“Turner?” Rhoda made a choking noise. “Don’t misunderstand. I have deep affection for my brother-in-law, but he’s one of the glummest-looking people I’ve ever seen. Not that I blame him. He had to raise his siblings from a young age, and I suspect he had some trouble with his sister, since she never visits. I’ve tried to find out more about her, but he’s pretty tight-lipped about her circumstances. Patrick is, too.”
Remembering what the Bible said about a soft answer turning away wrath, Tessa bit her tongue before quietly suggesting, “Maybe they don’t want their sister to be the object of the rumor mill, which can be very hurtful.”
Rhoda jabbered on obliviously. “Jah, I suppose that could be the reason, but I sense they’re hiding something. Of course, I’m only curious because I’d like to help Jacqueline if I could. I don’t imagine it was easy growing up without her parents, especially her mamm.” When her comment was met with silence, she continued, “Anyway, speaking of helping, we noticed Turner isn’t in church today. He’s never missed a gathering, so he must be awfully ill. We’re going to stop at the house to see if there’s anything we can do for him. Would you like a ride, Tessa?”
Tessa felt as if her limbs had turned to concrete. Rhoda and Patrick were going directly to Turner’s house? She had to get there first. She couldn’t let Rhoda discover the baby, not after she’d just released a string of gossip a mile long without so much as taking a breath.
“Denki, but I think I’ll walk. I feel...lightheaded.”
“You do look a little pale,” Katie said as she turned from stacking plates in the cupboard. “How about if Mason and I stop by later with some real food for you for supper?”
“Neh!” Tessa responded. “I mean, the fresh air will do me gut and I’ll probably take a nap this afternoon.” It was no lie; she was suddenly exhausted.
“All right. Well, feel better then,” Katie said, touching her sister’s arm.
“I will.” Tessa forced a smile as she lifted her cloak and bonnet from a peg on the wall. “See you Wednesday evening.”
“And Anna and Faith, too, jah?”
“Jah,” Tessa agreed as she raced out the door in order to reach Turner’s house before Rhoda did.
The thin layer of ice on the snow made tromping through the fields and up the hills to Turner’s property a treacherous endeavor, but Tessa knew she’d never make it there in time unless she made use of the countryside’s off-street shortcuts. She was halfway up the final hill when she lost her footing, landing hard on her knees and hands. Her skin stung where the icy crust tore her stockings and cut into her knees and wrists, but she picked herself up and charged forward. Her breathing was so labored from exerting herself in the cold weather that by the time she pounded on Turner’s door, she felt as if her lungs would burst. Then she saw his disheveled, sickly appearance and it nearly took the last puff of her breath away.
Turner was as surprised to see Tessa on his porch as she apparently was by his appearance. Expecting at least one of his brothers and sisters-in-law would come to find out why he wasn’t in church, Turner had been bracing himself for their arrival. As valiantly as he’d tried to protect Jacqueline’s secret, he’d resigned himself to the fact he couldn’t. The inability to honor her request now underscored his sense of having somehow failed her when she was younger. Despite his best efforts, he just couldn’t seem to do right by her. The disappointment he felt in himself was even more enfeebling than his illness, and he propped himself against the doorframe for support.
“Turner!” Tessa gasped. “What’s wrong with you?”
“The flu” was all he could say. He needed to sit. He wobbled into the parlor and sunk into the sofa.
Following him, Tessa asked, “Where’s Mercy?”
From her room, Mercy began to cry, answering for herself. Tessa charged past Turner and up the stairs, returning moments later with the baby, who was dry and clean but restless from being in her cradle for a long stretch. Turner couldn’t help it: he’d feared his arms would go limp and he’d drop her if he’d tried to lift her again.
“I expected Mark or Patrick,” Turner mumbled as Tessa rocked Mercy, who stopped whining almost instantly. He noticed it wasn’t the first time Tessa’s actions were having a mesmerizing effect on both the baby and on him.
“They’re on their way here any minute. That’s why I came—to bring Mercy to my house before they got here.”
