Carrie Lighte - Minding The Amish Baby

Taken aback, Turner lowered his voice and uttered, “A bobbel ? What—”

“ Kumme inside,” Tessa directed. “There’s something you need to read.”

In the kitchen Turner took the note Tessa thrust at him. He scanned the message and upon noting its signature, a surge of wooziness passed from his chest to his stomach and down to his knees. Lynne—the girlhood nickname he’d given Jacqueline. Feeling as if he was about to pass out, he plunked down in a chair and covered his face with his hands. His first thought was, I’ve heard from Jacqueline. Denki , Lord! But it was immediately followed by a rush of anguish over the circumstances surrounding her communication. His mind was roiling with so many questions, concerns and fears, he felt as if the room was awhirl.

When the dizziness diminished, he opened his eyes. Noticing a torn envelope lay on the table in front of him, he bolted upright again. “Why did you open my note?” he asked.

“If I had known it was meant for you, I wouldn’t have!” Tessa huffed, swaying from side to side as she spoke. Turner could now see the baby clearly; her eyelids were drooping and her long, wispy lashes feathered her bulbous cheeks. “But when someone leaves a bobbel on my doorstep in the middle of the night, I’ll search for any clue I can find.”

“Who? Who left the bobbel with you?” Turner figured it wasn’t Jacqueline—she wouldn’t have made the mistake of leaving the baby at the daadi haus instead of up the hill.

“I assume by the car the person or persons were Englisch , but I didn’t see the driver or if there were any passengers,” Tessa responded. “Don’t you know who Lynne is?”

“Of course I do,” he affirmed, without answering what he assumed Tessa really wanted him to tell her: Who was Lynne? “I just wasn’t sure who dropped the bobbel off.”

“‘Dropped the bobbel off’ is putting it mildly. This kind was abandoned ,” Tessa emphasized. “What kind of person does something like that in the dead of winter? If you want, I can stay here with Mercy while you go to the phone shanty.”

“The phone shanty?” Turner repeated numbly. “Why would I go there?”

“I assume you’ll want to call someone...like Lynne? Or the Englisc h authorities?”

“Neh!” Turner responded so forcefully the baby jerked in her state of near sleep. “Neh,” he repeated in a whisper.

“Why not?” Tessa pressed.

Turner stalled, studying the baby. Even in the dim light and with her eyes closed, she was clearly his sister’s child. With her dark tuft of hair, roly-poly build and snub nose, she looked exactly like Jacqueline did as a baby. “You know we respect the law, but we don’t involve the Englisch authorities in private matters like these,” he said, referring to the general Amish practice of managing their own domestic affairs whenever possible. “Mercy was left in my care because her mamm had an emergency. If you hand her to me, I’ll take her home now.”

Tessa hesitated before placing the baby into Turner’s arms. “Okay, but it will be easier for you to carry her in the basket. Let me fix this one so it’s more comfortable and secure.”

She left the room and when she returned, Tessa emptied the basket before placing a firm cushion on the bottom. Then she showed Turner how to swaddle the baby with a light blanket. She covered the lower half of Mercy’s body with a quilt, emphasizing to Turner that it was only for the short walk to his house. “You probably already know this,” she said, “but bobblin this age mustn’t have any loose blankets in their cradles because blankets can cause overheating or even suffocation.”

Turner shuddered to realize he hadn’t known that. What other serious mistakes might he make?

Placing the contents of the basket in a separate bag, Tessa observed, “At least someone took care to pack windle , clothes, a bottle and some formula. Look, there are even instructions on how to prepare it and what time she eats.”

“ Gut , then I should be all set,” Turner said, trying to project assurance.

Tessa arched an eyebrow at him. “Have you ever cared for a bobbel on your own before?”

“ Neh , but I raised my sister from the time she was a toddler.”

“That’s not the same as caring for an infant this young.”

Turner knew Tessa was right, but what else could he do? He felt duty bound to honor Jacqueline’s request not to tell anyone about Mercy, so asking his sisters-in-law for help was out of the question. “That’s my private matter to manage and I’d like it to stay that way,” he said pointedly, turning toward the door.

“Wait,” Tessa said. Surprised by the weight of her hand on his arm and the authority in her voice, Turner pivoted to look at her. The skin above the bridge of her nose was dented with deep lines, and worry narrowed her big brown eyes. “Mercy’s sleeping now, but that won’t last long. Joseph has temporarily reduced my hours at the shop, so I just work Saturdays now. If you’d like, I’m free to watch the baby during the day while you’re at work.”

Astonished by Tessa’s willingness to help, Turner wondered if the solution could be that simple. From Tessa’s brief interaction with Mercy, Turner could see how capable she was, but could he trust her to keep the situation a secret? Then he realized since Tessa already knew about the baby’s arrival, he’d have to trust her to be discreet whether or not she cared for Mercy. It would be imprudent to refuse her offer.

“That would be wunderbaar ,” he admitted, “provided you don’t tell anyone. I mean it, not a soul. I’ll pay you, of course.”

Tessa’s eyelids suddenly snapped upward like a window shade as she took a step backward. “You needn’t bribe me to keep this a secret, Turner!”

“ Neh , I didn’t mean I’d pay you for your discretion—I meant I’d pay you for your time.”

Tessa softened her stance and reached to fiddle with Mercy’s quilt. “That’s not necessary. We’re family in Christ, and you’ve been an excellent landlord to Katie and me. This is the least I can do in return. Besides, I want to help. Really.”

Turner’s ears warmed at her compliment. “And I very much want your help,” he said. “But I insist on compensating you for it.”

“Perhaps... Perhaps we could work out an arrangement with the rent? Since I won’t be earning an income at Schrock’s for several weeks—”

“I’ll waive the next few months of rent entirely,” Turner interrupted. “Now, I’d better get Mercy to the house before she wakes again.”

“ Gut nacht , Turner.” Tessa held the door for him, adding, “Don’t worry. It’s only for a short time. Everything will be all right.”

“ Jah , I’m sure it will,” he agreed. But as he trudged up the lane, he didn’t feel at all confident about what the next few weeks would bring.

Tessa lay in bed on her back with her eyes wide open. Who was Lynne? “Your Lynne” the woman had written. Usually that term was used to imply a close connection. Was Lynne a relative? A cousin, maybe? Since the Amish wrote letters in Englisch instead of in their spoken Deitsch dialect, Tessa couldn’t discern from the note whether its author was Amish or not.

She shook her head, trying to stop the ideas that were filling her imagination, but it was no use. She remembered all the times she and Katie noticed Turner leaving on Saturday evenings, either by buggy or in a taxi. She knew it was wrong to speculate about his comings and goings and even worse to jump to unsavory conclusions about his actions and character. Turner King is nothing if not upright , she thought, forcing herself to consider the baby instead.