Anna's Crossing: An Amish Beginnings Novel (26 page)

She stood before him with soft eyes and softer lips. Eyes meant for gazing into. Lips intended for kissing. He bent his head to cover her lips with his. She tasted of ambrosia, of a future he didn’t think he had. She clung to his shoulders and kissed him back.

And his heart softened from a sharp pain to a dull ache in his chest. If he kept on kissing her, the discomfort might vanish forever. He kissed her again and again, then held her in his arms, close to his chest. For a long time neither spoke. And then the ship bell rang and he knew their time together had come to an end.

September 18th, 1737

At daybreak, after eighty-three days at sea, land was spotted. On the fo’c’sle deck, the corner of Captain Charles Stedman’s mouth twitched reluctantly into something vaguely resembling a smile. Standing next to him, Mr. Pocock clapped his hands together one time. It was the most enthusiasm he could muster, given his gout. Johnny Reed, in anticipation of good times ashore in Philadelphia, threw back his head and howled like a banshee.

Sheets of rain swept across the decks of the
Charming Nancy
as the ship finally sailed up the narrow Delaware River on a flood tide. Anna and Felix, standing by the larboard rail with other seamen, took no notice of the rain that was soaking them.

It looked so . . . new, so youthful, Anna thought, staring at her first sight of the New World. The harbor was filled with ships and fishing boats, nowhere near as crowded as Plymouth or Rotterdam. And the shoreline looked so unfinished, with random piers jutting into the harbor. Snug brick buildings, shoulder to shoulder, hugged the ground, but a few steeples
reached to the sky, competing with iridescent orange-and-yellow-leafed trees. So many trees! No wonder it was called Penn’s Woods.

Before the ship could enter the port, a health officer was sent out by the harbormaster. He gave a rudimentary physical to each passenger and miraculously everyone passed, even toddlers with runny noses. Then the health officer heard a noise that made his head lift in alarm: Georg Schultz’s hacking, choking cough echoed across the lower deck. “Infectious disease!” the health officer pronounced, and ordered the ship to be removed one mile from the city, quarantined.

Felix was beside himself. “But I can see it! I can see Port Philadelphia! I see the ships in the harbor! I see the people on the docks! Papa must be waiting for us.” That night, he sobbed himself to sleep.

“Felix is learning the gift of patience,” Anna said. But they all felt travel-weary and disgusted with Georg Schultz.

It wasn’t all bad for Felix. The captain had ordered provisions of fresh greens and water to be sent to the ship, so the quality and quantity of food improved enormously. And because the ship was anchored on the Delaware River, life on the ship became make-and-mend days for the seamen. Accustomed to Felix, they let him roam freely above deck, Decker’s dog following on his heels wherever he went.

Anna held an opposite view on the quarantine. She treasured it. She reveled in the unaccustomed luxury of being dry on this ship, clean after months of being splattered by ceaseless waves and wearing oily, salt-caked clothes. She cherished every stolen moment with Bairn. Each evening, she would meet him at the bowsprit, and his fingers would wrap around hers, warming her hand, thrilling her heart, and they
would talk late into the night, lingering until the pale moon was high overhead. During those shared hours, she told him everything she could remember about Johann, about Felix, about Jacob and Dorothea. She caught him up on eleven years of life in Ixheim and helped him to remember things he’d buried in memories. Sometimes, she had discovered, the heart remembered things better than the head.

And she listened to him. He told her about his life on the ship, learning English, studying mathematics so that he could unlock the mysteries of navigation.

Sometimes, they wouldn’t speak at all. Their arms would circle each other for an embrace, a drawing of strength, of support. She discovered things about him—that in a way, he was more Amish than she. His childhood was his foundation, and even though he might have tried to forget the old ways, they were still a part of him—the very essence of him. It was no wonder he was willing to sacrifice himself for Felix. He was much changed from the boy she once knew, but much the same.

Joy and dread were Anna’s constant companions. As the day drew near for the quarantine to be lifted, her time with Bairn would be over. He reassured her that he would come to Penn’s Woods and reunite with his family, but she knew that was a promise he couldn’t make.

On October 7th, the ship was cleared by the health inspector. Bairn lifted his eyes to Anna’s when Captain Stedman made the pronouncement, and there was pain in the gray depths.

If all went well, tomorrow morning on the high tide, they would reach Port Philadelphia. Tomorrow eve, if all went well, Bairn would sail out on the high tide.

October 8th, 1737

The time had come once more to pack up for a journey. Maria was all aflutter in the way she got, ordering everyone about, accomplishing very little but stirring up a great deal. Anna unhooked the hammock from the hook in the beams, a simple thing, but it triggered a sob from deep within her. She hurried to the bow of the ship to put the hammock in the barrel where she had first found it, and then sunk to the deck behind the barrel and doubled up, pressing her head to her knees, hugging them. A downpour of tears exploded, tears for the moment she would say goodbye to Bairn, knowing she might never see him again. Tears for the years Bairn had lost with his family. Tears for what Jacob and Dorothea, and Felix, too, would be missing by not knowing that their son, Felix’s brother, was alive. By the time her cry had been spent, her eyes were swollen and aching. She wiped the tears off her face with the backs of her hands and slowly rose to her feet.

“Something troubling you, dear?” Dorothea leaned in to whisper as they finished packing up their chests. “You seem far away.”

Anna kept her head down. “There’s a lot on my mind.”

The dear woman gave her shoulder a squeeze of motherly affection. Anna breathed through her mouth to keep from crying again, but a fierce pain was pressing against her chest so hard it seemed her ribs would crack.

She took the rose out of the basket and unwrapped its base, then let it sit in a plate of water to soak up as much as it could. Its leaves were brown at the edges and there was little new growth, but it had survived. A small smile tugged at her lips.
It had survived, and so will I.

