“Those are your own words.”
“If I look as bad as I feel, they’re accurate.”
He picked up Jacob and settled him upright against his chest, then sat at the table again. Between patting the baby’s back and making soothing sounds, he managed to fork eggs into his mouth with his free hand. Buddy had followed him and stood by Nathan’s chair whining softly.
Jacob belched and spit up on Nathan’s shoulder. He grimaced as the wet soaked through his shirt. “I reckon that was his problem.”
Maisie was out of her chair and getting a kitchen towel before he could say anything else. He shifted the baby to his other shoulder while she dabbed at his shirt. He finally took the towel from her. “It’s just a little sour milk. Don’t fuss.”
“I can take him.” She held out her arms.
“He’s fine where he is. Sit.”
Buddy promptly sat and stopped whining. Maisie returned to her chair. Nathan glanced at his dog and then at Maisie. “That’s better. Could you butter a piece of bread for me?”
“Of course.” She quickly slathered a slice and handed it to him. He fed it to the dog.
“What are you doing?” she asked in astonishment.
“I’m rewarding the dog for doing as he was told even if I wasn’t talking to him.”
She clamped her lips together. He arched one eyebrow. “You don’t approve?”
“He’s your dog.” She picked up her coffee cup again. “He will never stop begging at the table if you feed him from it.”
“Are you an expert on dogs as well as on babies?”
“Not at all. We never allowed our dogs in the house,” she said primly.
He looked at his hound. “Did you hear that, Buddy? She might feel differently when it’s thirty below outside and she’s in bed with cold feet.”
Her mouth dropped open, but she quickly snapped it shut. “I would rather get another quilt than allow a flea-bitten mongrel into my bed.”
“Buddy doesn’t have fleas, do you, boy? I put a little vinegar in his water and that takes care of them.”
“Good to know.” She propped her elbow on the table and settled her chin on her palm. Her eyelids began to drift lower. She jerked awake, blinked several times and then settled into the same position.
He wondered if she was going to fall asleep in her scrambled eggs. He knew how exhausting taking care of the twins could be. He had enjoyed an uninterrupted night and decided she deserved a break. He shoveled in his last forkful of eggs, washed them down with coffee and got to his feet. “I’m going to take the twins down to the barn with me this morning.”
Her head popped up. “What?”
“I’m going to watch the children for a while. I suggest you use the free time to catch up on some sleep.”
“I’m fine. I can look after them.”
There was that pleading look again.
He hardened his heart against it. “So can I.”
Rather than arguing, he simply laid Jacob on his bed and picked up both baskets. He walked to the door. “Come on, Buddy.”
The dog happily went out the door ahead of him. Nathan looked over his shoulder at Maisie. “I appreciate you making breakfast. Get some rest. You need it.” He pulled the door closed and stared at it.
He shouldn’t have said that, but she looked so worn out that he had taken pity on her. He didn’t want to encourage her or give her false hope. He wasn’t going to change his mind. Maisie was going to be on the first available bus as soon as he found a kinder heeda.
* * *
Maisie managed a tired smile. If he appreciated her cooking, that was a start. Maybe he was relenting.
Your words made my sleepless night worthwhile, Nathan Weaver. Danki.
She considered starting on some new clothes for the twins but realized she couldn’t keep her eyes open long enough to set the stitches. She climbed the steps to the loft so she could lie down. The pillow held Nathan’s scent. It was comforting and it made her feel closer to him.
She only needed to rest her eyes for a few minutes and then she would be fine.
Sometime later she heard crockery clattering in the kitchen. She sat up and looked over the low knee wall that ran the length of the open loft. Nathan was finishing the dishes. The babies were fast asleep in their beds on the sofa. Buddy sat beside Nathan at the kitchen counter, watching him hopefully. How long had she been asleep?
“What time is it?” she asked.
Nathan looked up and then quickly glanced away. “Half past noon. I’m fixing church spread. Would you like some on a slice of bread?”
He still couldn’t look at her. Maisie sighed. Her resemblance to her sister was an obstacle she couldn’t overcome.
“That sounds wunderbar.” She patted her kapp to make sure it was on straight, then went down the steep stairs to the kitchen.
He held out a plate without looking at her. She took it and crossed to the sofa, where she sat beside Charity. The church spread, a peanut-butter-and-marshmallow cream spread, was delicious on a thick slice of her homemade bread. She licked her fingers when she was finished. Nathan stood at the sink gazing out the window while he ate. Occasionally, he broke off a piece and fed it to the dog.
“Has Mr. Davis been by?” Her voice sounded strained to her own ears.
“He stopped in.”
She waited for more information, but Nathan wasn’t forthcoming. “And? What did you tell him?”
He continued to stare out the window. “I told him to put me on the schedule for Monday. Now that you’re up I am going into town.” He turned around but only to grab some papers and his hat from the table. He stopped in the open doorway but didn’t look back. “Do you need anything?”
A sack to wear over my head so that you can look at me and not see Annie.
No doubt he would be happy to bring her one. “Nothing, danki.”
