Now he thought she was as cruel as Annie, and she hadn’t given him cause to think otherwise.
She looked up at the sky. “I’m ashamed of myself, Lord. My sorrow at Annie’s death is no excuse for my words. I will do better. Give me a chance to mend my mistakes and help me bring Nathan the comfort he needs. I pray you fill my heart with kindness and hold my tongue when I would speak ill. Nathan has suffered enough because of my sister. Don’t let me add to his pain. I can’t change how I look, but with your guidance I can change how I act.”
Walking back to the house, Maisie gave silent thanks for God’s grace in allowing her to enjoy more time with the babies.
Nathan drove the buggy out of the barn and went past her. She watched him until he was out of sight. God willing, she might have even more time with them. It was wrong to hope that Nathan’s mission would prove fruitless, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to leave. The babies needed her, and Nathan needed her, too.
Inside the cabin she walked over to the sofa, where Charity and Jacob were still sleeping. Buddy was sitting alertly in front of them. He wagged his tail as Maisie sat down beside him.
“You are a goot hund to watch over your charges so well.” His tail wagged faster. She scratched behind his long floppy ear, and he licked her hand.
“At least you are glad to have me here.”
With a final pat to the dog’s shoulder, she got up and began heating water on the stove to wash the glass bottles and nipples she had purchased. After that, she made up enough formula to get through the night, then put the bottles in Nathan’s small icebox.
In her Amish community in Missouri they were allowed to use propane-powered appliances, so she was used to a bigger refrigerator. There wasn’t any fresh milk in the icebox. She didn’t know if Nathan owned a milk cow, so she had purchased canned milk that didn’t need refrigeration for her cooking along with a variety of canned meats.
Did he have a garden? She had been too focused on Annie’s grave yesterday morning to notice anything else on his property. With both babies asleep, now would be a good time to explore.
She stepped outside. Buddy refused to budge from his place in front of the sofa. She closed the door and took a long look around.
Nathan’s cabin was situated in a clearing surrounded by dense forest. Mostly pine trees interspersed with hardwoods. The log barn stood at the edge of a fenced-in meadow. She could see a pond at the far end with half a dozen white ducks swimming in it. Looking in the other direction, she knew what lay on the knoll above the cabin. She wasn’t up to another visit there yet.
She went around to the back and was pleased to discover Nathan did have a garden, although it was somewhat overgrown. There were even a dozen young fruit trees, carefully wrapped and staked. The start of his orchard. He had accomplished a lot since leaving Missouri.
White cloth diapers flapped on a short clothesline attached to the corner of the house, but she didn’t see a washer on the small back porch. Did Nathan wash his clothes by hand? The diapers were dry so she gathered them off the line.
She found his potato patch and dug enough new potatoes to make a soup later with some of the canned ham she had picked up. She spent the next twenty minutes pulling weeds and gathering what vegetables were ripe. At the far end of the garden she saw a huge blueberry bush. It had clearly been there for years. It was wild or someone had planted it long ago. The berries weren’t ripe, but there would be plenty for jams and pie filling when they were.
If only she could be here to harvest them.
After checking on the babies, she went down to the barn. Curiosity made her peek into the room where Nathan had spent the last two nights. It was small but neat. His bed was made. No clothes hung from the pegs and the stove was cold.
Through the interior door, she found Mack and Donald dozing in their stalls. A brown-and-white cow occupied another stall. She had a tiny calf nursing at her side. Maisie leaned over the stall door for a closer look. “I see why Nathan doesn’t have fresh milk in his icebox. He’s letting your baby have it all.”
The calf didn’t pause in her feeding, but the cow followed Maisie’s every move watchfully.
A chicken was scratching dirt in the corner of the cow’s stall. Nathan had brought in eggs that morning, so he had to have several chickens. It didn’t take her long to find where the others were sitting in their boxes. She left them undisturbed and returned to the house.
Inside the snug cabin, Maisie sat at the table and looked around. The furniture wasn’t fancy. The table and chairs were homemade, from what looked like local wood. The one brown overstuffed chair was well-worn. The sofa was secondhand—that was easy to see—but all in all Nathan had made a good home in Maine.
Would Annie have been happy here? Maisie wasn’t so sure. Hewing a living out of the wilderness would be challenging. Annie hadn’t been one for hard work. She had been better at getting others to do her work for her.
It was wrong to think of her sister’s faults when she’d passed so recently. Maisie wanted to remember the good times, the fun they’d had together. Those were the stories she would tell the children about their mother when they were older, even if only in the letters she wrote to them.
She took a deep breath and began to tidy up. She dusted the furniture, polished the reflective discs behind the oil lamps on the stone fireplace mantel and cleaned their sooty shades. Then she swept and washed the plank floor with a pine-scented cleaner she found under the kitchen sink.
