The Amish Nanny (23 page)

George nodded, and from their ensuing conversation I realized he'd neglected to tell us that some very nasty storms were out there, including a tropical storm brewing south of Bermuda. “But I spoke to the captain just a while ago,” he assured us, “and he said that we'd be avoiding the worst of it. We'll get some rain for a day or two, but the winds shouldn't be too bad. After that it should be clear sailing ahead.”

At least a few rainy days would give Christy and me plenty of time to do her lessons. I planned on starting in the morning, establishing a regular schedule we would maintain for the seven days we'd be on the ship.

Later, after lunch, Alice and Christy both wanted a nap, but I was feeling far too restless to sleep. Instead, I went back up on deck, where I was startled to find the wind whipping my skirt around furiously. I pulled on the down coat I'd brought along just in case, though I did so more for modesty's sake than because of the cold. Cut on a narrow bias and made of stiff fabric, the coat held its shape well and would keep my legs from being exposed, at least above the knees.

Looking out at the horizon, I saw there was no longer any land in sight, and that made my heart race, both for the thrill and the threat of it. Gray clouds scudded across the horizon, swallowing the blue sky. Walking slowly along the deck, I breathed in the salty air. Crew members stared as I walked by, making me decidedly uncomfortable. I was used to being the subject of interest to tourists, of course, but there was something a little too familiar about the way these men were looking at me. As I came around to the front of the ship, I was relieved to see Daniel there, talking with one of the crew.

He was wearing a blue stocking cap, his face red from the stinging wind. When he spotted me, he grinned and waved, and then he asked if he could join me on my walk. Thinking again about the suitability of our being unchaperoned, I decided it probably wasn't an issue. Chaperoned or not, I felt far safer with him by my side than I had when walking alone. I told him that would be fine, and he fell into step beside me.

Despite the wind that tried to carry our words away, Daniel and I managed to chat as we walked—about the enormity of the ship, the choppy water, the coming storm. He asked me about myself, wanting to know where exactly in Lancaster County I lived, what my father did, and how many siblings I had. He was surprised when I said I was an only child, as not very many Plain people could say they had no siblings. Of course, I now had Lexie, but I didn't want to reveal my whole story to him. As far as he was concerned, the woman I was hoping to visit in Switzerland was my aunt, which was true. That she was also my birth mother was a matter far too private to share with someone I'd just met.

I asked Daniel about himself, and he said he'd grown up in Ohio on a small dairy farm. Besides tending the farm, both his mother and father had taught at the local high school, education being a big deal in his family. Travel was important to them too, Daniel said. He'd traveled a lot with his parents growing up, and on his own he'd been to Guatemala and Brazil on mission trips, and he'd spent the previous summer in Europe.

“It must be exciting, to travel so extensively,” I said.

He nodded, adding that it was also a lot easier when that travel was done by air. By the tone of his voice, I realized he wished we were on a plane right now rather than on this ship. He could have been, if not for us. As Mennonites he and George were free to fly, whereas we Amish were expected to limit flights to emergency or special situations. An Amish person on an airplane wasn't completely unheard of, but it certainly wasn't encouraged, and in some districts it was totally forbidden.

“I like traveling this way,” I said, thinking of the nice taxi driver who didn't get it either.

He smiled. “In comparison to?”

“Well, a buggy. Or train. Or automobile.”

He laughed. “Basically everything but an airplane?”

I smiled back, and though I felt no great need to experience flight, I couldn't help but envy him his freedom, including that he could spend the night in Manhattan by himself. I asked him what the Y was, as I wasn't familiar with that term.

“It's like a hostel,” he answered. “Bare accommodations—bathroom down the hall, lousy mattress—but it's cheap.” He grimaced. “Poor George. I'm what you might call a very organized airhead. I can track down an obscure piece of history in no time—but then forget to sleep for three days.”

I couldn't imagine that. I asked how he managed to survive schooling, and if he had compromised his health for the sake of his studies.

He laughed, saying he'd been known to miss a meal or two, not to mention that he'd seen more than his share of sunrises without benefit of having slept.

“I hope to go to the University of Zurich for my master's degree,” he added. “I suppose I'll end up being just as bad there, especially if the library is open twenty-four hours.” He started to go on but then hesitated, saying I probably wasn't very interested in hearing about his educational plans.

“Oh, no. I'm fascinated by the life of a scholar.”

“Even though it's not an option for you?”

I must have bristled because he immediately apologized.

“Apology not necessary,” I said, and then I explained that I hadn't stopped studying just because I'd graduated, and that I loved to learn. “If you go to school in Zurich, all your classes will be in German, right?”

“
Ya
,” he said. “But it's not a problem. I speak fluent German, and I've been taught High German and Swiss German too.” Glancing at me, he added, “I'm kind of hoping that by the end of this trip I will have picked up a little Pennsylvania Dutch as well.”

Smiling, I glanced away. I didn't tell him that even though Pennsylvania Dutch was our first language, we tended to shift into English when with others, lest we seem rude or exclusionary.

“So is there a family in your future?” I teased, changing the subject.

He blushed. “God willing. A small family. I can't see being able to support too many children—but a wife and one child would make me very happy.”

