[2016] The Precious Amish Baby

by Faith Crawford

  Chapter Seven

  Esther and Louis never spoke about what had transpired between them that morning. They went about their lives as a sober couple, each one avoiding the other. Louis began to stay out later than usual, preferring the company of other women to his own wife’s. It was as if he was out to prove something. Esther demanded her own room the day after the incident, so they had not so much as touched each other when Esther went for her annual medical checkup months later.

  “What’s wrong?” Esther said, as she settled herself in a chair opposite Allen.

  The color had drained from his face. He loosened his tie as if he was having difficulty breathing.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Esther… you’re pregnant.”

  Esther stared at Allen for a while before she started shaking her head.

  “No, I’m not.”

  The look on Allen’s face disagreed with her.

  “But-” Esther said, thinking that this would be the end of her.

  “Yes.”

  “Louis, he-”

  “Mustn’t know. I won’t tell him. You know I wouldn’t. But now… Well, what happens now?”

  “What do you think I should do?” Esther asked him, her eyes telling him exactly what she wanted to do.

  “I know what you can do,” Allen said, understanding. “Wait to hear from me. I’ll handle everything.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  Allen thought for a moment before he smiled and said, “I’ve never been more sure about something in my life.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lucy

  When the door banged shut, I knew the burning wood in the fireplace would had instantly grown cold. Miss Esther has that ability. She can freeze the words in your throat when she looks at you from a certain angle. Last week, she nearly killed the cat – an unfortunate bystander lying at her feet – when she stamped a foot hard against the floor. Mr. Edwards had said the wrong thing. Tonight, her husband has stayed away yet again. She has just realized this, and the merry flames on the hearth have paid for it. She will sit on her bed and sulk. I must leave her to it until my common sense tells me it’s time to go upstairs and help her undress. Meanwhile, I’ll warm her milk. She likes to drink some warm milk before bed.

  These two make a curious couple. I remember thinking that when I first saw them standing side by side. At some point, his index finger brushed slightly against hers, quite slightly. It was almost as though it had never happened, like the incident was only the result of a nervous twitch. But I’m almost certain that he wanted to reach out and show her what he was thinking. To do something kind. After all, he daren’t say it. The milk is ready. I shall take it up to her now.

  She seemed fairly sane. She said very little as I carried out my duties. It must be difficult being in her position. How does one manage in such a situation? At first, I thought I was mistaken, and that something would come along and explain the error. But no such thing materialized. Instead, the signs all came to confirm it.

  I think people should try their best to avoid the kind of trouble that only rears its beastly head when you provoke it. If she had asked me, I would have told her to stay well away. But she is a woman who makes her own path through life. In fact, if she had not been doing just that, she never would have met him. But she is taking it well. She’ll survive. I saw the spark in her eye when I brought her milk and set it on her bedside table. It was dim, but it was there.

  The clock will strike midnight soon and he is still not home. I know exactly what will happen. So much can be understood from the way his soles scrape against a floor, and the tone of the voices seeping through the walls. I delay sleep for a little while, waiting. Soon I will drift off to another dream of independence and adventure, only to awaken in the midst of a maelstrom I find hard to welcome at such a late hour. I wish he would at least let her sleep instead of waking her up just to argue. Any other hour besides those in which I sleep will do. I don’t mind the conflict, because I find my entertainment in the chaos of other people’s lives, but I do feel pity for her when a bad day grows worse.

  Chapter Nine

  “What are we doing today, Lucy?” Esther nudged Lucy playfully.

  “I’m polishing the silver, Miss.”

  Esther glared at Lucy mischievously, hoping for a quick look through the weekly gossip column with her friend.

  “Miss-”

  “Oh, I know. It would be inappropriate. I should keep you at arm’s length, but what good would it do? You are the only person I see for more than 10 minutes on any given day. We might as well be friends.”

  Lucy busied herself with the cutlery, desperately searching for something to say. She often wondered where her employer had come from exactly. Who raised her, and how did she not have the required guilt that made it easier for the rest of society to follow convention?

  “What about your engagement with Mrs. Watson? It’s today. She lives just down the street,” Lucy said.

  Esther’s mouth shaped itself into an oval as she remembered the invitation from Philippa Watson. She hurried away to the bedroom, calling for Lucy to follow and help her prepare for the outing.

  It wasn’t that Esther had anything against Philippa. She reminded herself of this as she hurried down the street. Philippa had a way of ‘crusading’ her way through life. In most conversations, her opinions presented themselves in drawn-out sermons, as she explained that everything should be done for one good cause or another. The woman was a contradiction unto herself, since she did whatever she pleased when push came to shove. Having been widowed for five years now, she unapologetically reveled in what she liked to call her ‘freedom’. Esther loved her for those wickedly frank phrasings she dropped now and again. Their relationship had blossomed after Philippa took her under a compassionate wing when Sarah and George left.

