Minding the Amish Baby

by Carrie Lighte

  Turner understood. “So he might not be willing to tell me anything about her?”

  “Right.” Chloe hurled the bag over the side of the dumpster and wiped her hands on her jeans. “I know Amish people don’t usually do this kind of thing, but you could mention the licensing authorities. I mean, please don’t really report him—if he gets into trouble I could lose my job and I really need the money. But you know, you could drop some hints.”

  He smiled widely. This young girl with thick makeup and tattered clothing was going out of her way, even risking her job, to help him. Would he have done the same for her or for any other young Englischer? His attitude had to change.

  “Denki,” he said and added the blessing, “Gott segen eich, Chloe.”

  “Your sister’s a good kid. I hope you find her.” She scrambled back to the store.

  I do, too, Turner thought. I do, too.

  * * *

  After easing Mercy’s pain by placing a cold cloth on her gums, Tessa was able to prompt her to take a bottle. After she burped a couple of times, the baby seemed content to cuddle, taking in Tessa’s face with her big, innocent eyes.

  “You feel better now, don’t you, Mercy?” Tessa murmured. “I feel better, too, now that you’re in my arms again. Two days away from you is two days too many.”

  “Ah-ah-ah.” The baby seemed to agree.

  “But I’m not so sure our friend, Turner, feels better. And he probably won’t until he takes your temperature and is assured you don’t have a fever, but that’s just because he cares about you so much.”

  Tessa continued talking to Mercy until the baby’s eyelids closed. Sitting on the sofa in the dim light, she listened to Mercy’s rhythmic breathing and thought about Turner. She had never seen him so alarmed. Rather, she hadn’t seen him so alarmed since the night Mercy arrived on the doorstep. He’d worn the same aghast, defenseless expression tonight as he’d worn then. Once again, her gall over his curt behavior was superseded by deep sympathy for his situation.

  She couldn’t help but wonder if Lynne knew what a burden she’d placed on Turner by leaving the baby in his care. Yes, Tessa was there to help, but Lynne wouldn’t have known that. On the contrary, by requesting Turner not tell anyone about Mercy, Lynne essentially ensured the burden would fall entirely on him. Lynne undoubtedly knew he’d accept the responsibility with unflinching commitment, but Tessa could see it was taking a toll on him. Whoever Lynne was, Turner must have cared about her deeply to make such a sacrifice. And it was clear he cared about Mercy every bit as much. Despite his sullenness, his devotion is admirable, Tessa mused.

  Then she admitted to herself it wasn’t merely admirable—it was attractive. Turner’s commitment to those he loved was more appealing to Tessa than a sense of levity in someone like Jonah could ever be. Which wasn’t to say she didn’t appreciate a sense of fun in a man, but that she was surprised by how drawn she was to Turner, in spite of his serious nature.

  It hardly matters, she thought. He’s obviously preoccupied with bigger concerns. And even if he was interested in courting someone, he’s made it clear he thinks I’m too... What was it he called me? Young and carefree. What would it take for him to see that, while she might be cheery and social, she was also thoughtful and responsible?

  Tessa was so deep in thought she didn’t hear Turner’s quiet arrival some time later. His pallor was no longer as white as milk and he projected renewed energy when he presented Tessa with the sterile thermometer.

  Taking it from him, she said, “While I’m doing this, why don’t you fix us a cup of tea? I think we could both use a little refreshment.”

  Turner followed her suggestion and when he returned with the cups several minutes later, Tessa grinned. “99.2,” she announced. “That’s completely normal for a baby her age.”

  “Denki, Lord!” Turner yawped, nearly spilling their hot beverages. “And denki, Tessa. What would I have done without you? I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

  “As I told you from the start, I want to help,” Tessa emphasized, hoping Turner would hear the sincerity in her tone and understand she was speaking as a friend, not merely as a hired nanny. “You’re not indebted. You don’t owe me a thing.”

