Santa's Seven-Day Baby Tutorial

by Meg Maxwell

  Colt smiled and took a photo of each sleeping baby. All’s well, he texted. Napping like champs. I hired an Amish nanny to help out. I now know how to handle baby gas and teething issues.

  A smiley face emoji appeared. I owe you big, Cathy texted back. Feels amazing to relax without a care, even though I miss my babies so much. See you soon and thank you!!!

  He was surprised Cathy had been able to relax without a care with her boys as his charges. Yeah, he was an officer of the law. And an uncle with seven months of spotty experience. But her faith in him about babysitting for such a long stretch was strange. He wouldn’t have trusted himself to do more than a C minus job. Which was why he’d hired Anna.

  Though he had to admit he’d done okay just now. He’d handled Nathaniel’s cries. He’d known what to do. That earned him an upgrade to maybe a B plus, maybe even an A minus. Anna would have gone straight for the A plus of letting Nathaniel stretch out vertically with a back rub before she had to try anything else. Next time, he assured himself.

  He glanced down at the notes he’d taken on Mara Miller of Houston. She lived miles from where he did, in a not great section of the city. She worked as a waitress in a twenty-four-hour diner. Divorced, no kids. No arrests. A social-media photo showed a woman forcing a smile, as if trying to look happy. Colt was usually able to size up someone pretty easily, but he had no take on Mara Miller. For Anna’s sake, he hoped she hadn’t turned as bitter as the expression in her eyes suggested.

  Nathaniel let out a little sigh and shifted his head. He seemed fast asleep, so Colt risked laying him down in his crib. The baby lifted up one chubby arm over his head in a little fist, his breathing indicating he wasn’t waking up anytime soon. Success, yes!

  Colt sat down in the rocker by the window, grabbing the squeaky stuffed bear before he could squish it. His own eyes felt heavy. He’d gotten up early to avoid Anna and had gone for an early morning jog and then had explored the town on foot until the coffee shop opened. Since everyone was napping but him, he might as well close his eyes for a few minutes. Experience had proven one squawk from the babies would wake him up in two seconds.

  His eyes closing, he thought of Anna. He wondered if she’d come back from the hair salon with a pixie cut like his sister had gotten after the two infants had yanked on her hair to the point she’d just cut it all off. Anna would look beautiful bald, he thought before drifting off.

  * * *

  “How much do you want cut off?” Sarah asked, running her fingers through Anna’s waist-length hair as she stood behind her chair in the salon. “To start, maybe we should stick with a few inches past your shoulders. And then once you’re used to that, you can go shorter. Or we can go for a big change at once.”

  Anna looked at herself in the big oval mirror on the wall. She still wasn’t accustomed to looking at her reflection at all, but this focus on herself and how she looked didn’t seem like vanity. She was here for a purpose, after all, to have her hair cut professionally for the first time ever. “Hmm. I do like it long. But I’m open to whatever you suggest. You’re the professional.”

  “I know just what to do,” Sarah said with a smile and picked up a pair of shiny silver scissors. But then she frowned, dropping her hand. “I just realized something, Anna. If you decide to return to your village after your rumspringa, perhaps you’ll regret that your was hair cut? Maybe I should just give your ends a trim.”

  Anna looked at Sarah in the mirror. “You’re very thoughtful, Sarah. But if I do go back, I’ll have no regrets about my time in the English world. Nothing. Everything I experience here, everything I say yes to, will help me make my decision about going home or not. Having more ‘English’-looking hair is part of that. Will I recognize myself with eight inches gone? Will the person in the mirror reflect how I feel on the inside? Or will she seem like a stranger? All questions that are getting answered one by one.”

  “Your English clothes suit you,” Sarah said, lifting the scissors. “I would never have guessed you were Amish.”

  “I think no matter what happens when it’s time for Colt to return his nephews, I’ll always be Amish. Even if I stay in the English world and use electricity without a thought. There are things about the Amish lifestyle that are truly beautiful. Sometimes, simple is better. Sometimes, it’s not. But the sense of community, of helping, of sharing, is wonderful.”

