Patricia Davids - The Amish Midwife

“It’s forgiven. The babe seems fine now. Danki. I should go home.” He reached for the baby, and Anne let him take her.

“Feed her the electrolyte water if she wakes up hungry again tonight. Tomorrow you can mix a little formula with it. One part milk to three parts water. If she tolerates that, mix it half and half for the next feeding.”

“I understand. Guten nacht , Anne. You’ve been a great help. I appreciate the loan of the clothes, too.”

“Tell Fannie she can keep them if she wants. Good night, Joseph,” Anne called after him, but he was already out the door.

Was he that concerned about her reputation or was he reluctant to answer any more questions about his sister? At least he had forgiven her for striking him. That was a relief. Shaking her head over the whole thing, Anne put out the lights and climbed the stairs to bed for what was left of her night.

Waking at her usual time, Anne fixed a pot of strong coffee and made her plans for the day. She didn’t have any mother’s visits scheduled, so her whole day could be devoted to getting her pumpkins up to her roadside stand. After two cups and some toast, she was ready to get to work.

Outside, she took her old wheelbarrow out to her patch and began loading it with ripe pumpkins. Her white ones and the traditional orange carving pumpkins were her bestsellers, but she did have a number of cooking pumpkins ready to be picked. She added three of them to the top of the heap in her wheelbarrow for her own use. Having planted a new cooking variety, she was anxious to see if they were as good as her tried-and-true heirloom ones.

A crooked front wheel made pushing the wheelbarrow a chore, but getting it fixed would have to wait. If she came out ahead on her produce stand this fall, she was definitely investing in a new pushcart. Leaving the barrow at the front steps, she carried her cooking pumpkins in and put them in the sink to be washed. She stood contemplating another cup of coffee when she heard someone shouting her name.

She opened the front door. Joseph came sprinting toward her with Leah in his arms.

Chapter Three

“Joseph, what’s wrong?” Anne held the door wide for him.

He rushed inside looking frazzled and more exhausted than the last time she had seen him. “I did as you told me. She was fine the rest of the night. When I gave her some of the formula this morning, she threw up again and her face got all blotchy. Now she won’t stop crying.”

Anne could see that for herself. Joseph’s blue shirt had a large wet streak down the front. The unmistakable odor of sour milk emanated from him. Leah continued to wail. It was hard to tell if she was red in the face from crying or from something else. Anne began to suspect the child had an intolerance to milk.

She took the baby from him, sat down in a kitchen chair and unwrapped the blanket Leah was swaddled in. The baby was wearing the long pink gown that Anne had given Joe last night. She untied the ribbon from around the hem and pulled up the material, exposing Leah’s kicking legs and belly and more red blotches. Anne had seen this kind of reaction before and was almost sure she was right. “I think she may have an allergy to the formula.”

He shook his head. “I checked the can her mother gave me. It’s the same brand I got for her. How can a baby be allergic to milk?”

“Some babies just are.” It was possible the rash was from something else, but it seemed too coincidental that it appeared immediately after she’d had the formula. Anne needed more information.

Joseph ran a hand through his hair. “She can’t live on water.”

“ Nay , she can’t.” Anne pulled the gown down and wrapped the blanket loosely around her. Lifting the baby to her shoulder, she patted the fussy child’s back until she quieted.

“Then what do I feed her?” Joseph sounded like a man at the end of his rope. Looking as if he hadn’t slept a wink, he raked a hand through his disheveled hair again. He hadn’t bothered putting on his hat. If Anne needed proof of how upset he was, she had it. Joseph never left his house without his straw hat unless it was to wear his black felt hat to Sunday services.

She shifted the baby to the crook of her arm. “You may need to switch her to a soy formula. I need to know what brand you gave her. It could be that you just need a different kind of milk.”

“I’ll get it.” He rushed out of the house, leaped off the porch without touching the steps and sprinted toward his home a few hundred yards to the south. Anne watched as he vaulted the fence at the edge of his property instead of using the gate and kept running. She didn’t know a man his size could move so fast.

She struggled not to laugh as she gazed at Leah. “You’re certainly showing me a different side of my neighbor. Do be kinder to the poor man. I think he’s having a hard time adjusting to you.”

It was clear that Joseph was deeply concerned about his niece and determined to do whatever it took to help her. Anne watched him rush into his house and wondered what else she would learn about Joseph Lapp while he cared for his niece.

Did his sister have any idea how much she had disrupted her brother’s life? Anne didn’t know Fannie, but she found it hard to picture anyone leaving a baby with Joseph, even for a few days. Still, his sister would know him better than Anne did. She’d seen him bottle-feeding young goats in his pen. Maybe he knew more about infants than she gave him credit for knowing.

Leah buried her face against Anne’s chest and began rubbing it back and forth. She whimpered and then started crying again, pulling Anne’s attention away from her thoughts of Joseph.

Anne stroked the baby’s head. “You poor little thing. That rash itches, doesn’t it? I have something I think will help.”

* * *

Joseph came sprinting into Anne’s house and skidded to a stop on her black-and-white-patterned linoleum. The baby had stopped screaming. Leah sat naked, splashing and giggling in a basin of water in the center of the kitchen table. Anne cooed to the child as she supported her and poured a cupful of the liquid over her slick little body. Leah wagged her arms up and down in delight.

He took a couple of gasping breaths and held out the cans. “This is what I gave her and this is what her mother left me.”

“Just set them on the table.” Anne didn’t even look at him. She was grinning foolishly at the baby and making silly noises. Leah seemed mesmerized by Anne’s mouth and the sounds she was making.

He put the new formula on the tabletop along with the empty can he’d pulled from the trash. Thankfully, he’d been too busy to burn his barrel yesterday. He dropped onto a chair as he waited for his racing heart to slow. It seemed his mad dash was for nothing. Both Anne and Leah were enjoying the bathing process. He soon noticed the communication they seemed to share.

Leah was attempting to mimic the shape of Anne’s mouth. When Anne opened her mouth wide, Leah did, too. When Anne pursed her lips together, Leah tried to imitate her. Although the baby couldn’t produce the sounds Anne was making, it was clear she was trying to do so. She flapped her arms in excitement.

After a few minutes, Joseph realized he was staring at Anne’s mouth, too. She had full red lips that tilted up slightly at the corners in a perpetual sweet smile. He liked her smile. He hadn’t paid much attention to her in the past but now he noticed her sable-brown hair glinted with gold highlights where it wasn’t covered by her white kapp . It was thick and healthy looking.

She was a little woman. The top of her head wouldn’t reach his chin even if she stood on tiptoe. Apple-cheeked and just a shade on the plump side, she had a cute button nose generously sprinkled with ginger freckles and wide owlish gray-green eyes. She wasn’t a beauty, but she had a sweet face. Why hadn’t he noticed that about her before? Maybe because he usually saw her when she was running after his goats, when she was furious.