  “Actually, I do. I owe you an apology.” Turner sat on a chair across from Tessa, took a sip of tea and then set his cup aside and cleared his throat. His eyes were the color of thunderclouds. “I’m sorry about how I treated you last night. You must have been appalled by my rudeness—I know I am.”

  Hearing Turner openly admit his shortcoming filled Tessa with warmth. She met his gaze and said, “I forgive you. And I’m sorry I made an insulting comment about your disposition. I was hurt by your attitude, but my remark was very immature.”

  “It was also accurate. I can be a real killjoy sometimes,” Turner confessed. He picked up his teacup and stared into it. “You and your guests weren’t making too much noise at all. I think maybe I was envious.”

  “Envious? But why?”

  “Because you all were having schpass and I was... Well, I wasn’t.”

  “That’s understandable. You’ve had a lot on your mind lately.”

  Turner shook his head. “You have no idea.”

  Tessa realized he might think she was being nosy, but she had to ask, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  * * *

  Tessa’s voice was so sympathetic and her presence so reassuring Turner took a deep breath. He knew his sister wouldn’t want him to tell Tessa that Jacqueline was Mercy’s mother, but this was no longer about what Jacqueline wanted. It was about what Turner needed. And what he needed was encouragement and support from someone he trusted. From Tessa. He sighed and then his words rushed forth like the creek’s current in springtime. He confided everything, beginning with his parents’ death to the time Jacqueline moved to Louisa’s home in Ohio and straight through to his conversation with Chloe at the convenience store. Twice in the telling he had to stop and blink back tears, but Tessa’s mild expression never changed. Her eyes reflected kindness and sensitivity. She softly patted Mercy on the back, but other than that, she didn’t move an inch. When Turner finally finished sharing his burden, he simultaneously felt fifty pounds lighter yet completely wrung out.

  To his grateful relief, Tessa didn’t speak a word of criticism against Jacqueline, she didn’t give him unsolicited advice and she didn’t ask him any questions, save one: “What can I do to help you find your sister?”

  “You’re already doing it,” Turner said. He paused before adding, “If possible, I’d like to talk to Artie right when he gets to the store in the afternoon. Chloe said he usually arrives between five thirty and six. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. I suppose it depends on if I find out where Jacqueline is living and whether she’s home when I get there. Do you think you could—”

  “I’ll watch Mercy for as long as you need me to,” Tessa offered. “So please take your time. And as for the rest of tonight, I think Mercy should stay here since I know how to treat her gums.”

  “She’s not going to let you get any sleep.”

  “We’ll be fine. I’m more concerned about you getting sleep. You should go home and get to bed. You need to rest so you can think clearly.”

  “All right,” Turner agreed reluctantly.

  “I’ll be praying for you about your conversation with Artie,” Tessa said as she walked him to the door where they both paused at the same time. They were standing so close he could hear Mercy breathing.

  “Denki, I appreciate that. And I’m so grateful you knew how to ease Mercy’s discomfort.” Turner put his hand on the doorknob. Before twisting it, he asked, “By the way, how is it you were still awake when we showed up?” he asked.

  “Sunday is visiting day, so the last of my unruly guests had just left and I was cleaning up after them,” Tessa said with a wink.

  A grin curl
ed Turner’s mouth for the first time all night.

  Then Tessa said in a more serious tone, “To be honest, I wasn’t actually awake until I heard Mercy crying.”

  Turner was incredulous. “You heard her from all the way up at my house?”

  Tessa shrugged. “Either that, or I heard her as you were running down the hill. All I remember is I was startled awake and I knew right away Mercy needed my help.”

  “Really?” He was impressed. “I guess that’s what they call maternal instinct,” he said.

  “Maternal instinct?” Tessa repeated, wrinkling her forehead. Then a smile sparkled across her face. “Jah, I suppose that’s exactly what it was.”

  Turner wasn’t sure what he’d said to make her appear so pleased, but whatever it was, he hoped he’d say something like it again very soon.