  Anna loved how easily she talked with Sarah. How easily she talked with anyone she’d met so far in Blue Gulch. Anna had always been reasonably outgoing and so usually “manned” the family and community stalls at the Amish market in Grass Creek, chatting away with the English about how the furniture was made and what type of paint was used and all the usual questions about the Amish and how they lived. Did they have outhouses? No, the Amish actually have toilets in their homes. Did they use utensils, or their hands to eat dinner? She would explain they have forks and knives just like the English. Did they get really bored not watching TV? Yes, sometimes. But it’s not the Amish way to be bored. There’s always someone to visit, work to do, pies to bake.

  “Getting your Christmas shopping done, I see,” Anna said, glancing at the big brown paper bag with wrapped gifts inside.

  “Oh, I haven’t started yet for the family. Those are for one of my Santa’s Elves recipients.”

  “Santa’s Elves?” Anna asked.

  “The Hurley family started a new program in Blue Gulch—Santa’s Elves. There are many families in town who can’t afford to fix broken furnaces or sagging porches, let alone buy a turkey for Christmas dinner or gifts for children. So Essie Hurley—she owns Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen—put up flyers in her restaurant and in businesses around town to let folks know if they have any needs during the holiday season, from the serious to a wish for a particular present, to put their Christmas hopes in the Santa’s Elves box on Hurley’s porch. Those who are able to take on the wishes do so.”

  Anna loved the idea. “Can I be an elf? I’d love to help out while I’m here.”

  “Sure can. Just go on over to Hurley’s after you leave here and pick a wish or two. If it’s something you can’t do yourself, like repaving a driveway, or is too expensive to hire out or buy, put it back and pick another that you can.”

  “It’s a beautiful program,” Anna said, glancing down at all the hair falling on the floor around the chair. “And very Amish. How are the wishes delivered?”

  “You can leave physical gifts with a name tag with Essie Hurley at the restaurant. For services, you can arrange that and then let Essie know, and she’ll inform the recipient that the wish has been granted. It is a really wonderful program.”

  Anna nodded. “I can’t wait to pick a wish myself.”

  Sarah smiled and tilted Anna’s head to the side while she snipped away. “Think those adorable twin babies are being good right now for their Uncle Colt?”

  “I hope so. He’s wonderful with them. He claims to not know much about babies or how to take care of them, but he’s actually very natural at it.”

  “I noticed that last night. I’m so grateful to have this chance to get to know him.”

  For a moment Anna noticed that Sarah’s pretty green eyes had misted with tears. How emotional this must be for her. Reunited—just this year—with both sons whom she’d given up for adoption thirty-two years ago.

  “It was my one Christmas wish,” Sarah said. “That I’d get to meet Colt. When Jake told me that he and his brother had tracked him down and that Colt had paid Jake a visit back in May, I was so hopeful that I’d get to meet him, too. And my wish was granted. It’s one of the reasons why I want to help make others’ Christmas wishes come true.”

  “I’m so glad,” Anna said. “My Christmas wish is to find my cousin Mara while I’m in the English world. I don’t know if it’ll come true, but at least I have hope.”

  Sarah nodded. “Hope is everyth
ing.” She put down the scissors and picked up a brush and blow-dryer.

  “I’ve never had my hair blown dry before,” Anna said, watching Sarah roll the brush down, the air shaft of the dryer following.

  Sarah grinned. “You sure are going to experience a lot of firsts during this rumspringa.”

  Including my first broken heart, she thought, her mind drifting to Colt. Granted, she knew what heartache felt like. She’d lost both parents. She’d hurt Caleb terribly when she’d turned him down and she’d felt her heart split in two. But she’d never felt romantic love for a man. Until the stirrings in her chest and belly and along her nerve endings indicated something was happening inside her without her say-so at just the thought of Colt Asher.

  Anna was so lost in thought about Colt that she hadn’t even heard Sarah turn off the dryer or set it down.

  “All done. And your hair looks amazing, if I do say so myself.”

