The Amish Midwife (The Amish Bachelors 2; Lancaster Courtships 3)

by Patricia Davids

  “That would be perfect. Finish the milking, Joseph, and I’ll bring Leah to your house when I’m done here. Have you been inside the house since noon?”

  The wary expression returned to his eyes. “Nay, I’ve not.”

  “The church ladies left some infant items for you to use. Just until Fannie returns. They’ll be back to pick them up when you don’t need them anymore. It’s a loan, Joseph.”

  “I still wish you hadn’t said anything.”

  She gave him an apologetic look. “I shouldn’t have spoken without your permission. I’m sorry I upset you, but it was for Leah’s sake.”

  His scowl remained, but he didn’t comment. Could he forgive her interference? Anne gazed at the baby in her arms. “She deserves a better bed than my laundry basket, and now she has one.”

  “Until Fannie returns.”

  “Until her mudder returns,” Anne agreed. She saw a car slowing down as it approached and knew she was about to have another customer.

  Joseph pulled a bottle from his coat pocket and held it out. “I thought she might get hungry again before my chores were done.”

  “Danki.” Anne’s fingers brushed across his as she took the bottle.

  * * *

  Her soft touch sent a wave of warmth flooding through Joseph. As much as he wanted to stay angry with her, he couldn’t. He knew she had Leah’s best interests at heart. She didn’t believe he could care for the baby alone and maybe she was right. Wasn’t that what he feared? He’d certainly done a miserable job so far.

  Maybe if she had been around when Fannie was small, things would have turned out differently for his sister. Fannie had needed someone like Anne. Someone to be a mother to her. Maybe he should have married for her sake.

  He pushed the thought aside. He couldn’t change the past.

  When a car pulled to a stop beside them, he left Anne to speak with her customer and went to milk his goats for the second time that day. He’d spent very little time with his animals in the past few days and they gathered around him now when he entered the pen. Matilda rushed to his side and butted him gently in greeting. He paused to scratch behind her ear and murmur a few kind words. More of the young does came seeking attention, too.

  He knew each one of them by name, who their dames were and who their grandmothers had been, and how much milk they produced each day. The goats had kept Fannie and him fed during the lean times after their parents and Beth were killed. Then the goats became his life after Fannie left. He’d lavished his affection on them because there’d been no one else to receive it. Until now. Now he had Leah. The thought made him as frightened as he had been when he realized he would have to raise Fannie. More so. A babe Leah’s age required almost constant attention.

  Matilda butted him again when he stopped petting her. He gave her a wry smile. “You are right to be jealous, but don’t worry. Leah will soon be big enough to visit you and bring you apples and cereal when I’m not looking.”

  Just as Fannie had done. Did she miss them at all?

  He couldn’t imagine his life without the goats’ playful, happy personalities greeting him each day. Their affection never wavered. They might wander away, but they always came home.

  In a nearby pen, the young rams started showing off, jumping on the large boulders he’d piled together for them to climb on and play around. He would sell them in the spring. Their mothers were among his best milk producers and that bloodline would command a good price from other goat dairymen looking to expand their herds. Joseph hated to sell any of his goats for meat, but sometimes he had to do so.

  He spent an extra thirty minutes with his animals, checking for any injuries or illness he might have overlooked in the past hectic week. They were all healthy. Only Chester was sulking because he was still penned in the barn. He refused to greet Joseph until fresh hay appeared over the stall door. Where food was concerned, Chester had a forgiving nature and he sprang to his feet and rushed to be fed. Joseph scratched the old fellow behind his ears, too.

  When he couldn’t put it off any longer, Joseph walked up to the house. Anne was there ahead of him. She was holding Leah on her hip as she stirred something on the stove with her free hand.

  “I had some leftover vegetable soup that I thought you might like for supper.”

  “You don’t have to feed me. That wasn’t part of our bargain.”

  “I know, but I hated to throw it out. Normally, I’d take it into the Beachy Craft Shop and store it in my freezer there, but I didn’t feel like making a trip into town this late in the evening.”

  As excuses went, it was a little lame, but the delicious smell was enticing enough to keep him from complaining further. “I have electricity in my barn. If you ever want to move your freezer closer, you could put it out there.”

  “With the goats?” She wrinkled her nose.

  “I have an office in there. The goats don’t go in that part of the barn.”

  “I thank you for the offer. I’ll consider it.”

  He noticed the basket on the counter beside her. “Is this what the church donated?”

  “Some of it.” She kept her eyes averted.

  Her friendly smile was missing and he hated that. Shame kept him from apologizing, as he knew he should. Being the object of charity stung. It was vain pride and he knew it. He opened the lid of the basket. “I reckon I’d better see what they provided to this poor, needy man.”

  Pulling out the bottles, he counted them. Twelve. It would be easy to make enough formula to fill them and have them handy in the refrigerator. A second large box sitting beside the counter was full of disposable diapers and several packages of cloth ones, as well as baby wipes. A true blessing. He opened a third box and held up a package with the picture of a grinning baby on it. “What is this?”