  Arriving at Philippa’s home, Esther was shown into a comfortable living room furnished elegantly yet sparsely. She knew the lady of the house disapproved of abundance for the sake of abundance. Esther took a seat and waited for the older woman. She had been told that something important was to be discussed. Wondering what she had to do with anything of importance, she began to tug at her gloved fingers, when Philippa walked into the living room with a stout, graying man in tow. It seemed he had just arrived, since they appeared from the direction of the front door. His fiery brown eyes surveyed Esther. He and Philippa were interacting silently as if to say, This is the young woman I told you about. Oh, I see. I see. Yes, she’ll do. As Esther rose to greet them, the door creaked shut behind the mysterious man and an air of vital secrecy settled into the room.

  Chapter Ten

  “Don’t be so sure, Sir,” Esther was saying.

  “I beg your pardon?” the man said.

  “I see you looking at me like I may be useful for something.”

  “Yes, you may. I have a job for you.”

  Esther was stunned. She was a woman with no prospects. Yet this man had a job for her. Philippa stepped in to clear the confusion.

  “Esther, this is Mr. Brown. He owns the newspaper in Fieldington.”

  “That’s quite a long way from here,” Esther said.

  “Yes, it is. I am an old friend of Mrs. Watson here. She has asked me a favor, in light of your… situation. She has shown me a few of your writings and, I must say, I’m impressed. I’d like to offer you employment as our first female journalist in Fieldington.”

  Esther could hardly believe her ears. The shock robbed her of words, so Philippa intervened again.

  “I know what happened, Esther. Allen told me everything. The best thing for you to do now is to move to someplace new. Start again –again. You will need a stable place where people won’t be whispering about you as you walk in the streets with your child. You have prospects now. And Mr. Brown is a trustworthy man, if ever I saw one. Your secret is safe with him.”

  “I- I don’t know how to thank you,” Esther stammered. “Mrs. Watson, Mr. B
rown-”

  “It’s alright. You leave tonight,” Philippa said.

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes. Why waste another day?”

  This made sense, so Esther nodded, still speechless. Mr. Brown left shortly afterward. Esther felt that all this was too good to be true, and leaned back in her chair to think on what had just happened. If it had just happened.

  “There’s something else,” Philippa said.

  “What is it?”

  “When you leave your home tonight, come straight here. Allen will be waiting for you and you’ll leave for Fieldington together.”

  Esther felt tears stinging her eyes, “That’s what he said to you?”

  “Did you think he would leave you to deal with everything by yourself?”

  “But no one knows who the father is. They will if we both disappear on the same night.”

  Philippa smiled, “He knows. And he doesn’t care.”

  ***

  When Louis came home the next day, the house seemed strangely still. He walked around, expecting to come across his wife reading a book at any moment. As much as he hated her, he found it pleasant coming home to someone. Lately, he had been sensing something sinister about her, like she was hiding a lie of some sort. What could she possibly have to hide, when she stayed home all day, except for when she went out to call on that old crab, Philippa Watson, and when she went out shopping?

  He felt wise for having Lucy keep tabs on Esther. Now he knew where she was at all times. He didn’t know why it was so important to have this information, although he liked to show Esther that nothing got past him. But something told him it would be important someday.

  As he proceeded through the house, he realized that he was alone. Esther was nowhere to be found, and neither was Lucy, his spy. A sick feeling stirred in Louis when he caught sight of a piece of paper, a note folded in two. It rested on the dining table quite innocently. But as he touched it, he imagined it burned his fingers. The note bore a simple message.

  Louis,

  I thought I’d spare you the humiliation of hearing it from someone else. I will have another man’s child within a few months. I’ll be gone when you read this. You shall never have to face me.

  - Esther

  Chapter Eleven

  Sometimes, you find solace in the most unexpected places. I know what they will say about me. And I know what they will say about Allen. They will call him something as bad as a traitor. They’ll label him a wolf in sheep’s clothing. But he is none of those things. He is only a man who was once lonely and found solace in a married woman. He is only a man who survived years imprisoned for a crime he did not commit. The real culprit, a wealthy aristocrat grateful for Allen’s silence, gave him a sizeable reward and sent him on his way. He is someone who believes in second chances and seizing the day. He taught me this. And it is a gift I will always be grateful for.

  The other day, he said to me, “Esther. What will we name our daughter?”

  “We might have a son,” I said.

  “I don’t mind if we do, as long as he has coffee-colored eyes, or pitch black hair. He could even have your penchant for Shakespeare. He has so much to choose from.”

  I have never felt so appreciated. I think this is what it must be like to be content, whatever the circumstances. We have a busy, eventful life ahead of us. I am a working mother. Lucy will look after the baby during the day. I will come home and take over while she studies for her medical degree. Allen’s books will be a great help. She has become the sister I never had. She told me all about Louis’ spying and let me know when she thought I was pregnant. She was the only person I could confide in during those first uncertain weeks after my appointment with Allen. She has a curiosity that gets in the way of her gentleness sometimes, but it is a minor vice.