  Anna looked in the mirror and gasped. “Wow. It does! I love it!” Her blond hair fell about three inches past her shoulders, and the front pieces were layered just a bit shorter than the rest so that it gave some lift and bounce. There was nothing fancy about the hairstyle, but Anna still managed to look almost glamorous. It was perfect.

  “You’re a magician,” Anna said. “Thank you so much, Sarah.”

  “It’s my pleasure. And this is on me. Merry Christmas, Anna. Oh, and if you want some more pampering, a mani-pedi or waxing, the salon does that, too.”

  A mani-pedi. Anna wasn’t sure she would ever be ready to have someone polish her fingernails, let alone her toenails, but the idea of sparkly red fingernails made her happy. Some things were very temporary—like her job. Like nail polish. And some things weren’t. Like tattoos and the way she felt about Colt Asher.

  * * *

  As Anna headed back up Blue Gulch Street, she passed the inn and darted up the steps to Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen. The restaurant was closed, but Anna could see the kitchen crew at work through the big windows of the kitchen. A bright red metal box was on the porch railing. Santa’s Elves Wishes was written across the front in black marker. Anna opened up the box and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

  If someone could help patch my roof, I’d appreciate it. When it rains, I put a bucket on the floor but I slipped yesterday and hurt myself so bad I couldn’t even get to work today.

  Amanda Lottertin, 23 Hunter Way.

  Anna would certainly get that taken care of. Help is on the way, Amanda! She reached in the box and picked out another folded wish.

  Dear Santa,

  My name is Sophie. I’m eight. I saw a doll in the toy store and it had red hair like me. I’m the only one with red hair in my class. I want that doll more than anything else in the whole world.

  Love, Sophie.

  I live on Mannox Street. Do you know where that is, Santa?

  Anna’s heart squeezed at the thought of the girl’s red hair. Like her cousin Sadie’s. She missed Sadie so fiercely.

  She would take both wishes and make them come true. She had money saved and could afford to have the roof patched. And she would certainly buy that red-haired doll in the toy store. If she wasn’t mistaken, the toy store was across the street, near the coffee shop.

  She glanced at her watch. She’d been gone an hour and a half so far. Should she take Colt at his word not to rush back? She’d just need another fifteen minutes to buy the doll and have it wrapped.

  As she approached the toy store, she saw the doll in the window. She’d love to buy one for her cousin, too, but the Amish didn’t allow dolls with faces. Amish dolls were homemade, adorable rag dolls who wore Amish-style clothes. The lack of faces was to show youngsters that all were the same in the eyes of God. Anna had never been too sure of that notion, though. All were alike inside, but every boy and girl, every man and woman, looked different on the outside.

  Anna bought the doll and had it wrapped and wrote a card with Sophie’s name and address on it. She’d deliver it to Hurley’s when they were open. And she’d ask around about who to hire to fix Amanda Lottertin’s roof and get that going today.

  Back at the inn, Anna quietly opened her door just in case the twins were sleeping. She smiled as she stepped inside. The boys were sleeping. All of them. Colt was sprawled out on the overstuffed chair by the window, a stuffed bear on his lap.

  She tiptoed in, putting the gift on the desk, then sat down on the chair. There was a piece of paper on the desk—with her cousin’s name.

  Mara Miller. 24 Huxton Road #4. Houston. 555-2365.

  Anna gasped and covered her hand with her mouth. Had Colt found Mara? The thought of her cousin, on her own out here all these years, had haunted her ever since her aunt had told her about Mara. Of course, Mara was likely not alone; she’d probably married, had a family, had good friends and a full life. But she’d said goodbye to one life that didn’t fit for another that she hoped would. Like Anna was doing right now. Had the English world suited her cousin? Anna hoped so. Because Mara had never come home.

  Now, here was her name and an address and a telephone number.

  You’re making my Christmas wish come true, she thought, staring at the beautiful man asleep on the chair.

  It wasn’t very Amish of her that another Christmas wish was poking at her heart. To have this man, too.

