Miriam’s mother had put a cot in the kitchen to sleep beside the baby’s crib, but Miriam had been the one to get up and feed the baby through the night. Her mother’s
intentions were good, but she needed her sleep, too. Tonight, Miriam would insist on taking the cot. That way she might get a little more sleep.
The soft sound of her mother humming reached Miriam’s ears. Ada was delighted her daughter was taking her to the Sunday preaching. Her mother might say she accepted that Miriam had left the Amish faith for good, but for Ada, that door was always open. Any former Amish who sought forgiveness would be welcomed back into the Amish fold with great joy.
Her mother hollered up the stairs. “You should feed the horse, Miriam. She will have a long day.”
Miriam groaned. Arriving at a church meeting in a car was unacceptable to Ada. Amish people walked or drove their buggies. End of discussion.
To keep her mother from trying to walk the six miles to Bishop Zook’s farm, Miriam would have to feed, water and hitch up their horse. She might be out of practice at harnessing the mare, but she hadn’t forgotten how to do it.
After dressing in work clothes, Miriam walked through the kitchen. At the front door, she waited for Bella to join her. “Come on, the baby’s not going to wake up for another two hours. I just fed her. This might be your only chance to spend time with me today because you are not coming with us to church.”
Bella reluctantly abandoned her post beneath the crib and trotted out the door Miriam held open. Her mother, looking brighter than Miriam had seen her in weeks, was mixing batter in a large bowl. “You’d best get a move on, child. I’ll not be late to services at the bishop’s
home. Esther Zook would never let me live it down.”
“I can’t understand why such a sweet man married that sour-faced woman.”
Ada chuckled, then struggled to keep a straight face. “It is not right to speak ill of others.”
“The truth is not ill, Mamm, it is the truth. There is only one reason I can think of why he fell for her.”
The two women looked at each other, and both said, “She’s must be a wondrous goot cook!”
Laughing, Ada turned back to the stove. “How many times did your father say those very words?”
“Every time he talked about his brother’s wife, Aunt Mae.”
“She was a homely woman, God rest her soul, but your onkel was a happy man married to her.” Ada spooned the batter into a muffin tin.
Miriam’s smile faded. “I miss Papa. He was a funny fellow.”
“Ja. He often made me laugh. God gave him a fine wit. You had better hurry and get the horse fed or these muffins will be cold by the time you get back.” Ada opened the oven door and slid the pan in.
Miriam walked outside into the cool air. Even after six months, she was still amazed by the stillness and freshness of a country morning. She scanned the lane for any sign of a returning buggy. It remained as empty as it had all night. She knew because she’d looked out her window often enough. Perhaps Hannah’s mother wouldn’t return. What would become of the baby then?
Had Nick had any luck lifting fingerprints from the note or hamper? Surely, he would have called if he had. She still found it hard to believe that he had agreed to leave the baby with them. Was he trying to make amends? Did he care that she hadn’t forgiven him?
Annoyed with herself for thinking about Nick once again, she hurried across the yard to finish her chores. In the barn, she quickly measured grain for the horse and took an old coffee can full to the henhouse. Opening the screen door, she sprinkled the grain for the brown-and-white-speckled hens. They clucked and cackled with satisfaction. She didn’t bother checking for eggs. She knew her mother had gathered them already.
By the time she returned to the house, hung up her jacket and washed up, her mother was dumping golden brown cornmeal muffins into a woven wooden basket lined with a white napkin. The smell of bacon filled the air and made Miriam’s stomach growl. A few more years of eating like this and she would be having her own heart attack.
“What was your blood sugar this morning?” Miriam snatched a muffin and bit into the warm crumbly goodness.
“104.”
Miriam fixed her mother with an unwavering stare. “Have you taken your medicine?”
“Ja.”
“Checked your blood pressure?”
“Ja.”
“What is your blood pressure this morning?”
Ada’s eyes narrowed. “Before or after my daughter began badgering me?”
