“...that you’re thinking of Eliza,” finished Thomas.
Levy felt his face flush. “It’s true,” he admitted.
“Is that a good enough reason to work against the best interests of the baby?”
Levy scowled. “I’m not working against her best interests. Jane’s doing a fine job with her.”
“But what are Jane’s plans?” persisted Thomas. “You hired her right off the train, and she started working because she knew you were desperate. But she’s under no obligation to stay. She can do whatever she wants.”
Paul chimed in. “Remember, she’s young and single, and there’s no reason she shouldn’t enjoy herself by socializing with other youngies.” His expression altered. “Why do you object to her going to youngie events so much?”
“I don’t.”
Thomas chuckled. “Don’t you know lying is a sin, Levy? Why does it bother you when she has some fun, especially since they’re all chaperoned events?”
Levy remained silent, since he had no real answer for Thomas’s question. He took another sip of his coffee.
Eager to change the subject, Thomas asked, “How goes the farmer’s market sales?”
Levy was grateful for the conversation shift, and a few minutes later, they all parted ways.
He left his horse hitched out of the weather in the open-sided shed provided by the café and ducked into a small grocery store to buy formula for Mercy. He considered it bad luck when he bumped into Bishop Kemp.
“Ah, Levy!” exclaimed the venerable man. “I was going to call on you, but now I see you here.”
“Bishop.” Levy shook hands. “Quite the weather outside, ain’t so?”
“Ja. I wanted to ask how it is with your sister’s baby?”
“Uh, fine. Jane Troyer is doing an excellent job caring for her.”
“Gut, gut. But Levy, you know that can only be a temporary solution.” Bishop Kemp stroked his beard. “The boppli needs stability. Have you thought about getting married?”
“Married?” Levy’s voice went high-pitched.
“Ja, of course. Married. That way the baby can have both a mother and a father.”
“That’s not a gut reason to get married.” He scowled.
“Then you need to seriously think about giving Mercy to a family who can raise her.” The bishop’s voice was gentle and persuasive.
“That’s not acceptable either.” Levy scowled harder.
“Levy, are you listening to yourself? You’re not being logical. You can’t take care of her on your own—not if you have to work on the farm all day—so as I see it, you have three choices. You can get married, you can put her up for adoption or you can hire a succession of nannies.”
Levy was silent, glowering.
The bishop continued. “Let me ask you this—why are you determined to keep Mercy? What’s wrong with putting her up for adoption with another family?”
“She’s all I have of Eliza.”
“Ja, that’s what you have said. So let me ask you a very, very hard question. Will you do a better job raising Mercy than you did raising Eliza?”
He stared, wide-eyed. “I don’t know,” he groaned.
Bishop Kemp laid a hand on Levy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to bring up such difficult things, my sohn, but you have to be practical. If you let her be adopted, nothing says you have to stay entirely out of her life. You can be as involved as you want. But the best thing you can give that boppli is stability...and you don’t have that right now.”
Levy’s mouth pinched. “I know you’re right, but it causes me physical pain to think about giving her away.”
“Well, nothing must be decided right now. If Jane Troyer is doing as gut a job as you say, then you have time to think things through. But Levy, don’t wait too long to decide. The longer you wait, the harder it will be on Mercy.”
“Ja, I know.” Levy squared his shoulders. “I’ll give it some thought, Bishop Kemp. And meanwhile, I’ll continue to pray for Eliza.”
Levy purchased the formula, then returned to his buggy. He unhitched Maggie and drove home through the rain.
“You’re not being logical.” Bishop Kemp’s voice echoed in his ears as Levy reached home. He guided the horse into the barn and unhitched her, then spent more time than necessary grooming and feeding the mare. He oiled the harness and hung it on its hook. He even wiped down the buggy. Anything to avoid going into the house.
But when he could find no other excuse to putter around the barn, he placed his straw hat firmly on his head and walked into the house.
Jane was in the kitchen, which smelled of fresh-baked cookies. A huge platter of them rested on the table. She sat reading a book, a mug of steaming tea at her elbow.
“So this is what you do all day,” he teased.
She raised her head. “Ja. That’s after I made lunch, swept and dusted, did a load of laundry and hung it in the basement, and made cookies. Have one, they’re oatmeal-raisin.”
“Danke.” He picked one up and leaned against the counter while he ate it. “Is Mercy napping?”
“Ja.” She paused. “Levy, what’s bothering you?”
“What makes you think something’s bothering me?”
“You’re jumpy as a cat today, and so critical. Have I done something wrong?”
The woman was too insightful. Not for anything would Levy confess his true concerns. “Nein.” He knew his voice sounded curt. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I, uh...have some things to do in the barn.”
He fled the house.
* * *
Jane was far more upset by Levy’s dark mood than she expected. Tears welled in her eyes, and she wiped them away.
Through the kitchen window she saw Levy pause in the doorway of the barn, just out of the relentless rain. Whatever “things” he had to do in the barn didn’t seem urgent, as he simply stood there looking into the dark interior.
A grumble of thunder came from a distance, and still he stood motionless in the doorway. Jane admitted to herself why Levy’s brusqueness hurt so much. She had begun to pin romantic hopes on the man where none existed.
