The Amish Nanny (4 page)

Zed still had her phone, only now he was coming toward me with it, trying to get up close as he filmed. He knew I didn't want to be caught on camera, but he was so persistent that finally I turned my back on him and strode to the house as well, closing the door in his face.

It was time to bring out the roasted chickens, but when I got to the kitchen I stopped short at the sight of Ella's beautiful cake in the corner, which she had finally unveiled. It was three layers high, each one decorated with swirls and patterns in white frosting, accented with delicate, edible gold balls. This fancy cake would never do for a Plain wedding, but here it seemed just right. I knew Lexie and James would be thrilled.

Several of the other women had also noticed the gorgeous cake and paused to compliment Ella on her artistry. But she was so focused on adding the last few finishing touches that she barely acknowledged them. Grabbing the platter of roasted chickens, I decided to give her a little room to work. I would tell her later how pleased I knew the happy couple would be.

Stepping outside, I soon realized that Zed hadn't given up—and that now he was adding narration as he filmed.

“Here's my cousin Ada again,” he said, “carrying the roasted chickens she made for the bride and groom. Are you the roast cook, Ada?”

“
Englisch
weddings don't have roast cooks,” I replied, wishing he would be quiet and go away. Back home at our weddings, the couples in charge of roasting the chickens were known as the “roast cooks.” We also had “potato cooks,” who made all of the mashed potatoes.

“Wow!” Zed exclaimed suddenly, interrupting my thoughts.

I turned to see what he was looking at and spotted Ella just emerging with the finished cake, carefully balancing it on a board covered with paper. Immediately, Zed zoomed in on her and continued his narration.

“And now we have Ella, my sister and a cousin of the bride, carrying the cake she spent the last three days making. Tell us, Ella, did you set some sort of record, taking that long to make one cake?”

“Knock it off,” Ella said. Tightly gripping the board holding her creation, she went down a step, the tall cake tottering slightly as she did.

“Oh, my.” Zed held the phone closer to his face. “It looks as if a catastrophe's looming.”

“Put that thing away and help me.” She took another step, but the cake wobbled again, leaning even further this time. “Zed! Please!”

“Oops, incoming text.” He turned the phone and flipped it open.

“Don't you dare read it!” Ella took another step, and this time the board tilted enough for the cake to slide a little.

But Zed had his hand out in half a second, steadying it as he slipped the cell phone into his pocket. “Whoa, easy does it.”

Together they stabilized the board and then carried the cake across the lawn. Once they finally eased it onto the center of the dessert table, she gave it a few last adjustments and then asked for her phone. Zed gave it to her, announcing the text was from Ezra, as if any of us would be surprised. Ezra was Ella's beau—not to mention Will Gundy's little brother.

I set the chicken on the main table between the stuffing and creamed celery, glad that I'd thought to gather the recipes from
Mamm
before I left for Oregon. The other women brought out the last of the dishes and added them to the table, things like relish trays, hot potato salad, and little sausages. Stepping back to survey the entire spread, I realized that it was quite the mix of Amish and Mennonite “cuisine.” I smiled. That was yet another word Ella had picked up from her bridal magazine and used as often as possible.

Glancing around for Ella, I saw she was standing away from the crowd just a bit, furiously texting away on her phone. She needed to be done with that and focus on matters closer at hand, but before I could get over there to tell her, I was sent back inside for more serving spoons. By the time I returned and had finished distributing the utensils among the various platters and bowls, a few minutes had passed. Yet Ella was still standing in the same place, focused on her phone.

I walked over to her, realizing as I got closer that instead of texting, now she was talking—or rather listening, the phone pressed tightly to her ear, her lips pursed shut.

“Ella, you need to get off the phone,” I whispered.

She looked at me, eyes wide, and shook her head no. Glancing toward the orchard, I saw that Lexie and James were still posing for the photographer. Though Lexie wasn't the type to embarrass easily, I didn't want her guests, especially the older ones, to think that Ella or Zed were typical American teens, obsessed with a cell phone at the expense of the people around them.

Ella whispered something into the receiver, turning slightly so that her back was to me. Stepping around in front of her, I softly repeated my request.

“I can't,” she said, covering the phone with her hand. “This is important. It's about Alice. Alice Beiler.”

My eyes widened. Alice was Will and Ezra Gundy's grandmother, one of my own grandmother's dearest friends and a woman I absolutely adored. Though Alice and
Mammi
were about the same age, Alice was in far better health than
Mammi
was. When Will's wife died, Alice was one of the women who had taken over most of the daily care of his children so Will could keep working.

Fearing that Alice had now fallen ill or perhaps become hurt, I took Ella's arm and led her around to the side of the house, where we could deal with this call more privately. Except for a few marriages between distant cousins, Ella and I weren't related to Alice or her family in any way, but we certainly considered the Beilers and Gundys to be treasured friends, and Alice in particular. Had Will and I married, they all would have become my in-laws. Even though that was never going to happen for me, I was aware that they could still become Ella's in-laws someday if she married Ezra.

“What's wrong with Alice?” I pressed, and when Ella didn't reply, I spoke more loudly, “Is she sick? Did she break a hip or something?”