  “Rice cereal. She’s too young for it yet. Most mudders start cereal when the babe is six or eight months old.”

  “And the baby food in jars?”

  “Also when she is about six to eight months old. It varies. Always start with a single food in case she has a reaction to it.”

  “Do you think she’ll have trouble with these since she can’t tolerate cow’s milk?”

  “There isn’t any way to know. She might outgrow her problem or she might not. There are some more items in your living room.” Her tone was clipped, professional, as if she were talking to a stranger. She wasn’t smiling. He missed her smile.

  He entered the living room and saw a beautifully crafted sleigh-style baby crib against the wall by his sofa. A dresser of the same rich oak finish sat beside it. They had both been polished to a high sheen. A bumper pad and sheets in pale yellow completed the set. Over the end of the bed hung a small puffy crazy quilt with blocks and triangles in primary colors. He ran his fingers lightly over the padded fabric and marveled at the tiny neat stitches.

  “There are some extra sheets and clothes for her in the dresser drawers,” Anne said from behind him.

  He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “This is more than I expected. It was a nice thing for folks to do. I’ll take good care of it all.”

  “I know you will, Joseph,” she said quietly.

  He was afraid to meet her gaze. Afraid he wouldn’t see her smile. He wanted to apologize for his harsh words earlier that afternoon, but something kept him silent. Anne didn’t understand. Leah was his responsibility, not hers, not the church’s, his.

  Anne slipped past him and laid Leah in the crib. They stood side by side watching the baby drift off to sleep. When Leah was settled, Anne said, “Good night, Joseph.”

  She left the house before he could think of some way to stop her.

  He ate his supper alone, already missing Anne’s presence. There was something special in the air when she was near. The autumn evening was cooler without the warmth sh
e radiated.

  Later that night, as he stood at his bedroom window and watched the lights go out in her home, he wondered what she thought of him. Was she angry? She had the right to be. He’d accused her of spreading gossip behind his back. If only he could call back those words.

  He didn’t want his relationship with her to return to the way it had been. Distant. Cool.

  He didn’t have many friends. He didn’t want to lose Anne’s friendship. How could he earn it back?

  Chapter Ten

  The following morning, Joseph found it was easier to care for Leah when he could safely leave her in the crib while he prepared his breakfast and got her morning bottle ready. She was delighted with the new toy he’d found for her, hard plastic keys that clacked when she shook them. They kept her occupied and quiet for the twenty minutes he needed.

  After feeding her, he put her in the stroller on his front porch and pushed her to Anne’s house. Dawn was just breaking. The eastern sky was streaked with bands of high pink clouds. The forecasted rain was holding off, but it was already cooler than the day before. Anne wasn’t in the kitchen and there was no answer when he called up the stairs. Had she gone out to deliver a baby?

  Stepping back on her front porch, he saw her mare in the corral, so he knew she hadn’t driven anywhere. Maybe she was already up at her roadside stand. Or was she avoiding him?

  He dismissed the thought. She might choose to dodge him, but not Leah. He knew she genuinely cared for the baby. Movement out in her garden caught his eye, and he saw she was loading her rickety wheelbarrow with dried stalks of corn. He walked in her direction, unsure of his reception. She wore a dark blue jacket over a dress of the same color and a black apron. The ribbons of her white prayer kapp were tied behind her neck.

  “Good morning, Joseph and good morning to you, too, Leah,” Anne called out when she caught sight of them. Her smile seemed a little forced, but he was relieved to see it, anyway.

  “What are you doing with those?” he asked, gesturing to the corn.

  She brushed her gloved hands together. “I’m making some decorative bundles to sell. A woman who came by late yesterday asked for some. I told her I would have them ready this morning and she promised to be back.”

  He shook his head. “Decorative bundles of corn. It seems like a waste of good livestock feed to me.”

  “To me, as well, but who can fathom the ways of the Englisch?” She began pushing the wheelbarrow toward the house.

  He fell into step beside her. The large wheels of Leah’s stroller rolled easily over the dry ground. “I should be able to gather the rest of your pumpkins this morning.”

  “I’m thrilled with how many I have sold, but I need to sell many more. Thursday is the last day of the month and the last day I will be open this season. I’m not sorry to see the end of October, but November will be busy, too.”

  “With produce?”

  “Nay, with weddings and babies. I have three mothers due next month. Speaking of babies, how did Leah do last night?”

  “We had our best night yet. She woke once, at two in the morning, took her bottle and went right back to sleep. I think she likes her crib.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Anne cast him a covert glance, but he saw it.

  “I like it, too. It makes it easier to change her and I don’t have to worry about her turning the laundry hamper over and rolling out.”

  “Has she done that?”

  “Once,” he admitted. “She rolled to one side and it tipped.” He didn’t mention that he’d had her on the sofa at the time and had barely caught her before she’d tumbled off.

  “Then the crib is safer. I didn’t realize she could turn over that well.”

  “She’s strong.” He stopped by Anne’s porch. “I’ll take your corn to your stand and then I’ll get the rest of your pumpkins.”

