“She didn’t,” Turner stated flatly, his voice hoarse. He was so deflated he feared he might cry in front of everyone.
“It’s possible she’ll show up for one of our Sunday night dinners again. If not, we’ll continue to keep our eyes peeled for her,” Charlotte offered. “We have contacts throughout the state, so if we find out she’s left the area, we can enlist their help, too.”
“Yeah, we’ll definitely do that, but my guess is without her final pay she probably can’t afford a bus ticket,” Skylar reasoned. “So she won’t go far. Not unless she borrows money from someone.”
Turner was willing to clutch at any straw of hope. “That might be true...”
“On the off chance she does borrow cash or had any savings, you might want to stake out the bus depot,” Skylar suggested, pulling out a cell phone. He tapped the keyboard before lifting the phone to his ear. “What time does the bus run to Philadelphia from Highland Springs?” he asked. “Monday, Wednesday and Friday nights at seven thirty-eight? Okay, thanks.”
Turner blew air through his lips. Zander said she was fired on Saturday, so the first bus she could have caught left on Monday evening. They might have missed her by a day.
Tessa immediately offered consolation. “I think Skylar’s right—she probably doesn’t have the means to leave. But just in case, there’s another bus running tomorrow night. We can watch for her on that one.”
Turner massaged his neck. It seemed he was no closer to finding Jacqueline now than he’d been when she first left Louisa’s, and he was exhausted.
“Why don’t we head back to Willow Creek, Turner? We can check the phone shanty for messages on the way,” Tessa coaxed.
“All right,” he agreed. Then he clapped Skylar’s shoulder, shook Charlotte’s hand and said, “Denki for all you’ve done. I’m sorry for taking such a hostile tone.”
“I understand,” Skylar replied, handing him a small card. “It’s my phone number and address. Keep in touch so we can update you on what we find out.”
Charlotte produced a pen and slip of paper so Turner could jot down his address for them, too, but Turner hoped there would be no need to contact each other. He prayed that, when he returned home, he’d discover Jacqueline had used the spare key they’d always kept hidden by the birdfeeder and she was waiting in the parlor for Mercy and him. Barring that, he hoped he’d at least have a message from her at the phone shanty.
But there was no hint at either place to indicate his sister was still in town. And since Tessa insisted on keeping the baby with her another night, Turner’s house, like his heart, felt particularly empty and stark, so he dragged himself upstairs and collapsed into bed.
Chapter Eight
For all the emotional toil Turner was suffering, Tessa was glad Mercy was none the wiser. The baby could almost manage to roll over from her back to her tummy—no small feat, considering her plumpness. She drew her knees to her belly and then kicked her legs straight, using the momentum to twist her lower body to the side, but her head and shoulders didn’t follow, so eventually she’d fall to her starting position again. Tessa giggled as she watched her try repeatedly until Mercy finally became so frustrated she let out a holler, as if to accuse Tessa of not helping her.
“It’s just as well you don’t roll over for the first time yet,” Tessa said, scooping her up. “Your mamm will want to be around to witness it when you do.”
Mercy was drooling and pulling her ear again, sure signs her gums were bothering her. Since Tessa was accompanying Turner to the bus depot that evening, perhaps on the way they could stop to purchase a teething ring. “Meanwhile, I’ll do my best to make you comfortable,” she cooed to the baby.
Figuring her time caring for the baby was nearly over, Tessa wanted to make the most of every moment, and she nuzzled her cheek against Mercy’s soft hair. Even after Mercy fell asleep, Tessa held her, memorizing the strawberry pucker of her mouth and the fleshy roundness of her cheeks, until her arms were nearly numb and she had to lay the baby in her makeshift crib.
It’s not as if I’ll never see her again. Tessa tried to assuage her loneliness so she wouldn’t start weeping again. If Jacqueline is as overwhelmed as Skylar and Charlotte indicated, she’ll probably be glad to have me care for Mercy from time to time.
