The Amish Nanny (21 page)

By the time the main course arrived, George was telling us all about the new tour company he and Daniel were establishing. He thanked us for being a part of their research voyage, but we didn't remind him that our main reason for coming on this trip had nothing to do with his tour company's research and everything to do with settling a property issue.

“I couldn't have done any of this without Daniel, of course,” George continued, sticking a fork into his platter of spaghetti and turning it slowly in a circle. “That kid is brilliant. I can't believe the information he's dug up. When all is said and done, we're going to have some amazing tours, with a number of stops that are exclusively available only through us.”

Christy was watching George with fascination as he finished spinning the fork and lifted it from the plate, revealing a perfect, spiraled ball of spaghetti wrapped around the tines. Pausing, he added, “The only problem with that boy is that he gets so caught up in his work that he forgets to eat or sleep. I'm sure that's what's keeping him now. Probably doesn't have a clue how late it's gotten.”

“Who could forget to eat or sleep?” Christy replied as George slid the large bite into his mouth and began to chew. “He sounds weird.” I remembered Christy hadn't met him the day I did at her home.

“He's not weird,” Alice corrected. “Daniel is a very nice young man.” Clearly, through all of their dealings, he'd managed to win her trust.

Considering that in the morning we'd be boarding a ship to sail across an ocean, I could only pray that that trust was well founded.

T
he next morning we rose well before dawn, dressed, and packed our bags. When we reached the lobby, George directed us toward a room with coffee and pastries, and then he darted back out to the lobby, his cell phone in his hand. Daniel was nowhere to be seen. A few minutes later George came back in just as we'd settled down at a table and told us to hurry, that the taxi had arrived to take us to the ship.

Alice caught up with George in the lobby. “What about Daniel?”

“I'm not sure,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I hope he'll manage to meet up with us. That kid…”

“If he doesn't make it,” she persisted, concern furrowing her brow, “would we leave without him?” Clearly, this was not an idea she was in favor of.

Obviously hearing the tone of her voice, George assured her he had no doubt Daniel would get there in time.

The streetlights were still on as we hurried through the revolving door and out into the cool morning air, wrestling with our luggage while also trying to keep a grip on our pastries. Out on the sidewalk, Christy held back a little as the driver loaded our bags into the trunk of the taxi. “Seven days is a long time on a ship,” she said.

I agreed. “But it's going to be a lot of fun.”

“You know,” George told her, “not very many people in this world can say they sailed on a cargo vessel.”

Christy smiled a little at that, even though George was appealing to her pride. Alice remained silent as we all climbed into the taxi.

The driver drove down the narrow streets, swerving back and forth between lanes. Horns honked. A man darted across the street in front of us.

The driver said he didn't take many people down to the commercial part of the harbor. “I make a lot of trips to the cruise ship docks, but not the cargo docks.”

George explained that the simplicity of the cargo ships suited our lifestyle more. But I also suspected it was easier, in this case, to book a cargo ship than a cruise ship at such late notice.

The driver looked in the rearview mirror, directly at me, then nodded and said he could see that we were simple people. I blushed at his words and quickly looked out the window. In a few minutes, a sea of cargo containers appeared and I knew we were close.

“What's in all of those boxes?” Christy asked.

Glad that I had read up on all of this with my library books, I explained that it could be anything, really. “Whatever's shipped by sea—clothes, appliances, electronics, food…”

She wrinkled her nose. “Wouldn't food rot?”

“There are refrigerator containers. Even freezer containers.” I pointed to some mammoth contraptions ahead of us. “See those big cranes? They lift the containers onto the ship. The men who work down here are called longshoremen.”

“Can women load the ships?”

“Sure.”

“Plain women?”

I smiled. “What do you think?”

Her nose was pressed to the window now. “It looks like fun.”

It did. Already I could feel an excitement, a vibrancy in the air, and I suspected Christy felt it too. We stopped at a little hut where a security woman in a uniform came out and checked our passports and George's paperwork.

“I usually just check in sailors,” she told us, smiling. “I've never had a van full of Amish people come through my checkpoint before.”

“Three Amish and one Mennonite,” George corrected, smiling in return.

She stepped back and waved us on through. “You folks have a nice trip.”

As we continued on, containers stacked four high lined both sides of the street, in colors of blue, orange, gray, and green. It felt as if we were miniature people plopped down among a child's game of blocks.

Ahead of us loomed a giant ship with cargo stacked on it from bow to stern, and more was still being added. The white superstructure, with a smokestack rising above it, contrasted against the colorful containers. The name
Whitebird Trader
was painted on the side, toward the bow, just above the anchor.

We marveled at the enormity of the ship. I'd expected it to be big, but the size took my breath away. It would cover our cornfield and pasture combined back home, and its height was equivalent, I was sure, to a building of at least several stories.

Our driver pulled into a parking space close to the dock, one that was near the loading ramp but out of the way of all the activity around us. Still staring up at the massive vessel that would carry us across the sea, we climbed out of the van into the cold air.

“It smells
salty
here,” Christy exclaimed.