He appreciated the gesture, but it was too late. “Denki, but they’re going to ask why I wasn’t at church today and I can’t lie.” His teeth knocked together as a chill rattled his body.
“Oh, look at you. You’re shaking!” Tessa leaned over him to feel his forehead with her free hand. Her fingers were as cool and smooth as butter and he wished she’d let them linger there. Covering him with a quilt, she said, “You wouldn’t have been able to go to church today whether or not Mercy was here. You’re sick. That’s the truth and it’s all you have to say.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Turner conceded after considering her suggestion. He added wryly, “I guess I should be thankful I’m so sick. Maybe it’s a blessing from the Lord?”
But Tessa didn’t seem to hear him. She set Mercy on a blanket near the wood stove. Almost as soon as she let go of the baby girl, the child started wailing, but Tessa was undeterred.
“I need to dash if I’m going to make it back to my house without anyone seeing me. I’m going to collect Mercy’s things from upstairs and I’ll be right back.”
She returned with the basket Mercy had been delivered to them in, along with a quilt. She tucked the baby’s bottle, formula and diapers into the basket and then tucked Mercy in, too.
Glancing around the room, she announced, “That’s everything. As long as your family doesn’t go into Mercy’s room upstairs, they won’t find any sign you’ve had a bobbel in your house.”
“Denki,” Turner mumbled. Tessa’s whirlwind of activity caused him to recognize how devoted she was to keeping his secret. He’d never had that kind of support from a woman before except for Louisa, and if he didn’t feel so debilitated, he’d probably be enthralled by her dedication.
“I don’t like leaving with the fire dying out and you in such a state,” she apologized, “but I know your family will take gut care of you. Meanwhile, rest assured I’ll take gut care of Mercy, too.”
Turner wanted to say, “I do know I can count on you, Tessa,” but in his weakened condition the words came out as a groan. He’d have to tell her another time how glad he was he’d let her in on his secret and into his life.
Chapter Four
After waking up several times during the night to be sure Mercy couldn’t upset the basket she was bedded in, Tessa realized if she was going to get any rest herself, she had to make other sleeping arrangements for the baby. So, on Monday she fashioned a crib by removing a deep drawer from the dresser and setting it atop Katie’s old bed. She padded the bottom with a firm cushion.
Confident the sides were high enough that Mercy would be safe as well as cozy, Tessa spent the baby’s nap time tending to household chores, including washing diapers. Since they’d be visible to passersby if she dried them on the clothesline with her own laundry, she pinned them to a rope she strung up in the basement. Unfortunately, they didn’t dry as quickly there as they would have in the breeze, and Tessa was concerned she’d run out while waiting for them. Turner hadn’t yet purchased the bird’s-eye cloth Tessa asked him to buy, but she figured once he got better, she’d remind him so she could cut and stitch additional diapers.
Despite her best efforts not to entertain prying thoughts about Mercy’s mother, Tessa found herself considering the baby’s layette for clues. Although the Ordnung in their district didn’t prohibit the use of disposable diapers, many Amish women preferred to use cloth. Tessa was aware a minority of Englisch women preferred cloth over disposables, too. So, the fact Mercy�
��s mother included cloth diapers in the baby’s basket didn’t necessarily give Tessa a clue as to whether she was Amish or not. Likewise, Tessa couldn’t have guessed whether Mercy’s mother was Englisch or Amish from the pajamas and outfits she supplied, since the Amish in Willow Creek were given the option of using the same kind of clothing the Englisch used for their babies or else dressing them in traditional Amish attire.
“I would love to sew a little dress for you,” Tessa told Mercy. The baby was lying on her tummy on a quilt on the floor, where Tessa could supervise her as Mercy used her forearms to raise her head and upper body while paddling the air with her legs like a stranded swimmer. When her strength finally ran out, her head dipped and she rubbed her face into the quilt. Tessa lifted her up and said, “But I don’t know if your mamm is Englisch, and I wouldn’t want to offend her by making an Amish outfit.”