She padded into the kitchen where she opened the icebox and considered preparing stew for supper. She and Turner could bring it with them in thermal mugs and eat it while they waited at the bus station. Or was that a bad idea? Did it seem like she was making a picnic of an occasion that felt more like...well, not like a funeral exactly, but like a hospital visit? Given Turner’s state of mind the previous night, Tessa wondered if he’d even be able to eat. His disappointment had been almost tangible as they’d traveled from Highland Springs to Willow Creek. She’d taken no offense when he’d hardly spoken, because she could barely form a sentence, either.
Like Turner, she’d been positive they’d catch Jacqueline at the convenience store. If Tessa felt so woefully letdown when they didn’t, how must Turner have felt? No wonder he seemed pessimistic about going to the bus depot tonight—after so many stymied attempts to locate his sister, he probably had to keep his expectations in check. Admittedly, it seemed unlikely to Tessa they’d see Jacqueline there, either, but she wanted to be encouraging so she urged Turner to give it a try.
Deciding against making stew after all, Tessa peeked in on Mercy and then donned her cloak to dart down the lane to the mailbox. Valentine’s Day was the following Monday and she had several cards ready to mail to her cousins in Indiana. She chortled when she removed the pile of mail that had accumulated in the box; it was a good thing her mother couldn’t see how negligent she’d been in collecting it. After depositing her cards and raising the red metal flag on the side of the box, she strolled toward the house, flipping through the letters to separate hers from Turner’s, since he apparently had forgotten about the mail for several days, too. Not surprisingly, most of them were hers, including one from her mother postmarked the day before.
Once inside the daadi haus, she put a kettle on for tea and then sat down in a square of sunlight to read her mother’s letter, hoping the envelope didn’t contain its usual number of recipes for her to try.
Dear Tessa,
My hand is shaking as I write this letter. This morning I crossed paths with Melinda Schrock in the mercantile.
Tessa’s own hand began to tremble; she had a feeling about what was coming next.
You can imagine my shock when she expressed concern about our “family matter” that kept you from covering a shift at the shop!
While I’m sure you’ll come up with an excuse for not telling your father and me you were temporarily relieved from your duties at Schrock’s, I can think of no justifiable reason why you’d lie to Melinda in order to avoid returning to work when the opportunity presented itself.
Not only is deception harmful to your relationship with God, but it undermines other people’s trust in you, as well. You’ve long insisted you’re mature enough to live on your own, but your recent behavior indicates otherwise. Your father and I have discussed the matter and we believe you’ll behave more responsibly if you live with us, where we and our community can support you by holding you more accountable for your words and actions.
As a courtesy to Joseph, you may work for the next two Saturdays. By then he should be able to find someone else to fill your part-time role. We will pick you up after your shift ends on Saturday, February 19, but of course we hope for an apology before then.
Your loving (but disappointed) Mother
Tessa wanted to scream, but instead she ripped her mother’s letter in half and then ripped it in half again and again and again. How’s that for immature behavior? she railed to herself. She rose to her feet and turned the gas burner off; she was too upset to drink tea. She was too upset to do anything, except pace from the kitche
n to the parlor and back again, stewing.
She should have known this was coming; after all, she had taken her chances when she turned down Melinda’s shift. At the time, losing her job was a sacrifice she’d been willing to endure for Turner and Mercy. But deep down she’d doubted Joseph would feel so ruffled Tessa turned down a shift that he’d fire her. In the event she miscalculated and he did let her go, Tessa had counted on her ability to finagle another arrangement that would convince her parents she still needed to stay in Willow Creek—even if that meant being courted by Jonah. Or David. She’d never imagined the scenario she was facing now. Knowing things would turn out this way, Tessa still would have made the same decision again if it meant helping Turner find Jacqueline, but she was stunned by the reality of what the decision had cost her.
