Minding The Amish Baby. Carrie Lighte
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 he purchased formula for the baby along with food for himself.
Second, the trip would give him an opportunity to check out the area’s minimarkets. According to Louisa, it was rumored among Jacqueline’s acquaintances that Jacqueline had recently returned to the Lancaster County area, not far from Turner’s home. Although his sister didn’t have the required work permit, her peers said she supposedly was working in what the Englisch called a “convenience store.” The term saddened Turner, especially when he saw what was sold at such shops. But he made a habit of stopping in at the area’s stores under the pretext of buying a soda, hoping he’d bump into Jacqueline. He realized this method was about as precise as searching for a needle in a haystack with mittens on and his eyes closed, but it was better than nothing.
As usual, his Tuesday trip yielded no further clues about his sister’s whereabouts and by the time he made his delivery, purchased groceries, returned home and stabled his horse, Turner’s eyes were bleary with fatigue.
“Look who’s here!” Tessa exclaimed when he walked into the parlor, and he grinned in spite of himself. Tessa was holding Mercy against her chest, one hand supporting the baby’s legs in a sitting position, the other embracing her across her waist. As if in welcome, Mercy cooed and a long string of drool dangled from her lower lip.
“Let me get that,” Turner said. As he gingerly removed the spit cloth from Tessa’s shoulder to wipe the baby’s mouth, his knuckles skimmed Tessa’s cheek. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his ears aflame, but she acted as if she hadn’t noticed.
After Turner dabbed the baby’s mouth dry, Tessa handed her to him. “I’ve made a list of items we’ll need for the bobbel,” she said.
A list? “I already bought formula when I was making a delivery.”
“Gut. Did you pick up extra bottles, too?”
“Neh, I didn’t think of that.”
“It would be helpful to have another spare or two. Also, I’m concerned about Mercy sleeping in the basket. She can’t roll over yet, but she’s a good little kicker and I wouldn’t want her to topple it.”
“I might have a cradle stored in the attic. I’ll look tonight.”
“And then there’s the matter of Mercy’s windle. I’ll use your wringer to wash them, but we ought to purchase cloth so I can cut a few more. I could do that in town but it might arouse suspicion.”
“You’re right,” Turner replied, jiggling Mercy. “If you tell me what to get, I can pick the material up in Highland Springs the next time I make a delivery. But I don’t have a wringer—I gave mine to Patrick and his wife when they married. Barbara Verkler does my wash for me. She picks it up from my porch on Monday morning and delivers it on Tuesday.”
“Uh-oh. I knew about Barbara but I didn’t realize that meant you didn’t have a washer here at all. I’d better take Mercy’s dirty windle home with me and wash them there.”
“Denki,” Turner said, impressed Tessa thought of details about Mercy’s care that never would have occurred to him. He followed her to the door and waited while she donned her cloak.
“I’ll be glad to see you again tomorrow,” she said, tapping the baby’s nose.
Turner was surprised but pleased. “You, too,” he replied, not realizing until too late that Tessa was speaking to Mercy instead of to him.
As soon as Tessa latched the door behind her the baby let loose a howl Turner couldn’t quiet no matter how he tried. Tomorrow might as well have been a month away.
“Supper was scrumptious,” Katie raved, cleaning her plate with a heel of bread. “Was the sauce actually homemade?”
“Jah,” Tessa confirmed.
On Tuesday, although she’d enjoyed reading Scripture and praying quietly while Mercy slept, Tessa had begun to feel stir-crazy without having any tasks to do or anyone to talk to, so on Wednesday she had toted ingredients with her to Turner’s house. Since she had time, she’d decided to forgo the jarred spaghetti sauce she usually bought and use fresh tomatoes and basil to create her own. Tessa had inwardly smirked when Turner gladly accepted the helping of meatballs and pasta she’d set aside, despite what he’d said about it being unnecessary to prepare meals for him.
After spending more time with him in the past few days than during the entirety of the time she’d lived in Willow Creek, Tessa expected to have gained better insight into his personality. Instead, she found him just as difficult to understand. Sometimes his response to her best intentions—such as when she’d prepared breakfast for him—bordered on disapproval. But at other times his appreciation for Tessa was obvious, such as when he’d clumsily indicated he couldn’t wait to see her again or when he was retrieving a cradle for Mercy and he’d also brought a rocking chair down from the attic for Tessa to use.
“There’s got to be another way you can earn enough money to pay your rent,” Katie said, interrupting Tessa’s thoughts. She spooned a generous helping of meatballs into a glass container. Both girls appreciated that Mason understood their need to spend time with each other, and they always made enough food for Katie to bring home to him. “I can speak with the eldre after school tomorrow. Maybe one of the families needs help around the house, or—”
“Neh!” Tessa vehemently objected. “Denki, but for now, I can make ends meet.”
Katie cocked her head. “Are you certain?”
“Jah,” Tessa replied, struggling to come up with an explanation that was both honest and convincing for why she didn’t need a temporary job. “I have a little money in savings. Besides, I’m not certain when Joseph might need me back again, so I’d hate to commit to working for someone else and then have to quit as soon as I began.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Katie agreed. “Are you going to tell Mamm and Daed you’re not working at the shop?”
Tessa frowned. “Neh, not if I can help it. If Mamm finds out Joseph has no pressing need for me—even though it’s only temporary—she’ll say I’m no longer required to continue working for him and I should return home.”
“Don’t worry,” Katie consoled her. “Unless she questions me directly, I won’t say a word about it, but you know she has a knack for figuring these things out on her own.”
“Jah, and if she does, I might as well pack my bags. There are only two things Mamm wants right now—for me to kumme home and for me to find a steady suitor and get married. The minute I return to Shady Valley, she’s going to arrange for Melvin Umble to call on me. I just know it.”
“That’s the perfect solution!” Katie exclaimed, clapping. “We need to match you up with a suitor here.”
“Oh, you mean so I don’t get into an argument with Mamm about Melvin once I move back? I’m not sure a long-distance courtship would be enough to deter—”
In her enthusiasm, Katie cut Tessa