by Susan Wiggs
Hannah’s face was ghost pale as she went to the sink, pushed back her sleeves, and stood before the stainless-steel bowl. She touched the faucet handle but couldn’t make it operate—yet another stark example of the girl’s otherness. Reese hurried over and showed her how to turn on the water. She washed her own hands in the warm stream, then stepped back while Hannah did the same.
Reese gently lifted the sleeping baby from the clear bassinet. “She’s made to fit perfectly in a person’s arms,” she whispered to Hannah. “That’s her only job right now. Take a seat.”
Hannah gingerly lowered herself to a chair with nursing-height arms. Reese stood in front of her, hoping the guard wouldn’t see the sheer terror in the girl’s eyes, the tremors in her hands. “Here you go,” Reese said, transferring the baby into Hannah’s waiting arms.
The girl gasped and shut her eyes. Her arms curved perfectly around the small bundle. Bending low, she inhaled the scent of the downy-headed infant and whispered something in Deitsch. Reese saw the moment the magic took hold—that indelible connection between mother and child. When Hannah looked up at her, Reese could tell the girl’s world had changed.
“My heart is hurting me,” Hannah whispered.
“It can be overwhelming. All new moms feel that way.”
Hannah studied every feature of the baby—the curve of her cheek. The quiver of her lower lip as she floated in some infant dream. The starfish shape of her elfin hand splayed upon the swaddling blanket. The impossibly fragile pulse in the tiny neck.
“She’s a miracle,” Hannah said. “She’s my miracle.”
21
Caleb burst through the doors of the hospital in New Hope, having driven a borrowed car from Middle Grove. His father had sought him out at the Beilers’ barn raising and had thrust a card with a scribbled note at him. “Your English friend has taken Hannah and Jonah away,” Asa had said with a glare of fury.
Hannah and Jonah are fine. Meet us at the medical center as soon as you can get here.
If they are fine, he’d thought, why has she taken them to New Hope?
With the sawdust still clinging to him from the barn raising, he parked at the medical center lot and jumped out of the pickup, shoving the key into his pocket as he strode to the entrance. For no reason he could fathom, a guy with a shoulder-mounted camera and a woman with a smartphone approached him, but he ignored them as the doors swished open.
The hospital folks must have been expecting him, because when he entered the lobby, an administrator introduced himself and brought Caleb to a room with a curtained hospital bed and several people standing around. Jonah sat on a swivel stool, swinging back and forth and staring at the floor. Mose and Reese were present, speaking with a guy he didn’t recognize.
When she saw him, Reese rushed to his side. She looked both harried and beautiful, her dark hair mussed and her eyes tired but bright with focus. “Everything’s going to be all right,” she said.
He clenched his jaw. Though grateful that she’d told him the first thing he wanted to hear, he knew it wasn’t the whole story. He glanced over at Jonah. The boy got up and grabbed Caleb’s hand with his good one. Reese moved the curtain aside. Hannah was on the hospital bed, wearing her bonnet and a thin tie-on gown. In her arms, she held a wrapped bundle in a posture he saw every day among the young women of Middle Grove.
His gut told him what he was looking at while his mind muddled around, trying to make sense of it. “God in heaven, what is this?” he murmured in dialect.
Hannah slowly raised her gaze to his. “Caleb,” she said, also speaking in Deitsch, “I’m so sorry. I pray you can forgive me.”
He felt Jonah’s grip tighten. “Never mind that,” he said. “Tell me, Hannah. Make me understand.” Yet as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized that the explanation was right here before him, staring up at him with cornflower blue eyes, the same eyes as his brother, John.
It was a shock. And yet it wasn’t. This situation played out with predictable regularity—young folk got together, they fooled around, the girl ended up in trouble. In his younger days, Caleb had done more than his share of fooling around, although he’d never been stupid enough to get a girl with child.
Now he was flooded by guilt. His niece had hidden a pregnancy and the birth of a baby from him. He hadn’t suspected a thing. How had he let that happen?
“I can’t make you understand,” Hannah said in Deitsch.