  Chapter Seven

  Tessa returned to the parlor and ruminated over Turner’s disclosure. Suddenly, everything made sense: his guarded exterior, the trips Katie and Tessa saw him making, Mercy’s resemblance to him. What was especially clear was why he seemed so intolerant of Englischers. Tessa regretted making unfavorable assumptions about his character, but at least those thoughts had been fleeting—she felt worse for holding a longstanding opinion he was fundamentally sullen. It was no wonder he was slow to smile; his burdens were greater than any she had ever carried.

  As troubled as she was about Turner’s heartaches, Tessa simultaneously felt honored he’d confided in her about them. He didn’t have a choice when it came to telling her about Mercy, since she knew about the baby even before he did. But telling her about Jacqueline was of his own accord. Surely this meant he trusted her deeply? Now more than ever Tessa intended to show him how worthy she was of his confidence.

  Sighing, Mercy scrunched her face in her sleep. Over the course of a short time Mercy had grown noticeably, becoming even chubbier if that was possible. Tessa’s muscles ached from holding her, but she was reluctant to put the baby down. It occurred to her if Turner was able to locate Jacqueline and convince her to come home with him, Tessa no longer would be taking care of Mercy. She hadn’t realized how attached she’d grown to her until she had to face the imminence of letting her go. Tears streamed from her eyes and she tried to wipe them away with the corner of her apron, but they came too fast. She cried noiselessly so as not to wake Mercy.

  I must be overly tired, she told herself. But she knew that wasn’t what was wrong, not entirely. The fact was she’d come to treasure her relationship with Turner as much as she cherished her bond with Mercy. They’d become a family of sorts and she didn’t want their time together to end, just as she previously hadn’t wanted her days living alone to end. How did that happen? she lamented. How did I change from wishing I could stay single indefinitely to yearning for a husband and bobbel? She knew the answer to her own question: Turner and Mercy were what happened. As a tear rolled from her cheek and dribbled onto Mercy’s forehead, Tessa realized if she didn’t go to bed now, her sobs would get the best of her and she’d wind up waking the baby.

  Since she was too tired to take out the big drawer she used as a crib for Mercy, Tessa arranged a place on her own bed where she could safely lay the baby for the night. Before she settled next to her, Tessa pulled her prayer kapp from the bedpost and knelt beside the bed. She thanked God for easing Mercy’s discomfort and asked Him to help Turner find Jacqueline and to know what to say when he did. She ended by saying, Lord, I understand it’s best for mamm and bobbel to be reunited, but it hurts to let go of Mercy, so please give me Your peace.

  In the morning Tessa woke to Mercy making gurgling sounds next to her. She reached over and placed her hand on the baby’s belly. “I’m glad to hear your teeth aren’t bothering you this morning,” she said. “Is there any chance you’d let me sleep a few more minutes?”

  Every time Tessa closed her eyes and fell silent, Mercy animatedly waved her arms and made lip-smacking noises Tessa recognized meant she was hungry, so Tessa picked her up and ambled into the kitchen. As coffee percolated on the stove top, she cracked two eggs into a pan and then prepared Mercy’s formula so they could leisurely eat their breakfast together.

  “Look, Mercy,” Tessa said later that morning as she pulled construction paper from a drawer. “I’ve been making Valentine’s Day cards. Maybe when you take a nap this afternoon, I’ll make more. I might even make one for your onkel.”

  But just after Tessa put Mercy down for her late afternoon nap, Turner arrived. “I didn’t stop by this morning because I thought you girls might need your sleep,” he said. “I wanted to see how Mercy is and ask if there’s anything you need before I head to Highland Springs.”

  “She’s sleeping soundly after a very active day. You’d never know she was in pain from teething, although it’s bound to come and go.”

  “It was probably just a ploy to visit you last night,” Turner joked.

  “She doesn’t need a ploy—she’s wilkom any time.”

  “Does that go for me, too?” Turner asked.

  Tessa couldn’t tell if he was earnestly uncertain or if he was being flirtatious. Erring on the side of caution, she said, “Of course that goes for you, too.”