  “I’ll take Leah to the stand with me later. I have a mother coming for a checkup soon. Has Leah eaten this morning?”

  “Ja, she had her bottle. We’ll need to make more formula this evening. She’s going through it fast.”

  “I’m just happy we discovered what was wrong with her.” Anne crouched down to wipe the drool from Leah’s face with the corner of her apron.

  It was past time for his apology. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You have done a lot for us.”

  “Only my Christian duty.”

  “And I have been remiss in mine. I was wrong to accuse you of gossip. I know you thought you were doing what was best for Leah.”

  Anne rose to her feet. Her cheeks grew bright pink. “I’m glad you realize that. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world, Joseph.”

  “I reckon I can be stubborn as my goats sometimes. I see that I should have asked the community for help instead of struggling on my own.”

  “You have given to others many times in the years that I’ve known you. When John Beachy had that fire, you came to help. When Mary and David Blauch needed money for their son’s medical bills, you gave. There’s no shame in accepting help in return. It is what binds us together, our faith and knowing our church and neighbors will rally around us in times of need. We all need help at some point. We all give help when we can.”

  When she put it that way, it felt less like charity. “You’re right. I was wrong.”

  Her eyes widened as she slapped a hand to her cheek. “Did I hear you correctly?”

  He struggled not to smile and lost the battle. “Gloat if you must. You’ll not hear that from me often.”

  Chuckling, she tickled Leah under the chin. “There is hope for your onkel yet. It’s a wise man who admits his faults.”

  “It’s a wiser woman who does not point them out,” he shot back.

  Laughing, Anne pushed the child toward her house. She glanced over her shoulder and he saw the bright smile he had been missing. It blew away the chill of the autumn morning and brought warmth to his heart.

  Joseph lingered a moment as Anne went inside. She was a wise and kind woman. Hardworking and devout in her faith, she would make a fine mother and wife for any man. Once again he thought it was a shame she had never married. Although he wondered why she remained single, he didn’t question her. That was too personal a subject.

  After taking her corn up to the road stand for her, he returned to milk his herd and finish his morning chores. He rushed through his milking and cleaning. As he fed the bucks, he saw one of the young ones had a foot caught in the fence. It took a while to free him. By then the milk tanker driver had arrived and Joseph helped him empty the holding tank.

  With that done, he went out to Anne’s field and got to work. A short time later, he saw a buggy drive up to her house. A woman with a couple of children went inside. That had to be one of her mothers. He wasn’t able to tell who it was. He was too far away. When he had the wheelbarrow full, he pushed it up to the house. He wasn’t sure where Anne wanted the pumpkins stacked, so he stepped into the house to speak with her.

  A little girl about five years old was trying to open Anne’s large black leather satchel. She jumped away from it when she heard him come in, clasping her hands behind her back.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “It looks to me like you were getting into something that didn’t belong to you.”

  She shook her head vigorously, making the ribbons of her kapp dance wildly. “I wasn’t going to take anything. We already have one.”

  He eyed her suspiciously. “You already have what?”

  “A new bubbel. Anne brought a little brooder to me last week. I just wanted to see how many more she had in her bag. I would rather have a sister if she has an extra one.”

  Joseph burst out laughing. “I’m afraid she doesn’t have any more right now. You are going to have to keep your
brother.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  The door to Anne’s office opened, and she came out with a young woman who held a baby in her arms. He didn’t recognize her. “I need to see the baby again in three weeks. Until then, enjoy him and have someone fetch me if you need anything else.”

  “I will, Anne. Have a nice day, and thanks for everything.” The woman took her daughter by the hand and they left.

  “I heard you laughing. What was so funny?”

  “The little girl was trying to see how many more babies you have in your satchel.”

  Anne giggled. “Since Amish women don’t discuss their pregnancies, the sudden appearance of a new sibling is sometimes confusing to children. I’ve had more than one try looking in my bag to see if I have others.”

  “I just stopped in to ask where you wanted your pumpkins stacked.”

  “Anywhere you want. It doesn’t matter as long as they are close at hand for me. Can you bring a second load up, too?”

  “I can.” He left the house, unloaded what he had by the road and hurried back to the field. He was finally able to take a breather when he returned to the roadside stand with a second wheelbarrow full of freshly picked pumpkins. Anne was already there. He stopped in front of her and mopped the sweat from his brow on his sleeve.

  * * *

  Sitting inside the stand with Leah on her lap, Anne tipped her head as she regarded him. “Did you have trouble finding enough pumpkins?”

  “Nay, only a little trouble with a goat this morning.” He began unloading the wheelbarrow and stacked the pumpkins below the shelves in her stand.

  “Nothing serious, I hope.”

  That made him pause in his work. He straightened with his hands on his hips. “Now you are worried about my goats? That’s a switch.”

  She grinned. “Leah needs their milk. I will tolerate them because of that.”

  “You would like them all if you made the effort to get to know them.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. Here comes a car. It’s the first one all morning. I thought I would be busier, but maybe the folks that want pumpkins already have them.” She was starting to worry that she wouldn’t sell enough to cover her expenses for the season.