  Louis is someone I used to worry about constantly. It was never my intention, leaving him the way I did. But it was necessary after a while, and certainly after finding out about the baby. Philippa says in her letters that he is doing well so I should pay him no mind. He has married the girl he used to call ‘Montgomery’s girl’. I forget her name because he called her that so many times even Philippa refers to her as such. Our divorce came quickly when he discovered she was with child. Both I and Montgomery’s girl know the child does not belong to Louis. He would, too, if he wanted to. But something tells me he would rather live the lie.

  And so the days roll by. I do believe that, regardless of what lies ahead of us, we will be alright. I know it in the way Allen speaks to me at the end of a long day. In the way the baby moved when he touched my belly last night. Even Lucy might find happiness someday, if she raises her nose from her books at least once in a while. As for me, I can only be grateful for the day I ‘met’ Louis in his library.

  *****

  THE END

  Bonus Book 4: Devoted to the Rancher's Baby

  By: Faith Crawford

  Description

  An Amish girl left at the altar, a lonely rancher with a broken heart and a baby without his mother. Will they heal each other’s heart?

  Cynthia Lapp is determined to marry for love, even if it means marrying non-Amish and getting banished from her community. She takes a leap of love and leaves town to get married to Japheth, the boy she fell in love with at the store. Only, he doesn’t turn up for their wedding. Desperate, Cynthia replies to a mail order advert from a man in the West, the father of a little boy.

  Clive’s only reason for taking a mail order bride is to have a mother for his son, Nathan. He has been badly hurt, with his former wife running off with a ranch hand when Nathan was barely six months old. However, Cynthia bears no resemblance in character or looks to his former wife. She is hardworking and has so much love for Nathan. He can’t help but fall in love with her.

  Just as they’re settling down, Clive’s former wife Beatrice returns, determined to take her place as his wife and Nathan’s mother. Clive is torn into two. He loves his son dearly and cannot bear to lose him. Cynthia is the love of his life, the woman he knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

  But then Beatrice reveals her true self as she takes an action no one thought possible...

  This is a story of forgiveness and learning to love again.

  Chapter One

  Cynthia shifted her weight from one foot to another, feeling awkward in her English clothing. Standing outside the brown wooden church, her head felt naked without her white cap, but she had known that part of loving Japheth meant leaving behind the familiar Amish life. Still, it was better if he hurried up and came, Cynthia thought.

  The morning was dreary and Cynthia shivered under the inadequate black coat she wore over a blue dress. The wind howled, blowing the iron sheets of the church and making bits of paper on the ground fly. Cynthia suddenly longed for the warmth of her quilt on her shoulders and the fire going in the living room. A stab of guilt followed these thoughts for it felt like betrayal of her husband-to-be to long for the comfort of home.

  Her mamm’s plump, pink face, her eyes wide with rage would forever be imprinted on her brain.

  “Don’t you ever set foot in this house again! You have shamed us. Your daed and I will never walk with our heads held high in this town again!”

  Where was Japheth?

  Cynthia had known that the news that she was going to marry non-Amish would be a shock to her mamm and daed. Her daed, a short, bald man with a stringy beard, had been so full of hatred for her that he had stormed out of the room with the instructions to her mamm. When I return, let me not find her here. She is banished from this home!

  The moment she had clapped eyes on Japheth at the Amish-owned store where he had come searching for a tool that could not be found in his town store, Cynthia had known. They had gazed at each other and Cynthia had felt as though she would drown in his gray eyes. She had watched as he left the store and then had paid for her own sugar and flour and left.

  On the street, she had heard a whistle and tu
rning, she saw him beckoning at her from an alley. After looking the street up and down, Cynthia had darted into the alley, her heart pounding hard and her armpits dripping with sweat. If anyone caught sight of her with a non-Amish young man, Cynthia knew the punishment would be severe. But something about Japheth had drawn her and she had waved her fear away.

  “I have never seen a girl as pretty as you are!” he had immediately exclaimed, taking Cynthia’s breath away.

  They had stayed in the alley for a good twenty minutes, but to Cynthia it had seemed like a few seconds. After that, they had met covertly for the next three months until Japheth, in his intense way of speaking, had beseeched her to run away with him. He had painted a world where one was free to live as they wanted with no community frowning at them. For Cynthia, the lure of accepting his proposal had been simply to be with him. She knew without a doubt that she loved him. Not that her love had blinded her to Japheth’s faults.

  She knew that he thought with his heart and not his head. He did things on impulse and only gave the matter some thought after the deed was done. For herself, Cynthia knew she was a simple girl at heart. All her life, she had craved to fall in love with the man who would marry her and she had found Japheth, her true love. The fact that he was non-Amish would not deter Cynthia from marrying him.

  The sound of thunder broke her reverie. The clouds were growing darker and she must have stood there for longer than she had intended. Cynthia was now seriously worried. They had arranged to meet at two o’clock. Could he have forgotten? No, which person forgot their wedding day? Cynthia crossed her arms across her chest. It was winter and darkness came early.