Eyes wide, Alice and I both agreed. Inhaling deeply, I realized I could almost taste ocean water, brine, and seaweed just from the scent of the air.

As the men were unloading the trunk, a jet flew overhead, coming in pretty low. The driver, who had seemed to take a liking to me, nodded up to the sky.

“This trip only takes eight hours by plane, you know,” he said with a wink.

I smiled in return. “Ah, but just think of all the things we'd never see.”

“Yeah.” He hoisted another bag out of the back. “Water. Lots of water.”

He laughed at his own joke, grabbing another bag.

“George!”

We all turned toward the shout to see Daniel coming toward us. He wore a button-down shirt with a brown jacket, faded jeans, and had a pack on his back. His hair was just as yellow as I remembered, the color of lemons in the early morning sunshine. As he got closer, I could see that there was a bounce in his step and a wide grin on his face.

“Where have you been?” George asked, sounding less irritated than he had a right to, in my opinion.

“The usual,” Daniel replied, laughing. “I lost track of time, so I just went ahead and spent the night at the Y. I called you this morning, but you didn't answer. I left you a voice mail.”

George pulled out his phone. “Is that what that symbol's for?”

Daniel laughed again, and as the two men shook hands he told George that while they were at sea he was going to sit down and give him a lesson on how to use the satellite phone he'd bought for the trip.

Next, Daniel turned toward Alice, giving her a warm smile and handshake. She did not smile in return. Obviously recognizing the stiffness of her demeanor, he added, “I'm very sorry if my absence caused you any concern. If you knew me better, you'd know it was no big deal and that I would show up in the end. I always do somehow.”

Though his statement seemed prideful to me, it seemed to have the desired effect on her. Immediately, her shoulders relaxed and her features softened.

“Yes, well, try not to let that happen when you start giving tours for real,” she scolded him fondly. “Your customers would find such behavior quite unsettling.”

Appropriately contrite, Daniel nodded and thanked her for her input. Behind him I couldn't miss the gratified sparkle in George's eyes. No doubt the man had said the same thing to his young partner before. Perhaps the words would carry far more weight having come from Alice now as well.

The matter settled, Daniel then turned to me, saying it was good to see me again. He shook my hand, his grip warm and strong and sinewy. After that he focused on Christy, exclaiming, “And this must be Miss Christy Gundy!”

She giggled shyly and let him give her a handshake as well.

“I'm Daniel Hart. It's a pleasure to meet you. I've been looking forward to it.” He spoke with a flourish, both in his voice and gestures. “I was so excited to learn you'd be joining us.”

“Pleased to meet you too,” she replied, her voice sounding stronger. For the first time that I'd seen, Christy's eyes lit up. She stood taller. Suddenly she seemed like the eleven-year-old that she was, not the eight- or nine-year-old she usually seemed to be.

“Just think, Christy,” Daniel continued, “soon you'll be returning to the very ground your ancestors were forced to leave behind more than a hundred and thirty years ago.”

She nodded solemnly, hanging on his every word.

“I spent all of yesterday learning more about those ancestors. I found a record and their names in an actual ship log from when they arrived here in New York. The history of your family is fascinating.”

Christy's eyes grew wide. Funny, she'd had no interest in her relatives or in history before.

Before he could elaborate, George took a step forward to interrupt.

“Daniel, you can save all of that for later, if you don't mind. Now that we're finally all together, I wanted to say a few words and then we can board the ship.”

Behind him, our cab was just pulling out of its parking space. Before driving away, the man rolled down his window, gave us a wave, and called out a “Bon voyage!” Grinning, we all waved in return, and then we focused again on George, who had to speak loudly to be heard over the clamor all around.

George gave us an overview of our itinerary, the schedule for while we were on the ship, and the sites he hoped that we'd be able to see while we were in Europe, if we had time to do any touring once the property matter was settled. His little speech seemed forced, but I realized that this was something he wanted to do for the actual tours, and he was practicing it on us.

“If there's anything else you want to see or do, let me know,” he concluded, looking from Alice to me. “Any questions?”

We shook our heads.

He turned toward Daniel. “Anything you want to add?”

“Perhaps a quick prayer,” Daniel replied. Then he surprised me by reaching out and taking the hands of George and Christy, who were standing on either side of him. Startled, Alice set down the bag she'd been holding and took Christy's other hand and then mine as well. George and I reached out for each other, our grasp completing the circle.

“I know the Amish don't generally pray aloud,” Daniel told us, “but if you'll indulge me just this once, I'd like to do this one my way.”

We bowed our heads, and he offered a brief but lovely expression of thanks, petition, and worship. As he spoke, I could feel myself being calmed somewhere deep inside. Even the hand-holding, which had felt uncomfortable at first, began to seem right, as if it were bonding us, under God, this little band of travelers embarking on the journey of a lifetime. Daniel ended the prayer with the exact words I needed to hear, saying, “And as we travel, Father, please bless all of the loved ones we leave behind. Calm their spirits, soothe their concerns, and give them strength and patience until we return.”