“The babe is going to enjoy this.” Ivan drew warm water from the faucet at the kitchen sink into a large kettle, then poured it into the blue-spackled turkey pan. “Just watch. Newborns love their bath.”
“I didn’t realize,” Michael said. “I’ve no experience bathing human babies. The mothers I serve tend to take care of that, themselves, with their tongues.”
She watched the two men doing the delicate work and felt her heart swell with gratitude and love for them. She remembered the day that Ivan had been getting the horse and buggy ready to go to the store, and he asked her if there was anything she needed. Michael had looked up from the building blocks with which he was playing, and asked Ivan to please purchase some candy to give to his mother. It was going to be her birthday the next day and he was worried about not having a gift for her. He had been four.
When Ivan agreed to get the candy, Michael stood up and solemnly handed him a penny from the pocket of his little jeans. She remembered how Ivan had gotten down on one knee in front of him and asked what kind of chocolate his mother liked. Michael informed him that his mother liked peanut M&M’s best.
Keturah had always loved Ivan’s way with children. Her husband told the little boy he thought that was a fine idea, and a penny would be just the right amount to cover the cost. He had been quite solemn about it, as though he and the child were working out a serious business deal. Michael had been so proud and happy to give his gift to his mother later when she came to get him.
They had been careful from that point on to never say anything in their mother tongue that Michael could not hear. That was how smart that child was. He’d picked up their language without them even once trying to teach him.
Ivan began to lay out the necessary bathing things from her birthing bag, including a small bottle of baby soap.
“Do you have a thermometer in there?” Michael asked her. “I’d like to take it before we bathe her.”
“Side pocket.”
“Thanks.”
Even though the room was warm, she still felt a little chilled. She moved her chair closer to the stove.
“Be careful. You’re starting to steam,” Michael pointed out.
She glanced down at her lap and saw that steam was, indeed, rising from her dress. Quickly, she scooted back.
“Temp is ninety-seven point three,” Michael said. “So it is in the normal range. I can handle this, Ivan, why don’t you take Keturah upstairs and help her change into some dry clothes.”
“No,” she said. “I am fine. Please tend to the infant first.”
Keturah had always been grateful that she got to help raise Michael. Three children of her own was simply not enough. Not nearly enough. She would have gladly given birth to more had the doctor not explained that there were problems and it would be too dangerous.
She had grieved at giving up her dream of a large family, but the idea of Ivan remarrying and another woman getting to care for her children was enough to make Keturah decide that there would only be her three sons. She had secretly been in a place of silent grief when Michael came along. He was a gift to her hungry heart. A gift from God whom she had begged for the ability to raise just one more child. Just one. He had given her Michael who became, in every way but birth, her fourth son.
As Michael slipped the baby into the warm bath that Ivan had prepared, he began to talk to the infant. Not baby-talk. She wasn’t certain Michael had ever spoken baby-talk. Not even when he was a baby. He talked to the newborn as though it could understand every word.
“It isn’t going to be easy, little one. You lost your mommy even before you got to know her. But there are some people coming who can tell us who you belong to. Maybe you have a daddy who is worried about you and will take good care of you.”
After what the mother had said to her, Keturah doubted that.
“Such a sweet babe,” she said. “I wish we could keep her.”
“We are old, Keturah,” Ivan brought a thick bath towel from the bathroom and laid it on the table. “She will grow out of being tiny and sleepy, and soon we would be running around after a toddler. Do you remember what it is like to chase a toddler from morning until night? We are not as fast as we used to be. We would lose her.”
Keturah heard the sound of hoofs outside.
“Noah is back.” Ivan opened the door and shouted out into the rain. “Please care for Brownie too, son.”
Keturah heard her youngest son’s voice agreeing to do so.
Michael was carefully bathing the baby when they heard a car pull into the driveway. Keturah saw the flashing blue lights and knew that the police had arrived. Even though she had done nothing wrong, this made her nervous. Her people tried to stay as far away as possible from those who enforced the Englisch laws.
Even though she was feeling a bit stronger, Keturah remained seated in her rocking chair as her husband opened the door to a very wet female police officer standing on their porch. The officer looked strange to Keturah, a grown woman all dressed up like a man. She was young, thin, and tall. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore the blue uniform of the Sugarcreek Police. She also wore a wide leather belt beneath her coat with various-shaped leather pockets sewn onto it. One pocket held a hand gun.
Keturah was used to her boys having hunting rifles. They were hunters and brought home enough meat each year to fill the two freezers that they rented at one of their Englisch neighbor’s barns. They had always eaten a great deal of venison in their family. It was cheap and nourishing, and kept at least two animals from eating her garden. The deer were increasing in number at an alarming rate. They had even come up into her yard and chomped off the tops of all her lovely tulips last spring.
Yes, she was familiar with hunting rifles, but a handgun was a whole different thing. It was meant for one thing only—to shoot people. It was frightening to her to have such an alien presence in her cozy kitchen now, even though she knew in her heart that this policewoman was not there to do her harm.
“Hello. I’m Officer Mattias. Are you the Hochstetlers? Ivan and Keturah?”