Mercy smiled and grabbed Tessa’s prayer kapp strings. Tessa knew she probably held the baby more than some people would say she should, but she didn’t care. As long as she gave Mercy plenty of opportunities to develop her muscles and explore her environment on her own, Tessa didn’t see any harm in cuddling the child as frequently as time allowed. Mercy’s expressions were simultaneously so precious and comical Tessa could have watched her for hours, whether the baby was awake or asleep. It seemed only natural to lavish her with attention and affection.
She was surprised at how quickly time passed and how content she felt staying with Mercy on Monday compared with how antsy she’d been the previous week. Perhaps it’s because I’m in my own home now, where I have plenty of chores and projects to work on when Mercy is asleep, she mused. She even got an early start on making valentines to send to her friends and family members. Celebrating Valentine’s Day by exchanging homemade cards and enjoying a special meal with friends was one of Tessa’s favorite traditions, whether she had a suitor or not.
As she cut red and pink paper into the shape of hearts, she decided she ought to host a supper this year and she considered whether she should invite Turner—provided Mercy’s mother had returned for her by then. He’d never accepted invitations from Katie and her before, but maybe now that he knew Tessa better he’d want to come? Then she wondered if she should make a valentine for him, too. She dithered about it as she worked, finally deciding it would be appropriate to make a simple but friendly valentine for him. But by then Mercy woke from her nap and clamored for Tessa’s attention.
That evening, after she was certain Patrick and Mark had left for the day, Tessa trekked up the hill with Mercy to see how Turner was feeling. When he didn’t answer the door, she let herself in.
“Turner?” She inched toward the parlor. When there was no response, she called louder, in the direction of the bedroom, “Turner, are you okay?”
In the moments before Tessa heard him stirring, her knees went rickety and she tightened her embrace around Mercy, imagining what might have befallen Turner. Then Turner shambled into the hall, holding out his hands palms forward, like an Englisch police officer directing traffic.
“Please, don’t kumme any closer. I don’t want Mercy or you to catch what I have.”
Noting the dark circles beneath his eyes and his pale skin, Tessa clicked her tongue against her teeth. “You still look baremlich,” she said, before she realized it might be offensive to tell him he looked terrible. “What can I do to help? Is there anything I can get for you?”
Turner smiled weakly and said, “There’s nothing I need except more rest. I honestly don’t feel as bad as I look.”
“It’s not that you look bad, exactly,” Tessa bumbled, looking for a way to smooth over her remark. “It’s just that your eyes are kind of faded instead of being their usual vibrant blue.”
Ach! I can’t believe I just told him he has vibrant eyes, Tessa lamented. That’s more forward than telling him he looks awful!
Turner apparently took no offense. “How has Mercy been?”
“She’s been a gut little haws,” Tessa gushed, repositioning the baby to face Turner. Mercy lifted her arms and legs up and brought them down, as if jumping for joy to see him.
Turner’s face brightened a little. “Did she wake up often last night?”
“Neh, she slept like a bobbel,” Tessa quipped. “Which is what you ought to do, too. We’ll check on you again tomorrow. I’ll pray you’ll feel better by then.”
She was sorry they had to leave after such a short visit, but she figured the sooner Turner got to bed, the sooner he’d get well. And sure enough, when he opened the door the next evening, it was clear the rest had served him well. Turner’s hair was combed, his posture was straight and, while his eyes didn’t quite sparkle yet, they weren’t as dull as they’d been the previous day.
“I think the worst is past, but I better not hold Mercy yet, just to be on the safe side,” he said. “Funny, it’s only been two days but I feel like I haven’t seen her in a long time.”
Moved by his affection for the baby, Tessa balanced Mercy in the crook of her arm so Turner could see her better. Mercy blinked and then tried to cram her entire fist into her mouth.
“I’m hungry, too, Mercy,” Turner joked. Reaching to the top shelf of his cupboards, he pulled out two bowls. “Tessa, would you like something to eat? My appetite has returned and I’m heating a pot of the hinkel-nudel supp Mark brought me. His wife, Ruby, made it.”