Now it was my turn to blush. I hadn't meant to be forward. There was no doubt about it. Daniel Hart was an easy person to talk with. I would have to take care not to let my tongue run away with me in the future, but I couldn't resist saying, “I hope you'll have more than one child.”

“Why?”

“It's so lonely. I hated it.”

“No way! I was an only child, and I loved it,” he said. I wrinkled my nose, and he laughed. “Of course you would feel that way. Look at who I'm talking to. What's the average number of children for an Amish couple now, anyway? Seven? Eight?”

I shrugged. I had no idea, though that sounded about right. Amish or not, I couldn't imagine not wanting a house full of children. I couldn't imagine loving someone who did.

Suddenly, images of Will filled my mind. Showing the twins how to dive into the pile of leaves. Sipping tea from an acorn handed to him by Mel. Holding Mat in his lap. That was the world I wanted, the world I would never have. My good mood evaporated at the very thought.

At that moment, several fat raindrops landed on my face. Wiping them away, I looked around and realized that the sky had grown dark—as dark as dusk—and the waves of the sea had begun to churn wildly beneath us. More rain began to fall, giving me an excuse to tell Daniel goodbye for now and head back down to my cabin.

Once there, I entered quietly, glad to see that Alice and Christy were still asleep. Moving toward the couch, I sat and leaned my forehead against the porthole, watching through the glass as the driving rain, like sheets of metal, cut sharply into the water, much as the pain was cutting through my heart.

A
t dinner all anyone wanted to talk about was the storm. Rain had been pelting the ship for a couple of hours, and we could feel the waves rocking us to and fro. I took comfort in the fact that our vessel was a big one, as I hoped that meant it would weather the storm well overall. At least none of us was feeling seasick thus far.

Morgan joined us late again, arriving just after we'd said the prayer. Sliding into her seat, she apologized for the interruption and immediately began serving herself from the platters of food at the center.

Making conversation, Alice asked Morgan about her plans once we reached Europe. She replied that she would be taking the train from Le Havre, France, where the ship would be bringing us, to Basel, Switzerland, where her father lived.

“We're going to Switzerland too,” Christy volunteered, though Alice shot her a look for interrupting.

Nonplussed, Morgan went on to say that her parents had divorced when she was in high school and her father worked for an international bank. He'd lived in Switzerland for the last three years, but this was her first time to visit him. She planned to stay two months.

“I'll be taking a lot of short trips to other locations from there,” she added. “Obviously, there's a lot to see and learn. It'll be handy to have him as my home base, so to speak.”

“Will your father be able to travel with you?” Alice asked.

Morgan shook her head. “Nah, he's not one for museums and historical sites anyway. He's all about business. I'm afraid my mother is too. She's the vice president of a land management firm. I've always been the odd one out.”

“How so?” Alice probed.

Morgan passed the mashed potatoes to Christy. “Oh, I'm just not into all that corporate stuff. I took an economics class my freshman year of college and nearly flunked it. I've never been so bored in my life.”

“But all of life is business,” George said. “Running a household. Making a living. Planning for retirement. There's no way around it, you know.”

“I get that.” She passed the gravy. “But I didn't want it to be my main focus.”

“So what did you major in?” Daniel held his fork in his hand but hadn't started eating yet.

“Art history.”

“I imagine your parents were pleased about that,” Daniel teased.

She smiled at that, just a little. “Thrilled. They flipped, said a degree like that was useless and that I'd never amount to anything.” She frowned. “Of course, given that I've been out of college for two years now, they may have had a point.”

“Why? What have you been doing since you graduated?” Daniel asked.

“Nothing much, really. Mostly just trying to figure things out.” She shrugged. “I did some volunteer work. Helped my mom start a recycling program at her office. Took a few classes, for fun, at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.” She started to take a bite of her food, paused, and then added, “This trip was my mother's idea. She thinks there's something I have to get out of my system first and then I'll be ready to settle down.”

Listening to her, I decided we had that in common. During my memorable morning in Montana on the train, I had realized there was something I needed to get out of my system too, and thus I'd resolved to embark on my
rumspringa
for real. Whether Morgan used that word to describe it or not, her longings didn't seem all that dissimilar to mine.

“When I get back to L.A., my mom thinks I'll be ready to find a real job. But I'll probably just try to get on somewhere as a barista or a waitress. Something to carry me over until I decide about graduate school.”

I felt a pang of empathy for Morgan McAllister, and it struck me that she was nothing like Leah Fisher at all. While Leah was flirty and giddy and upbeat, Morgan was darker, more serious, and most of all kind of sad.

The next morning, after breakfast, Christy, Alice, and I strolled along the deck of the ship. A light mist hovered in the air, but at least it wasn't raining. Ahead, Morgan was huddled under a blanket on one of the deck chairs, reading a book. We stopped and said hello, and Alice asked what she was reading.

“
Jane Eyre
. Have you read it?” Morgan lifted the book so we could see the cover.

We both said we hadn't.

“You should.” She smiled at Christy. “I first read it when I was about your age, and I try to read it again every few years. It's my favorite, an old-fashioned romance.”