Miriam didn’t blink. “Before.”
Ada rolled her eyes. “110 over 66, satisfied?”
Smiling broadly, Miriam nodded. “Ja, Mamm dat is very goot.”
“And we will be very late if you don’t hurry up and eat.” Her mother carried the empty muffin tin to the sink and then returned to the table. After bowing their heads in silent prayer, the woman began eating.
Ada asked, “Have you decided what to tell people about Hannah?”
“The truth is generally best. I will tell people she was left with us to care for until her mother returns.”
The baby began to fuss. Miriam reached over to her cradle, patted her back and adjusted her position.
Ada smiled. “She is such a darling child. I dread to think we might never see her again when her mother does come for her.”
Miriam remained silent, but the same concern had taken root in her mind, too. Hannah was quickly working her way into Miriam’s heart and into her life. Letting go of her wasn’t going to be easy.
* * *
Nick stopped his SUV near the end of the lane at the Zook farm. He knew the church members wouldn’t appreciate his arrival in a modern vehicle on their day of worship. He wasn’t here in an official capacity, so he wasn’t wearing his uniform. It was almost noon,
so he figured the service would be over and he would be in time for the meal.
Most Amish Sunday preaching lasted for three or four hours. The oratory workload was shared between the bishop and one or two ministers, none of whom had any formal training. They were, in fact, ordinary men whose names were among those suggested by the congregation for the position and then chosen by the drawing of lots. It was a lifelong assignment, one without pay or benefits of any kind.
Following the services that were held in homes or barns every other Sunday, the Amish women would feed everyone, clean up and spend much of the afternoon visiting with family and friends.
Approaching the large and rambling white house, Nick looked for Miriam among the women standing in groups outside of the bishop’s home. Their conversations died down when they spotted him. It was unusual to have an outsider show up in such a fashion. Although many people knew he had Amish family members, he was still an outsider and regarded with suspicion by many.
He gave everyone a friendly wave and finally spotted Miriam sitting on a quilt beneath a tree with a half dozen other young women. Hannah lay sleeping on the blanket beside her. He caught Miriam’s eye and tipped his head toward the house. He needed to pay his respects to Bishop Zook and the church elders before speaking with her. She nodded once in agreement and stayed put.
Inside the house, several walls had been removed to open the home up for the church meeting. The benches that had arrived that morning in a special wagon were now being rearranged to allow seating at makeshift tables. The bishop sat near the open door in one of the few armchairs in the room.
A small man with a long gray beard, he looked the part of a wise Amish elder. Nick knew him to be a fair and kind man. He rose to his feet when he saw Nick. Worry filled his eyes. “Sheriff, I hope you do not come among us with bad news.”
More than once, Nick had been the one to tell an Amish family that their loved ones had been involved in a collision with a car or truck. He often asked the bishop to accompany him when he brought the news that the accident had been fatal.
“I don’t bring bad news today, Bishop. I’m here to speak with
Miriam Kauffman, and to give you greetings from my grandmother.”
“Ah, that is a relief. How is Betsy? I have not seen her for many months.”
“She’s well and busy with lots of great-grandchildren,
but not enough of them to keep her from trying to marry off the few of us who are still single.”
Bishop Zook chuckled. “She always did fancy herself something of a matchmaker. I believe Miriam is outside with some of our young mothers. The case of this abandoned babe is very troubling. I cannot think any of our young women would do such a thing.”
“I understand, but we have to ask.”
“We have several families who would be pleased to take the child into their homes.”
“Where the child is placed, if her mother doesn’t return, will be up to Social Services.”
“I feared as much. We would rather handle this ourselves. If the mother returns, the child will remain with her, ja?”
Nick didn’t want a string of hopeful women showing up and claiming to be Hannah’s mother. He needed to be very clear it wouldn’t be that easy. “Once we have proof, by a blood test, that she is the mother, and we can see that she is in a position to take care of the child, then yes, it is likely that Social Services will agree to her keeping the child. If you do come across information about the mother, please get word to Miriam or myself.”