“That sounds appenditlich. My pantry is so depleted I thought I might have to ask Mercy if I could share her formula,” Tessa cracked. Her meals for the past couple of days had consisted of buttered pasta and the leftover doughnuts Faith had given her after church.
“Ach, you probably haven’t been able to get to the market, have you?” Turner guessed. “You’ve been too busy taking care of Mercy and me. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” Tessa said, peering at him longer than she meant to before glancing back down at Mercy, who was tugging her kapp strings again. “Besides, skipping a few meals is gut for my figure. It will help me lose a few pounds.”
“I hardly think you need to worry about that,” Turner quickly replied and Tessa wondered if he thought she was fishing for a compliment. Why did she make such superficial comments around him? He continued, “You’re wilkom to anything in my cupboards. I’ve got plenty of—”
“Neh, neh,” Tessa said with a giggle, her embarrassment forgotten. “I appreciate the offer but I’m not going to do my grocery shopping in your pantry! I’m fine. Tomorrow night Katie and a few friends are coming for our Wednesday night supper and it’s Katie’s turn to bring the meal, so I’ll be all set. That is, if you’re well enough by then to look after Mercy for a few hours?”
“I’ll be well enough. I plan to return to work tomorrow.”
“Are you sure you’re up to that? You’re still on the mend.” Even as she asked the question, Tessa realized how much she sounded like her mother. “I’m sorry. I’m clucking like a nervous hen, aren’t I?”
Turner chuckled. “No need to apologize. You’re much more considerate of my health than I’ve been about your daily errands. If you’ll let me, on Thursday afternoon I’ll give you a ride to wherever you need to go.”
“What about Mercy?”
Turner lifted his shoulders. “We’ll only be gone an hour or so. She’ll be fine on her own, won’t she?”
Tessa’s mouth fell open. Then she saw the glint in his eye: he was teasing. No-nonsense Turner King had actually made a joke. “Oh, you!”
“Mercy will kumme with us, of course,” he said. “We’ll wait for you in the buggy while you make your purchases. I have to pick up a few parts in Highland Springs, but afterward I’ll swing back to Willow Creek and take you to the market before it closes.”
Usually, Tessa shopped at the market on Main Street, which she could have walked to, but suddenly she didn’t want to pass up the chance to spend more time with Turner. Remembering they n
eeded diaper cloth for Mercy, she suggested she and the baby could accompany him to Highland Springs. That way, he could accomplish his business errand and she could go to the Englisch fabric store there and shop at the Englisch supermarket all in the same trip.
“That’s a great idea,” Turner agreed. “Now, let’s eat.”
As Tessa sipped her soup, it occurred to her that although she never especially liked grocery shopping, this time she was looking forward to it every bit as much as gathering with her sister and friends on Wednesday evening.
* * *
Because Tessa had taken all of the formula to the daadi haus and the baby was getting cranky, she and Mercy left right after Tessa finished eating. Turner piled the bowls in the sink, heated water for tea and ambled over to sit on the sofa, but he was too jittery to stay seated. He wandered onto the porch with his mug and looked up at the stars. Reflecting on the past few days, he realized his illness had been a blessing in disguise in more ways than one. Not only had it given him a legitimate reason for missing church services, but the virus had hit him so hard he hadn’t had any ability to worry or wonder about Jacqueline. Nor had he had the wherewithal to pray. But now that he was feeling better, he said, “Denki, Lord Jesus, for healing me and for sparing Mercy and Tessa from the flu. Denki for using my illness to show me my limitations, even if they’re difficult to face. Help me to lean on You for guidance, not on my efforts alone. And if it’s Your will, please return Jacqueline to us soon.”
As he slowly drank the rest of his tea, he thought about what he could do to show Tessa how much he valued her help, especially while he was sick. He considered paying her a salary in addition to waiving her rent, but he sensed she would be insulted by the gesture. No, he wanted to demonstrate his appreciation in a more personal way, but he didn’t know what kind of gift she might like. He didn’t even know if a gift would be welcome. Having limited experience in relationships with women, he didn’t want to risk making her feel offended or uncomfortable.
Minding the Amish Baby Page 6