Minding The Amish Baby. Carrie Lighte

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      The entire situation didn’t make any sense, but one thing was clear to Tessa: upon reading the note, Turner’s expression changed from one of irritability at being woken late at night to a wide-eyed vulnerability that made him appear almost like a baby himself. Realizing stoic, self-sufficient Turner King was shaken and burdened filled Tessa with a sense of compassion and she was eager to help. Yes, she’d taken offense at his repeated admonishments not to tell anyone about the baby, but his distrust was a small affront compared with waiving her rent for the next few months as payment for caring for Mercy.

      Granted, being a nanny wasn’t her favorite job, but it was one she had a lot of experience doing. As a teenager the only way she could earn an income had been to mind children. In her community, when an Amish woman had a baby, the family often hired a girl like Tessa to watch the other offspring, so the mother could devote herself to the newborn. While Tessa had doted on the children under her care, she had wished there were other opportunities in Shady Valley for her to earn money. It was expected that most Amish women would marry and give up their jobs when they began families of their own. Even at a young age, Tessa realized she’d probably have her whole lifetime to keep house and care for children, so she’d wanted to experience a different kind of responsibility while she still could. That was why she was so attached to her job at Schrock’s.

      Yet right before she fell asleep, Tessa realized that although she wouldn’t have chosen to be laid off from the shop any more than she’d wish an emergency on Mercy’s mother, the timing was mutually beneficial for both her and Turner. It was so uncanny Tessa knew it had to be the Lord’s answer to her prayers. He had delivered the alternate solution she’d just requested and she was grateful for it.

      When she woke before daybreak, Tessa brewed a pot of coffee and then peeked out the back window of Katie’s former bedroom. From this vantage point, she could see a light burning at the house on the hill. Were Turner and the baby awake already? Had they ever gone to sleep the night before? Figuring Turner wouldn’t refuse a cup of coffee, she dressed, donned her winter cloak and bonnet, and trudged up the lane carrying the full pot. She heard Mercy’s cries before she climbed the porch steps.

      “Guder mariye,” she said when Turner opened the door. He looked as if he’d spent the night chasing a runaway goat: his posture was crooked, his clothes were rumpled and his eyelids were sagging. “I know it’s early but I thought you could use a cup of kaffi.”

      “I’m glad you’re here.” Motioning toward Mercy, he confessed, “I don’t know what’s wrong with her. I’ve fed her, burped her and changed her windle, but she keeps screaming.”

      “She probably misses her mamm,” Tessa said, setting the coffeepot on the table so she could receive the red-faced baby from Turner’s arms. Rather, from his arm. Tessa noticed Mercy was dwarfed by Turner’s size; he could have easily balanced her with just one hand. Yet he was every bit as gentle as he was adroit, and as he carefully passed the screeching baby to Tessa, she was aware of the way his arm softly brushed against hers.

      While Turner filled two mismatched mugs with coffee, Tessa cooed, “Guder mariye, Mercy. What’s all this fussing about, hmm? How can we make you more comfortable?”

      Mercy’s wailing continued as Tessa held the baby close to her chest. She asked Turner to place a quilt on the table and then she set the baby down and took notice of her clothes. Mercy’s diaper was lopsided and gaping and her legs were cold and damp. “I think she needs a bath,” Tessa suggested. “And I’ll show you how to change her windle so they’re secure.”

      “I didn’t want to hurt her tummy by making it too tight,” Turner said, amusing Tessa with his innocent but thoughtful mistake. This was a side of Turner she’d never seen before. “I’ll go fill the tub.”

      “Neh, not the tub,” she replied, chuckling blithely in spite of Mercy’s screams. “She’s too small for that. We can bathe her in the sink. You get her ready, please, and I’ll make sure the water is the right temperature.”

      Tessa rolled up her sleeves and set a towel in the bottom of the sink to serve as a cushion. Then she filled the sink part way and tested it with her elbow. She took Mercy from Turner and eased her into the water. Almost immediately Mercy stopped crying. Within seconds, she was smacking the water with her feet and hands, looking momentarily startled each time droplets splashed upward, but then she’d smile and slap the water again.

      “She likes it!” Turner exclaimed.

      Surprised by the brightness of his grin, Tessa threw back her head and laughed. “Most bobblin do, provided the water’s not too hot and definitely not too cold,” she said instructively.

      After she washed, dressed and sufficiently fed Mercy using the supplies Lynne had provided, Tessa rocked the baby up and down in her arms. “She’s getting drowsy,” she observed. “You look exhausted, too. 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 СКАЧАТЬ