“Never mind,” he said, feeling a terrible softness in his chest. “The important thing is that you’re all right, neh?”
“I made an awful bad mess of things.” She hesitated, her chin trembling, tears forging fresh tracks down her already tearstained cheeks. Ah, his poor little Hannah. I’m sorry, John. I’m so sorry.
“Oh, no,” Caleb said. “You didn’t make a mess. It appears to me you made something precious.”
Letting go of Jonah’s hand, he went over to a sink and washed up. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mose shooing everyone out of the room.
“Reese, can you stay?” Hannah called. “I need . . . it would be nice for you to stay.”
Reese murmured something to the people at the door, then came over to the bed. “Have a seat,” she said, indicating a large, vinyl-covered armchair. Once he was seated, she gently took the bundle from Hannah and settled it into the crook of Caleb’s arm. He stiffened, and his heart felt as though it surged to his throat. The tiny thing was as light as a loaf of bread fresh from the oven. He looked down to see a round, red face, eyes puffy and swollen, a wisp of colorless hair and one elfin fist poking out of the blanket. The love and wonder that engulfed him were as pure and powerful as a wave of ocean water. He felt nine clouds higher than cloud nine.
“Mein Gott,” he whispered. “What a little thing to cause such a stir.”
“I wanted to tell you,” Hannah said. “I was so ashamed, I just couldn’t.”
Shame. He gritted his teeth, trying not to comment. In their culture, shame was the key to keeping people in check, pushing down the truest desires in their hearts. He felt a sense of wonder, too, that Hannah had endured a pregnancy in secret, right under his nose. “You can tell me now,” he said. “What about you start with telling me who this one is?”
For the first time, Hannah offered the glimmer of a smile. “She’s a little girl, and everyone says she’s just perfect. The hospital called her Baby Jane Doe, but I want to name her Sarah. Sarah Jane.” The glimmer shifted to a look that seemed to be made of equal measures of pain and joy. “I have a daughter,” she whispered brokenly.
“She’s wonderful,” Caleb said, staring down at the sleeping stranger. Then he stood and settled the baby back into Hannah’s arms and sat down again. Neither Reese nor Jonah had spoken yet; they seemed to be holding their breath. “Sarah Jane is a wonderful name.”
Hannah held the little one close and began to speak, hesitantly at first, but with increasing openness. She told Caleb she had gone too far with Aaron Graber, then realized too late that she didn’t want to be his wife, keep his house, and raise his kids after all. She was so mortified to be pregnant and unmarried that she didn’t say anything, just loosened her clothes and tried to pretend it wasn’t happening.
None of that surprised Caleb. The shock came when she said she’d delivered the baby in the middle of the night and given it to Jonah to bring to the hospital. Caleb sat forward and stared at his nephew. The boy’s actions were epic and heroic—and tragically wrongheaded.
“You never thought to come to me?” he quietly asked.
Jonah stared at the floor. Then, remembering his manners, he looked directly at Caleb. There was a glint of defiance in his eyes, and for a moment, he looked far older than his years. He and Hannah had lost their whole world the night their parents were murdered. They had only each other. It was no wonder they clung together, just the two of them. “I did it for Hannah,” he said.
“I don’t fault you for wanting to help your sister,” Caleb said. �
��But do you understand, this was very dangerous, not just to the baby, but to Hannah as well.”
Jonah offered a somber nod, though the defiance remained. “I kept her safe. I was so careful, and I used the box just like you’re supposed to.”
Caleb steepled his fingers together and took a deep breath. “That you did.”
“Am I gonna get walloped?”
“When have I ever walloped you?”
Jonah turned away. “Just asking.”
A new worry for Caleb. Was Asa . . . ? He pushed that worry aside for the moment and turned to Reese. “Thank you for helping,” he said.
“Of course.” As exhausted as she looked, she offered a smile of encouragement. In that moment, he loved her so much he couldn’t see straight. That he could even feel such a thing at a time like this was extraordinary. And frustrating, because he needed to focus on Hannah and a thousand other matters.
