The Amish Midwife (The Amish Bachelors 2; Lancaster Courtships 3)

by Patricia Davids

  Anne rose to fetch the pie from the pie safe. “My favorite is strawberry-rhubarb. I have plans to start a large rhubarb patch in the spring.”

  “Rhubarb leaves are poisonous to goats.”

  “I didn’t know that. I knew they were poisonous to dogs.” In that case, she might start her patch by his rickety fence. Maybe that would get him to mend it once and for all.

  “Where were you thinking of putting it?”

  “Just south of my barn. If it makes them sick, won’t they avoid it?”

  “Not the young ones. If you plan on planting rhubarb there, I’ll for sure have to put up new fencing.”

  Anne hid a smile as she sliced her pie. How easy was that? She sensed it was as close to an apology as he was willing to make, but it signaled the beginning of a truce between them. She slipped two slices of pie on white plates and carried them to the table.

  He accepted the dish from her. “Danki. What are your plans for your pumpkin fields when the harvest is done?”

  “I’ll rake the dried foliage and burn it and then I’ll plant corn there next year.” She took a bite of her pie. The tart sweetness of the apples and cinnamon in her flaky crust was a perfect ending to the meal.

  “I thought your pumpkins were your bestselling items.”

  “They are, but you can’t plant pumpkins in the same field two years in a row. It’s best to wait three years.”

  “Why?”

  “Pumpkins produce fusarium fungus in the soil. It causes the fruit to rot if you plant in the same ground too soon. The fungus dies away after two or three years.”

  “Rather than raking it and burning it, how would you feel about letting my goats graze it?”

  She couldn’t help needling him a little. “I guess we already know they like pumpkin vines and the leaves don’t make them sick.”

  “Goats like to explore and they often find ways out of their enclosures.”

  “I’ve noticed, and they normally find their way through your rickety fence into my garden.”

  He scowled. “Are you a woman who forever harps on old injuries?”

  Okay, maybe not a truce. She glared at him. “Are you a man who won’t admit it when he’s in the wrong?”

  His scowl deepened but he didn’t say anything. The sound of Leah crying in the other room broke their staring contest. Anne pushed away from the table. “I’ll get her.”

  Joseph stood, too. “I’ll warm her bottle.”

  “It’s in the refrigerator.”

  “I figured it would be.”

  Anne rolled her eyes but didn’t reply. At least he was being helpful even if he wasn’t going to admit his fences were in poor repair.

  After changing the baby and soothing her, Anne carried Leah into the kitchen. Joseph stood at her stove with a bottle of formula warming in a pan. When he saw her, he picked up the bottle and tested the milk by sprinkling some on his wrist. “It’s still too cold.”

  Sitting in her chair, Anne noticed his half-eaten dessert. “You didn’t finish your pie.”

  “I will. It’s too good to waste. I wanted to get Leah’s bottle ready first.” He came back to the table and sat down across from her. He picked up his fork and took a bite.

  “I’m glad you like it,” Anne said. The atmosphere was strained. Leah seemed to notice and started fussing.

  Joseph looked up from his plate. “Do you want me to hold her?”

  “She’s fine.”

  “She likes to be up on your shoulder.”

  Now he was going to tell her how to hold a baby! Why on earth had she said she would work for him? Wanting to prove to him that no matter how she held Leah, the child was still going to fuss until she got fed, Anne lifted the babe to her shoulder. To her surprise, Leah quieted immediately.

  “I figured out that she likes to look around.”

  Leah was holding her own head up. It bobbed slightly, but her eyes were wide and interested. “I think you’re right,” Anne admitted.

  “That was hard to say, wasn’t it?” He swallowed the last piece of his pie and returned to the stove.

  Choosing to ignore his jab, Anne took the opportunity to finish her own pie. After testing the formula again, he brought the bottle to her. “Have you any chores that need doing?”