They would need to make several trips to get their belong
ings out on the dock after the ship anchored. The more organized they could be, the better. She wrapped up her rose in burlap and set it in the basket. As Anna cleaned up around the lower deck, she found a stack of overlooked pewter spoons from the galley. Felix was nowhere in sight, so she took them up to Cook. She took her rose basket too, just in case it would get swept up with the other belongings that the men were taking from the lower deck and down to the docks. She had come this far with it—she wasn’t about to lose it now.

In the galley was Bairn, saying goodbye to Cook. He straightened when he saw her and her heart started to pound.

“Cook, would ye mind if I had a moment alone with Anna?”

Cook simply clamped him on the shoulder in response. “Godspeed to you both,” he said, before closing the door behind him.

“Mr. Pocock is waitin’ fer me. He found a ship that is sailin’ at high tide tonight. Georg Schultz will be on it as well.” He took a step toward her. “Well . . .” The word hung in the cold air like the sound of the ship’s bell.

“Yes, well . . . ,” she answered, drawing out the words molasses-slow. She spread her palms nervously, then clutched them together. It was too much at once, and she heard Bairn thinking the same.

This would be the last of it, then. She would say goodbye, and he would sail back to Rotterdam to face the baron. And who knew what would happen next? She might never see his face again, a face that had grown beloved to her. The thought was so painful it was like a sliver of glass in the eye. Tears threatened, but she tamped the burning at the back of her throat and whispered, “Bairn, please, let me go with you back to Germany. I don’t want to leave you.”

No longer able to stem the rush of tears, they flowed unchecked down her cheeks. Bairn wiped them away with his thumbs and pulled her into his arms, murmuring into her hair, “Just knowin’ that you want to is all I’ll need t’get me through and bring me back.” The words came soft and unhurried. Then he kissed her, a silent reminder that no matter what the future, he loved her.

As his arms tightened around her, her hand released the rose basket and it dropped to the ground with a clink.

He pulled back, holding her by the arms. “What was that? Did y’hear that sound?” He bent down to grab the basket. “Of course. Of course, of course! This is the way Felix’s sneaky little mind would work. Put it someplace obvious, because no one looks for the obvious.” He pulled the wrapped rose out of the basket and laid it on the table, then carefully unwrapped it.

“The baron’s gold watch? It’s not there. I’ve taken the rose out often to check on it, to give it sun and keep it damp. I would have noticed.”

Bairn was examining the basket. “You would nae notice . . . if there’s a false bottom in the basket.” He reached a hand in and pulled out a wooden oval. There, at the base of the basket, was a wrapped handkerchief. Bairn unfolded it carefully. Inside was the baron’s gold watch, complete with a delicate gold chain. “He’s a cannie laddie, that one.” He started toward the door.

“No . . . let me. I’ll go get him.”

Anna hurried downstairs to find Felix. She brought him back up, grateful that Dorothea was occupied with feeding the baby. She bit her tongue for all the scoldings she wanted to give that boy.

Bairn had laid the watch out on a barrel top in Cook’s galley.

Felix’s eyes went wide, then he tried backing up toward the door, but Anna reached out to stop him by placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Am I in trouble?”

“Yes. You lied to me, over and over.” Anna swallowed down a frustrated sigh. “Why did you steal the watch?”

“I dinnae vant the baron t’have the vatch,” he said in his awful accent. He wasn’t even pretending anymore; the accent had become part of him.

“But why the watch? Of all things, why would you steal a watch?”

Felix’s eyes filled with tears. “The baron used it t’time the beatings his servant gave t’Johann. At the stroke of twelve, every minute, fer fifteen minutes, Johann vas lashed. He never cried. He just vent silent.”

“His heart,” Anna said woodenly. “It wasn’t strong.”

“So I took the vatch so he vouldn’t hurt anyone else.” He looked at Anna, tears running down his cheeks.

“I’m not angry with you, Felix. You meant well.”

“I
alvays
mean vell. I am misunderstood.”

“That’s a question for another time. You go finish packing up. We should be reaching the harbor soon.”

Felix looked up at Bairn, worry covering his small round face. “Do I have t’give it back t’Georg Schultz?”

“Ich gibt acht auf Georg Schultz,” Bairn said.
I
’ll take care of Georg Schultz.

Relieved, Felix jumped like a grasshopper into the air and out the door.

Anna tilted her head. “You spoke our language to him. Weeks ago, I realized that you could understand it, but this was the first time I’ve heard you speak it.”

“’Tis rusty. I’d forgotten much of it. I’ve forgotten most everythin’, until you came along.”

She had to touch him. She lifted her hand, at the same time that he reached for it. He kissed her palm, and then her wrist, where her pulse beat. He laid the back of her hand against his cheek. His smile was so tender and fragile, it hurt to look at it. “What I’ve learned of love, of life, I’ve learned from you.” He breathed out a sigh. “And now I need t’give the watch to Schultz.”

“Do you think there’s any chance he will be satisfied with the watch alone?”

“No chance at all,” said a voice at the door. They turned to find Georg Schultz at the doorjamb, standing spread-legged with his thumbs in his breast pockets, smiling to show off teeth that were yellow as corn. He reached out to snatch the watch from Bairn’s open palm and dangled it in front of his face. “But I’m delighted the little thief finally confessed his crime.”

“Schultz, I know yer not a man discouraged by conscience, but are you truly so hardhearted? So greedy fer gold that you’d break me family apart?”

“It’s not personal, Bairn. It’s just money. Quite a bit of money. That reward will set me up for . . . ,” he snapped his fingers, “. . . for life. I won’t have to work another day. No more tiresome ocean voyages.”