  “In that case, I’ll stay for a visit after I return from Highland Springs.” There was a hint of apprehension in Turner’s voice. Tessa understood: she was probably as nervous about what he might discover as he was. She didn’t know if he could bear the dejection if he learned Jacqueline had already left the area.

  “I’ll be waiting,” she said. “I’ll even make supper.”

  “I might not be back until late.”

  “That’s okay, it will keep,” Tessa said. Then, to encourage him, she added, “I’ll make plenty, in case your sister is hungry, too.”

  This time Turner’s voice sounded optimistic when he replied, “Denki. We’ll look forward to that.”

  * * *

  Turner had possessed an abundant amount of nervous energy all day. With his brothers away, he had hoped to use the quietude to concentrate on reconciling the bookkeeping, a project he kept procrastinating, but he was too wound up. Since there were no repairs scheduled he had poured himself into filling their next wheel order. But now, as he headed toward the convenience store, he suddenly felt depleted, as if he could hardly lift his horse’s reins.

  To distract himself from the whorls of dread twisting in his stomach, he reflected on Tessa’s hopefulness he’d find his sister. This must be how Patrick and Mark feel to have the faithful reassurance of their wives. Whoever Tessa chooses to marry will be a very blessed man.

  Even as the idea crossed his mind, Turner felt a stab of sorrow, knowing he could never be that man. Yes, Tessa knew his deepest secret yet seemingly held no judgment against Jacqueline or him. But knowing what happened in someone else’s family and having it happen in one’s own family were two different matters. Even if his farfetched dream came true and Tessa was willing to accept him as her suitor, Turner could never marry her, so courting her was futile.

  Considering what happened as a result of him raising his sister, Turner was absolutely panicked at the possibility he might have to raise his niece. He’d do it, if it came to that, because he loved her and because he had no other choice, just as he’d had no other choice but to raise Jacqueline. But he could choose whether or not to raise a daughter, because he could choose not to marry and thus spare a potential wife from the kind of affliction he was experiencing now.

  Turner shook his head and reminded himself he had to stay focused on the task at hand. He thought about what he was going to say to Jacqueline when he found her. He’d tell her he loved her, of course, and that she always had a home—she and Mercy both—as well as a family who wanted to help her. He’d urge her to return, letting her know that although she might wish she hadn’t made certain choices in her life so far, she could make better decisions now. He’d say he thought she’d r
egret leaving the Amish, but she’d never regret anything as much as she’d regret leaving Mercy. And he would remind her that although she might turn her back on the Lord, God would pursue her with His unfailing love.

  Although he arrived at his destination later than he intended, Turner took the time to pause before entering the convenience store, asking the Lord to help him demonstrate grace and patience to the Englisch.

  “Artie?” Turner questioned when he approached an overweight, middle-aged man with a moustache and thick-rimmed glasses standing behind the checkout counter.

  “Who’s asking?” The man was obviously surveying Turner’s clothes and hat.

  Turner swallowed, knowing if he wanted information from the man, he’d have to be forthcoming. “My name is Turner King. I believe you know my sister, Jacqueline.”

  Artie stopped counting the bills he was holding long enough to cock his head and say, “Jacqueline? Can’t say I’ve met anyone by that name.”

  “You might know her as Jackie. Or Lynne,” Turner said, realizing Zander probably warned Artie about their early morning conversation, and the manager might feel threatened by Turner’s presence. “I’d just like to speak with my sister.”

  “Sorry. Wish I could help.” Artie wrapped an elastic band around the wad of bills before pocketing them.

  Turner felt desperate. Lord, please guide me. “I think you can,” he persisted. “If you tell me where she lives, I’d appreciate it.”

  Artie squared his shoulders. “She didn’t mention where she lives.”

  Turner pointed out Artie’s slip of the tongue. “Then you admit she did work here! She must have given you her address when she filled out an application.”

  “My filing system is a mess,” Artie claimed.