  Only essential work was done on Sunday. Anything in her garden would have to wait until the next day. “If you could feed Daisy, I would appreciate it.”

  “Daisy?”

  “My horse.” Anne gave Leah the bottle. The baby grabbed it with both hands and began sucking vigorously.

  “I can take care of your animal. I’ll be back after the evening milking.”

  “All right. Leah and I will see you then.”

  He started out the door, but paused and looked over his shoulder. “The lunch was good. Danki.”

  As a compliment, it wasn’t much, but she accepted it at face value. She smiled brightly at him. “You’re welcome, Joseph. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  Nodding to her, he left and closed the door behind him.

  Anne grinned at Leah. “He’s a hard man to like, but I think he’s growing on me.”

  * * *

  Anne Stoltzfus was an annoying woman.

  Striding toward her barn, Joseph tried to get the picture of her smiling at him out of his mind. The sight of her pretty lips parted just so and the sparkle in her eyes sent an awareness shooting through his chest and made his heart beat harder. It was an uncomfortable sensation.

  He wasn’t a foolish youth. He’d had women smile at him before. Ellen Beachy, Elizabeth Fisher, Saloma Hochstetler, they were neighbors and single women. They smiled at him whenever they chanced to meet, but they didn’t make his head swim like this. What was different about Anne?

  He opened the barn door and stepped into the dark interior.

  Maybe it wasn’t Anne. Maybe he was coming down with something. He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and was disappointed by the coolness of his skin. He wasn’t sick. He couldn’t blame it on a fever.

  Offering her a job might have been a mistake. He found a pitchfork and began throwing hay to her elderly mare.

  “Nay, Leah needs a kindt heedah.” He couldn’t do it alone. Not until Leah was older.

  He stabbed the fork into the ground. What was he thinking? Fannie would return soon. She would be back for her child. He had to believe that.

  Anne was the most logical choice for the job until then. She lived close by. She knew as much about babies as anyone. Anne with the pretty smile.

  Stop thinking about her lips.

  He lifted the fork and began pitching hay with a vengeance. He wasn’t attracted to Anne. “I’m tired. That’s all. I’m imagining things.”

  They had lived next door to one another for three years and he’d never once had a romantic thought about her. Just the opposite, in fact. She was annoying and fussy. She hated his goats.

  He couldn’t like a woman who hated his goats.

  After finishing with Anne’s horse, he went home and cleaned his kitchen. A neat house was something he enjoyed. Everything had a place and he liked everything in its place. Since Leah’s arrival, he hadn’t found a moment to tidy up. Anne must think he was a slob. He’d have to have her over soon so that she could see he wasn’t.

  He shook his head. It didn’t matter what Anne thought of him. Her job was to take care of Leah.

  He took full advantage of the baby’s absence and scrubbed the floor and counters, consoling himself with the thought that it was necessary work on a Sunday and all good housewives would agree.

  Necessary to keep his mind off Anne and how she was getting along with the baby.

  After he was done, he sat down to read from the Scriptures and from his well-worn copy of the Mar
tyrs Mirror, a book that documented the stories and testimonies of Christian martyrs from the time of Christ to the 1600s. The trials endured by those people of faith gave him the courage to face the difficulties in his own life. Normally, he could immerse himself in the pages of the Holy Book or the Martyrs Mirror for several hours. But not today. He kept glancing at the mantel clock.

  He milked at six o’clock in the evening, but by four thirty he gave up trying to read and went out to his milking shed. The goats filed into their stanchions, happy to see him even if he was early. By five thirty he had milked all eighty does, cleaned his equipment and made sure he had two gallons of fresh milk to take to Anne.

  He retreated to his small office, a room partitioned in one corner of the barn where he kept his records, medical supplies and a propane-burning stove to warm the room in the winter. A brown leather office chair with the arms worn bare sat in front of a scarred metal desk and two filing cabinets. He made notations about the day’s milk production and tallied his total gallons for the week. The herd’s overall production was staying steady in spite of his neglect.

