Accidentally Amish (18 page)

Ruth Beiler hefted her backpack and was among the last to leave the lecture hall at the university. She could hear her mother’s voice telling her to stop dawdling. Her small dorm room was a ten-minute walk, and already she dreaded the heat that would slam her as soon as she left the air-conditioned brick building. She missed the cooler mountain air of home, two thousand feet higher than Colorado Springs.

Home.

Where she could never belong.

If only Rufus would read her letter—and answer it. If only she had some news of her sisters and Joel and little Jacob. Sophie was the spunkiest of the bunch, but even she would not dare to send a letter behind their mother’s back.

Ruth had not expected to be this lonely, certainly not after eighteen months. It was not as if she had time to sit around feeling sorry for herself. She carried a full course load even in the summer months and rode the bus to a nursing home, where she spent another twenty or more hours a week as a certified nursing assistant. She could talk to as many people as she wanted to during the day. And while many people looked at her oddly because of her conservative dress and the way she kept her hair fastened closely to her head, in some settings she found fragments of friendship. In a laboratory session, all that mattered was helping each other see what they were supposed to see on a microscope slide. At the nursing home, she worked regular shifts and saw the same people routinely. Occasionally in the break room, conversation that started over patient care shifted to personal plans. On Sundays she went up the road to the modern Mennonite church, and sometimes she managed to attend a young adult Bible study. Ruth forced herself to be more outgoing than her natural inclination and usually succeeded.

But it was not family. It was not home.

She was not baptized. She had not broken any promises.
Ordnung
did not demand that her family shun her. It was the way she left. She knew she hurt them, especially her mother. But did not
Ordnung
require them to forgive?

Out of long habit, Annie tossed her keys in the tray by the door and flipped on the lights.

Her condo was just as she had left it nearly two weeks ago. Well, not exactly. The cleaning service had been in for their regularly scheduled visit, so everything looked plumped up and squeaky clean. The rooms were cool. Annie had not changed the timer on the thermostat before she left. She winced at the wasted electricity but was glad for the relief from the heat now. She went straight into the bedroom to release her load onto the bed. She opened the small suitcase and gripped the paltry stack of clothes in both hands. They had come from a thrift store and were likely headed to another one. For now they would go on a shelf in her walk-in closet. She turned the light on in the closet and found a niche for them. For two weeks, she got by with a handful of clothing items. Now she stood amid racks of clothes she had not worn in a year or more. She had everything, from silk suits to little black dresses to workout clothes and jeans and sweaters.

Exhaustion closed in on her. Annie went into the bathroom, easily four times the size of the one at the motel, and turned on the shower with the custom showerhead she spent three days selecting. She peeled off her clothes and dropped them in the hamper then stepped into the steam.

She was out only a few minutes later. A luxurious hot shower failed to deliver the satisfaction she expected. Wrapped in a towel, she went back to the bedroom and found her oldest, softest pair of pajamas. She stared at the flat screen television mounted on the wall but had no urge to turn it on. An even bigger screen hung in the living room, but Annie didn’t want to go there, either. She just wanted to get in bed.

The shabby suitcase still lay open on the bed. Planning to slide it under the bed, Annie moved to close it.

The book.

The genealogy book Eli Beiler loaned her lay in the suitcase. She should not have brought that home with her. What was she thinking? She supposed she could mail it back.

But she might as well finish exploring it. Annie removed the book, closed the suitcase, and slid it under the bed. Then she climbed under the bedspread and opened the book.

Lists. Dates. Random anecdotal recollections. The name of a ship, the
Charming Nancy
, thought to have carried the family of pioneer Jakob Beyeler to the new world.

Annie grabbed her laptop. With a few clicks, she had the ship’s passenger list. There they were: Jakob and Verona, with Barbara, Anna, Christian, Maria, and Elisabetha. Real people who crossed the ocean in 1737. What circumstances greeted them when they got off the
Charming Nancy
? Annie sank into her pillows, thirsting for details she would likely never discover, but her imagination was already at work.

October 1737

S
he slept—too much, Jakob thought. Verona barely had been awake since they arrived in Philadelphia three days ago. When she woke, she insisted she was fine, just overwhelmed by the journey. Her smile did not quite persuade when she assured him she was glad to finally be in Pennsylvania after a year of planning and sailing. And then she dropped off to sleep again. Each conversation varied the theme only slightly. Jakob hardly dared to leave but at minimum had to find food, candles, and coal. Fortunately, their accommodations among German-speaking merchants made basic purchases far simpler than he had feared.

The house belonged to Quakers who once lived in it themselves before building a larger permanent home. Now it served as the entry point for one German-speaking immigrant family after another. The owners left several publications about William Penn and Pennsylvania in the house, and Christian already had spent hours poring over them, sounding out English words and trying to decipher from diagrams what the words might mean.

They occupied two small rooms, one for sleeping and one for cooking over the fire and sitting on crates to eat. The sleeping room had two narrow beds and assorted pallets on the floor. To let Verona rest, Jakob kept the children out of this room except at night. Near the fire in the front room, Jakob had pried open the barrel containing kitchen supplies, and Barbara had done her best to arrange them. She knew without being asked that she must try to produce meals at reasonable intervals and keep Maria and Lisbetli quiet. Jakob ventured out for a few minutes at a time to buy whatever they required for the next few hours.

Barbara took the other girls on walks three times a day. Lisbetli needed the fresh air, and Maria needed the physical activity. Anna was oddly quiet about the whole experience of arriving in Philadelphia and awaiting the next step, but she did what Barbara asked her to do to help. The girls were gone now, and Christian was reading again in the other room while Jakob watched Verona sleep.