It suddenly occurred to her Melinda had gone to Highland Springs on Monday even though Tessa had refused to take her shift, which meant Joseph had been left shorthanded at the shop. Tessa had automatically assumed Melinda would have forgone her trip rather than to put her employer—and her relative—in that position. Then another thought struck Tessa: What if Melinda had never actually told Joseph that Tessa had turned down the opportunity to work? What if she’d simply allowed him to think Tessa would be there? If so, when Tessa failed to show up at the shop it would have looked like Tessa was the one who didn’t honor her commitment. Under those circumstances, Tessa wouldn’t have been surprised if Joseph fired her before she had the opportunity to tell him she was moving back to Shady Valley.
Sitting back down at the table, she buried her head in her arms. What does it matter if I leave Willow Creek? There’s nothing for me here anyway, she lamented. Not only was she going to lose her job, but she was about to lose Mercy, too. As for Turner, well, she never had him to lose in the first place.
I might as well resign myself to becoming Tessa Umble and making pot roasts for Melvin while he tinkers away on his buggy, she thought. But then she decided if returning to Shady Valley was the price she had to pay for helping Turner find his sister, she was going to make their efforts worth her while. She blotted her eyes with her apron, stood up and resolved to do whatever it took to reunite Mercy with her mother. And if Tessa had anything to say about it, she was also going to enjoy Turner’s company while she still could.
* * *
“How was your visit with Rhoda’s family?” Mark asked Patrick during their dinner break on Wednesday.
“It was enjoyable, but my stomach aches.”
“You think you caught the bug?” Mark questioned.
“Neh, my stomach aches because every time I turned around, Rhoda’s mamm was sliding another plate of food under my nose. I ate so much I’m surprised I could finish my sandwich just now.”
Mark chuckled. “I face the same problem—Ruby’s mamm always tempts me with food, too, which wouldn’t be so bad, but Ruby is just like her. If this keeps up, I’ll gain another ten pounds before summer.” Mark patted his bloated stomach for emphasis.
“Some problem,” Turner muttered. His brothers didn’t know how blessed they were.
“What was that?” asked Mark.
“I don’t think being well fed is something to complain about,” Turner retorted. “You’re fortunate your wives and their mamms are so attentive. Not everyone has someone in their lives to help provide for their physical needs as well as to encourage them emotionally and spiritually.”
“I wasn’t really complaining,” Patrick protested. “I meant it more as a joke.”
“Jah, well, it wasn’t funny. Kumme on. Let’s get back to work.”
Turner noticed his brothers exchanging baffled looks before he walked away. He knew he was being irascible, as well as unfair. Mark and Patrick would have willingly shared the burden of Jacqueline’s situation with him if Turner had told them about it. And he was just as blessed as they were—he had Tessa’s help and support. But try as he did, he could neither release his anger about his circumstances nor summon any enthusiasm about going to the bus depot that evening. So, his own willpower failing him, he prayed, Lord, please help me change my attitude. And please give me hope to keep searching for Jacqueline, just as You keep pursuing us when we turn astray. Lead her home, Lord.
God must have answered his prayer tenfold, because by the time he arrived on Tessa’s doorstep, he was humming with eagerness for their trip to the bus depot to begin.
“Hello, Turner. I didn’t expect you quite this early. If you’ll take Mercy to the buggy, I’ll get my cloak and we can be on our way.” Tessa’s eyelids were puffy and her nose was pink, but she smiled at him before turning away.
When the trio was snugly situated in the buggy, Turner angled toward Tessa. If she felt ill or was upset, he wanted to give her the option of staying behind. “Are you okay?”
“Jah,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“You seem a little tired,” he replied. “Or as if you’ve been crying.”
Tessa shook her head, not looking at him. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re fine now, but you were upset earlier today, weren’t you?” Turner asked. In the near dark he could see Tessa’s profile but he couldn’t read her expression. “Don’t you want to tell me what was troubling you?”
“Jah, but not now. It’s a long story.”
“Please?” Turner countered.
Tessa covered her face with her hands and cried. “I’m sorry. I told myself I’d keep my composure.”
