Nick put the basket on the quilt and snapped several pictures with his cell phone. “I’ll email these photos to some of the shops that carry Amish goods. Maybe we’ll get a hit that way.”
Amber’s cell phone rang. She opened it and walked away to speak to the caller.
“What else can we do?” Miriam asked.
“Do you recall what kind of buggy it was?”
“It was dark. I saw a shape, not much else.”
“Did it have an orange triangle on the back, reflective tape or lights?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“So we can’t even rule out the Swartzentruber Amish families in this area. They don’t use the slow-moving-vehicle signs. What about the horse? Could you recognize it again if you saw it?”
“No, I didn’t see the animal, just the back of the buggy.”
Amber returned to the room and said, “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. I have a patient in labor. Miriam, I’ll leave the car seat with you. Nick, can you help me get it out of my car?”
“Sure.” He followed his cousin outside to her station wagon knowing she was going to grill him about his past relationship with Miriam.
Amber opened the door to the backseat. “It sounds like you have a history with the Kauffman family. Why don’t I know about it?”
He leaned in to unbuckle the child safety seat. “It was years ago. You were away at school.”
“Care to fill me in now?”
Lifting the seat out of the car, he set it on the roof and stared out across the fertile farmlands waiting for spring planting. He could hear cattle lowing in the distance and birds chirping in the trees. The tranquility of the scene was at odds with his memory of that long-ago night.
He closed his eyes. “The summer I turned nineteen, I started working for Mr. Kauffman as a farmhand. They lived over on the other side of Millersburg back then. It was our grandmother’s idea. She thought I should learn how hard it was to work a farm the way the Amish do. She thought it would give me a better appreciation of the land.”
“Grandmother is usually right,” Amber said with a twinkle in her eye.
“She is. Anyway, I worked there for two summers. Miriam, her brother Mark and I became good friends.”
“Why do I sense you and Miriam were more than friends?”
“We were kids. We fell in love with the idea of being in love, but she was strict, Old Order Amish. We both knew it wouldn’t work. We chose to remain friends. It wasn’t until a few years later that things changed.”
“What happened?”
Nick took a stick of gum from his pocket using the added time to keep his emotions in check. Even now, it was hard to talk about that night. He popped the gum in his mouth, deftly folded the foil into a small star and dropped it back in his shirt pocket.
“Ten years ago I was a brand-new deputy and a bit of a hotshot back then. I didn’t go looking for trouble, but I didn’t mind if I found it. One night, we got a report of a stolen car. On the way to investigate, I caught sight of the vehicle and put on my lights. The driver didn’t stop. Long story short, a high-speed chase ensued. A very dangerous chase.”
“What else were you supposed to do?”
“Protocol leaves it up to the responding officer’s discretion. What I should have done was drop back and stop pressing him when I saw the risks he was willing to take. I should have called for a roadblock to be set up ahead of us. I didn’t do any of those things. I kept after the car. It was a challenge to outdrive him, and I wasn’t about to back down.”
“It sounds like you were doing the job you’d trained to do. I know your father was killed during a traffic stop. I’m sure that made you doubly suspicious of anyone who tried to get away.”
She was right. “That did factor into my decision, but it shouldn’t have. I tried to get around the car, but we slammed into each other. The other driver lost control and veered into a tree. I’ll never forget the sight of that wreckage. The driver was killed instantly. It was Mark, Miriam’s twin brother.”
Amber laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you relive the whole thing.”
“You want to know the really ironic thing? I’m the one who taught Mark how to drive. I never understood why he didn’t just stop. He’d never been in trouble. I doubt he would have spent more than one night in jail. To have his life ended by a rumspringa stunt, a joy ride, it wasn’t right.”
“The Amish believe everything that happens is God’s will, Nick. They don’t blame you. That would be against all that they hold sacred.”
“Miriam blames me. I tried to talk to her after Mark’s funeral. Even months later she wouldn’t see me. As you can tell, her feelings haven’t changed.”
“Then she needs our prayers. Finding forgiveness is the only way to truly heal from such a tragedy.”
He lifted the car seat from the roof of Amber’s car. “You should get going. You don’t want the stork to get there ahead of you.”
Amber grinned. “You’re still planning on coming to my wedding, right?”
“Rats, when was that again? I might be fishing.”
She punched his arm. “A week from this coming Saturday and you’d better not stand me up for a trout.”
“Ouch, that’s assaulting an officer. I could arrest you for that.”
“Whatever. Phillip would just break me out of jail.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Absolutely—almost sure. Tell Miriam she can bring the baby into our office anytime tomorrow morning. I happen to know Dr. White has a light schedule. If the baby begins to act sick before then, she should take her to the hospital right away. She’s a nurse. She’ll know what to do.”
“I’ll tell her.”
Her expression became serious once more. “Nick, Miriam had to know when she called me that I would involve the law. She might not admit it, but I think she reached out to you.”
Nick considered Amber’s assertion as she drove away. What if she was right about Miriam’s actions? What if she was reaching out to him? Could he risk the heartbreak all over again if she wasn’t? He glanced toward the house. She had left her Amish faith. That barrier no longer stood between them, but the issue of Mark’s death did.
