Kitabı oku: «Minding The Amish Baby», sayfa 2

Chapter Two

Tessa lay in bed on her back with her eyes wide open. Who was Lynne? “Your Lynne” the woman had written. Usually that term was used to imply a close connection. Was Lynne a relative? A cousin, maybe? Since the Amish wrote letters in Englisch instead of in their spoken Deitsch dialect, Tessa couldn’t discern from the note whether its author was Amish or not.

She shook her head, trying to stop the ideas that were filling her imagination, but it was no use. She remembered all the times she and Katie noticed Turner leaving on Saturday evenings, either by buggy or in a taxi. She knew it was wrong to speculate about his comings and goings and even worse to jump to unsavory conclusions about his actions and character. Turner King is nothing if not upright, she thought, forcing herself to consider the baby instead.

With her pudgy arms and cheeks and her pink skin, Mercy had obviously been well nurtured. At least, she was until her mother abandoned her. Tessa sighed. She supposed she couldn’t really say the baby was abandoned. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d been left with a complete stranger. Turner knew who the mother was, even if he wouldn’t say. Tessa could only guess why the mother didn’t speak to him directly about caring for the baby instead of just leaving Mercy on the doorstep. Maybe she truly was in a rush, but it seemed if she legitimately had an emergency, she would have called upon other relatives or friends who were better prepared to look after a baby than Turner was. And why did she insist on secrecy, even from Turner’s brothers?

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 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 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.”