She stirred. “Jakob?”

“I’m here.”

She exhaled. “I should get up.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I thought you would be gone.”

“Where would I go?”

“To the land office. Last night you said you wanted to make your application today.”

“I don’t have to go today.”

“Yes you do.” Verona pushed herself up on one elbow. Slowly she raised her torso and swung her feet over the side of the bed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been much help.”

Jakob moved to the bed and sat beside her. “Don’t talk nonsense. You’re ill.”

“I’m better now. Really. You have to go make the application.”

“It can wait.” He kissed the top of her head.

“There’s no point waiting. The sooner you apply, the sooner we get land.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “I’ll make you some tea. Perhaps by then Barbara will be back.”

“You can take Christian with you. He’s tying himself in knots waiting to see the city. He thinks I don’t know, but I hear the way he talks.”

An hour later, with Christian at his side and Barbara sitting with Verona, Jakob set out, expecting to find the land office easily. Most of the public buildings were on the main square on High Street at the center of the city.

As they walked, Christian tilted his head to listen. “How many languages do you think there are in Philadelphia?”

“At least Dutch, Swedish, English, French, and German,” Jakob answered. “Probably a lot more. Settlers have been coming for a hundred years.”

As they approached the square, Christian cut away from his father abruptly and stopped in front of a muscled gray horse. Jakob followed, patting the horse’s neck and wishing he had an apple for her. If he had an apple, though, he would cut it up for his children.

“We’re going to need horses, aren’t we,
Daed
?” Christian asked.

“Yes we will.”

“I want to help you choose them.”

“When the time comes,” Jakob said, though he knew the time would be soon.

“She’s for sale,” a voice said in German.

Jakob turned toward the man who emerged from a dim shop. He tried to make sense of the English words on the shop’s sign.

“We have everything you need,” the man said.

The words were German, but the accent was English.

“Horses, plows, barrels, ropes, beds, salt, flour, jerky. You are homesteading, yes?” the man said.

Jakob nodded. Was it that obvious? He put a hand on his son’s shoulder, though Christian was well mannered and would not intrude on an adult conversation. Maria was the one who could never be quiet.

The man continued listing the items he had for sale, and Jakob understood. Homesteaders flowed through Philadelphia like a river. There was money to be made in supplying what they needed.

“I can get anything you need,” the man said. “Just give me a list.”

“Perhaps I will,” Jakob answered. “But I don’t even have land yet.”

“Don’t wait too long,” the man cautioned. “The Penns are efficient. You might as well be ready when the warrant comes through.”

Jakob patted the gray animal again and said, “Perhaps we will talk in a few days.”

Jakob nudged Christian’s shoulder, and they continued on their quest.

“Can we buy that horse?” Christian asked when they were out of the man’s earshot.

“Buying a horse is an important decision,” Jakob said. “We can’t just buy the first one we see.”

“She looks like a good horse to me.”

“Yes she does,” Jakob agreed. “I have a feeling we’ll meet other men with similar businesses. You can help me find the best one to work with.”

“Can I go with you to find the land?” Christian asked. “I promise I won’t be any trouble.”

Jakob shook his head. Christian had big ideas, but he was still just an eight-year-old boy. “I think it’s better if you stay with your mother. We can’t leave the womenfolk on their own, after all.”

They found the land office, and Jakob realized how strategically the outfitting business was located. No doubt the pace of business in the center square swelled when ships disgorged immigrants and quieted in the weeks between arrivals. Jakob had spoken with Hans Zimmerman, the Stutzmans, and other Amish families from the
Charming Nancy
who had been to the land office already. A couple of families immediately succumbed to offers in the street. Though they were now well outfitted for the wilderness, they had very little means to sustain themselves for the weeks of waiting in Philadelphia. Jakob was keeping a tight mental inventory of every expense. He knew exactly how much money he had, but he was not sure how long it would have to last.

Hans Zimmerman was getting impatient. He wanted Jakob to ride with him to scout land as soon as the necessary permissions came through. Many of the settlers walked into the wilderness, but Hans was determined to take a horse. Jakob was going to need a horse as well, or at least a mule to carry gear.

The land office throbbed with activity. Jakob recognized families from the ship as he waited his turn for a haggard gray-haired clerk behind a desk to fire a series of questions.

“I am Jakob Byler, and I wish to apply for a land grant.” Jakob spoke German.

Immediately the clerk raised an arm and signaled to a young man, who crossed the room to the desk. “German,” the clerk said, pointing at Jakob.

“I will translate,” the young man said in German. “We do this often.”

Jakob nodded in relief.

While Jakob answered questions, Christian found pamphlets and picked out English words he had begun to recognize. When they left, Jakob felt confident he had satisfied the requirements of William Penn’s sons, Richard and Thomas. The warrant would come through soon enough.

Verona was still sitting up when he returned to her after an absence of several hours, which encouraged him. When Jakob entered the room, Verona lifted her flushed face and smiled. Lisbetli sat on the bed with her, playfully tickling her mother’s neck and giggling. Verona tickled in response, which sent Lisbetli into spasms of laughter.

“Mrs. Zimmerman was here,” Verona said. “Hans has information on some land he wants to look at when you go.”

“In Northkill?” Jakob asked.

“Irish Creek.”

“The name certainly sounds more peaceable than Northkill.” Jakob examined his wife’s face. Was she really better, or had she forced herself to stay awake because Mrs. Zimmerman visited?