Nick was about to start a week’s vacation. If he left town now, he might never have another chance to heal the breach with Miriam. He wanted that, for both their sakes. In his heart, he knew there was a reason God had brought them together again.
He shook his head at his own foolishness. He was forgetting the most important part of this entire scenario. Somewhere there was a desperate woman who needed his help. She and her baby had to be his first priority.
* * *
Miriam decided to ignore Nick when he came into the kitchen again. He held a car seat in his hands. The kind that could easily be detached from the base and used as an infant carrier. He said, “Would you like me to put it in your car?”
“I’ll get it later.”
“Is there anything else you ladies need?”
“We’re fine,” Miriam said quickly, wanting him out of her house. She’d forgotten how he dominated a room.
Ada spoke up. “Would you mind bringing the baby bed down from the attic for us?”
His eyes softened as he smiled at Ada. “Of course not.”
“I’ll get it later, Mamm, I’m sure the sheriff has other things to do.”
“I’ve certainly got time to fetch the crib for your mother.”
His cheerful reply grated on Miriam’s nerves. She felt jumpy when he was near, as if her skin were too tight.
Her mother said, “Goot. Miriam, I’ll take Hannah.”
Miriam handed over the baby. Her mother smiled happily, then looked to the sheriff. “Nicolas, if you would give me the bottle warming on the stove, I’ll feed her.”
He lifted the bottle from the pan at the back of the stove. To Miriam’s surprise, he tested it by shaking a few drops of formula on his wrist, an
d then handed it over.
Did he have children? Was that how he knew to make sure a baby’s formula wasn’t too hot? Had he been able to find happiness with someone else, the kind of happiness that eluded her?
He caught her staring when he turned and asked, “Which way to the attic?”
She all but bolted ahead of him up the stairs to the second floor. The attic was accessed by a pull-down panel in the ceiling of her bedroom. She rushed into the room, swept up her nightgown and the lingerie hanging from the open drawer of her bureau, stuffed everything inside and slammed it shut. She whirled around to see him standing in the doorway.
Her bed wasn’t made. Papers and books were scattered across her desk. A romance novel lay open on her bedside table. The heat of a blush rushed to her face. For a second, she thought she saw a grin twitch at the corner of his lips. Her chin came up. “I wasn’t expecting company in my bedroom today.”
The heat of a blush flooded her face. She stuttered, “You know what I mean.”
Stop talking. I sound like an idiot.
Nick pointed to the ceiling. “Is that the access?”
“Yes.” She worked to appear calm and composed, cool even. It was hard when his nearness sent her pulse skyrocketing and made every nerve stand on end.
He crossed the room and reached the cord that hung down without any trouble. The long panel swung open and a set of steps came partway down. He unfolded them and tested their sturdiness, then started upward. When he vanished into the darkness above her, Miriam called up, “Shall I get a flashlight?”
A bright beam of light illuminated the rafters. “I’ve got one.”
Of course he did. She’d noticed it earlier on his tool belt. Sheriff Nick Bradley seemed to be prepared for every contingency from checking baby formula to searching cobweb-filled corners. Strong, levelheaded, dependable, they were some of the words she had used to describe him to her Amish girlfriends so long ago. It seemed that he hadn’t changed.
Miriam jerked her mind out of the past. This had to stop. She couldn’t start mooning over Nick the way she had when she was a love-struck teenager. Too much stood between them.
He leaned over the opening to look down at her. “Any idea where the baby bed is? There’s a lot of stuff up here.”
“No idea. If you can’t find a crib in an attic, you’re not much of a detective.” Her words came out sounding sharper than she intended. She was angry with herself for letting him get under her skin.
The sound of a heavy object hitting the floor overhead made her jump. It was quickly followed by his voice. “Sorry. I don’t think it broke.”
She scowled upward. “What was that?”
“Just an old headboard.”
“Great grandmother’s cherrywood headboard, hand carved by my great-grandfather?”
“Could be.” His voice was a shade weaker.
Miriam started up the steps. “Let me help before you bring the house down on our heads.”
“It’s tight up here.”
“It might be for a six-foot moose,” she muttered. She reached the top of the steps to find him holding out his hand to help her. Reluctantly, she accepted it and stepped up into the narrow open space beside him. They were inches apart. She wanted to jump backward but knew there was nothing but air behind her. It was hard to draw a breath. Her pulse skipped and skittered like a wild thing. She pulled her hand from his.
He said, “It’s tight even for a five-foot-three fox.”
She could hear the laughter under his words. Annoyed at his familiarity, she snapped, “It’s not politically correct to call a woman a fox.”
He cleared his throat. “I was referring to your red hair, Miriam. It’s also not politically correct to call an officer of the law a moose.”
Turning away, he banged his head on a kerosene lamp hanging from one of the rafters.
She slipped past him on the narrow aisle. “If the shoe fits... I think the baby stuff is down here.”
Beneath the dim light coming through a dormer window, she spied a cradle piled high with old clothes and blankets. A wide-rimmed black hat and a straw hat sat atop the pile. She knew before she touched them that they had belonged to Mark.
