Minding The Amish Baby. Carrie Lighte
Why don’t you go get a couple hours of sleep before you head to your shop? I’ll stay here in the parlor with Mercy, in case she wakes up.”
Turner twisted his mouth to the side and shook his head. “Neh, that’s all right.”
Tessa reflexively bristled; why was he so uneasy? It wasn’t as if she was going to abscond with the baby to the Englisch authorities the first chance she got. “I’ll take gut care of her and if anyone kummes to the house, I’ll knock on your bedroom door right away,” she assured him. “No one will ever know Mercy and I are here.”
Turner rubbed his brow. Was he tired, apprehensive or in pain? It was difficult for Tessa to tell. Finally he said, “Denki, I’d appreciate that,” and shuffled from the room.
“Now it’s time for you to get some sleep, too, little haws.” Tessa referred to Mercy as a bunny as she lowered the baby into the basket. “When you wake, we’ll have a wunderbaar day, won’t we?”
The comment was more of a wish than a promise. Tessa had spent enough time caring for little ones to know that sometimes it was an enjoyable, fulfilling experience, and sometimes it was tedious, demanding work. Tessa also knew there wouldn’t be anyone else around for her to talk to. The very thought made her feel as if the walls were closing in. It’s only a short-term solution to ensure my long-term situation, she reminded herself. Besides, it’s helpful to Turner and the Lord knows how much he needs that right now.
Tessa tiptoed toward the kitchen to clean the sink and hang the damp towels, smiling about how loosely Turner had diapered Mercy and how delighted he’d been that she liked her bath. If grumpy Turner King could demonstrate good humor under his present circumstances, she could be cheerful, as well. Yes, she was determined to make today a wonderful day. For herself, for Mercy and for Turner.
Turner clicked the door shut behind him. While he was grateful for Tessa’s suggestion to catch a nap before work, he had lingering qualms about her being in the house while he was asleep. Namely, he was nervous someone might stop by—not that that was likely to happen, since it rarely had before—and discover Tessa there, whether with or without the baby. While he knew there was no hint of impropriety in his or Tessa’s behavior, he worried her presence there so early in the morning might tarnish their reputations.
But hadn’t she promised she’d wake him instead of answering the door if anyone came by? Ultimately, he was too tired to worry an instant longer and he collapsed into bed. He was so exhausted from being up half the night with Mercy it seemed as if his head had just hit the pillow when Tessa rapped on the door. “Turner, it’s almost eight o’clock,” she called. “Mercy’s asleep in the parlor and I’ll be in the kitchen.”
As he opened the bedroom door a fragrant aroma filled his nostrils and Turner snuck past the dozing baby into the kitchen. “Something smells appenditlich,” he said.
“I figured you’d need a decent meal to start your day. I made pannekuche and wascht but since there’s no syrup, you’ll have to use jam. It wasn’t easy preparing something substantial. You must dislike cooking as much as I do—your cupboards are even emptier than mine.”
Unlike most of the Amish leit in their district, Turner hadn’t owned a milk cow, or even chickens, since Jacqueline left home. He relied on the local market for his dairy supply as well as for his other staples, and sometimes he neglected to shop until he was down to the last item in his pantry. He was surprised to hear Tessa’s cupboards were often bare, too. Since she said she didn’t like to cook, he was touched by her thoughtfulness in preparing their meal.
“Well, denki for making this,” Turner said, sitting down at the opposite end of the table. It felt strangely intimate to eat breakfast alone with a woman. After saying grace, he told Tessa, “Don’t feel as if you need to cook for me in the future.”
Tessa’s gleaming eyes dimmed. What had he said wrong? He only meant he didn’t expect her to do anything other than care for Mercy. If last night was any indication, she’d have her hands full enough as it was.
“Since Mercy was asleep, I didn’t have anything else to do and I was getting hungry myself,” Tessa replied, helping herself to a sausage.
Turner stacked pancakes on his plate and took a bite. They melted in his mouth. “Do you want to watch Mercy here or at the daadi haus?” he asked.
“Here, since I’m far more likely to get unexpected visitors at the daadi haus than you are.”
Embarrassed Tessa noticed how seldom he received company, Turner swiped a napkin across his lips. “That probably would be best,” he agreed.
Tessa continued, “Monday through Friday I can arrive as early as you like until Mercy’s mamm returns. For the most part, I can stay as late as you need me to stay, too. But I do have occasional evening commitments I’d prefer not to miss.”
Evening commitments. Did that mean she was being courted? It was the customary practice for Amish youth in Willow Creek to court on Saturdays and to attend singings on Sunday evenings, not during the week. But for all Turner knew, it might be different for some couples, depending on how serious they were. He set his napkin beside his plate. “What time do you usually go out?” he asked.
Tessa’s cheeks flushed and she swallowed a sip of water before speaking. “I didn’t say I was going out.”
Now Turner’s face burned. He hadn’t meant to be presumptuous. “Sorry. I assumed someone like you would be going out.”
“Someone like me?” Tessa arched an eyebrow. “What am I like?”
Turner sensed he was wading into murky waters. “I only meant that you’re young. You’re social. You’re, you know...carefree.”
“Carefree?” Tessa echoed. “I’m not sure that’s accurate. But, jah, sometimes I like to socialize on Saturday evenings. On Sundays after church, too, although I suppose I could change my plans if necessary.”
So then, did that mean she was being courted or not? Turner didn’t know why it bothered him that he couldn’t be sure. “Neh, there’s no need for that. I’ll watch Mercy on the weekends—my brothers can tend shop on Saturdays, if needed.”
Tessa dabbed the corners of her lips. Turner had never noticed how they formed a small bow above her slightly pointed chin. “On Wednesdays, Katie and I usually have supper together at the daadi haus. I suppose I could cancel, but I don’t know what excuse I’d give her...”
“Neh, you shouldn’t cancel,” Turner insisted. “The last thing I want is for you to be tempted to create a false excuse. I’ll be back in plenty of time for you to eat supper with your sister tomorrow evening.”
He rose to don his woolen coat for the short stroll to the buggy shop on the western corner of his property. Setting his hat on his head, he hesitated when he heard Mercy stirring in the next room. His brothers were going to wonder what was keeping him and he didn’t want them to come to the house, so he reached for the doorknob. Just then, Mercy began wailing in earnest and Tessa moved toward the parlor.
“Don’t worry, I’m here,” she said as she left the room.
Turner didn’t know whether her words were intended for the baby or for him. As grateful as he was for Tessa’s help, she also kept Turner on edge. Is she a little touchy, or am I imagining it? he wondered, hoping she wasn’t temperamental enough to change her mind about protecting his secret or honoring their arrangement. But as he strode across the yard, he again reminded himself he had no choice but to trust her.
By noon, Turner and his brothers finished assembling an order of wheels for the Amish undercarriage assembler who owned a shop several miles away and partnered with the Kings. Although Mark offered to make the delivery, Turner insisted he’d do it himself. His reasons were twofold. First, he’d stop at an Englisch supermarket, where no one would look twice if