Minding the Amish Baby

by Carrie Lighte

  “Shh, shh,” the woman pleaded as the baby’s volume increased. “Mommy only needs a few minutes and then we can go.”

  “Hi there, Aiden,” Tessa addressed the baby, causing the woman to spin to face her. Tessa greeted her. “Hello, Gabby. Is there something I can help you find?”

  “Hi, Tessa! I’m looking for goat’s milk soap—the scentless kind. My husband has allergies so he can’t use anything else, and Schrock’s is the only place that carries it.”

  “It’s on the middle shelf. Here,” Tessa replied, reaching for a bar of the soap, which was closer to the size of a brick. “Is there anything else you’re looking for?”

  Gabby shifted the wriggling baby from one arm to the other as his screeching escalated. “I made a list of essential items I couldn’t forget. I only have use of the car to get to Willow Creek once a month, but I don’t think Aiden’s going to let me finish my shopping today.”

  “Would you like me to hold him while you get what you need? I’m still on my lunch break.”

  The woman looked a little taken aback and Tessa didn’t blame her. It was a forward thing to offer, but she’d grown so accustomed to calming Mercy when the baby was upset that she didn’t think twice about volunteering to hold Gabby’s baby.

  “Or I could take your list and collect your items for you,” Tessa suggested.

  “Actually, would you mind holding him?” Gabby asked imploringly. “I’d be able to think a lot more clearly without him crying in my ear.”

  “Of course,” Tessa agreed. “Take your time and kumme find us when you’re done. We’ll be ambling around in the back.”

  “I’ll just follow the racket,” Gabby replied with a weak smile.

  As Tessa strolled through the end aisle, she tried to soothe Aiden by rocking him every which way, but he was inconsolable. Mercy usually writhed like that when she had gas and Tessa suspected that was what was bothering Aiden, too. She lifted him to her shoulder and patiently tapped his back until he released a tremendous burp.

  “Wow!” Gabby exclaimed as she rounded the corner with a canvas bag full of her purchases. “And I thought his crying was loud!”

  “He feels better now, don’t you, Aiden?” Tessa asked as she turned the infant so they could see his face. He glowered at them as if to ask what they thought was so interesting and then he lowered his eyelids, contented.

  “Thank you so much,” Gabby raved when Tessa passed the baby to her. “As much as I love him, it’s a rare treat to do an errand without toting this fifteen-pound sack of bawling babyhood in my arms.”

  “You’re wilkom,” Tessa said. She certainly understood why Gabby was so frazzled. Tessa would be, too, if she rarely got out of the house without taking an infant along. Yet at the same time, holding Aiden made her feel a strange loneliness for the heft of pudgy little Mercy in her arms. Regardless of her indignation at Turner’s comments the previous evening, Tessa decided after work she’d stop in at his house to see how he and the baby were faring.

  Customers lingered in the shop until after closing time and because he needed the business, Joseph didn’t hurry them away. By the time the doors were locked, the shelves restocked and the floor swept at Schrock’s, the market down Main Street was closed. Tessa’s grocery supply at home was limited to a few boxes of pasta, which she supposed she’d have to eat with butter and salt. So, when Melinda Schrock invited Tessa to join her and her husband, Jesse, and several others at the bowling alley, Tessa was tempted.

  “Please?” Melinda cajoled. “We only have five people so far, which means we can’t pair up for teams.”

  “I don’t know,” Tessa stalled. Usually, Tessa would have been the one who suggested the outing, but tonight she felt torn between joining her peers and getting back to see how Mercy was doing.

  “It won’t be a late night and we’ll give you a lift home,” Melinda persisted.

  Tessa’s stomach growled. The bowling alley, a popular location for the Amish in Willow Creek, made fantastic onion rings. Her mouth watering, she agreed, “Okay, if you’re sure it’s not going to be a late night.”

  But as it turned out, the only other person to join the trio at the lanes was Aaron Chupp, Anna’s husband’s cousin, which meant Tessa had to be his bowling partner. She suspected that Melinda, who once was courted by Aaron herself, was playing matchmaker on his behalf. Melinda could have saved herself the trouble. Tessa found Aaron to be unusually self-centered, a perception that was enhanced when he insisted they play several more frames—and then several more after that—when she expressed she wanted to head home.