“Jane, you schtupid fool,” she whispered. “Wasn’t Isaac enough? Do you need to get kicked in the shins by Levy too?”
It became very clear to Jane that she wanted Levy to see her as a woman, an interesting woman, an attractive woman...not a “useful” woman. But now, it seemed, even her usefulness was limited. What is it you do all day?
Through the window she saw him turn and head back to the house. She composed herself just before he opened the kitchen door and strode back in.
He filled the kettle and set it on the stove to heat, pulled out a mug and a tea bag, then sat down across the table from her. “Can we talk?”
“Ja.” She suppressed the shuddering breath that preceded a crying jag. “I want to know what I’ve done wrong.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong, Jane. I’m just worried about Mercy’s future.” He rubbed his chin. “I bumped into the bishop in town. He asked me why I didn’t give Mercy to a family who could raise her. It’s a lot harder than I thought to be her guardian, and now I’m questioning my decision. The bishop still wants me to reconsider.”
“But you’re stubbornly refusing to do what’s right for Mercy.”
“Yes, I am.” His face grew stern. “I love my sister. I love her more than anything. A little frightened part of me is worried that if I give Mercy away, I’m giving away all hope of seeing Eliza again. I keep wondering where I went wrong with her, what I could have done differently.”
“Levy.” Jane stood up as the kettle started to sing. She poured water over his tea bag. “Will you tell me what happened with you and Eliza? How you came to take care of her? Explain to me why you’re so determined to keep a newborn baby.”
“How much have you hea
rd from others?”
“Not much. Just some gossip. Everyone thinks highly of you, and even if they disagree with why you’re keeping Mercy, they understand it.”
Levy looked surprised. “That’s gut, I suppose.”
Jane sipped her tea. “All I know is you’d taken care of your sister since your parents died. She left, never came back and you only heard from her when she sent the baby into your care.”
“That’s the gist of it.” Levy dipped his tea bag in and out of the cup, staring at the darkening water. “My parents died when a car hit their buggy. That was ten years ago. Eliza was twelve years old at the time, and I was eighteen. My parents only had two children. When they died, it was just Eliza and me.”
“How did Eliza take your parents’ deaths?”
“Very hard, as you can imagine. We both did, but she was at a more impressionable age. I stepped into a fatherly role for Eliza.” He closed his eyes. “I guess I wasn’t very good at it.”
Filled with compassion, Jane touched his hand briefly. He opened his eyes and looked at the spot she’d touched.
“Up until about the age of fifteen, she was fine. I’d already been baptized, and I thought she was on the same path. A nice young man named Josiah was interested in her. But then she hit a rebellious phase, running around with other youngies, neglecting her chores, acting disrespectfully. I just didn’t know what to do, how to cope.” His voice trembled.
“My friend Sarah said she left on her Rumspringa.”
“Ja, that’s right. She was taking classes to be baptized, but one day while in town she met an Englischer, and next thing I knew she was gone. I can only presume Mercy is the result of that relationship. It...it kills me to think of Eliza, alone and pregnant...and all because I didn’t know how to handle a teenage girl.”
Jane tried to be sympathetic. “With Gott, all things are possible. Eliza may come around...”
Levy laughed bitterly. “And be accepted by the community? I don’t think so.”
“Don’t be so sure. If she was never baptized, she can still return and be forgiven for her sins. I think you might be too hard on her.”
“Wouldn’t you be?” He fixed her with an angry glare. “If you were in my shoes, could you speak so easily of forgiveness?”
“Maybe not.” Jane sighed and took a sip of her tea. “I would be devastated if either of my two younger sisters followed the same course Eliza did. But you can’t see into the future, Levy, nor can you change the past. If I were in a position to counsel you, I would tell you to forgive yourself for what happened in the past, and pray for what might happen in the future.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why should Gott listen to me?” he muttered.
She was surprised to hear him say such a thing. “Gott always listens!”
“Then where is my sister?”
“Gott knows, and He’s got His hand on her. Don’t lose your faith, Levy—it’s the most important thing you have.”
“I’m trying not to.” He stared at his mug. “But it’s hard. I worry she’s alone in some big city.”
“The one thing to remember is Eliza is not a child any longer. She’s a grown woman, and she’s making her own way in life. It may not be a way you approve of, but it’s her life.”
“But not her child?”
“Maybe not.”
Levy sighed. After a long pause, he asked, “Jane, that’s another thing I wanted to ask—how long do you think you’ll be able to work as Mercy’s nanny? I need to think about Mercy’s future, and that means finding out how long you anticipate staying.”
“I don’t know.” She toyed with her spoon. “Originally I wasn’t going to stay more than a few months. I like this community, I like the people I’ve met, I like my work, I love my tante and onkel...but I was born and raised in Ohio and want to keep the option of going home. But already I can see this will be a problem—not just because of my future, but because of Mercy’s.”
“So can you give me a deadline for when I should look for a replacement? Are you thinking two months? Three months? Four months?”
“It’s too hard to predict. But one thing is certain. Without a mother in the picture, someone permanent, it’s going to be hard having a series of nannies go in and out of her life.”
