The Englisch Daughter

by Cindy Woodsmall

  She stood there, barefoot on the cold floor, darkness surrounding her. How had they gotten to this place? And who would they become as the years went by?

  Two

  Roy burned with frustration as he rode his horse bareback across the west field. Jemima was too inquisitive for her own good. If she knew half of what he held back from her, it would break her heart. She would grow to hate him, and there would be no getting free of him since divorce was forbidden.

  As impossible as it seemed, he had to continue down the path he’d chosen.

  He dug the horse with his heels and clicked his tongue. She picked up her speed, and soon the gray cottage came into view. Her cottage. Actually his Daed owned this cottage and had rented it to Tiffany. He glanced at her white sedan as he rode past. It looked as if it was stuffed with her belongings. Was she planning to leave? A surge of hope was met with fear, snatching his breath.

  He slid off his horse and looped the reins around a shrub. Roy walked up the few cement steps. Blue paint was peeling off the door. Before he knocked, he heard a soul-piercing wail. An infant.

  His infant.

  The moment he’d heard his firstborn’s cry, it had aroused primal feelings. Protect. Soothe. Fix. The same had been true when his daughter Carolyn and her brothers, Nevin and Simeon, were born. Protect. Soothe. Fix.

  When this infant had first cried, Roy was overwhelmed with nausea and a desire to flee. What was he supposed to do in this situation?

  He knocked and tried the door handle, but it was locked. Tiffany had called him less than an hour ago and then about every ten minutes since. She wanted an equal partner in the care and feeding of the baby, but he had a family. She’d known that from the start. He pounded louder, hoping she would hear him over Heidi’s screams.

  The door jerked open. She stood in front of him, dark smudges under her eyes and her dyed-platinum hair sticking out everywhere. “Took you long enough.”

  He stepped inside and closed the door. The small living room lacked any decorations and was furnished with only a well-used couch, a recliner, and a television that was at least a decade old. This house needed a lot more than just a paint job, which was partly why his Daed had offered it to her for such a pittance of rent—an amount Roy had been paying for almost a year. But it had electricity and water and was structurally sound.

  “I got here as quickly as I could. What’s wrong?”

  Heidi continued to wail. Should he pick her up?

  Tiffany laughed but without mirth. “I’ve been up all night. And the night before. I can’t do this.” She pointed to the portable bassinet in the corner of the living room. “You need to take it. It’s yours.”

  It? How could a parent refer to a child so heartlessly?

  He strode across the room and looked in the small crib. Heidi was red faced but looked unharmed. She’d kicked off her swaddle blanket, and it was bunched around her legs. He scooped her up and looked her over, touching her soft light-colored hair. Her footed sleeper looked clean. “Is she hungry?”

  Tiffany made a dismissive sound. “I’m not a moron, Roy. I know how to feed a baby. I just gave her an entire bottle twenty minutes ago. And I changed her outfit and diaper. She won’t stop crying, and I can’t take one more minute of it.”

  Maybe it was just the lack of sleep talking. Tiffany wasn’t usually this bad. If she were, he wouldn’t be able to leave Heidi with her. He lifted the baby girl into the crook of his arm and looked around the room until he spotted a burp cloth. He put the cloth over his shoulder and eased the six-week-old onto it. Laura had liked this position as a baby. Carolyn had liked to be burped belly down, lying across his knees while he sat in a chair, and Nevin and Simeon did best when propped upright on his forearm. He patted up and down Heidi’s back. She’d seemed to be constantly fussy the past week. Perhaps this fussy phase was due to a touch of colic. None of his other kids had been like this, but they had Jemima for a mother.

  Roy patted Heidi’s back while he paced the living room, the baby wailing in his ear. But her cries weren’t enough to drown out his thoughts of meeting Jemima at the food-truck auction tomorrow. That had him rattled. To participate in the auction, he would have to take proof that money was set aside in an account to back any bids Jemima made. But the money was no longer there. So the new plan, the one he’d been negotiating with the bank for nearly a month, was to get a loan so he could put money back into the savings account before she realized it was missing. Yesterday the banker said they had everything they needed to conclude the process. As long as Roy went there today and signed the papers, the money would be available first thing tomorrow.