Afterward, she fixed supper for herself, then fed and bathed the babies. She laughed at their startled expressions, and again when she was splashed by Jacob’s wildly kicking legs. Once they were settled, she found a book about gardening in Maine from the stack of reading material beside Nathan’s overstuffed chair. She sat in the kitchen reading by the light of a kerosene lantern and waited for Nathan to come home. She heard the horse and buggy about an hour after dark. Nathan didn’t come in. Was he still upset with her? What had he learned?
She put some of the leftover soup she had kept warm on the back of the stove into a mug, fixed a ham sandwich and carried them down to the barn. Gathering her courage, she knocked on his door. When he opened it, she thrust the covered plate toward him. “It’s just a bit of soup and a sandwich in case you haven’t eaten.”
He hesitated for so long that she thought he would refuse, but he finally reached out and took the dish. “Danki.”
He looked bone tired. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you have another headache?”
He walked over to his cot. “It’s manageable. How are the babies?”
She smiled. “Manageable. Jacob loved his bath.”
Nathan’s eyes brightened. “Did he?”
“He kicks like a little frog.”
Nathan sat on the foot of his cot. Maisie stayed in the doorway. Her smile faded. “Did the bishop know of someone you can hire?”
“He will ask around. He didn’t know of anyone offhand.” Nathan took a sip of soup.
“You could put an ad in the newspaper.” Maisie clamped her lips shut. Why was she helping find her own replacement?
Because she wanted to help Nathan, as well as the children. She turned to leave but he spoke. “This is goot.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I’ll come see the babies before I turn in.”
She smiled softly and leaned her shoulder against the doorjamb. “Of course. You’ll have to get past Buddy. He’s appointed himself their guardian.”
“Is that so? All he did before you came was howl when they cried.”
“Perhaps he’s gotten used to them. Have you decided what you’re going to tell your boss?”
He took another sip of soup before answering. “I’ll go back to work. I don’t have much choice. It’s not what I want. I need to take care of my children. They are my responsibility. I sh
ould be the one looking after them.”
“Nathan, I’m not trying to take that away from you.”
He glanced at her sharply. “Aren’t you?”
“I’m not. You’re their father. I am only their aunt. Because I love them that doesn’t diminish how much you love them.” She tried to understand what was going on behind his hooded expression. “They won’t love you any less because I’m here.”
He stared at his sandwich without commenting.
Maisie sighed. “Come up to the house whenever you’re ready.” She walked back to the cabin in the darkness.
* * *
Nathan set his unfinished food aside. Was that what he was afraid of? That his son and his daughter wouldn’t love him if there was someone else in their lives? Was he frightened of being abandoned again? Was he that selfish? That insecure?
How could Maisie guess what he was feeling when he didn’t know it himself? Despite her temper and her stubbornness, she was a perceptive woman.
Weariness dragged at him and made him want to lie down and cover his head, but he couldn’t sleep until he knew his babies were okay. He forced himself to get to his feet and walk up to the cabin.
Light spilled out the open doorway with a welcoming warmth. He stepped inside and paused. Everything was clean and brighter. The cobwebs were gone from the corners. His floor hadn’t looked this good since he’d first laid it. The whole place smelled fresh.
He didn’t see Maisie. The Moses baskets were on the sofa. Buddy lay sprawled across the floor in front of them. He got up when Nathan moved toward him. Nathan patted the dog’s head and smiled at the sight of his children sleeping peacefully. He looked down at the dog. “They are a lot sweeter when they’re quiet, aren’t they?”
Nathan took one of the kitchen chairs, turned it around and placed it beside the babies. He leaned forward with his arms braced on the back of it and just watched them. Charity’s eyebrows wiggled up and down as if she was trying to open her eyes. Jacob gave a small grunt and then smiled. His tiny hands grasped at the blanket. Nathan reached down and let his son wrap his small hand around his index finger. The boy’s grip was amazing for his size.
He heard a sound behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Annie had come in. He realized his mistake an instant later and looked away. Maisie walked up to him. “You may hold them if you wish.”
“I don’t want to wake them.”
“Babies need to be held.”
“If you insist.” It was what he needed, and somehow she knew it. Nathan reached down and scooped up his son. He settled him in the crook of his arm. The boy stretched but didn’t wake.
Nathan sat in awe of the gifts he had been given. Annie had taken a lot from him, but she had given him something immeasurably precious in the end. He could feel his anger toward her shrinking. It wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t as painful to think about.
“I’ve been told that babies like the sound of familiar voices,” Maisie said.
He glanced at her for the first time without resentment. “You mean just talk? What should I say?”
“You can tell him about your day or read something.”
“I don’t have any children’s storybooks.”
She sat down on the sofa beside Charity. “You don’t have to read from a book. You can read from a magazine or from the Bible. Anything that sounds soothing.”
“Maybe I’ll just talk about my day.”
He concentrated on Jacob’s face. “Today wasn’t the best of days. I went all the way to Fort Craig on a wild-goose chase to catch a bus that wasn’t there. My boss stopped in to see me to tell me I will lose my job if I can’t tear myself away from you and your sister. It was a tough decision, but I have to earn a living for you. Then I had an argument with your aunt. After that I went on another wild-goose chase to find a nanny and came back empty-handed.”