“I’d best get to it, then,” he said, standing up. He leaned down and kissed Hannah on the forehead and spoke in Deitsch. “All will be well. I promise you.”
Reese didn’t know what to wear to an emergency judicial hearing. She opted for dark slacks, a cream-colored sweater, and a plain blazer. Minimal makeup, no jewelry. Deep, calming breath. There was a moment when she reached for her phone to call her parents. I did something. . . . I’m in trouble.
She resisted. Her parents would likely have all kinds of advice. They’d come riding to the rescue, but she needed to deal with this on her own.
The county courthouse was a painted Greek revival building from the nineteenth century, with a cupola and clock and a bell that rang on the hour. It was the sort of building that adorned postcards of yesteryear, especially in the autumn, framed by maple leaves aflame with color. At the moment, a gaggle of reporters and news vans had gathered there.
She flashed on a memory of Jonah’s trauma last year—the rubbernecking media intruding into a family’s pain. The press seemed to have a special fetish for all things Amish. Was it their otherness? The perception of unclouded simplicity—faith, family, and farming? It made Hannah’s fall seem all the more dramatic—an Amish girl doing something so patently un-Amish as abandoning a baby.
With a cold chill of apprehension, Reese kept her distance from the cameras and microphones. She ignored the hurried questions of the reporters. Domenico arrived, armed with a stuffed briefcase and clipboards. “This should go all right,” he said, heading inside. He stopped and checked in with the clerk, then led the way to the circuit court. The judge’s bench was empty, though a court reporter was in place. Somehow, Domenico had managed to get the judge to ban the media from the courtroom.
Caleb and Jonah were seated at a bench in the back. They stood when Reese and Domenico came in. Both were dressed in the sort of outfits worn on church Sundays, black trousers and plain blue shirts, and both looked equally ill at ease. Reese’s stomach churned and her mouth felt dry. The only thing that kept her in balance was the sight of Caleb, looking impassive yet sure of himself. Everything had happened so quickly that she hadn’t had even a moment to speak to him in private. If she had, she would have told him . . . what? That she’d guessed that Hannah was the birth mother and confronted her without telling him? That she’d possibly violated hospital policy and put her credentials at risk? That she’d have done the same thing over again if given the chance?
Domenico shook hands with Caleb. “This will be quick. It’s an emergency hearing, meaning the judge will only hear facts related to the emergency. Everything else—what you’ve decided going forward, what Hannah’s rights and needs are—we’ll deal with all that later.”
“I understand,” Caleb said. Jonah pressed closer to him, as though trying to hide in his shadow, and Caleb said something to the boy in German.
Mose and Ursula arrived. As the attending and resident on call when the baby was discovered, each had made statements and responded to questions. Domenico asked everyone to take a seat behind the bar, then went on the other side to the table. The only others present were the hospital counsel and two administrators.
“All rise,” said the bailiff. “Court is now in session. Judge Orville Rucker presiding. Please be seated.”
The judge swept in through a side door, still fastening the top of his judicial robes. His hair looked damp, and he had what appeared to be a bit of shaving cream on one cheek. “I was getting a haircut,” he said, “but I had to cut it short.”
Reese glanced at Domenico, who shrugged.
“Yes, it was a joke,” said the judge. “Just breaking the ice here.”
“Understood, Your Honor,” said Domenico. “I’m Domenico Falco, here on behalf of the petitioner.” He turned and identified everyone seated behind him. The hospital attorney did the same.
“All righty then,” Rucker said, “let’s make sure I understand why I gave up my regular rendezvous at the man salon. It appears we have an abandoned newborn.”
Domenico shot to his feet. “Your Honor, doesn’t apply in this case. The baby was delivered during an emergency home birth and brought—”
“To the Humboldt Division Regional Care Center in New Hope, yes,” the judge said. “I can see that. Sit down, Mr. Falco. We’ll split hairs another time.” He paused. “And much as I’m tempted by another witticism, I understand the gravity of this situation. The infant has been medically determined to be less than seventy-two hours old. The hospital has accepted physical custody of the child, is that correct, Ms. Wasco?” he asked the hospital attorney.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“And the birth mother is now at the hospital as well? Maternal testing has been done?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Wendy Wasco referred to the detailed statements from everyone who had been present, including Reese. It felt strange to hear her own words being quoted aloud. In the report, she had followed hospital procedure to the letter, evaluating and admitting the baby while the authorities were called.