  Obviously not a day too soon.

  If for some reason he couldn’t get the money, how would he explain the missing savings to Jemima? The knot in his stomach tightened.

  Heidi continued to cry.

  Come on, little one. After what felt like forever, Heidi at last let out a big burp, and her crying quieted. He walked back to the bassinet and swaddled her tightly in the blanket she’d kicked off earlier. There was a good chance he could get her to go to sleep and stay asleep now that her tummy seemed to feel better. Maybe then Tiffany could get some sleep too and wake up feeling more like herself.

  After he paced about ten more circles around the nearly bare living room, Heidi was asleep in his arms. He laid her on her back in the bassinet, taking care not to jostle her. She shifted in her swaddle blanket but didn’t wake. Phew.

  Tiffany sat in the worn recliner, staring out the window into the dark, her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. It had been six weeks since Heidi was born, and Tiffany seemed to struggle more each week. She had to pull herself together. They’d made a mess of things, and all they could do now was muddle through.

  “Look.” His voice startled the baby, and she poked out her bottom lip. He waited, anxiety nipping at him.

  He motioned for Tiffany to get up and then pointed to the narrow hall that led to the house’s two bedrooms. They needed to talk, but he didn’t want to wake Heidi.

  Tiffany rolled her eyes but stood and followed him.

  Her bedroom came into view, and he froze in his tracks. He didn’t want to talk in there.

  Ten months ago he’d come over to fix the plumbing. Jemima had been on full bed rest, so she and their children were staying with her Mamm, who lived an hour away. Because of the injuries he’d sustained in the accident and his need to keep working with the horses, he was taking three pain medications to help him cope. But he recalled Tiffany’s friends murmuring in the background in another room as she held out an icy glass of Coke. He took it, and they talked for a minute.

  She’d moved in closer, and they had kissed. He’d backed away, saying he needed to go. What little he remembered after that was murky, but this much he knew: he’d stayed.

  Why? Dear God, why?

  He’d never understand it, and he cringed because of how betrayed Jemima would feel if she knew. She’d never believe she was the only woman who mattered to him. But she was.

  Three weeks later Tiffany sent a text saying she was pregnant.

  Between the trauma of the accident and the haziness caused by the drugs, he had times he could barely remember. But everything about the day he received her text was burned into his brain. He’d been in the round pen, training horses, when he read the text. Horrified, he’d stood there, staring at the text, feeling as if everyone in the world could see the news even though he was on the farm alone.

  Shame had filled him. His lungs burned when he tried to breathe. He longed to crawl into a hole, but there was no hiding from this or from the shame he had to carry with him night and day.

  Tiffany’s next text hit a minute later. She needed money to terminate the pregnancy. The temptation to fork over the cash had been powerful, but it lasted only a moment.

  He went to se
e her and talked her into keeping the baby, assuring her that he wouldn’t abandon her and the baby. Now he was chained to this woman forever.

  Making it even harder to tell Jemima the truth, Roy and Tiffany had dated a few times back when he was in his rumschpringe, a fact about his past that had bothered Jemima when she began dating Roy. What troubled her was his seeing someone who was not Amish, as if he was more attracted to Englisch girls. But the truth was he’d felt bad for Tiffany, who had grown up with an alcoholic for a dad, while his own Daed was a pillar of his Amish community. Hadn’t the Word commanded him to be kind to the less fortunate? He remembered thinking that if he befriended her, he could help steer her life to something better than what her parents had. But he’d soon realized that her issues were too deep for him to really help and that going out wasn’t ministry. It was a date, intended to be fun for two people attracted to each other.

  “Hello?” Tiffany’s voice brought him back from his thoughts.

