Read Online Anna's Crossing: An Amish Beginnings Novel by Suzanne Woods Fisher - Free Book Online
Authors: Suzanne Woods Fisher
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Literature & Fiction, Historical Romance, Religion & Spirituality, Christian fiction, Inspirational, FIC042030, Amish, FIC027050, Christian Books & Bibles, Religious & Inspirational Fiction, FIC053000, Amish—Fiction, United States—History—18th century—Fiction
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before his father left for the New World, in quiet voices he probably wasn’t supposed to be hearing. His father had said that if he didn’t go now, the baron would find a way to kill him and make it seem legal. He was that evil, his father said, and Felix knew now that he was right. The baron couldn’t catch Jacob Bauer so he had caught Johann. And it was all legal, just like Papa had predicted.
All Felix had to do was think about what the baron did to Johann and the sadness would rise up in his throat to chokehim. He looked through the crack in the curtain again, his eyes suddenly blurring. Anna had told him that grief and sorrow had a way of piling up inside a person until there was nothing but to cry them all back out again. But Anna was a girl, and it was all right for her to cry. Men, like his father—they didn’t cry. Sometimes if he just held his breath and concentrated hard, he could almost see Johann. Almost see him waving to Felix in the hills, beckoning him to join him.
Felix tried to swallow down the wad of tears that was building in his throat. It just hurt so much to think about his brother being gone forever. He squeezed his eyes shut. Don’t you cry, Felix Bauer. Don’t you dare cry.
He heard the rustle of paper and looked again through the crack of the curtain, blinking hard against the tears. Felix was so close to the officer that he could smell the scent of his clothes, wood spice and tar and smoke. The unusual smells helped to push thoughts of Johann to the back of his mind and bring Felix back to the present.
He stared at the officer, fascinated, wondering what he was doing. Felix was already learning the proper term for each part of the ship. He could barely hold back from climbing the tangle of ropes like the barefooted sailors did. He imagined himself like a bird, scanning the great vista of water from high above, watching America grow closer and closer over the curve of the earth. From down near the cook’s kitchen, he could hear the ship’s bells strike another afternoon half hour away. He nestled further in the captain’s down-filled mattress and watched the officer turn pages in a book. Felix thought he could stay here for hours, days even, happy as a clam.
And then his stomach rumbled a loud, hungry, echoing growl.
5
July 3rd, 1737
Bairn wasn’t alone.
The captain had sent him into the Great Cabin to fetch the sextant to make a noontime bearing, and he took a moment to look through the logbook to check coordinates. He found himself reading through the entries of the last few days:
June 29, 1737
Set off from Rotterdam. Freight: 132 qualifying men, German Palatinates recruited by newlander Georg Schultz.
Georg Schultz. How he despised that man.
Bairn sat motionless. For the first time in a very long time, memory threatened to push back, and sweat broke on his forehead. He refused to remember. He would not .
Just as he was pondering how much he abhorred Georg Schultz, how that little man always found a way to tweak him, to remind him of what he held over Bairn’s head, an odd sound emerged from the captain’s bunk. He straightened, lifted his head, turned around, and saw something move behind the curtain. Queenie, the ship’s cat, perhaps? He yankedthe curtain open and there . . . was a red-headed German boy from the lower deck.
Bairn laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder and the boy recoiled at his touch, jerked back. He grasped the boy’s shoulder and held tight. “Do y’realize where you are?”
The boy’s face skewed up with fear. He couldn’t understand him.
“You should not be here. You could be flogged.” He made a whipping motion with his hand and the boy understood that. His blue eyes welled in utter terror. Bairn softened; he hadn’t meant to frighten the laddie.
“Was iss dei Naame?” What is your name?
“Felix. Mei Naame iss Felix.” My name is Felix.
“Kumme.” Bairn pulled the curtain open and took a step toward the door. Come with
All Felix had to do was think about what the baron did to Johann and the sadness would rise up in his throat to chokehim. He looked through the crack in the curtain again, his eyes suddenly blurring. Anna had told him that grief and sorrow had a way of piling up inside a person until there was nothing but to cry them all back out again. But Anna was a girl, and it was all right for her to cry. Men, like his father—they didn’t cry. Sometimes if he just held his breath and concentrated hard, he could almost see Johann. Almost see him waving to Felix in the hills, beckoning him to join him.
Felix tried to swallow down the wad of tears that was building in his throat. It just hurt so much to think about his brother being gone forever. He squeezed his eyes shut. Don’t you cry, Felix Bauer. Don’t you dare cry.
He heard the rustle of paper and looked again through the crack of the curtain, blinking hard against the tears. Felix was so close to the officer that he could smell the scent of his clothes, wood spice and tar and smoke. The unusual smells helped to push thoughts of Johann to the back of his mind and bring Felix back to the present.
He stared at the officer, fascinated, wondering what he was doing. Felix was already learning the proper term for each part of the ship. He could barely hold back from climbing the tangle of ropes like the barefooted sailors did. He imagined himself like a bird, scanning the great vista of water from high above, watching America grow closer and closer over the curve of the earth. From down near the cook’s kitchen, he could hear the ship’s bells strike another afternoon half hour away. He nestled further in the captain’s down-filled mattress and watched the officer turn pages in a book. Felix thought he could stay here for hours, days even, happy as a clam.
And then his stomach rumbled a loud, hungry, echoing growl.
5
July 3rd, 1737
Bairn wasn’t alone.
The captain had sent him into the Great Cabin to fetch the sextant to make a noontime bearing, and he took a moment to look through the logbook to check coordinates. He found himself reading through the entries of the last few days:
June 29, 1737
Set off from Rotterdam. Freight: 132 qualifying men, German Palatinates recruited by newlander Georg Schultz.
Georg Schultz. How he despised that man.
Bairn sat motionless. For the first time in a very long time, memory threatened to push back, and sweat broke on his forehead. He refused to remember. He would not .
Just as he was pondering how much he abhorred Georg Schultz, how that little man always found a way to tweak him, to remind him of what he held over Bairn’s head, an odd sound emerged from the captain’s bunk. He straightened, lifted his head, turned around, and saw something move behind the curtain. Queenie, the ship’s cat, perhaps? He yankedthe curtain open and there . . . was a red-headed German boy from the lower deck.
Bairn laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder and the boy recoiled at his touch, jerked back. He grasped the boy’s shoulder and held tight. “Do y’realize where you are?”
The boy’s face skewed up with fear. He couldn’t understand him.
“You should not be here. You could be flogged.” He made a whipping motion with his hand and the boy understood that. His blue eyes welled in utter terror. Bairn softened; he hadn’t meant to frighten the laddie.
“Was iss dei Naame?” What is your name?
“Felix. Mei Naame iss Felix.” My name is Felix.
“Kumme.” Bairn pulled the curtain open and took a step toward the door. Come with
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