsylvania by herself. I squared my shoulders. Lexie had wanted the truth. I wanted to meet our birth mother. It was my right to want that. But it was also my birth mother's right to decide whether to make it happen or not.

Ironically, my deepest hurt in this moment was also my one glimmer of hope, that if she wanted to see Alice she would have to see me too. Perhaps that would be enough to get her home.

Alice didn't pry for any more information, and I didn't tell her that Giselle was far more interested in seeing her than me.

Alice's eyes glistened. “You've come all this way. You need to see her. Frannie needs you to see her. And I'd like very much to see her as well.”

I was about to ask her what we would do if Giselle didn't show up when the door swung open again and the whole group emerged, led by George.

Daniel stopped when he saw my face. “Are you all right?”

I nodded, the motion of my head forming a great big lie.