[2016] The Precious Amish Baby

by Faith Crawford

  The hardest part was waiting to see if Clive would propose to her, Cynthia now thought. She shuddered when she thought of what would have become of her had he not invited her to California.

  “You sure have lived more than most people do in a lifetime,” Mrs. Williamson said in awe. “And you’re certainly tougher than you look. I have no doubt that you’ll be a wonderful mother and wife.”

  “Thank you,” Cynthia said, then added. “Clive doesn’t speak much does he?”

  “He used to be a lot more cheerful, before, you know what. He retreated into himself but who could blame him? Such bad business.”

  It was an odd way to describe a passing but Cynthia decided it was an English thing that she was not familiar with.

  “But I know that he’ll soon come out of sadness, with such a cheerful person around, it’s difficult not to.”

  Cynthia did not feel as confident as Mrs. Williamson. A tiny part of her rose in hope and she attempted to squelch it, knowing that indulging it was inviting heartbreak.

  “How many cattle does Clive have?” Cynthia asked, in an effort to change the conversation.

  Mrs. Williamson was a mine of information. She told Cynthia in whispered tones how Clive had started off as a miner, doing backbreaking work that would have killed a lesser man. Unlike most men, when he had struck gold, he had sold it, bought a ranch for himself and became a beef cattle rancher.

  “He was smart, Mr. Stewart was. Never a greedy bone in his body,” Mrs. Williamson said. “Lots of men kept returning for more, with some dying in the mines and others dying in poverty.”

  There was so much to admire about Clive, Cynthia thought. She looked down and saw that Nathan had fallen asleep on her lap. There was no better feeling than having her son’s warm body snuggled against her. Cynthia finally felt as if she had reached home.

  Chapter Six

  Clive chewed on his pancakes, relishing the sweet taste in his mouth. It had been so long since had eaten pancakes. Beatrice had not been much of a cook and she had spent as little time as she could in the kitchen. Cynthia, on the other hand, seemed to relish preparing their meals, singing songs of praise as she stirred pots on the stove.

  Now, he watched her feeding Nathan warm milk from a cup. It had taken a week for the child to learn how to drink from a cup. His eyes focused on Cynthia’s face, her brow creased in concentration. He was struck by how pretty she was and unaware of it. She looked up, perhaps feeling his eyes on her.

  Her generous mouth lit up into a smile, which turned her face from pretty to breathtaking. Clive’s mouth went dry and for a moment, he forgot that he had been chewing. She turned her attention back to Nathan. He found himself curious about her. He realized with surprise that they had never really spoken about themselves.

  Cynthia could talk but she also often fell into a silence that was not comfortable, if anything, it was restful. Clive had been used to constant chatter from Beatrice and sometimes with Cynthia he even forgot that she was there.

  “Do you miss home?” he asked her.

  She looked up, seemed to think about it and then shook her head.

  “I wouldn’t say that I do. When I left, I knew that I would never return,” Cynthia said, her tone matter of fact.

  Clive was taken aback. “Because of running away to get married? Surely with time, they would have forgiven you.”

  “Not where I come from,” she said softly.

  “Oh,” was all Clive said, the single word loaded with curiosity.

  Nathan had finished his milk and was now wriggling in Cynthia’s arms.

  “He likes to be on the floor,” she explained and Clive was struck by how quickly she had come to understand Nathan. “Come to the front room, I’ll tell you all about it while Nathan plays on the rug.”

  Clive thought of the day’s work that awaited him. There was the northern fence that needed repairing and the rain had destroyed part of the roof of the barn. But his curiosity was piqued and he longed to know more about his wife, so he followed her to the front room.

  He chose the seat opposite hers so he could look at her as she spoke. She brushed her hands over her lap and then looked at him.

  “I was raised in an Amish community and the first born of seven siblings. I was expected to marry an Amish young man and so did I actually. I looked forward to it but there was nobody in particular I felt drawn to. I went to the store one day and met Japheth, a non-Amish young man. We became friendly and after a few months I loved him and when he asked me to run off with him, I agreed. I knew my parents would never have allowed us to marry. Anyway, when I told my parents, my father banished me and so returning home was never an option even after Japheth refused to show up for the wedding.”