  He shook off the weight of the past and stepped into the other bedroom. Tiffany followed him. This room was supposed to be the nursery, although there was only a wooden crib that Heidi didn’t like to sleep in and a windup swing that she wouldn’t stay in for more than a few moments. Bits and pieces of baby clothing were strewed about.

  Tiffany leaned against the doorframe. “Are you going to lecture me about the baby? Of course you can get her to calm down. She’d be better off staying with you. Take her and give me some cash to start my life over. Then everyone would be happier.”

  Was this Tiffany’s plan? Was this the reason for the packed car?

  Roy shook his head. “Heidi needs her mother, and besides that, I don’t have any money to give you.” With the exception of the seed money to purchase horses at the auction, his accounts were drained. Tiffany didn’t have health insurance, so he’d paid out of his own pocket for all the prenatal care and hospital bills and her living expenses for the last nine months.

  Tiffany scraped dried formula off her shirt. “You have money. You’re going to that stupid auction to buy horses, and I know that means you have cash, lots of it.”

  He hated having to reason with her about his life and farming business. Why couldn’t she take his word for anything? “Look, Tiff, I don’t mean to minimize how tough this is for you, but we both know that every baby needs its mother. We agreed to that months ago, remember? Just because it’s a rough phase with Heidi, don’t do something today that you’ll regret later.”

  Tiffany folded her arms, looking childish and stubborn. “You can’t decide that for me. I want out, and I need cash to do it.”

  “The money I have is seed money. I could give every penny of it to Jemima or you or spend it on myself, but all of us will need more money in a few months, and without fresh, retrained horses to sell, I have no income to meet anyone’s needs. I’m buying more horses than usual because life is costing more than usual. The horse farm is a small business, and horses are the only product I provide to buyers. The good news is I have a buyer lined up who wants a dozen retrained horses come mid-May, so in three months I’ll have at least double, hopefully closer to triple, the money I’m spending today to acquire the horses. Understand?”

  She unfolded her arms, seeming interested in his words. “Triple the amount of money in three months?”

  “It’s not all profit, because of the cost of feed and vet bills and hired help, but ya.”

  She nodded, seeming to mull over his words. Perhaps now was a good time to mention how busy he’d be once the horses arrived. “I’ll be focusing all my time and energy on training the horses while the hired help tends to everything else. The only way for small businesses to stay on their feet is to buy fresh products to sell at a profit. But it takes time and commitment.”

  Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I get it. You’re gonna be too busy to help. But I told you that I didn’t want to be a mother back when something could’ve been done about it. You wanted me to keep it, so I did. But it’s not at all working out as you said.”

  Roy’s chest was so tight he could barely get a breath. What would happen if she disappeared, leaving the baby behind? “We talked about this. We talked about the hormone changes and the mood swings. You just need to ride it out, okay? I believe you’ll bond with her yet. She’s only six weeks old.”

  Tiffany hadn’t wanted to name the baby girl when she was born. The hospital staff kept returning to their room, asking if the baby had a name yet to put on the birth certificate. Roy had pulled up a website of names on his cell phone while they sat in the hospital, and he read one after another until Tiffany heard one she was willing to use.

  Tiffany’s pregnancy had been a wake-up call. He now realized it was impossible for him to be alert to all that life required while strung out on pain medicine. It’d been a miserable battle, but he got off the painkillers and went back to praying daily for his family. As much as he wished he could undo that night with Tiffany, he couldn’t regret Heidi’s life. That would be wrong. But he’d helped create a beautiful, innocent person who would grow up in an unstable home. And all he could do was pray for her and try to make her life have as little chaos as possible.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to check who was calling. The call came from the Kurtzes’ phone shanty. John would leave a message, but Roy knew the call meant he was needed there.

  He put the phone away, but he had to get back to horse business. Whatever was going on, he’d already stayed here too long.

  “Go rest while she’s sleeping, and maybe take a shower. You’ll feel more human and hopeful.”

