First comes baby...then comes love?

In this Amish County Courtships romance

Amish store clerk Tessa Fisher isn’t ready for marriage or a family—until a baby girl is abandoned on her doorstep. Now Tessa and her gruffly handsome landlord, Turner King, must mind the baby together. And soon Turner and the sweet-cheeked kind are burrowing into Tessa’s heart. But with secrets between them, can the temporary family find a way to stay together forever?

CARRIE LIGHTE lives in Massachusetts, where her neighbors include several Mennonite farming families. She loves traveling and first learned about Amish culture when she visited Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, as a young girl. When she isn’t writing or reading, she enjoys baking bread, playing word games and hiking, but her all-time favorite activity is bodyboarding with her loved ones when the surf’s up at Coast Guard Beach on Cape Cod.

Also by Carrie Lighte

Amish Country Courtships

Amish Triplets for Christmas

Anna’s Forgotten Fiancé

An Amish Holiday Wedding

Minding the Amish Baby

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Minding the Amish Baby

Carrie Lighte

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09042-1

MINDING THE AMISH BABY

© 2018 Carrie Lighte

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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“What man doesn’t want a heart-shaped cookie cutter?”

“I’m sure this will kumme in handy when I host my annual Valentine’s Day party,” Turner joked.

“Your annual Valentine’s Day party? Why haven’t I ever been invited to that?” Tessa crossed her arms, pretending to feel slighted.

“Because this is the first year I’m having it,” Turner replied without missing a beat.

Tessa giggled. “There’s something else I have to confess about my discussion with Rhoda. Because I told her you’d given me a ride to the store, she made the assumption you were courting me.”

“That’s all?” Turner asked. “Why would that offend me?”

“Because I didn’t deny it. I allowed her to think you wanted to keep our courtship a secret.”

“As long as you’re not upset about Rhoda making that assumption, then neither am I.”

“I’m not upset,” Tessa confirmed.

Why? Because it isn’t true so it doesn’t matter what Rhoda thinks, or because you’d accept me as a suitor? Turner wondered.

But even discussing a courtship between them caused warmth to course through every fiber of his being...

Dear Reader,

I confess Tessa and I share the same perspective about cooking: If I’m the only one eating, why go through the trouble of preparing a full meal? When I was much younger and single, my cupboards were just as bare as Tessa’s were, too. I’ll never forget the time my parents came to visit and my mother marveled at how spotlessly clean my oven was. Little did she know that was because I hardly ever used it. (Actually, she probably did know; mothers are clever like that.)

Also like Tessa, I make appenditlich lemon squares, if I do say so myself. I’d give you my recipe, but it’s a closely guarded secret—although it’s not nearly as big as the secret Tessa and Turner shared.

Thank you for reading their story. There are two more books to come in the Amish Country Courtships miniseries and I hope you’ll enjoy them.

Blessings,

Carrie Lighte

If we confess our sins,

he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins,

and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

—1 John 1:9

For everyone who loves and nurtures the children of others as if they were their own, and with special thanks to my brother.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

“Soup from a can?” Tessa Fisher’s mother, Waneta, asked incredulously. “None for me, denki. I’ll just have bread and cheese.”

If her mother turned her nose up at canned soup, Tessa figured she wasn’t going to have an appetite for store-bought bread, either. She racked her brain for something else to offer her parents, who had arrived unexpectedly for Sunday dinner.

It was an off Sunday, meaning Amish families held worship services in their homes instead of gathering as a community for church. Tessa should have anticipated guests, since Sunday visiting was a cherished Amish tradition. But the truth was, as a woman living alone, Tessa was more likely to be the one dropping in on others than the one receiving visitors in the little daadi haus she rented from Turner King. Still, she hadn’t imagined her parents would travel all the way from Shady Valley, which was two towns over, to Willow Creek, Pennsylvania. Since Tessa returned from worshipping at her sister’s house only a few minutes before they arrived, she was caught unprepared.

“I’m sorry, Mamm,” Tessa apologized as she set a bagged loaf on the table. “If I had known you were coming, I would have made something ahead of time, like a dessert.”

“From a mix?” her mother half jested, untwisting the tie from the plastic bag.

When Tessa put her mind to it, she could bake and cook as well as any Amish woman, but those weren’t her favorite responsibilities and she didn’t see much point in laboring over large meals when she had only herself to feed. She’d much rather spend her time socializing or working extra shifts at Schrock’s Shop, the store in town where she was employed as a clerk selling Amish-made goods primarily to Englisch tourists. Besides, it was the Sabbath. No one prepared a big dinner on the day of rest.

“Probably,” Tessa admitted. “It’s quicker that way.”

“Since when is quicker better?” Waneta frowned. “It sounds as if the Englisch customers at Schrock’s Shop are influencing our dochder, Henry. I think it’s time she moved back home.”

Tessa’s father grunted noncommittally as he served himself several thick slices of bologna. At least the bologna was homemade, although not in Tessa’s home; she purchased it the day before at Schlabach’s meat market.