  Clive was a fairly religious man but at that moment, he felt as though he could have wrung that Japheth by the neck.

  “I am glad he did not come,” Clive said instead.

  A comfortable silence fell between them, broken by Nathan’s playful noises from the rug.

  “I’m sorry about your wife,” she said.

  Clive nodded, a little surprised that she knew about Beatrice. Still, Mrs. Williamson might have mentioned something to her. Not wanting to dwell on Beatrice and her betrayal, Clive abruptly stood up.

  “I have to go back to work,” he said. “I’ll come by at noon,” and then in impulse added, “How about we make a picnic out of our midday meal, how about that?”

  Her joy was instant and genuine. She clapped her hands together. “That would be wonderful. Nathan and I will enjoy that very much.”

  ***

  As he pulled out rotten nails from the barbed wire, Clive willed for the time to move fast. He couldn’t take his mind off the picnic that he and Cynthia arranged. It would be their first family outing and he looked forward to spending time with her and Nathan.

  Cynthia was a very brave lady, Clive thought, thinking of her decision to leave her community to follow love. He had heard of the Amish community but did not personally know anyone, other than Cynthia. He wondered idly how difficult it was to come from such a close-knit community to live on the other side of the country.

  At a quarter to twelve, Clive gathered up his tools, packed them in his tool box and strode across the pastures, heading for the house. He found Cynthia and Nathan on the front porch, the picnic basket packed and her head covered by a straw made wide-brimmed hat.

  “I’ll just give myself a quick wash and I’ll be right out,” Clive excused himself.

  In the washroom, he scrubbed his face and neck and then returned to the bedroom he and Cynthia shared and picked out a clean shirt. As he dressed, he thought of how difficult it was becoming sleeping next to a woman he planned on keeping at arm’s lengths. They each kept to their side of the bed and come morning, woke up and bid each other a cheerful good morning.

  They never spoke of their feelings and Cynthia seemed content with their marriage. For himself, he tried to fight his growing feelings and Clive thought he had been rather successful. His feelings had not spiraled out of control and his heart was safe from pain.

  On the porch, Clive placed Nathan under the crook of his arm and with the other hand, he took the picnic basket.

  “Do you have anywhere in mind?” Cynthia nodded.

  He looked at her in a pink frock that brought out the color of her cheeks and felt a swelling of a feeling he could not identify.

  “I do and it’s a surprise. We won’t stay for too long,” Clive continued, glancing at the weak spring sun.

  “He’s well bundled up but you’re right, we shouldn’t expose him too much,” Cynthia agreed.

  They walked along the fence of the pasture and through the wooded area on the west of his land. Clive found himself humming a tune as they walked, joy carousing through his veins. He had not known such contentment in marriage and the feeling was euphoric. He led them up a hill and down the other side.

  He finally stopped under a huge oak tree and laid the picnic basket down.r />
  “This is beautiful!” Cynthia exclaimed. “It’s just perfect for a picnic. Thank you for bringing us.”

  She busied herself laying down a blanket and then Clive placed Nathan down on it. He immediately rolled onto his back and kicked his little feet into the air. They both laughed and then collapsed on the blanket. Cynthia opened the basket and took out plates and packed biscuits, a pie and a bottle of milk for Nathan.

  They ate companionably, with Cynthia feeding Nathan morsels of the pie. Clive looked at Cynthia and fleetingly wondered if she was happy with them.

  “Are you getting used to our way of life?” he asked her.

  She took a moment to swallow her food and then nodded.

  “I like it and I love this little man right here. He brightens up the world, doesn’t he?” she said, tickling Nathan’s feet.

  Nathan squealed in response and lifted his hands towards Cynthia to be picked up. It seemed to Clive as though they had been together for a long time and yet, Cynthia had only been with them for less than a month. It felt foolish to be so happy. Clive wanted to hear her say that she had fond feelings for him too but he supposed her mind was still on the young man who had left her standing at the altar.