“I don’t know when I’ll be back. If you need anything the phone shack is about a quarter of a mile south of the end of my lane. Lilly Arnett’s phone number is on the wall. She’s the closest neighbor. She’ll help.” He went out the door without waiting for her reply.
Maisie gazed at the sleeping babies. “At least he isn’t so angry today. Your daed won’t admit it, but he can’t ignore me forever.”
She got up and began sorting her fabric. She had finished cutting out a pair of gowns for the babies when she heard a buggy pull up outside about an hour later. She assumed it was Nathan so she didn’t go to the door. She was startled to hear women’s voices outside.
She put her sewing aside as two Amish women appeared in the doorway. “Hello, sister,” the older one said. “May we come in?”
Shocked to have visitors, Maisie sprang to her feet. “Of course. I’m sorry but Nathan has gone into town.”
The two middle-aged women smiled brightly as they glanced about at the interior of the cabin. “What a snug little home Nathan Weaver has built,” the one with wire-rimmed spectacles said. “I’m Constance Schultz. The bishop is my husband. This is my friend, Dinah Lapp. Her husband is our minister and a great help to the bishop.”
“I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Maisie Schrock, Nathan’s sister-in-law. His late wife was my sister, Annie.”
“We heard of the tragedy only a few days ago. Accept our condolences,” Dinah said. “We have come to see what we can do to help.”
Maisie was moved by the sincerity and sympathy in their eyes. The Amish rallied around one another during times of trial.
“Danki. It’s been difficult for me. Annie was my twin.”
“Gott allowed it,” Constance said softly. “We cannot understand His ways. We can only accept them.”
“I know, and I pray for acceptance.” She blinked back her tears. “Come and meet my nephew and niece. This is Jacob and Charity.” She led the way to the sofa.
“Not that I have seen yet. I pray she doesn’t develop one.” Maisie patted her own head. “It can be a burden.”
Dinah laughed. “You must meet my daughter-in-law, Gemma. She’s a redhead, too.”
“Would you like some kaffi? It won’t take but a minute to put it on.”
“Sounds wunderbar,” Dinah said.
Happy to have such pleasant company, Maisie bustled around the kitchen fixing coffee and putting slices of her fresh bread and the leftover spread Nathan had made on the table.
Constance gathered up the material Maisie had cut out and moved it to one side. “I see you’re getting some sewing done.”
“Nathan doesn’t have any clothes for them except what few things my sister had and what the hospital could send home with him.”
“Do you have children of your own?” Dinah asked.
Maisie sat at the table while she waited for the coffee to perk. “I don’t. My husband passed away some time ago. We were not blessed with children.”
“That must make your sister’s children especially precious to you, then,” Constance said.
“It does. They are the only family I have left.” Maisie felt the tears well up in her eyes.
She found herself telling the women everything about her life in Missouri, her trip to Maine, learning of her sister’s death and arriving unannounced on Nathan’s doorstep. She left out the part about Annie leaving Nathan. She didn’t think he would want that to become common knowledge and neither did she. It didn’t reflect well on Annie.
Constance leaned across the table and patted Maisie’s hand. “Nathan is fortunate to have you here to care for his new babies.”
“He finds my presence distressing.”
“Why?” Dinah asked.
“Because Annie and I are—were—identical twins. He sees the woman he loved and lost every time he looks at me. He doesn’t want me here.”
“No twins are ever exactly the same,” Constance said. “Surely he could tell you apart before she died.”
“We didn’t see much of each other before he moved here. Nathan was new to our community. He met and married my sister very quickly. I was busy taking care of my father during his illness and running our farm after my husband died. I reckon Nathan seldom saw us side by side.”
“He’ll soon see that you are different from your sister,” Dinah said in an encouraging tone as she took another slice of bread.
Constance leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. “Is that why he asked my husband to see if anyone in the community wanted a job as a kinder heeda?”
“Nathan wants me to go back to Missouri.”
“And what do you want to do?” Constance asked gently.
“I want to care for my sister’s children. But if their father won’t let me, I don’t see how I can make him.”
“That’s true.” Constance rubbed her chin. “Perhaps my husband should have a word with him.”
“Nathan isn’t a member of our congregation,” Dinah reminded her. “Your husband’s well-meaning words may not carry much weight.”
“It’s a family matter,” Maisie said quickly. “I’d rather you left it between Nathan and myself.” He wouldn’t appreciate her involving the bishop. He was a man who liked to solve his own problems.
Constance nodded. “I understand. If the Lord wants you to stay in Maine, He will show you the path. Now, would you like to see what we brought?” she asked brightly.
Puzzled, Maisie rose and followed them to the door. Outside she saw their open buggy was packed with boxes, quilts and even furniture. There were two cradles and a rocking chair.
Maisie opened one of the cardboard boxes and pulled out a little sleeper. It was used but in wonderful condition. It was too big for the babies now, but in a few months it would be perfect. “This is very generous.” She hugged the two women.
“If things don’t work out between you and Nathan, come see me,” Constance said. “There is always a place at our table for as long as you want. Now, let’s get these things inside. It looks like rain.”