Knowing there was plenty of time to get to the bus depot before boarding began, Turner set the reins on his lap. Then he did something that surprised himself: he pulled Tessa’s hands away from her eyes and gently turned her head so she was facing him. “No matter what it is, you can trust me,” he whispered, “the way I’ve trusted you.”
Tessa tucked her chin toward her chest and shook her head, sobbing harder. “Not yet,” she uttered. “We have to find your sister.”
No. For once Turner was determined to put Tessa’s needs above his own need to find his sister. “Then you’d better tell me soon, because we’re not leaving until you do,” he said tenderly.
In tearful snippets, Tessa described her interaction with Melinda and the letter she’d received from her mother that afternoon demanding Tessa return to Shady Valley the following Saturday. When she was finished, she sat straight up again and sniffed, saying, “I’m sorry. You really didn’t need to hear my problems when you’ve got enough burdens of your own.”
“My burdens have caused your problems,” Turner replied remorsefully, stroking his jaw. “If you weren’t helping me, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
“That’s not true!” Tessa declared. “If it weren’t for you and Mercy, I would have had to leave Willow Creek weeks ago, because I wouldn’t have been able to make my rent payment and buy groceries. A person can only survive for so long on pasta, you know.”
Turner chuckled in spite of how guilty he felt. He’d seen enough evidence of Tessa’s determination to know she would have found another way to meet her financial responsibilities if she’d had to. He was far more indebted to her than she was to him, and he was determined to help her stay in Willow Creek. Not just because he felt he owed her that much, nor because he might still need her to care for Mercy, but because he couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving. “There’s got to be a way we can convince your eldre to change their minds.”
“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” Tessa said, although her voice lacked conviction. “For now we’d better get on the road if we want to get to the depot on time.”
“All right.” Turner wished there was something else he could say to buoy Tessa’s mood the way she always encouraged him. But words failed him so instead he passed his handkerchief to her, picked up the reins and signaled his horse to walk on.
* * *
Inwardly, Tessa doubted there was anything she could do
to stay in Willow Creek now that her mamm’s mind was made up. To be fair, Tessa acknowledged she hadn’t been forthcoming about her situation to her parents, even if she’d withheld information for good reason. But right now she couldn’t dwell on her own situation, lest she start blubbering again. As commiserating as Turner was, she didn’t want to break down in front of him twice in one night. She was determined to be a help, not a hindrance, especially since she feared their trip to the depot wouldn’t result in a reunion with Jacqueline, and Turner would need as much succor as she could offer.
“Ah-ah-ah,” Mercy sang from her basket, snapping Tessa out of her thoughts.
“Someone’s happy to be traveling,” Tessa said. “Mercy loves being on the move. Have you noticed she’s almost able to roll over now?”
“Neh, I haven’t seen her try that yet. But I have noticed she’s almost too big for some of her clothes.”
“You’re right,” Tessa agreed. “Ach! I forgot—I meant to ask if we could stop on the way to the depot to get her a teething ring. I think her gums may be a little worse.”
“Maybe on the way back,” Turner suggested. “I don’t think we’ll have enough time now.”
It felt so natural talking about mundane errands with Turner that Tessa quickly forgot her embarrassment about crying in front of him. The closer they got to the bus depot, however, the quieter Turner became. The depot was nothing more than a square building containing a ticket booth, two bathrooms and a row of plastic seats bolted to the floor on the periphery of the room. Passengers could enter and exit the depot from a door on one end and make their way to and from the buses through the door on the other end.
“Why don’t you and Mercy wait in here where it’s warm and I’ll go talk to the bus driver,” Turner said. “I should be right back, but kumme find me if you spot any young women with long, dark hair. It might be gut to stay off to the side. I’m afraid if Jacqueline catches a glimpse of the baby, she’ll know I’m here and she’ll turn around and leave before I have a chance to speak to her.”
Minding the Amish Baby Page 13