  He felt a wave of jealousy at the man who had Cynthia’s heart. He knew that his own feelings for her grew every day and he could not seem to stop himself.

  There was so much to admire about her. She had a cheerful disposition and was the most hardworking woman he knew. She never complained and she always saw to it that their household ran smoothly. Clive did not know how to express his gratitude to her.

  Chapter Seven

  Cynthia could not remember spending a more enjoyable afternoon, she mused as they strolled back from their picnic. Nathan had fallen asleep on his father’s shoulder as they walked back home, with Cynthia trailing behind them. She admired Clive’s broad shoulders and the gentle way he handled Nathan.

  Goosebumps formed on the skin of her arms as her thoughts strayed to their evenings. Alone together at night, they did behave like a married couple and sometimes, Clive held her so gently and looked at her with such intensity that a small part of her held on to the belief that he was growing to love her.

  Morning would come and he would return to the withdrawn man she knew and the disappointment would be like a knife in her heart. She wanted so much for Clive to love her. Cynthia was so lost in her thoughts that she only realized that Clive had stopped when she bumped into his back.

  “What is it?” Cynthia asked, flustered.

  Clive did not reply. She followed his gaze to the front of the house. A beautiful woman in a dress that exposed her cleavage stood leaning on a wooden beam, smiling at them. Cynthia heard a sharp breath come from Clive. His shoulders were stiff as was the rest of his posture.

  “That’s Beatrice, my former wife,” he said in a hard, cold voice.

  Cynthia’s mouth fell open. “Wife? I thought she had passed on?”

  Clive turned to look at her. “Passed on? No. She ran off with a ranch hand when Nathan was six months old.”

  His voice had risen. His arms pulled Nathan closer to his chest. Then without warning, he handed the sleeping child to Cynthia and strode off towards the woman. Cynthia followed closely.

  “What do you want?” Clive hissed as soon as she was within hearing distance.

  “Is that a way to greet your wife?” she drawled.

  She was beautiful, Cynthia noticed and she knew it. She swayed her body as she spoke so that Cynthia’s eyes dropped to her slim, curvy body. She swallowed a ball of jealousy. The woman flicked her hair from her eyes, the movement itself sensual. How could she hope to compete with such a person, Cynthia asked herself, hopelessness swelling in her heart.

  “Ex-wife!” Clive barked.

  The woman seemed to notice her then.

  “Who is she?”

  “This is my wife, Cynthia.”

  The woman looked Cynthia up and down and then turned away dismissingly. The dismissive look stung. Cynthia’s legs felt wobbly and she knew if she stayed there a moment longer, she would break into tears.

  “Excuse me,” she mumbled and blindingly made her way to the house.

  Cynthia was trembling badly as she placed Nathan in his cot for his afternoon nap. The bedroom window faced the front of the house and to Cynthia’s shame, she found herself pulling the curtain aside and peering at the two figures who stood outside.

  She still could not believe that Clive’s former wife was alive! She thought back and realized that nobody had expressly told her so. She recalled Mrs. Williamson’s reluctance to speak of it. Now she understood why. Her heart went out to Clive and she felt a strong dislike for a woman she did not know.

  Nathan mumbled in his sleep and she turned to look at him. He looked so sweet and peaceful sleeping. How could a sane woman leave a child to run off with a man? It was beyond Cynthia’s comprehension. Deep inside her, Cynthia knew she was afraid. What if Clive agreed to take her back? Where would that leave her?

  She suddenly wished that she had spoken at the picnic, told him that she loved him and Nathan with all her heart. That for her, their marriage had ceased to be one of convenience. Their voices rose and the woman, Beatrice stalked towards the house, with Clive on her heels.

  Cynthia left the room and was in the hallway when their voices reached her.

  “You have to leave, there’s no room for you now.”

  “I’m telling you, Clive, if I leave, I go with Nathan!”