  Finally, they returned their bowling shoes and Melinda yawned exaggeratedly. “I’m so sleepy. Aaron, would you take Tessa home so Jesse and I don’t have to go out of our way?”

  “I’d be happy to,” Aaron agreed, to Tessa’s dismay.

  All the way home, he spoke about himself and his work as a carpenter, never once asking her a question or pausing to allow her to interject a comment. Tessa found his monologue to be even less engaging than Melvin Umble’s discourse about his courting buggy, and she couldn’t get inside her house soon enough. It was past twelve thirty, so when she peered through the window in Katie’s room she wasn’t surprised Turner’s house was completely dark. He and Mercy were probably sound asleep, like Tessa should have been by now. As she pulled the shade she grumbled, “Some early night! That’s what I get for falling for Melinda’s tricks—and the onion rings weren’t even that gut.”

  As she was brushing her hair, Tessa decided perhaps she’d drop in on Turner before she left for church the next morning. On Friday he’d indicated he wouldn’t be going to worship services himself, but when she asked him how he’d explain his absence, he said that was his problem to address. She hadn’t brought up the topic again, but maybe by now he’d changed his plans or his mind. It was possible he needed Tessa’s help or input after all. There’s no harm in asking, she thought as she extinguished her lamp and snuggled into bed.

  * * *

  Turner had been leaning against his porch railing when he heard the buggy coming up the lane some time after midnight. Aware that Tessa and Katie’s horse died of old age the previous October, he deduced someone was bringing Tessa home. She’d probably made the most of her Saturday away from him and the baby, staying out as late as she pleased with her friends or possibly with her suitor. He didn’t fault her for that. He’d found out early that day just how challenging caring for a baby could be—especially if the baby wouldn’t stop whining. It took Turner nearly two hours of trying to pacify Mercy before he realized, upon changing her diaper, that she must have had a tummy ache. No sooner had he given her a bath, dressed her and swaddled her in a blanket than she’d soiled her new diaper, too. Dealing with Mercy’s indigestion, the mess and his own frustration with himself at not being better at caring for her, Turner was worn out before the day hardly began.

  Yet it wasn’t Mercy’s intestinal distress that kept him up past midnight; it was his own. His malaise began shortly after lunchtime with what he thought was his usual tension headache. Initially, he dismissed the accompanying upset stomach as a case of nerves because he was so anxious about not being present for the next morning’s worship services.

  Attendance at the twice-monthly church gatherings was of utmost importance in the Amish community, and he’d never missed a service in his adult life. He agonized over his conflicting commitment to guarding Jacqueline’s privacy and to the commandment not to forsake gathering together on the Sabbath. Obviously he couldn’t show up at church with Mercy, nor could he leave her alone at home. He considered consulting his brothers, but then he’d not only violate Jacqueline’s request, but he might put them in an uncomfortable position, too. Wouldn’t they feel torn about keeping the secret from their wives?

  The only person he could have brainstormed candidly with was Tessa, but when she broached the subject on Friday morning,
he told her he’d work out the details himself. He had to admit the young woman had been extremely respectful about his privacy, never once nudging Turner for more information about the baby’s mother or Turner’s relationship with her. Over the past week, he’d begun to trust that she wouldn’t deliberately betray his confidence. But he still figured the less Tessa knew, the less likely she was to accidentally let something slip. Furthermore, their church family was very close-knit and caring, but some of the leit—including his sister-in-law Rhoda—had a habit of asking nosy questions. Turner didn’t want Tessa to be tempted to give a deceptive response to their queries.

  After growing increasingly nauseated throughout the afternoon, Turner realized he wasn’t merely plagued by anxiety: there was a physical cause for his symptoms. After several bouts of retching in the early evening he hoped to experience some relief, but instead his insides cramped tighter, and his torso and head became drenched with sweat. It was all he could do to feed and change Mercy and then put her to bed. He thought the night air might alleviate his nausea, so he wobbled onto the porch where he stayed until Tessa returned. After noticing the lamp go out at the daadi haus, he went back inside.