  He left his office and carried the pails to the gate leading to Anne’s property. As he opened it, he caught sight of Chester working his way under the wire near the back of Anne’s barn. Leaving both pails by the fence, Joseph moved to stand over Chester until the animal had wiggled through. Taking the buck by the horn, he scolded him and led the culprit home. Instead of putting him back in his pen, Joseph shut the animal inside the barn in an empty stall.

  “You stay in this time. I don’t want that woman harping about your damages again. I’ve heard enough.”

  Chester bleated once, turned around twice and lay down in the straw. His attitude said he was home for the moment but not for good.

  “Okay, I will put up new fencing but only to keep you alive. She’s going to plant rhubarb.”

  Chester bleated again.

  Joseph returned to his milk pails and carried them the rest of the way to Anne’s house. He opened the door and paused at the sight of her rocking Leah in her arms and singing. She hadn’t heard him enter. The soft smile on Anne’s face, the light in her eyes, cut his breath short and made his heart flip over.

  He couldn’t like a woman who hated goats. He couldn’t.

  So what was this feeling?

  Chapter Eight

  Anne glanced up to see Joseph standing at the door with a steel pail in each hand. He had the oddest expression on his face. As if he’d never seen her before and didn’t know who she was.

  “You’re back already?”

  His expression quickly changed to his normal frown. “I finished early. What do you want me to do with this milk?”

  “Set it on the table. Are you still willing to show me how to make cheese?” She wasn’t sure what was wrong, but she sensed he was upset about something. Had she done something wrong or was he always this grumpy?

  He took a deep breath and managed a half smile. “If you’re willing to teach me how to make Leah’s formula.”

  “Absolutely. Hold her while I get my pans ready.”

  After putting the milk on the table, he turned to her and she gingerly transferred the baby to his arms. Standing close to him brought a rush of heat to her face. Stepping back quickly, Anne regained her composure. She didn’t normally react this way. She’d handed dozens of men their newborn babies. Why did being near Joseph fluster her? Perhaps it was because she felt sorry for him.

  That had to be it. He was ill equipped to take care of the baby. His only sister had disappointed him again and was making his life difficult. If becoming Leah’s father was the path God had chosen for Joseph, Anne would do all she could to help him.

  “Shall we make cheese first, or shall we make formula?” she asked without looking at him.

  He sat down in the rocker. It creaked under his weight but held. “Makes no difference to me. The cheese is probably simpler.”

  “How do I start?”

  “You need four quarts of goat’s milk and a good pinch of salt. I like to use minced or dried onions to flavor mine. Then you add one-third cup of distilled white vinegar or lemon juice. It doesn’t matter which. I like using lemon juice.”

  “That’s it?” Somehow she’d imagined it would be much more complex.

  “I told you it was easy. Bring the milk to a slow boil at 180 to 185 degrees. Be careful not to scorch it. Add the dried onion and salt. Once the milk really starts bubbling, turn off the heat and pour in the vinegar. After that, you wait for the milk to curdle, then pour it through a colander lined with two layers of cheesecloth. Wrap the ends of the cheesecloth together and let it hang for an hour and a half or until all the whey drips off.”

  “What about saving the whey?”

  “I close the ends of the cheesecloth with a rubber band and then slip a long-handled wooden spoon through it and suspend my cheese in a big jar. I keep the whey to make soup stock. Once the cheese is cool, you can add any spices that you like, shape the cheese into a ball or a log and refrigerate it. It will keep for a week.”

  “I’m anxious to try some.” She set about heating the milk and before long she had her cheesecloth-and-curd bundle suspended and dripping into a widemouthed jar. By this time, Leah was sound asleep, so Joseph laid her in the laundry-basket crib and joined Anne by the stove.

  Anne gave him an apologetic look. “I wish the formula making was as easy.”