  Cynthia’s body turned to ice. No! Not Nathan, not her darling child! Then with a sinking feeling, Cynthia realized that Nathan was, in fact, Beatrice’s child. Her eyes flooded with tears.

  “The law recognizes Cynthia as my wife!”

  “The law recognizes Nathan as my son.”

  They were now shouting at each other. Beads of sweat formed on Cynthia lower lip. From the bedroom, she heard Nathan murmur in his sleep. They were going to wake the baby up!

  “She has to leave Clive! I don’t care if you’ve married her. I’m Nathan’s mother and I should be with him.”

  “What kind of mother leaves a six-month-old baby and husband to run off with a ranch hand?” Clive hissed.

  There was silence.

  “I’m sorry Clive, I’ve told you, that was a mistake. Please forgive me.”

  Beatrice now spoke in a low tone. Then Cynthia heard sniffing as though she was crying.

  “Please Clive, let me stay.”

  What about me? Cynthia’s brain screamed. Then Cynthia heard heavy footsteps coming her way. She looked up just as Clive came into view. His shoulders slumped and he walked in a defeated way. He saw her then, took her hand and led her to the guest bedroom. He shut the door firmly behind them.

  “I thought she was dead!” Cynthia blurted.

  Clive sighed deeply. He held her hands and pulled her to him. Then he held her face between his hands and kissed her lips gently.

  “I love you Cynthia Stewart and nothing would ever make me give you up.”

  The relief was swift and sudden. Emotions overwhelmed Cynthia and she fell on his chest and cried as though she was breaking into two pieces. She could not think or speak. He loved her! Clive loved her. The knowledge flowed from her brain and spread to the rest of her, lifting her up until she felt as though she could fly.

  When Cynthia finally managed to control her emotions, she looked up at Clive with tear-stained eyes.

  “I can’t tell you how much I’ve longed to hear you say that, for I fell in love with you from the first moment I saw you,” Cynthia said shyly.

  Clive’s eyes fell. “How can I ever make amends for my behavior? I’ve wanted so much to tell you how I feel but it’s difficult to when your former wife ran off with another man.”

  He pulled her to the bed and they sat side by side.

  “I was afraid that I would get hurt again, but knowing and loving you has taught me that my love could not be in safer hands.”

  C
ynthia could have listened to Clive declare his love all day. Beatrice’s presence in the house, however, was a threat on all that she held dear.

  “What about her, what shall we do?”

  Clive shook his head, his sadness clear in his eyes. “She says that if she leaves she’ll take Nathan with her.”

  “I cannot bear that!” Cynthia cried out.

  “I know my love, me neither.”

  “Where does that leave us then?” Cynthia prodded.

  “If there’s one thing that I know about Beatrice is that she cannot stay in one place for too long. She just wants to warm her way into my heart again, probably because she has nowhere to go. Let’s play along, for now, in a few days, she’ll be itching to get out of here.”

  Cynthia was doubtful about Clive’s plan. What if she did intend to stay, what then? But she had no better plan so she kept her mouth shut.

  “She was never interested in the baby even when he was born. Beatrice has only ever been interested in one person—herself.”

  Just then the door swung open without warning. Cynthia’s chest rose up and down as she stared at Beatrice. Her eyes moved to Clive’s hands holding Cynthia’s and she sneered.

  “There’s nothing to eat and I’m hungry and tired. Where’s the woman who worked for us?”

  Clive glared at her. “There are no servants here at your beck and call, Beatrice. If you want something done, you had better do it yourself.”

  Beatrice lazy glance fell to Cynthia.

  “What about her?” she said.

  “Her name is Cynthia and no, she’s not your servant. I reckon you owe her a lot of gratitude for showing your son what a mother’s love feels like.”

  Beatrice’s face grew hot with rage. She whipped around, banged the door and they could hear her footsteps as she pounded the floor. They looked at each other and simultaneously broke into laughter. Cynthia laughed so hard that tears fell from her eyes. Clive’s shoulders heaved up and down with mirth and for that moment, their troubles melted away.