  He had almost dropped off to sleep when his insides turned over and he had to bolt to the washroom. This pattern kept up for what felt like an unbearable amount of time. Just as his stomach finally settled down around four o’clock in the morning, Mercy woke up. Turner used his last spurt of energy to change and feed her, but when he returned her to the cradle, she let out an earsplitting objection until he gathered her again. Afraid he’d topple forward, he leaned against the wall, using his arms like a hammock to gently sway her back and forth until her eyes eventually closed. But as soon as he set her down, she kicked and caterwauled.

  Turner was too feeble to do anything other than carry her to his bed with him. By the time he’d arranged her safely in his arm, he didn’t have enough stamina to turn down the lamp. It didn’t matter; he could have fallen asleep with his eyes open.

  “Please, Gott, heal me soon and keep Mercy from illness,” he mumbled, and the baby winced as his sour breath passed over her face.

  This time his sleep was disrupted by a dream of Tessa standing on her porch, her long hair billowing behind her like a curtain in a breeze. “But it’s not my fault I’m so grouchy,” Turner was saying to her, in much the same way Jeremy had argued it wasn’t his fault he was an Englischer. “I’ll be a happier person if it means you’ll let me court you. Just once. Please? After that, I’ll never ask you for another favor again, I promise.”

  Turner woke with a jolt. In his delirium, he couldn’t remember whether he’d really asked to court Tessa or if he’d dreamed it. Either way, she probably said no—I’m not lively enough for her. He groaned, and sleep overtook him again.

  * * *

  Having forgotten to set her battery-operated alarm clock, Tessa scrambled to get ready for church. Her intention to visit Turner before she left evaporated as she tied her dark winter bonnet over her good church prayer kapp. Services were being held at Rachel and Benjamin Coblentz’s home, about two miles away. The roads were slick with ice and she’d have to walk quickly to make it in time.

  The Coblentzes, like many other Amish families, used their basement for a gathering room, with the men sitting on one side and the women and small children in another area. Tessa was one of the last women to enter the room, sliding into a space on a bench near Melinda.

  “Usually I’m the last in line,” Melinda whispered. “You must have overslept. Does that mean you and Aaron went somewhere else after the bowling alley last night?”

  Staring straight ahead, Tessa shook her head dismissively.

  “Ah well, if you’re fortunate, pretty soon the two of you will be courting, and you know how quickly courtship leads to marriage. Maybe by next fall you won’t have to live all by yourself any longer,” Melinda propounded.

  Now Tessa was positive Melinda had been playing matchmaker the evening before. Why didn’t anyone believe she was genuinely content with her life as it was? Surveying the rows of benches in front of her, she supposed it was probably because most Amish women wouldn’t voluntarily choose to live alone. Even the widows remarried quickly or else lived in relatives’ homes or in daadi hauses on their relatives’ properties.

  The only other young Willow Creek woman Tessa knew who had ever chosen to live alone was Faith Schwartz, who had lived in an apartment above the bakery she owned. But that was only for a year—at Christmastime, Faith married Hunter, after Katie married Faith’s brother, Mason, in early November. Melinda and Jesse were married during last autumn’s wedding season, too. Tessa couldn’t have been more pleased for her sister and friends, but she had other plans for herself, God willing. Why couldn’t people accept that although she lived alone, she wasn’t necessarily lonely? How could she be, with such a close family and community and relationship with the Lord? She honestly didn’t feel like she was missing out on a thing. Quite the contrary, she thought for the hundredth time. I like my life as it is.

  Asking the Lord to quiet her heart, she set aside her ruminations to join in singing the opening hymns and concentrate on the minister’s preaching. After the three-hour service, which was conducted in German, Tessa bustled upstairs with the other women to begin preparations for serving dinner. The men flipped and stacked the benches, transforming them into tables where the leit could stand as they lunched on cold cuts, cheese, peanut butter sweetened with molasses, bread, pickles, beets and an assortment of light desserts.