He glanced at Maisie from the corner of his eye. Her eyes were downcast and her face was flushed. Embarrassment? He looked back at Jacob. “The best part of the whole day was a cup of yummy potato-and-ham soup that your aunt Maisie made for me.”
He leaned down and whispered just loud enough for her to hear, “Maybe she’ll leave us the recipe before she goes home if we ask nicely.”
Jacob smiled in his sleep and Nathan smiled back at him.
“You left out the part where their bad-tempered auntie gave you a roaring headache,” Maisie said.
Nathan realized his headache was almost gone. “I’m saving that part for tomorrow evening.”
He stood up, kissed Jacob’s forehead and laid him in his basket. Then he leaned down and kissed Charity’s soft, plump cheek. “Sleep well, liebling, my little love.”
He thrust his hands in his pockets as he faced Maisie. “I can take them down to my room for the night if you want some rest.”
“I’m fine. We can trade off tomorrow night if you wish.” The look was back in her eyes. The one that pleaded with him to change his mind and let her stay on.
He ignored it and walked to the door. He stopped and turned to her. “The place looks nice.”
“Danki.” She seemed surprised by his compliment.
He was a little shocked that he’d said anything, too. “Plan on staying until the bus leaves next Friday.” Surely he could find someone to look after the children in a week’s time.
The joy on her face took his breath away. She clasped her hands together as she smiled at him. “Bless you, Nathan.”
“Don’t expect to stay longer.” He assumed her smile would dim, but it didn’t. She nodded, but he suspected she was already thinking of ways to extend her stay.
He walked out into the night. Why had he been moved by the sight of her happiness? Because it was like seeing Annie happy again. That was all it was.
Yet something about that assumption didn’t feel right.
Opening the door to his room, he stopped and looked at his narrow bed and the half-eaten supper beside it. It was quiet without the babies, but lonely. He’d lived with loneliness for months. Why should it feel different now?
He sat down and finished the cold soup, then ate his sandwich. Through the window he saw the lights in the cabin go out. Suddenly he wished he hadn’t told Maisie she could stay longer. She was too unsettling to have around. The best woman for the job would be older. A grandmotherly person. Not someone with bright green eyes that silently pleaded for him to change his mind whenever he looked her way. Definitely not a woman who sensed things about him that he didn’t know himself.
If the bishop didn’t find someone, Nathan would use Maisie’s suggestion and advertise the position in the local paper. It didn’t have to be Amish women.
He realized he didn’t need to wait on the bishop. He could place the ad and put up flyers in the grocery store and other local businesses. He’d do it in the morning.
Feeling better with a plan in place, he blew out the lamp and lay back in bed with his arms crossed behind his head. Maisie wasn’t staying a moment longer than necessary. Not if he could help it. He wouldn’t let her imploring eyes change his mind.
Chapter Five
Maisie was humming when Nathan entered the cabin early the next morning. Was she always such a cheerful soul? The smell of fresh-baked bread filled the air with an enticing aroma that made his stomach rumble. She opened his finicky stove and pulled out two beautiful golden-brown loaves. She must’ve been up for hours. Did the woman even need sleep?
When she turned around, he saw the answer to his question. There were dark circles under her eyes.
“Was it a rough night?” he asked.
“A little,” she admitted. “They started fussing after midnight and kept it up until about an hour ago. I wonder if the different formula doesn’t agree with them?”
He frowned. “How will we know?”
“They’ll continue to fuss after they
eat until they get used to it. If they stay fussy on it, I’ll have to change back to what the hospital sent home with you. Go ahead and sit down. Your breakfast is ready. I made scrambled eggs. I hope that’s okay.”
“I like dippy eggs better, but that’s fine.” He liked to soak his bread in the runny yolks, but he wasn’t going to turn down scrambled ones that he didn’t have to fix himself.
He took a seat. She wrapped her apron around one of the loaves and carried it to the table. When she sliced it open, steam rose in a fragrant cloud. His mouth started watering. He loved hot, fresh bread.
Maisie pressed her hands to the small of her back and leaned backward with a grimace. Then she returned to the stove to dish up the eggs and bring over the coffeepot. She filled his cup and then her own. Leaving it on a pot holder in the center of the table, she sat down, folded her hands and bowed her head.
He prayed silently, as he had been taught by his mother, and cleared his throat when he was finished. Maisie immediately reached for her coffee. Before she got the cup to her mouth, one of the babies began crying. “Oh, dear. That’s Jacob.”
He wondered how she could tell just from the sound of the child’s cry. She took one sip and put her cup aside. She started to rise but Nathan forestalled her. “I’ll see to him.”
She shook her head. “Your breakfast will get cold.”
He pushed back from the table. “I’ve had many a cold meal. Drink your kaffi. You look like you could use it.”
“No flattery from you this morning.”
“You should be glad I didn’t say what I was thinking.”
She rolled her eyes. “That I look like a worn-out hag?”
An Amish Mother for His Twins Page 5