Tessa stifled a sigh. A little more than two years ago she and her sister, Katie, who were the youngest children and the only girls in their family, moved from Shady Valley so Katie could serve as a replacement for Willow Creek’s schoolteacher, who resigned to start a family. Although Katie was twenty-three at the time, Henry and Waneta were reluctant to allow her to live alone, something Amish women in their area seldom did. So, they sent Tessa, who was nearing twenty-one, to live with her. Early last November, Katie married Mason Yoder, a farmer, and moved into a small house Mason built on the Yoder family’s property. Ever since then Tessa’s mother had been pressuring Tessa to return home, which Tessa was reluctant to do. Although she loved her parents deeply, Tessa sometimes felt stifled by their overly protective attitude, and she cherished her friends and job in Willow Creek too much to leave. Yet, she also knew the Lord ultimately required her to honor her parents, no matter how old she was or how much she disagreed with their opinion.

“The customers aren’t influencing me, Mamm,” Tessa protested. “Besides, I couldn’t leave Joseph Schrock shorthanded at the shop, especially since I didn’t have any experience when I first applied for a job there. You remember? He hired me with the agreement that if he took the time and effort to train me, I’d remain a loyal employee for as long as he needed me. I can’t walk away now—you and Daed always taught us to abide by our commitments.”

Tessa knew her mother wouldn’t argue with her own instructive advice. As Henry silently chewed his bologna, Waneta slathered a slice of bread with butter and then held it up in front of her.

“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” she said. “You’ll never catch a husband with food like this.”

To Tessa, it sounded as if her mother were discussing laying a trap for a wild animal. If she had known serving store-bought bread was going to result in a discussion about her likelihood of matrimony, she gladly would have baked a dozen fresh loaves to avoid the topic. Most of the area’s Amish youth were discreet about if and who they were courting, and their parents seldom interfered in their children’s romantic pursuits. But, at nearly twenty-three years old, Tessa knew her mother feared she’d never wed, and Waneta’s strongly worded hints were gaining in frequency.

“I’m in no hurry to get married,” Tessa replied. She’d had her share of suitors over the years, but in the end they didn’t seem compatible enough for her to imagine devoting herself as a wife to any of them. Nor could she imagine taking on the duty of raising a family. Not yet, anyway. Not when she’d just begun to experience the rare opportunity of being a single Amish woman living entirely on her own, without the responsibility of cooking, cleaning or taking care of anyone else in her household. She added, “There aren’t many eligible bachelors in Willow Creek, anyway.”

“Which is exactly why you ought to kumme home. I’ve been talking to Bertha Umble and her suh Melvin isn’t walking out with anyone.”

Melvin Umble? It was hardly a wonder. The last time Tessa saw him when she was visiting home, Melvin seemed far more interested in sprucing up his courting buggy than he was in an actual courtship, and he’d spoken endlessly on the topic. Tessa let her mother’s comment hang in the air.

“Would you like a cookie, Daed?” she asked. “They’re packaged, but they’re tasty.”

“How can I refuse? Apparently, it’s the way to my heart,” her father replied with a grin, and Waneta playfully swatted at him with the back of her hand.

“Henry!” she exclaimed. “I’m only trying to help our dochder.”

Deep down Tessa knew it was true that her mother was trying to help. But that was just it: Tessa didn’t need help because she was perfectly content in her present circumstances. More than content, she was happy. As far as she was concerned, she could live as a single woman indefinitely.

“Please think about what I said,” Waneta advised later as the three of them bundled into their woolen coats. They planned to spend the rest of the afternoon at Katie and Mason’s house. No doubt Tessa’s sister would serve a full supper in the evening. Although cooking a large meal wasn’t permitted on the Sabbath, Katie’s Saturday leftovers were bound to be savory and numerous.

“I always think about what you’ve said, Mamm,” Tessa replied, hoping to reassure her mother that she needn’t worry about her daughter living alone. “Nothing you and Daed taught me is ever far from my mind.”

“Nor are you ever far from our hearts and prayers,” Henry said.

“That’s very true, but I still wish she weren’t far from our home, either.” Waneta couldn’t seem to resist dropping one more hint as they stepped outside onto the small porch, but Tessa sensed it was far from her final one.

“Hallich Nei Yaahr,” Turner King greeted Tessa and her parents as he approached the daadi haus on the front corner of his property.

Although January was soon over, because they hadn’t seen him since the New Year began they wished him a happy new year, too. He extended a few colorful envelopes to Tessa. Since they technically lived at the same address, they shared a mailbox at the end of the lane. Usually, they gathered their own mail separately, leaving each other’s items behind, but these messages appeared to be belated Christmas cards and there was wet weather on the way. Turner didn’t want them to get ruined, so he delivered them on his walk back from the mailbox. “These were piling up,” he said.

Tessa’s mother clucked as her daughter accepted the mail. “She’d forget her own head sometimes,” Waneta commented. “What if one of those had been an urgent message from home, Tessa? It’s a gut thing we have Turner nearby to look after you.”