Tenderly Miriam lifted the felt hat and covered her face with it. She breathed deeply, but no trace of her brother’s scent remained. A band tightened around
her heart until she thought it might break in two.
“Are they Mark’s things?” Nick asked behind her.
She could only nod. Even after all these years, it was hard to accept that she would never see him again. He’d been her other half. She was incomplete without him. She could hear his laughter and see his face as clearly as if he were standing in front of her.
Nick lifted a stack of boxes and papers from the seat of a bentwood rocker and set them on the floor. He took the clothing and blankets from the cradle and laid them aside, leaving the flashlight on top of the pile. Picking up the cradle, he said, “I’ll take this down. You can bring the baby clothes when you find them.”
He didn’t wait for her reply. When he was gone, she sat in the rocker and crushed her brother’s hat against her chest as hot tears streamed down her face.
* * *
Nick descended the attic steps with the sound of Miriam’s weeping ringing in his ears. He wanted to help, but he knew anything he offered in the way of comfort would be rejected. It hurt to know she still grieved so deeply.
After making his way down to the kitchen, he found Ada and the baby both asleep in the rocker. The bottle in Ada’s slack hand dripped formula onto the floor. When he took it from her, she jerked awake, startling the baby who whimpered.
“Habe ich schlafe?” Ada peered at Nick with confusion in her eyes.
“Ja, Frau Kauffman. You fell asleep,” he answered softly.
Childhood summers spent with his Amish grandmother and cousins had given him a decent understanding of the Amish language. While it was referred to as Pennsylvania Dutch, it was really Pennsylvania Deitsh, an old German dialect blended with English words into a language that was unique.
Ada sat up straighter and adjusted the baby in her arms. “Don’t tell Miriam. She already worries about me too much.”
“It will be our secret. Where shall I put the cradle?”
“Here beside me. I sleep downstairs now. Miriam insists on it. She doesn’t want me climbing the stairs.”
Taking a dishcloth from the sink, Nick mopped up the spilled milk. “I imagine Miriam gets her way.”
Ada looked toward the stairs, then leaned closer to Nick. “Not so much. If I get well, she will leave again. I may be sickly all year.”
He grinned. “That will be our secret, too.”
“Goot. Where is she?”
Nick’s grin faded. “She’s still in the attic. She found some of Mark’s things. I don’t think she was ready for that.”
“My poor daughter. She cannot see the blessings God has given her. She only sees what she has lost.”
“She needs more time, that’s all.”
“No, it is more than that. I miss my son every day. I miss my husband, God rest his soul. I mourn them, but in God’s own time I will join them in heaven. Until then, He has much for me to do here on earth. It will soon be time to plant my garden. With the weather getting nicer, I must visit the sick and the elderly. I have baking to do for the socials and weddings and I must pray for my child.”
“I’ll pray for her, too.”
“Bless you, Nicolas. I accept that Miriam will never return to our Amish ways, but my child carries a heavy burden in her heart. One she refuses to share. I pray every day that she finds peace.”
Ada struggled to her feet. Nick gave her a hand. “Danki. Take the baby, Nicolas.”
“Sure.” He accepted the tiny bundle from her amazed at how light the child was and how nice it felt to hold her.
“Sit. This cradle needs a good cleaning after more than twenty years in the attic. I’m so happy it is being put
to use. It has been empty much too long.”
Nick sat in the rocker and gave himself over to enjoying the moment. He hoped one day to have children of his own. Finding a woman to be their mother was proving to be his stumbling block.
He remembered how badly his mother had handled being a cop’s wife. Even though he’d chosen small-town law enforcement over the big-city life his father craved, Nick wasn’t eager to put a family into the kind of pressure cooker he knew his job could create. It would take a very special woman to share his life. Once, he’d hoped it would be Miriam, but that dream had died even before the wreck took her brother’s life.
Chapter Three
Miriam had recovered her composure by the time she came downstairs. She saw Nick rocking Hannah while her mother was busy wiping down the dusty cradle. Miriam’s eyes were drawn to the note still sitting in the plastic bag on the table. Somewhere, a young woman needed her help. She would concentrate on that and not on her tumultuous emotion.
She said, “It sounds like Hannah’s mother is in an abusive relationship.”
Nick said, “We’re only guessing.”
Miriam bit the corner of her lip. A young mother was having the worst day of her life. She’d done the unthinkable. She’d left her newborn baby on a doorstep. In her young eyes, the situation must have seemed desperate and hopeless. Miriam’s heart went out to her. At least, she had chosen to give her child a chance. It was more than others had done.
Nick said, “The note raises questions in my mind about the mother’s emotional state and about her situation but doesn’t spell out a crime. I’ll have it checked for fingerprints, but that’s a long shot. If the person who wrote the note is Amish, I doubt we’ll have his or her prints on file.”
Miriam held up the bag to study the handwriting. “You think the father may have written this?”
“I think our mother had help. Do you believe a new mother could harness up the horse and buggy drive out here after she’d just given birth? That’s one hardy woman if she did it alone.”
Nodding, Miriam said, “You have a point.”
A Home for Hannah Page 3