“The next step will be for the county department to assume temporary custody of her as an abandoned child,” Judge Rucker added.
Domenico was on his feet again. “We respectfully ask you to hold that action in abeyance and remand the case to the district court. Hannah Stoltz, the birth mother, is making a claim of parental rights.”
“And doing so after the fact,” the judge pointed out. “Let’s not forget that.”
“The birth occurred at home in an emergency situation. A home, I should point out, lacking in telephone service. There is absolutely no indication of abuse, neglect, or misconduct.”
“And yet the newborn was left in the safe haven box,” the judge pointed out.
Domenico referred to the statement Hannah had made after Reese had brought her to the hospital. “Hannah delivered the baby alone in an emergency home birth. Since she was in no shape to travel and had no means of transport, her brother took the baby to the safe haven box at the medical center. I would argue she made a responsible decision on behalf of the baby’s well-being.” Domenico spoke directly to the judge, painting a picture of a young, frightened girl in a state of unbearable pain and panic, and a young boy simply following instructions.
There were questions—Why didn’t Hannah alert an adult in the household?
As an unmarried woman in a strict religious community, she was understandably reluctant to publicize her condition.
Why didn’t Jonah make a 911 call from the community phone box?
I can’t speak to Jonah’s state of mind.
The judge set aside the papers. “Jonah, can you explain why you left the baby and didn’t speak with anyone about what you were doing?”
He stood up, and Reese saw the moment Rucker noticed his mechanical arm for the first time. Jonah cleared his throat, tipped up his chin, and looked the man in the eye. “They save people at the hospital,” he said simply. “I know that for a true fact. There’s a special box that opens outside the hospital. Once the baby’s inside and you close it, a silent alarm sounds and th
e box locks. That way, you know the baby’s safe.”
And you claim she will not be terminating her parental rights?
Absolutely not, Your Honor. Hannah is in the patient care unit at the hospital now. She very much wants to bond with her little girl and bring her home.
“The birth mother is a minor,” the judge pointed out. “Her parents are deceased.” He looked at Caleb. “You’re her guardian, then?”
Reese held her breath. Caleb never, ever lied.
“I’ve been looking after Hannah and Jonah ever since my brother and his wife were killed. Hannah has my support, one hundred percent.”
Rucker sighed loudly. “There are elements of this situation that I find troubling. At this time, we have many more questions and issues to be resolved.”
“Per statute,” said Domenico, “Hannah has sixty days to reclaim her child by filing a petition in court.”
“In that case, does the filing mean she’s admitting to relinquishing the newborn? Because if so, then that contradicts your claim that there was an emergency home birth.”
Shit. Reese tensed every muscle in her body. It was a trap with no exit.
“I’m reluctant to proceed until we have more clarity as to the birth mother’s state of mind and intention.”
Reese held her breath. She felt everyone around her doing the same.
A door at the rear of the courtroom creaked, and when it opened, a barrage of camera flashes leaked from the hallway into the courtroom. Reese turned to see Hannah walking up the aisle.
Caleb jumped up and rushed to help her to a seat. Hannah spoke to him quietly and remained standing. Her face was pale, her movements wobbly, but her gaze as she faced the judge was rock steady.
“Your Honor, my name is Hannah Stoltz. May I speak?”
Domenico started to say something, but the judge waved him silent. “Let’s hear from the young lady.”
Hannah’s clothes were rumpled, her bonnet strings loose. She held her hands knotted together in front of her skirt. “I got myself in trouble,” she said, “and I was afraid to say anything, so I kept it a secret. What happened, it’s no one’s fault but my own. And Jonah, he was just trying to help by making sure my baby went to a safe place. My brother knows that a hospital is that place. I truly believed in my heart she would be better off with another family, because in our community, an unwed mother is a cause of great shame.”