Free Accidentally Amish by Olivia Newport Page A

“I’ll get one of my sisters to help you.”
    “I don’t need help. Tell me about your ancestors before I get loopy again.”
    “Our roots go back to Christian Beyeler, who was a child when he came with his parents to Pennsylvania. He grew up to be prominent among the early Amish in Lancaster County.”
    “I’ll have to find out more,” Annie said. “Meeting your family has made me curious. But first I have to deal with some pressing matters.”
    “Can I help you with any of these pressing matters?”
    She lifted one shoulder and let it drop—and regretted the motion. “I doubt it. I run a tech company. Some personnel matters are heating up right now.”
    “Well, the company will have to run itself for a couple more days.” Rufus took the phone from her loose grip. “Are you ready to try to eat something with your medication?”

Nine
    October 1737
    C hristian Beyeler opened his mouth and sucked in a long, slow breath, filling his lungs with fresh air until he thought they might pop. Only that morning had he convinced his mother he was truly well and would not collapse if she allowed him to go up on deck without Barbara standing guard. He did not care that she only relented today because she was absorbed with baby Elisabetha. The little girl’s spots disappeared at last, and the fever broke, but she was not taking water very well and was far from the cheerful, curious Lisbetli who entertained the family. His mother was up most of the night with the fussy child, trying to soothe every sound before it emerged to awaken other passengers. Christian closed his eyes and breathed a prayer for his baby sister.
    The saltiness that hung heavy in the air across the Atlantic thinned now as the
Charming Nancy
navigated the channel into Philadelphia. The ship had entered Delaware Bay two days ago and was fighting the winds the last miles of the journey. Christian hoped for an early glimpse of Philadelphia. So far he had not seen more than lanterns along the shoreline.
    Now the sun was shrugging away from the horizon and pinking up the eastern sky. Christian kept to the starboard side so he could watch dawn’s hues meld into the waiting day. He moved toward the bow, determined to be the first one in his family to see Philadelphia.
    His parents were doing a brave thing. Of that Christian was sure. Europeans had been moving to the Americas in fits and dribbles for two hundred years because they believed enormous profit lay in the new land, but Christian’s father had explained that no one had attempted anything like William Penn’s holy experiment. Christian’s eight years were pockmarked by sores of exclusion because of what his parents believed. But in Pennsylvania, belief would be as free and abundant as air. He was as sure of that as anything he had ever known.

    Jakob watched his second daughter climb the ladder from the third-class passenger quarters to the deck. Barbara had gone up ahead. He glanced over his shoulder at Verona, who sat on their lower berth with Lisbetli limply on her lap and Maria leaning into her shoulder. He had promised he would go up and check on Christian. Once Anna clambered through the opening at the top of the ladder, Jakob began his ascent.
    In the time it took him to emerge on deck, the girls had wandered in separate directions. Jakob caught a glimpse of Anna going toward the bow and Barbara toward the stern. Christian was nowhere in sight. Jakob’s instinct told him to chase the younger daughter. Anna always had a nose for where her only brother would show up. Barbara was fourteen, practically grown. She would know to return to their berths when the time came.
    Jakob had to move quickly to keep up with Anna, dodging rigging, barrels, mops, and idle planks. He breathed a prayer of thanksgiving that the scourge that sent passengers into the sea had calmed. Verona thought the baby was still fragile, but Jakob believed that if she had survived this long, they were unlikely to lose her now.