Minding The Amish Baby. Carrie Lighte

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 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 СКАЧАТЬ