“This is the Lord’s working. We offer our prayers for this troubled woman and for her child.”
“Thank you, Bishop.”
Nick glanced again to where Miriam sat surrounded by young Amish mothers with their babies. Except for a slight difference in her dress, Miriam could have been one of them.
She had been one of them. It had taken a lot to drive her away. What would it take to make her return? If she found it in her heart to forgive him for Mark’s death, would she return to the life she’d left behind?
The bishop said, “You will stay and eat with us this fine day, ja?”
Nick pulled his troubled gaze away from Miriam. “I would be honored, Bishop Zook. I hear your wife makes a fine peanut butter pie.”
“She made a dozen different pies yesterday, and chased me away with a spoon when I tried to sample one.”
“I hope for your sake there will be leftovers.”
There was never a lack of food at an Amish gathering. The makeshift tables were laden with home-baked bread, different kinds of cheese and cold cuts. There was schmierkase, a creamy, cottage cheese-like spread, sliced pickles, pickled beets, pretzels and, Nick’s favorite, a special peanut butter spread sweetened with molasses or marshmallow cream. He liked the marshmallow cream version the best. There were also a variety of cookies, brownies and other baked goods as well a rich black coffee to dunk them in.
A rumble deep in his stomach reminded Nick that breakfast had been hours ago. He had already visited two other church groups that morning and looked at dozens of buggy wheels. There was no way to keep his examinations quiet. The community would be abuzz with speculation, but it couldn’t be helped.
Nick thanked the Bishop for his invitation to eat and walked toward the lawn where Miriam was sitting. She caught sight of him and rose to her feet. She spoke to Katie Sutter who was sitting beside her. At Katie’s nod of agreement, Miriam left Hannah sleeping on the quilt.
Before he could say good morning, she said, “I expected you hours ago. Hannah got fussy so I took her out of the house during the service and I was able to check all the buggies that are parked beside the barn. I didn’t get a chance to check those parked on the hillside.”
He smiled. “Good morning, Miriam. How are you this fine morning? How is Hannah? Is she keeping you up at night? I hope your mother is feeling well.”
Miriam planted her hands on her hips. “Do you really
want to waste time on pleasantries?”
“It’s never a waste of time to be civil.”
“Fine. Good morning, Nicolas. Of course Hannah is keeping me up at night. She’s a baby and she wakes up wanting to be fed every three hours. My mother is on cloud nine because I came to church with her, and Bella was pouting because she couldn’t come along. Now can we go find the buggy I saw leaving Mom’s place?”
“That’s the plan.” He started walking toward the pasture gate. Several dozen buggies and wagons were parked side by side on the grassy hill. The horses, all still in harness, were tied up along the fence dozing in the morning sun or munching on the green grass at their feet.
Miriam tipped her head toward Nick and asked quietly, “How are you going to do this without attracting attention?”
He glanced around and leaned closer. “Under the cover of bright sunshine, I’m going to stroll along the hillside with you, stopping beside every buggy. If anyone happens to look our way, I hope they think we’re just having a Sunday stroll.”
Her scowl vanished and she tried to hide a grin. Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “News flash, Sheriff. Everyone is looking at us.”
“I guess our cover is blown. Did you know your eyes sparkle when you smile?”
She blushed bright red, folded her arms over her chest and stared at her feet. He could have kicked himself for making such a foolish, but true statement.
He once again became all business. “If anyone asks, which they won’t, I’ll say it’s official police business and that’s all I’ll say. It’s my best line. I use it all the time. The Amish are so reluctant to involve themselves in outsider business that they will politely pretend they don’t see anything out of the ordinary.”
She nodded. “You’re right. They won’t ask you questions, but they will ask my mother questions.”
“Ada can tell them I said it’s police business.”