  “I’m not afraid to learn something new. I will master it.”

  He had the right attitude. She laid a sheet of paper on the counter. “You have to heat the milk and add a number of ingredients such as cod liver oil, vitamins, blackstrap molasses, yeast and others. I’ve written down the recipe and the steps. I’ll let you go ahead and make it while I watch. If you are confused or need help, I’m here.”

  It was dark outside and for the next hour, they worked by lantern light in Anne’s kitchen to finish the project. Even she had to admit that he mastered the process quickly. After cleaning and boiling the baby bottles and nipples, they filled a dozen with eight ounces of liquid each. Joseph glanced at the clock. “It’s getting late.”

  “I know it is time-consuming, but you can make enough to last her three days in a single batch.”

  “I meant I should be getting home. It isn’t proper for me to be in your house this late.”

  It wasn’t likely that anyone would see them together, but he was right. She appreciated his thoughtfulness. “I will keep Leah with me tonight.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “You could use an uninterrupted night’s sleep.”

  “What if you have to go out on a call?”

  “Leah can go with me.”

  Joseph shook his head as a chill raced down his spine. “I don’t like the idea of her traveling in a buggy at night. The Englisch drive too fast. It’s dangerous.”

  “Were your parents killed at night?”

  So she knew about that. It shouldn’t have surprised him. It had happened before she moved in, but it was common knowledge. “Ja, it was dark. The truck didn’t see us until it was too late.”

  “I am sorry for your loss.”

  “It was a long time ago. It was Gottes will.”

  She laid a hand on his arm. “Knowing that doesn’t ease the pain of losing someone you love.”

  Joseph felt the warmth of her touch even through the material of his sleeve. The kindness and understanding in her eyes brought a lump to his throat. “It should help. We must believe in Gottes plan.”

  “We do believe, but we must also grieve, for that is how He made us. There is no shame in our tears.”

  “You have lost someone?”

  He sensed her hesitation. Finally, she said, “My mother and my father have been called home, too. They lived long and devout lives and they were
ready to face Gott.”

  He didn’t know if his parents and Beth had been ready or not. He hoped they had been. He’d simply frozen when the headlights blinded him. He hadn’t thought about God. His only thought had been that he didn’t want to die. He swallowed hard to clear his throat. “I was driving that night.”

  “It would not have mattered, Joseph. It wasn’t your time.”

  It should have been.

  The moment the thought crossed his mind, he pushed it aside. God was not finished with him. He still had an unknown purpose to fulfill. Maybe it was to raise Leah. He hoped not. Leah needed her mother. He was a poor substitute.

  “I must go. Guten nacht, Anne Stoltzfus. I will move more pumpkins to your stand for you in the morning if you’ll show me which ones you want.” In spite of his discomfort at being near her, he didn’t want to leave. She had a peaceful quality that eased the ache in his soul.

  Chuckling, she said, “Just pick the orange ones, Joseph. As many as you can find.”

  She was laughing at him again. He hardened his heart, determined not to like her.

  He was meant to be alone. He had accepted that long ago in the months after Fannie left the first time. To care for someone was to invite heartache. It was better to keep the world at bay. Especially a pretty maidel with a kind heart and a smile that lit up her eyes like stars twinkling in the night sky.

  Angered at the direction of his thoughts, he turned and left. Later that night, as he tried to make his tired mind stop spinning, he found himself remembering each moment of their evening together. Sighing, he punched his pillow into a more comfortable position and turned over. The moonlight bathed his room in a pale glow. The box he had used as a bed for Leah sat empty. He missed her presence. Was she keeping Anne up?

  He rose and stepped to the window that overlooked her home a few hundred yards to the north. It was dark. Leah must be sleeping and he should be, too.

  He was about to return to bed when he saw a light come on in Anne’s upstairs window. After a few moments, the lantern light moved down to the kitchen. He watched until the first-floor light went out and the upstairs window grew bright again.