The Amish Nanny (30 page)

His question hurt, yes, but as it was the same question I'd been asking myself for several weeks now, hearing him also say it, out loud, made me feel oddly vindicated.

Frustration clearly evident on his face, Herr Lauten continued. “I just wish I had thought to ask her about the box before she left for Frankfurt.” He looked up at his son. “Why don't you try calling her? I have a spare key to the cottage. Just ask her to tell you where the letters are and then you can run down and retrieve them.”

Oskar shrugged. “I can call her. I'll send an email too, but you know how she is. She might not respond for days.” Looking over at me, he added, “What kind of person doesn't answer their messages?”

Again, hurt yet vindicated.

“How about the letters Abraham wrote to Elsbeth?” Daniel asked, looking at me. “Have you ever heard anything about that from your family, Ada?”

I was about to say no when suddenly I sat up straight. “Yes! I have. In fact, I've seen one of the letters myself. Lexie gave me a copy. It was from Abraham to Elsbeth, and Lexie has the original.” Thinking that through for a moment, I realized
Mammi
had given it to Lexie. Though I'd never heard
Mammi
refer to any letters, nor had I ever seen any others, there was certainly a chance that more than just that one had been saved and ended up in her care. I said as much now, looking from Daniel to Herr Lauten.

They wanted to contact
Mammi
immediately, though Alice reminded them that “immediate” in Amish terms wasn't exactly the swiftest of actions. A message left on the phone in the barn might not be answered for several days, and by then it would be too late.

We decided the best approach was to call Aunt Marta and enlist her help. She could run to
Mammi
's and ask about the letters in person, and if
Mammi
really did have them, then Aunt Marta could drive into town and ship them to us via overnight delivery. I worried what such a shipment might cost, but Daniel assured me that it would be paid either by Herr Lauten or out of the budget of the historical committee.

Thus, while Alice and Christy helped Oskar clear the table, Herr Lauten led Daniel and me to his study, where I used his phone to call Aunt Marta. It was just two p.m. at home, and our hope was that if she moved quickly she could get the shipment off today. She sounded pleased to hear from us and didn't seem to mind our request for help. Fortunately, none of her patients were in labor at the moment, so she would be able to juggle around a few appointments and get right on it. If there were indeed letters at
Mammi
's and if Aunt Marta was successful in sending them off in time, she would have Zed notify Herr Lauten via email.

Once the call was over, we said our goodnights, and I headed upstairs to my room. My body was tired but my brain was spinning, so once I was ready for bed I puttered around a bit first, going through my suitcase and organizing Christy's schoolwork. We wouldn't have time to do much more until the trip home.

Finally, I could feel myself winding down, so I climbed into bed and turned off the light. Pulling the downy comforter up to my chin and snuggling into the soft mattress, I felt as though I could sleep for a month. As I drifted off, I could hear the rush of the waterfall through the open window. It sounded like music, soothing my soul.

O
ur visit with the lawyer the next morning lasted almost two hours. We spent most of that time going through papers, both the ones that Ms. Holt had already acquired and those that Alice and
Mammi
had rounded up from back home. The lawyer seemed disappointed, of course, when Daniel told her that the actual agreement hadn't yet been found—if indeed it still existed at all. But she seemed especially upset to learn that no one in either of our families had ever heard of the agreement or knew anything about it. At least she was relieved that we'd been able to provide ample documentation of our lineage and of
Mammi
's inheritance, with numerous birth certificates, wills, deed transfers, and much more.

She did perk up a bit when Daniel showed her an entry in one of Abraham Sommers' business journals, dated May 22, 1877.

“This is the most direct reference to the agreement that we've been able to find,” he told her. As she looked it over, he explained to Alice and me what it said. “Abraham documents the price he paid for the land and says that in conjunction with the deed transfer, the two men had also signed an agreement that would preserve the property for the potential return of Kessler or of his descendants.”

I nodded, glad to know that at least we had that much.

“You saw this part here?” Ms. Holt asked Daniel, then she glanced over at Alice and me before looking back down at the paper and translating it into English for us. “Once the sale was completed, he says, ‘The notary has filed the deed with the land register and has provided me with the appropriate transfer of ownership papers. I have retained the related agreement myself, preferring not to have its contents available publically, and have put it in a safe place, one that offers more privacy than the land registry office.'” Looking up at us, she added, “I guess that explains why the agreement hasn't turned up. Sounds like ol' Abe tucked it away somewhere a little too safe.”

Alice and I looked at each other. Though I was feeling more defeated by the moment, her expression was still calmly, faithfully optimistic. I knew I would do well to follow her example.

We moved on from there, reviewing the rest of the documents. The ones I found the most interesting were those dated in the late 1870s that related to the small group of Mennonites who had emigrated together from this region of the Emmental to Indiana, including Elsbeth and her husband, Gerard Gingrich, and Ulrich Kessler and his family. The various marriage licenses, naturalization records, land patents, survey plots, and more provided an intriguing picture of how their story might have played out. I only wished there was some way to go back and get more details straight from those who had lived it. Perhaps the letters between Abraham and Elsbeth would end up giving us exactly that—providing we'd be able to find them, of course. At breakfast we'd learned that not only had there been no word yet from Marta as to whether she'd had any success at
Mammi
's or not, but Oskar still hadn't heard back from Giselle, either.