They stopped at the first buggy on the hill. Nick did a quick check of the wheels. There were no marks similar to the one he’d seen on Miriam’s lane. When he looked up, Miriam was studying the farmhouse.
She said, “If the mother is here and she sees us looking at buggies together, she may put two and two together and come forward.”
“Or, she could put two and two together and redouble her efforts to keep hidden. Did anyone appear particularly interested in Hannah today?”
“Nothing more than the usually flurry of interest a new baby generates. There was a lot of disbelief when I said I found her on my doorstep.”
“I imagine.”
“I didn’t notice any young woman deliberately avoiding me, either. If she saw the baby, she’s really good at hiding her emotions.”
“Aren’t we all?” he said with a wry smile. He was hiding the fact that he was falling for her all over again.
Nick quickly moved from buggy to buggy without discovering the one he hoped to find. At the end of the line, he said, “It’s not here. I don’t know what else to do except try again on Tuesday when people go to market. The problem with that is I’m going to end up checking most of these same ones all over again. It’s not like I have a way to tell them apart.”
“Wait a minute.” Miriam slipped her purse strap off her shoulder, reached in and withdrew a tube of lipstick. Looking around to make sure no one could see, she dabbed a spot in the lower corner of the orange triangle on the back.
From a few feet away, it didn’t show, but when Nick moved closer he could see the mark because he was looking for it. “Nice. Now, if it just doesn’t rain.”
They made their way back along the line of buggies as Miriam unobtrusively added a dot of lipstick to each one. When they came out the pasture gate, he held out his hand. “Mind if I borrow that? I’ve got two other congregations to visit today.”
She handed it over. He turned the tube to read the label. “Ambrosia Blush. I like that.”
“It’s not your color, Sheriff. It’s a shade made for redheads.”
He tucked the tube in his pocket. “I’ll keep that in mind. Have you eaten yet?”
“No, we were waiting for the elders to finish, but I’m not hungry. Mom insists on making a breakfast fit f
or a farmhand.”
By this time they had reached the quilt where Katie Sutter sat holding a fussy Hannah. Miriam reached for the baby. “I’ll take her.”
Katie handed her over. Hannah quieted instantly. Katie smiled at Nick. “Hello, Nick, it’s good to see you again.”
“You, as well, Katie. Where is Elam?” He looked around for her husband.
Katie had gone out into the world and returned to the Amish several years ago. She was happily married now with two small children. She understood the challenges of both worlds.
“Elam is out in the barn with Jonathan talking horses. Jonathan was just saying the other day that he hadn’t seen you in weeks. He was wondering if you’d forgotten where he lived.”
Nick laughed aloud. Hannah, who had quieted in Miriam’s arms, started crying again. He cupped her head softly. “I’m sorry, sweet one, did I scare you?”
The baby quieted briefly, then began protesting in earnest. Miriam said, “I think she’s just getting hungry. Who is Jonathan?”
Nick recounted the story. “The Christmas before last, Jonathan Dressler was found, beaten and suffering from amnesia on Eli Imhoff’s farm. I investigated the case and eventually solved it, but not until after Jonathan recovered his memory.”
“And fell in love with Eli’s daughter Karen,” Katie added. “He is Englisch, but he will be baptized into our faith soon and then everyone expects a wedding will follow. Quickly.”
“Not quick enough for Jonathan.” Nick knew his friend was counting down the days until he could marry the woman who saved his life.
Miriam had taken a bottle of formula from her purse. Nick held out his hand. “Let me take it up to the house and see if the bishop’s wife can warm it up for her.”
“Thanks.” She held it up for him.
Her fingers brushed against his as he took the bottle. Her touch sent a jolt through his body and sucked the air from his lungs.
* * *
Miriam gaze flew to Nick’s face. She saw his eyes widen. Just as quickly, his jaw hardened and he looked away. He said, “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
When Nick was out of sight, she drew a shaky breath. How was it possible that the chemistry still simmered between them?
A Home for Hannah Page 6