Ella put her hand to the phone. “No, it's nothing like that. You're not going to believe it, Ada. Alice is going to Europe!”

W
hile the thought of Alice, an older Amish woman, going to Europe was, indeed, big news, it was nothing compared to the dreadful possibilities my mind had been dredging up. I exhaled slowly, relief flooding my veins.

“Europe?”

“Yeah. She and Will are talking about it right now. It has something to do with a legal matter.”

A legal matter? In Europe? “Says who, Ella? Who are you talking to?”

“Ezra. It's not gossip, I promise. He heard it with his own two ears.”

In that case I'd be interested to learn all about it. But later. Right now, Ella's communication with the people back home was bringing a distraction to Lexie's big day. But before I could speak, Ella continued.

“At first Will and Christy were planning to go with her. He even applied for their passports. But now he's decided he can't leave the twins for that long, so he and Christy aren't going after all.”

Ignoring the flutter in my stomach from the mere mention of Will's name, I said, “Poor Christy. She must be so disappointed.”

“I doubt it. You know how she is these days. She doesn't seem to care much about anything.”

“Ella!”

“Well, it's true. The kid is pretty messed up.”

Will's daughter Christy had been just ten years old when her mother died. The fact that the girl was still having trouble grappling with that death less than a year later was not our business to discuss.

“Hang up, Ella. This doesn't include us.”

“No, wait. It does,” she said, grabbing my arm before I could walk away. “Guess who else is going to Europe with Alice?”

I hesitated, waiting for her to answer her own question.

“Either your mother or mine,” she said, almost triumphantly.

I blinked, shaking my head. “What?”

“Ezra heard Alice say she has to bring along either Klara or Marta.”

Klara and Marta were sisters, Klara being my mother and Marta being Ella's mother. Regardless of whatever legal matter was involved here and what on earth it had to do with going to Europe, there was no way on earth either of our mothers would be willing to go somewhere so far away. Marta was a midwife with a thriving practice and tons of patients who could go into labor at any time. She'd sooner die than abandon them, even for a short while. As for my mother…well, I'd be less surprised to hear a cow speaking back to me in Pennsylvania Dutch than I would to find out Klara Rupp was planning a trip to Europe.

“Oh no!” Ella hissed suddenly into the phone. Looking at me, she whispered, “Ezra almost got busted.”

Busted? At that moment I realized the full scope of what was going on.

“Ella, is Ezra eavesdropping on a private conversation between Will and Alice? Is that how he knows all of this?”

She nodded, and then after a moment of listening she told me, “It's okay. They didn't spot him.”

I closed my eyes and spoke, trying not to raise my voice.

“Hang up right
now
or I will take your phone away for the remainder of the trip.”

Opening my eyes, I held out my hand, palm up, waiting, and told her she had exactly ten seconds or it was bye-bye BlackBerry.

“I'll have to call you later,” Ella whispered into the phone. Then she disconnected it, thrust it into her pocket, and snipped, “It's not a BlackBerry. It's a Vio4G. If you weren't
Amish
you would know the difference.” She spun around on her heel and marched away, heading toward the clusters of guests on the lawn.

I stood there for a long moment. I loved my cousin dearly, but she still had a lot of growing up to do. Silently, I said a quick prayer for patience, and then I began walking toward the others. I reached them just as James was clapping his hands to get everyone's attention and asking us to join him in prayer. Before bowing my head, I glanced at Ella, who was standing with one of the bridesmaids and pointedly ignoring me.

Closing my eyes, I took in a deep breath, willing my mind to turn toward God as James began to pray aloud. He thanked the Lord for his beautiful bride, Lexie; their friends and family; and their future as husband and wife. His “amen” was followed by a hearty echo all around—except by me. Not that I didn't affirm his prayer. I just wasn't used to people praying out loud and didn't know we were supposed to do that at the end.

Then James directed all of us toward the buffet. I followed Zed, not surprised to see Ella moving in far behind us, her face deliberately turned away. It was just as well. I didn't feel like dealing with her any more right now anyway.

Across from us was a little girl who had gotten in line without her family. She looked to be about six or seven and was wearing a pink dress trimmed in lace, her hair pulled neatly into twin braids. When she had trouble getting the potato salad off the serving spoon and onto her plate, I leaned forward to help her.

“Thanks!” she said, looking up at me and flashing a semi-toothless smile.

“You're welcome,” I replied. After a moment, I added, “And thank you for thanking me. You have excellent manners.”

Reaching for a warm roll, she was quiet for a moment and then spoke. “Well, thank you for thanking me for thanking you.”

She and Zed and I all laughed. What a cutie-pie.

Zed and I ended up sitting by Mrs. Glick, at her invitation. While we ate I marveled at how everyone was able to enjoy the meal together, explaining that at our weddings back home, the diners had to eat in shifts because there were so many guests. We also didn't serve our food “cafeteria style” like this. Instead, guests sat at the tables and aunts and uncles of the bride would bring food to them, with single girls often helping during the first meal.

“Fascinating,” Mrs. Glick said before biting into a fluffy roll slick with butter.

I didn't add that if Leah married Will, she would probably ask me to serve at their wedding. If she did, I would never accept, afraid my emotions might get the better of me.