For the first time since leaving Missouri, Maisie felt truly welcomed. She realized she wouldn’t have to leave when Nathan found someone to care for the babies. With the help of friends like Constance and Dinah, she could make a life here in Maine and stay close to her sister’s children.
* * *
Nathan was greeted by the sight of an unfamiliar open buggy parked in front of his cabin when he returned home. The brown-and-white pony hitched to it looked up and whinnied to Sassy. She ignored him as she headed for the barn.
Nathan unhitched the buggy and pulled off her harness before leading the mare into his corral. He rubbed her down and walked her to make sure she was cooled off before he let her drink. Giving her a final pat on her shoulder, he closed the corral gate. Sassy went to the middle of the enclosure, put her nose to the ground and turned in a tight circle before lying down and enjoying a roll in the grass.
Women’s voices and laughter spilled out the door as Nathan approached. He stopped in the doorway until one of the women noticed he was there.
“You must be Nathan Weaver.” An Amish woman with wire-rimmed spectacles smiled at him from his kitchen. She was holding his naked daughter. Maisie wrapped a towel around the babe and took her in her arms.
“You’ve just missed bathing the babies,” the second woman said as she sat holding Jacob on the sofa. There was a large pile of infant clothing and quilts beside her. “Charity spit up all over herself and her brother.”
Maisie kissed Charity’s cheek. “Mmm, clean babies smell so sweet.”
She nodded toward the woman with glasses. “Nathan, this is Constance Schultz, the bishop’s wife, and that is Dinah Lapp. Her husband is one of the ministers. Sisters, this is my brother-in-law, Nathan Weaver.”
Dinah got to her feet and laid the baby in a wooden cradle Nathan had never seen before. A second one sat beside it. She turned to face him. “God’s ways are beyond our comprehension, but His love and mercy will comfort you in your time of grief.”
He didn’t reply. There was no comfort for him, only unanswered questions.
“We were just getting ready to leave,” the bishop’s wife said. “I’m glad we had the opportunity to meet you. My husband is seeking someone to take care of the children for you. He hasn’t found anyone yet, but he’s still looking. In the meantime you are blessed to have your wife’s sister caring for them. It’s easy to see how much she loves them.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Maisie said.
“I’ll bring my sewing machine by this weekend,” Constance said.
Maisie bit the corner of her lip. “All right, if you’re sure you don’t need it for a few days.”
“If I do I know where it will be,” Constance said with a chuckle.
Maisie handed Charity to Nathan and followed her guests out the door. He saw the women hug each other before they got in their buggy. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Maisie nodded. She smiled and waved as the women drove away.
When she came back inside, she was still smiling.
“What were they doing here?” he asked.
“They stopped in to see how we are getting along and to bring us some things they thought we could use. They brought baby clothes and baby blankets. Even a pair of quilts for us.”
She gestured toward the kitchen counter. “And they brought all that food. Freshly canned vegetables and fruit from their gardens. A ten-pound bag of flour and sugar for baking. There is even a moose-meat casserole ready to go into the oven for our supper tonight. They tell me that propane appliances are permitted in this church district, so they are able to keep meat frozen in a
freezer. They also said to tell you that you are welcome to store your meat with them when you go hunting this fall.”
“I didn’t ask for any of this. I can provide for my family. I don’t need the charity of others.”
She frowned at him. “They didn’t come to offer charity.”
He gestured with one hand around the cabin. “Then what would you call this? Food. Clothing. Cradles for the babies and a rocking chair.” He pointed to the corner by the fireplace, where he had just noticed the new piece of furniture.
Maisie folded her arms. “I call it a gesture of friendship extended to a new member of their community. Isn’t that what we Amish do? We care for one another. We don’t wait for someone to ask for help. We just give it. Isn’t that the way you want your children to behave when they grow up? How will they learn about generosity and kindness unless they see it firsthand?”
“It’s my job to teach them.”
Maisie shook her head sadly. “Oh, Nathan. This is about more than your feelings of being a poor provider. We all need help sometimes. We must give it and receive it in equal measure. This is about being part of a community who live and worship together to please Gott. If you aren’t a part of that then you aren’t truly Amish and your children won’t be, either.”
How did Maisie find the core of his inner fears so easily? He hadn’t been an adequate provider. He had failed Annie and he was failing his son and daughter.
He looked away. “What did you tell them about Annie? Will everyone know that she left me?” Shame burned like acid in the back of his throat.
“I told them that my sister was traveling to be with you when she went into labor and had to go to a hospital. She died before you or I could be with her. Nothing else needs to be said. I don’t wish to besmirch my sister’s reputation. She repented, and she was making amends. I’m thinking of the children and what they’ll hear about her when they’re growing up.”
“That she took off and left me two months after our wedding with only a note that said she thought she could live Amish but she couldn’t anymore?”
“They will never hear that from me. Their mother was on her way to be with their father in his new home in Maine, but Gott took her to heaven instead.”
An Amish Mother for His Twins Page 6