Once we'd reviewed all of the documents and answered Betsy Holt's many questions, she sat back in her chair and explained to us what would happen next. She said that the registry handled this type of matter at the district level.

“That means our hearing will be here in Langnau,” she said. “We're scheduled for Wednesday morning at ten.”

My heart sank. That was just two days away! Even if we were somehow able to get all of the letters by then, that wouldn't give us enough time to go through them, at least not thoroughly. Daniel was obviously thinking the same thing, because he asked if the hearing could be postponed until Thursday.

Ms. Holt shook her head. “With such a complex case, I feel sure we won't be handed a ruling the day of the hearing. The more time the judge has to make his decision, the better. If the case is heard on Wednesday, that gives him until Friday to give us a ruling. The land commission's deadline is at four p.m. Friday afternoon, so it has to happen before then. We'll make sure the judge is aware of that, and as long as he can decide this case in time, we're good.”

“But what about the letters?” Daniel pressed. “What if they contain new evidence that doesn't come to light until Thursday?”

She shrugged, saying if we found any new evidence that was extremely compelling, she could pass it along to the judge after the hearing but prior to his ruling.

She glanced at her watch and began closing up the files and gathering the papers. As she did she briefly explained the approach she planned to take with the court. A lot of what she said was way over my head, but from what I could tell, the biggest factor in our favor was the deed itself, which clearly stipulated a first right of refusal for Ulrich Kessler or his heirs. “As you know, Daniel, it's the associated language that's causing all the problems,” she said, pointing to a paragraph on her copy of the deed.

“And Lex Koller?” Daniel asked as he tucked his own papers away. “Any help there?” I wasn't sure who Lex Koller was, but this was the first I had heard of anyone by that name. Her answer made no sense to me at all, so I decided to ask Daniel about him later.

As they wrapped things up, I glanced over at Alice, who had sat quietly through the entire meeting. At the moment she looked as if she might be just a few more complicated legal terms away from a sound sleep. I wasn't doing much better myself by that point, so I was glad we seemed to be finished. When we all stood, Daniel asked the lawyer if there was anything else official we needed to do before the hearing on Wednesday.

“Find me that agreement,” she urged, smiling. “Or at least find those letters, and keep rounding up every other pertinent document you can locate. My hope is that we can paint such a complete picture of the situation that the judge will rule in our favor. Beyond that, I suppose you might, uh, pray.” She said that last word with a glance at Alice and me, though I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or sincere. She was an odd woman, her manner brusque but her English so natural that I had a feeling she must be a native speaker. Either that, or at least she'd spent extensive time in the States.

“Herr Lauten said something about some meetings this afternoon that you might want us to attend?” Daniel asked.

Her face lit up, and she looked again at Alice and me.

“Oh, right! Not meetings, just a little PR. Thanks for reminding me,” she said, and then she reached for her phone and started dialing a number. It sounded as though she was put on hold, after which she placed a hand over the receiver and asked Daniel if he could have us over at the waterfall around two or three today. “I have a buddy over at the
Wochen Zeitung
who is willing to do a cover story. Can't beat this photo op, huh?”

She gestured toward Alice and me, but before either of us could respond, she was talking into the phone. I looked over at Daniel in alarm, hoping she wasn't talking about what I thought she was talking about.

“Daniel—” I whispered, but he waved me off, listening intently to her conversation. I couldn't understand many of her words, but by the time she put the person on hold, she didn't seem happy.

“Figures,” she said, looking at him. “Wouldn't you know, the township has surveyors over there on the property all week. We can't even get close to the falls. Can you think of an alternate setting, something that could still help us in swaying the greenies? I don't want to use the mansion at Amielbach. That could actually be counterproductive.”

Glancing at us, Daniel shook his head slowly and told her that in no way would Alice or I be willing to pose for any photographs. She looked shocked, but even after he explained that it was against our religion, she just pursed her lips in irritation, shaking her head. “Without pictures, the article will end up getting buried somewhere in the middle, if they decide to run it at all.”

Seeming ambivalent, Daniel looked at Alice and me and explained that one way to help our case was to sway public opinion. Right now, he said, most folks in Wasserdorf were siding with the hydro plant, thanks to some very well-placed newspaper ads and articles highlighting the ecological benefits of such a clean energy source.

“The thinking is that we can trump that big time,” the lawyer continued, turning to appeal to me directly, “by showing how two poor Amish women came all this way—by cargo ship, no less—just to preserve this site that's so vitally significant to their heritage.” She paused for a moment and then added, “The original vision was to get some shots of the two of you in your costumes there at the falls, looking off toward the caves where your ancestors hid. But even with the falls off-limits, I'm sure we can come up with something almost as effective.” As an afterthought, she added, “Bear in mind, ladies, in a case as politically delicate as this one, a couple of quick photos could make the difference between winning and losing.”

Her little speech finished, her words hung in the air for a long moment as I tried to think how to refuse without sounding as rude to her as she had just been to us. Before I could come up with anything, however, Alice spoke instead.