To Keturah’s surprise, the policewoman addressed them in Deutsch. Also, she pronounced the “ch” deep in the back of her throat the correct way. Not with the soft “k” sound like most Englisch pronounced it.
“Ja,” Ivan said. “We are. You must come in out of the rain and cold.”
The policewoman came inside as Ivan closed the door. She removed her hat, placed it beneath her arm, and shook out her hair. Then she glanced at the baby being bathed in the makeshift bathtub. “The baby is okay?”
Ivan nodded. “By the grace of God, it looks as though she is quite well.”
“That is good to know. I just came from the scene of the wreck. The ambulance has taken the mother’s body. It is good to meet you Keturah. I’ve heard of you but I don’t think we’ve formally met. You are the midwife who did the emergency C-section?”
Keturah’s fingers worried with the quilt Ivan had placed around her shoulders. “I—I had no choice.”
Rachel came over, squatted down beside the rocker, and looked her in the eyes. “Many people would not have made that choice. It took courage to save the baby’s life.”
“I was not able to save the mother.”
“You did what you could.”
Suddenly, the policewoman did not seem so alien anymore.
Just as suddenly, the baby began to cry again. Keturah looked behind the police officer and saw that Michael had just lifted her from her warm bath water and laid her on the soft towel Ivan had laid out.
“She does not like being wet and cold,” Keturah said. “Wrap her quickly in the receiving blanket. Make it tight.”
“Here,” Ivan said. “I will show you. I learned to do this with our babes.”
With Ivan’s help, the two men managed to dry the baby off, diaper her with one of the newborn disposable diapers Keturah always kept in her midwife bag, and wrap her tightly in the receiving blanket.
&nb
sp; “Here she is.” Michael held the baby up. “Sweet and clean, but not at all happy.”
“Bring her here.” Keturah held out her arms and he brought the tiny bundle to her. She held the baby closely against her chest and began to rock. The cries ceased, and the baby dropped off to sleep, exhausted from her ordeal. Unless Keturah missed her guess, the babe would sleep deeply now for a while.
“And you are?” The policewoman, who had stood patiently until the baby was content and quiet, turned to Michael.
“I’m Dr. Michael Reynolds. A neighbor.”
“You’re the vet who took old Doc Taylor’s place?”
“I am.”
“I remember you,” Rachel said. “You were a few grades below me in school, but I remember you coming to my aunts’ farm with Doc Taylor a couple of times. I think you helped him patch up our milk cow after she got hung up on a barbed-wire fence. You would have been about ten.”
“You were Rachel Troyer back then. I apologize for not recognizing you.”
“No need. At that time, my aunts were still trying to raise me to be Amish. I would have been wearing a long dress and kapp.”
“You are Bertha Troyer’s niece?” Keturah asked. “The one who went away to the police academy?”
“I am.”
“I have known Bertha for many years. She is a good woman.”
“A very good woman,” Rachel agreed.
“But very bossy and opinionated sometimes, I think,” Keturah said. “She has not been pleased with your choice of profession.”
Rachel smiled. “Yes, that’s my Aunt Bertha.”
“I remember one of your aunts gave me a sack of fresh-baked gingerbread cookies that day,” Michael said. “Things like that stick in a small boy’s mind.”
“That would be Aunt Lydia. She still sends people away with fresh cookies. By the way, I’ve been hearing good things about you from the area farmers. They were worried when Doc Taylor died, but seem very happy with your work.”
“I’m relieved to hear that,” he said.
Keturah felt a rush of pride at Rachel’s words. Of course people were happy with Michael. Who wouldn’t be?
Rachel leaned over the rocking chair and gazed down at the baby sleeping so soundly in her arms. “Welcome to Sugarcreek, little girl. You’ve had quite a night of it, haven’t you?”
“She’s a healthy little thing from what I’ve been able to see,” Michael said. “I assume you’ll want to take her to the hospital now to be checked out?”
“I don’t know quite what to do. The roads are terrible and I don’t have access to an appropriate car seat right now. With it being Christmas, I don’t think there’s a store open where I could even purchase one in the middle of the night,” Rachel said. “In the meantime, I’m going to have to ask you a lot of questions, Keturah. Are you up to it? I know this night has been rough on you.”
Keturah felt a chill at the idea of being questioned by a police officer; even one as nice as this. She shivered involuntarily and Ivan noticed.
“My wife is not young, and her clothes are soaked,” Ivan said. “We’ve all been too occupied with the baby to care for her properly. Could your questions wait until she can change into dry clothes?”
Keturah had been so focused on the care of the baby, she’d nearly forgotten that she was soaked to the skin. Now that he mentioned it, she realized that she was most definitely miserable.
“Of course, I’ll wait,” the policewoman said. “Would you like for me to hold the baby while you change?”
Chapter 11
The baby began to fuss again the moment Rachel lifted her from Keturah’s arms. While Ivan helped his wife to their bedroom, Michael emptied the baby’s bath water and repacked Keturah’s midwife bag. As he tidied up, he noticed that the Sugarcreek cop was humming an Amish lullaby as she walked the floor with the baby.
“Is that Schloof, Bobbeli, Schloof you are humming?”