  Chapter Nine

  Colt woke up to find Anna sitting at the desk chair, staring out the window. She seemed lost in thought. The sun streaming in lit up her gorgeous blond hair, which now fell a few inches past her shoulders and looked like spun silk. He had the urge to go over and run his fingers through it, carry her to the bed and slowly undress her...

  As if she could feel him staring at her she turned and smiled. “Morning, sleepyhead. Glad you got a little nap in.”

  “Your hair is gorgeous,” he said without thinking.

  “Sarah is a magician.” She touched the ends and grinned, and he knew she was very happy with her new look.

  “Got some Christmas shopping done?” he asked, gesturing at the wrapped gift on the desk beside her. Perhaps that meant she planned to return to her village, after all. Though, of course she would return for Christmas. He knew that the Amish had shunning practices, but he wasn’t sure for what. If someone didn’t return from rumspringa and left the faith and community, were they not allowed back? Could their family speak to them again? He had no idea what she was facing if she chose to live in the English world.

  “I did, yes. Sarah told me about a new program called Santa’s Elves.” She explained about the box set up at Hurley’s and choosing two wishes. “I wonder who I could speak to about a referral for the roof work,” she said. “In my village, I’d mention it to my uncle, and word would spread quickly that someone’s roof needed patching. It would be done within a day.”

  “Let me text Jake. He’s lived here for months now. He’ll know who to hire.” He liked having a good reason to contact his twin. Sending a “Hey, how’s it going?” or “Meet for coffee tomorrow?” seemed weird. He picked up his phone and sent off a text about Anna’s request, glad to know he’d encouraged more contact, even if it was just about a roof referral. It was a start.

  Anna smiled. “The wrapped gift is a doll for a little girl who fell in love with a red-haired doll in the window of the toy store. Like your boss’s niece fell in love with Sparkles in the pet-shop window.”

  “I forgot all about Sparkles,” he said. “Lots else on my mind.” Though how could he forget the black-and-white guinea pig who’d brought him and Anna together? Without Anna, he’d be on his own with the boys, probably too flustered by his duties as an uncle to deal well with getting to know his twin and birth mother. Not that he was dealing all that well, regardless. “I’d like to grant a few wishes, too.”

  “We can stop by Hurley’s,” she said. “Or you can,”
she added quickly, giving him the out of not going together.

  “Well, there is somewhere I’d like to take you,” he said. “So why don’t we stop by Hurley’s before we head out?”

  “Where?” she asked.

  “Did you see the paper on the desk?” he asked, gesturing at it.

  She nodded. “I was about to ask. You found my cousin?”

  “She wasn’t hard to find. Of course, without a social security number I can’t be one-hundred-percent sure she’s the right Mara Miller, but she’s the right age. And I can see you in the photo I saw on a social-media account.”

  “Will you show me?”

  He pulled up the Facebook account. Mara Miller wasn’t much of a poster. There were some shots of sunsets. A squirrel eating an acorn in a tree. A bible quote. And her profile photo.

  Anna took the phone and stared at the picture. “She looks like a Miller, for sure. And though she’s smiling, the smile doesn’t reach her eyes, does it?”

  “No,” he agreed. “According to what I could find out, she lives in Houston—in a run-down area. She works as a waitress in a twenty-four-hour diner. She’s divorced, no children.”

  “No children?” Anna repeated, frowning. “I mean, not every woman wants children. Or can have children. I guess I’m just surprised. I don’t know why, though. I have to shift my way of thinking. Not everyone or everything has to be traditional.”

  “I thought we’d drive out to her diner during her shift and get a sense of her before you decide if you want to introduce yourself. She’s related, Anna, but you’ve never met her. You don’t know anything about her except that she left your village before you were born.”

  “What is there to know? She’s my cousin. She’s Onkel Eli’s late brother’s daughter.”

  “I’m an FBI agent. My instinct is to investigate first. Always.”

  “Okay,” she said. “But I’d be fine with just calling her. Although I wonder if she’d even want to talk to me. Maybe she wants no reminders of her childhood, her past.”