  “A nap and a shower can’t fix this.”

  “I know they can’t. We’ll talk again soon, but I have to go. I promise I’ll come back later today and…” He racked his brain to think of anything that could help her feel better about the situation. “I’ll hire a nanny to come in for several hours every day to help until you feel like you can handle the baby alone.”

  How was he going to afford that? But he couldn’t deal with that worry now. He’d just have to find a way.

  Tiffany looked at the floor. “Yeah, okay. Maybe I could make it with some good help. I can’t continue living here. I just know that your dad will drop by one day to get rent money like he used to do, and he’ll have questions about the baby once he sees her. Regardless of what I say, he’s not likely to accept my word on the matter. Besides that, what happens if he sees you coming or going at odd hours?”

  Roy couldn’t imagine what it’d do to his Daed to know the truth. It’d been awkward trying to convince him to stop coming in person to get the rent, but he’d managed it. “I can’t afford another place for you right now, but, ya, it’s probably a good idea to look into that a little later down the road. But if we make sure he has the money by the due date each month, he won’t come by.”

  “You hope,” Tiffany mumbled.

  Anxiety pressed in again, and his chest ached. “Get some rest.”

  She walked toward her bedroom, and Roy hurried out of the house. What a mess.

  Three

  Chris stood in the abandoned barn as his bishop turned off the portable electric floodlights that were aimed at the makeshift ring in the center. The roar of the crowd was gone, as was the bookies’ money. Chris had logged too much time in the gym with a trainer for this to be the outcome. Since he hadn’t actually lost the fight, did that mean another one would have to be arranged fairly soon? Even in his state of disbelief, he realized the answer rather quickly. He’d made a deal with people his brother owed money to, and there was no backing out of it.

  This old barn was way off the beaten path. Who had gone to his home and informed his Daed? Then in turn his Daed had gone straight to the ministers, and all of them came here and broke up the fight. Those who’d wagered on it had taken their money and disappeared.

  The bishop walked over to him, car
rying a lantern. “You need to join the Amish faith or get out. It’s that easy: come in or get out. You’re influencing the young men to fight and disobey not only their parents but also the founding principles of our life of nonviolence. You make a sport out of it!”

  Chris rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. He had no defense. He’d known when he agreed to fight that if he was caught, he would be without an excuse or a reason he could share. His parents didn’t know about Dan’s secret. It was deeper and darker than they could bear.

  Was the bishop right? Should he either join the faith or leave altogether? The topic wasn’t that cut and dried, not by a long shot.

  When Chris didn’t say anything, the bishop shook his head and cleared his throat. “We understood when you stopped instruction years ago because of what happened with your fiancée. We gave you grace for that, and I even stood up for your right to take that time. I was sure you would come back, finish instruction, and join the church. But you didn’t. And now you’re fighting and betting. I’ve seen this type of thing before—young men hiding behind our Amish ways to make moonshine or gamble or run drugs. I will not tolerate this. Am I clear?”

  Chris simply nodded. If he told the truth, his brother would be excommunicated, and if Chris didn’t finish the fight, his brother’s gambling debt could cost him far more than what he currently owed. The bishop passed the lantern to Chris’s Daed, and then he and the other ministers left the barn.

  He never should have agreed to fight in this abandoned barn, but the Englisch bookies wanted it here. They’d promoted his distinction as an Amish fighter, and they said that it had to be held in an Amish barn. So Chris thought this out-of-the-way, abandoned barn would make them happy without the ministers or church members finding out.

  His Daed picked up Chris’s hat from the dirt floor and brushed the brim of it against his pant leg. Dust flew from it, scattering into the darkness just beyond the reach of the lantern. Chris’s greatest fear was that his brother, along with his wife and children, would be like that dust—brushed off and dispersed into darkness. His brother was attending Gamblers Anonymous and staying clean. He just needed a way to pay off a debt to his Englisch bookie.