“I know...”
Just then the infant started crying from the bedroom. Jane rose to her feet. “As I told you before, however long I’m here, I’ll continue to care for Mercy as if she were my own.” She bit her lip. “In fact, it will be hard to give her up when the time comes.”
Chapter Eight
Jane changed the baby’s diaper, then settled into the rocking chair to give her a bottle. She watched the baby as she drank. Her tiny hands looked like stars.
She’d told Levy the truth. It would be very hard to give Mercy up when the time came. She realized she was falling in love with this precious and sweet boppli.
“I think when your belly is full, I’m going to give you a bath,” she crooned. The infant’s large blue eyes gazed upward as she sucked on the bottle.
When the formula was gone, Jane placed a clean diaper over her shoulder and placed the baby over it, patting the tiny back until she emitted a satisfactory braaap.
When she returned to the kitchen, Levy was gone. Jane warmed some water and padded a washbasin with a towel. She filled the washbasin with hot and cold water until she was satisfied with the temperature.
“C’mon, little one, let’s get you washed.” Jane gathered clean clothes, a washcloth, a cup for rinsing and other accessories.
Mercy enjoyed the bath. She smiled and cooed as Jane soaped her little body, then rinsed her off, protecting her eyes with the washcloth. As she worked, Jane felt the warmth of love steal over her for this tiny boppli. No matter what her future held, it would be hard to stop caring for Mercy.
She dressed the baby, then placed her in her bouncy seat on the kitchen table. She started to cook dinner when she heard a knock at the door.
Picking up the baby, she went to answer. Her friend Rhoda stood on the porch, panting, a dripping umbrella at her side. “We’re having another singing in the Millers’ barn since it’s too wet to work outside,” she gasped, grinning. “I ran all the way over here to ask if you can come. It starts in an hour, and if you can come, bring something to eat since we’ll all have dinner there.”
“Ja, I think so. I’ll have to make dinner for Levy, but that sounds like fun.”
“Gut! See you there.”
When Jane closed the door and returned to the kitchen, Levy was there, rain dripping off his hat brim. He looked at her unsmiling. Then he turned to wash his hands at the sink.
“I’ll make double the amount of dinner and bring half with me to the singing tonight,” said Jane.
“That’s fine.” He wiped his hands on the dish towel.
“I can bring Mercy with me, if you like.”
“Great.”
A wave of pity came over her. “Levy, I know you’re upset by what the bishop said. But try not to worry about Mercy’s future. Gott will provide.”
“Ja.” He looked down at the dish towel in his hands. “I know. I’ve been praying for clarity, for guidance. I just don’t see the right path yet.”
“You will, I’m sure. And for the moment, Mercy’s in gut hands.” Jane patted the boppli on the back.
Levy looked at her, and she saw gratitude in his eyes. “Whatever happens in the future, I thank Gott I saw you that day at the train station.”
Jane held his eyes a heartbeat longer than required before she dropped her own gaze. “Ja. Well, I guess I’ll start dinner.”
Levy disappeared into his office. The rain pattered on the roof, and Jane opened the kitchen window a bit to let the moist warm air into the house. She tried not to think of that vulnerable raw emotion she saw in his eyes. She
tried not to dwell on how her own heart responded.
She set the table for Levy, packed the extra food into an insulated carrier and tucked it inside Mercy’s diaper bag. Then she slipped the boppli into the sling, and put on her cloak to protect both of them from the rain. She stopped at the doorway to Levy’s office, where a lamp lit the inside against the gloomy afternoon, illuminating an account ledger.
“I’ll be leaving now. I’ve left dinner for you on the table.”
“Danke. Have fun.” He gave her an abstracted smile, then continued scratching in the ledger with a pen.
She picked up her umbrella and the diaper bag, and set out for the Millers’ farm.
It pained her to see Levy hurting. And she wondered what else she could do to help this man, whom she was growing to care for.
* * *
She saw many young men and women walking toward the Millers’, with umbrellas bobbing from different directions. The large barn doors were wide open in welcome. Jane stepped inside, shook the rain off her umbrella and stacked it near the doorway with dozens of others.
The Millers had set up boards across sawhorses along the outside walls of the main part of the barn. Jane joined the groups of chattering, laughing young people placing food along the boards. For such a spontaneously arranged function, a lot of people had come. The rain pounded on the roof overhead, but inside the barn the energy was high.
“What’s wrong?”
Jane turned and saw Rhoda. “What do you mean, what’s wrong?”
“You were standing there like you’re angry.”
“Oh, nothing. Just some moodiness from Levy, that’s all.” Jane gave Mercy a little bob in the sling, but the baby was cozy and alert.
“Is he still giving you grief about attending youngie events?”
“Not so much. But he’s...” Jane trailed off. Gossiping was a sin, and she’d nearly gossiped about Levy’s private struggle. “Well, he just has a lot on his mind,” she went on.
Some others clustered around Jane, cooing at the baby, so she took Mercy from the sling and allowed her to be passed from arm to arm. Free of the infant, Jane found herself surrounded by several young men, who engaged her in conversation.
Amish Baby Lessons Page 9