“Sleep, Baby, Sleep? Yes it is.” Rachel didn’t stop pacing. “You recognized it?”
“It’s the lullaby Keturah used to sing to me when I was little and she was babysitting me. She would use it to try to get me to take a nap. I always fought sleep as a child. Too many interesting things to do.”
“Aunt Lydia always sang it to me when I was little and staying the night with her and my other two aunts. She would sit on the bed, stroke my forehead, and sing until I fell asleep.”
“So the lullaby worked for you?” Michael said.
“It did. Much against my will, if I remember correctly.”
“Do you still know the words?”
“Of course,” she said. “Don’t you?”
“It’s been years since I heard it. I think the first verse is: Sleep, baby, sleep. Your father tends the sheep. Your mother shakes the dreamland tree, and from it falls sweet dreams for thee.” He shook his head. “That’s all I can remember. What’s the rest?”
“Sleep, baby, sleep. Our stars guard the sheep.” Rachel sang the second verse, softly, as she walked with the baby. “The little lamb is on the green, with snowy fleece so soft and clean.”
She continued with the third verse. “Dream, baby, dream. The robin sings in the tree. The stars, the robin and the sheep, they guard and keep you in your sleep. Dream, baby, dream.”
“Is it working yet?” Michael whispered.
“I think so,” Rachel said softly, as she glanced down at the little face. “Yes, it seems to have done the trick.”
“You must have drawn the short straw to be on duty tonight.” Michael picked up Keturah’s wet coat and bonnet and hung them on the wall pegs near the back door.
Rachel lowered herself into Keturah’s chair and began to rock.
“There are only five of us on the force.” She tucked the receiving blanket more securely around the baby. “We try to take turns on major holidays.”
With the baby being cared for by Rachel, Michael brought in an armload of firewood, filled the stove, punched up the embers, refilled the teakettle with water, and put it on to boil.
“You certainly know your way around this kitchen,” Rachel observed.
“I grew up next door. Keturah and Ivan have been like second parents. They cared for me while my mother worked to support us.”
“That’s why you can speak their language so well.”
“I was so young, I don’t even remember learning it.”
“Me, too.” Rachel began to hum the lullaby again as she rocked the baby.
It was easy to see that this Sugarcreek cop was thoroughly enjoying this very non-police moment, so he left her to it.
He used a soapy dishcloth to wash off the kitchen table, then dried it with a fresh towel, the way he’d seen Keturah do hundreds of times after family meals. He was always comforted by being in this particular kitchen. It wasn’t just the childhood memories. It was the warmth of the wood stove, the soft hiss of the gas lights, and the enduring smell of herbs that Keturah dried each year to use for medicines.
When he finished his tasks, he pulled a kitchen chair away from the table, turned it around, and straddled it. The baby was thoroughly asleep now and there were things he wanted to ask Rachel before she left.
“How long do you think it will take to find the baby’s relatives?”
“I hope not long,” Rachel said. “But there is a lot about this situation that makes no sense to me.”
“Like what?”
“The license said the car was from Cleveland. Why would a girl that age from Cleveland be doing on a dirt, backroad here? Why in the middle of the night? And on Christmas morning at that.”
“Maybe she was coming here to visit family and got lost.”
“I hope that’s the case, but I doubt it. There would have been at least some stab at bringing a gift, or food. There was nothing in that car. Nothing at all.”
“Any clue who she might be?”
“Not yet. Neither the police chief nor I recognized her. He is at the crash site right now making
arrangements to have the car towed, and making another search for a purse or a wallet. All I found was a small roll of cash she’d hidden in her sock. It’s strange for there to be no ID on her at all.”
“No cell phone?”
“None that anyone has found so far,” Rachel said. “Which is a little odd because pretty much everyone uses a cell these days, except for the more conservative Amish.”
“Unfortunately, that describes Keturah’s church. If she’d had a cell phone, she could have called me for help,” Michael said. “I was only a few minutes away and I could have been there almost immediately. Who knows? There might even have been a chance of saving the girl’s life if we had gotten her to the hospital in time.”
“Are you surprised that your neighbor managed to do surgery in the middle of a rainstorm?”
“Not at all. Keturah may be small, but sometimes I think her spine is made of steel. Also, she has an enormous amount of medical knowledge. With the exception of her Bible, I’ve never seen her with any kind of reading material in her hands that wasn’t medically based. It’s Ivan who reads The Budget newspaper cover to cover and collects as many Zane Grey novels as he can find.”
The door opened, and Noah walked in with a tall, middle-aged man wearing a Sugarcreek cop uniform.
“Hi, Ed,” Rachel said. “Do you two know each other?”
“Ed used to be my little league coach,” Michael said.
“I’d heard you were back home,” Ed said. “I’m sure the Hochstetlers are happy about that.”
“Not nearly as happy as I am.” Michael caught a glimpse of Noah’s face. The young man did not look well. He was shivering with cold and his face was ashen. It was also obvious that he had been crying. Michael had wondered why Noah hadn’t come in yet. Unless he missed his guess, his friend had been out in the barn, crying his heart out while caring for the three horses that had been run hard tonight.
Love Rekindled: Book 3 Page 5