  Tessa enjoyed chatting with the other women until it was her turn to eat, when she ravenously devoured generous helpings of everything except the beets. Homemade pretzels were also served that afternoon and she ate two of those, as well. Afterward she helped clear the tables and when Faith carried a tray of leftover cream-filled doughnuts into the kitchen, Tessa snatched one from the platter.

  “These are so gut!” she exclaimed about the delectable treat from Faith’s bakery.

  “Denki,” Faith replied. “I can wrap a few for you to take home if you like.”

  “That would be wunderbaar,” Tessa said, munching away. She didn’t have any sweets, packaged or otherwise, in her cupboards. Faith wrapped two of the pastries in plastic and then left to help sweep the basement floor after the men loaded the benches into the bench wagon.

  Tessa was setting her doughnuts on the side countertop so she wouldn’t forget them when Katie emerged from the pantry. “Please don’t tell me that’s your supper,” Katie chided over her sister’s shoulder as she gave her a hug. Without pausing to hear Tessa’s answer, she continued, “Speaking of supper, how about if we ask Anna and Faith to join us for our Wednesday evening meal? We can discuss our plan for getting together with you-know-who.” Clearly, Katie was referencing David.

  “You-know-who who?” Turner’s sister-in-law Rhoda King inquired from where she suddenly appeared in the doorway.

  Tessa shot Katie a look before replying evasively, “Oh, no one you know.”

  “Aha. I get it. It’s a secret,” Rhoda teased. “You’re good at keeping secrets, aren’t you, Tessa?”

  Tessa’s heart thudded. “What are you talking about?”

  “A little birdie told us about your late-night surprise visitor last week.”

  How did Rhoda know about Mercy? Tessa removed a broom from its hook on the wall. She needed to hold something to keep her hands from shaking.

  “What late-night guest, Tessa?” Katie asked.

  Tessa rolled her eyes and shrugged, as if she had no idea. She wasn’t about to lie, but neither was she going to divulge Turner’s secret. If everyone at church found out about Mercy, it wouldn’t be from her.

  “Jeremy Brown showed up at the daadi haus in the middle of the night!”

  A surge of relief washed over Tessa—Jeremy was the late-night visitor Rhoda meant, not Mercy. Tessa bent to sweep crumbs i
nto the dustpan as Katie exclaimed, “Neh, he didn’t! What did he want?”

  “Oh, you know how friendly Jeremy is,” Tessa said. Most people in Willow Creek, Englischers and Amish both, were familiar with the Browns’ diner on Main Street. The family was well liked and hardworking and Tessa frequently told Katie about her chats with Jeremy. “Sometimes he might be a little too friendly, perhaps, but he’s harmless. On the contrary, he can be very helpful and he’s demonstrated Gott’s love to his neighbors on Main Street on numerous occa—”

  Rhoda interrupted, announcing, “He wanted Tessa to go out with him. Can you imagine? An Englischer showing up in the middle of the night to ask to date a baptized Amish woman?”

  Katie looked concerned but she defended her sister by saying, “You seem to know a lot about the situation, Rhoda. Were you there, too, or was this information conveyed via the phone shanty?”

  Rhoda completely missed Katie’s implication her chitchat wasn’t appreciated. “Neither,” she answered candidly. “Melinda told me after Donna, Jeremy’s sister, told her on Saturday afternoon when Melinda and Jesse ate lunch at the diner. Supposedly, afterward Jeremy was utterly mortified by his lapse in judgment, which might have had something to do with Turner threatening him off the property.”

  The notion that Turner would threaten anyone was absurd. “Turner asked him to leave, that’s all,” Tessa clarified, emptying the dustpan’s contents with a loud tap against the side of the trash barrel.

  “Maybe, but you know how menacing Turner looks. One glance at him and Jeremy probably lost sight of the fact the Amish aren’t combative like Englischers are.”

  Despite her previous annoyance at Turner and her similar perception of his visage, Tessa reacted defensively to Rhoda’s words before she had time to weigh her own. “I don’t think Turner is menacing-looking at all. He has thoughtful eyes and a radiant smile!”