Turner noticed Tessa’s olive complexion breaking out in a rosy hue. As she stood next to her father, it was plain to see she’d inherited her prominent cheekbones and long, elegant nose from his side of the family. Turner bristled when his sister-in-law Rhoda once made the superficial remark that she wasn’t sure if she thought Tessa was the most striking woman in Willow Creek or just plain homely.

But observing Tessa and her father now, Turner understood what Rhoda meant: one couldn’t help but notice their unusual features, which differed drastically from those of most of the Amish leit in their district. For his part, Turner found their uniqueness becoming, and it was enhanced when father and daughter stood side by side. For a moment, he was distracted by how winsome she appeared. I shouldn’t be entertaining such a thought—Tessa’s closer to my little sister’s age than to mine.

“Denki for bringing these to me,” Tessa said sheepishly.

“It’s not a problem. I forgot to collect my own mail until today, too.”

“All the same, you will keep an eye on her, won’t you?” Waneta persisted, as if talking about a kind. “Especially now that she’s living alone, without Katie. We don’t want her getting into any kind of trouble.”

Tessa’s dark, deep-set eyes flashed with apparent anger before she averted her gaze. Clearly, she was as uncomfortable with this conversation as Turner was. One of the reasons he didn’t mind having renters was the Fisher girls mostly kept to themselves—at least, they did after he declined several of their invitations to supper when they first moved in. He valued his privacy and didn’t relish the idea of increasing his interactions with Tessa beyond the brief greetings they exchanged whenever their paths crossed.

“Tessa knows where to find me if she needs assistance,” he responded vaguely. Then he excused himself and hurried along the narrow lane leading up the hill to the larger house where he lived by himself.

As he walked, he marveled over the irony of Tessa’s mother asking him to keep an eye out for her daughter. If only Waneta knew Turner hadn’t been able to keep his own sister, Jacqueline, away from a world of trouble, she wouldn’t entrust Tessa to his watch.

Not that Tessa needed monitoring anyway. During the two years Tessa and Katie lived in his family’s daadi haus, the sisters always paid their rent on time and they kept the house and yard tidy. Admittedly, they often had visitors, including church members, their parents and female friends for sister days. Turner noticed Mason Yoder used to frequent the daadi haus, too, but like any suitor who called on the Fisher girls, he only stayed long enough to pick Katie up and drop her off. Aside from when they hosted a few raucous volleyball games in their yard with other single youth from church, the sisters were courteous, sensible tenants.

Granted, Turner had conversed more often with Katie than with Tessa. The younger sister’s effervescent personality frequently made him feel bumbling and dull by contrast. Rather than grow tongue-tied in Tessa’s presence, he preferred to interact with Katie regarding any issues that had arisen with the daadi haus. Now he wondered if Waneta’s comments indicated Tessa was a little too high-spirited for her own good. Maybe there was a reason unbeknownst to him behind the mother’s request. He understood how family members sometimes protected each other’s reputations; that’s exactly what he was doing for Jacqueline.

“It was difficult enough raising my own siblings. I don’t need to look after a fully grown tenant,” Turner grumbled aloud as he entered his empty house.

He tossed a couple of logs into the wood stove and then washed his hands before preparing a plate of scrambled eggs for supper. He thanked the Lord for his food, adding, Please keep Jacqueline safe from harm and bring her home soon.

Before opening his eyes, Turner rubbed his thumb and forefinger back and forth across his brows. It seemed he’d had the same unrelenting tension headache for fourteen years. It started the day his parents were killed by an automobile when he was eighteen and he was left to raise Mark, Patrick and Jacqueline, who was a toddler at the time. If his aunt Louisa, then a young widow, hadn’t been living in the daadi haus that once belonged to his grandparents, Turner never would have made it through those early years. She helped manage the children, especially Jacqueline, and he supported the family financially by taking over his father’s buggy shop. But the year Jacqueline turned ten Louisa married a mason from out of state and moved to Ohio.

With the grace of God, Turner managed to raise his brothers according to their Amish faith and traditions. But bringing up a girl—especially one who was entering her teens—was a challenge exceeding Turner’s best efforts. It wasn’t that Jacqueline was necessarily unruly; it was more that Turner suddenly was at a loss for how to communicate effectively with her. Having completed her schooling at fourteen, she was no longer considered a child, but neither was she an adult. To Turner it seemed she wanted all the privileges of adulthood without any of the responsibilities, and the brother and sister frequently locked horns. When Jacqueline turned fifteen, she moved to Louisa’s house in Ohio. By sixteen, her rumspringa began, and she suddenly left Louisa’s to live among the Englisch. Much to Turner’s consternation, it had been nearly eight or nine months since she’d contacted their family.

Raising his head, Turner released a heavy sigh. Try as he did to cast his burdens upon the Lord, lately he felt more overwhelmed than usual. He supposed this was because after his youngest brother, Patrick, married Rhoda and moved out of the house in November, Turner didn’t have anyone to distract him from his thoughts on the weekends, when he tended to worry more about Jacqueline’s welfare and sometimes took trips to search for her. It was on Saturday and Sunday evenings when he most wished for the loving support and companionship of a wife, but marriage wasn’t an option that seemed probable for him.

As a younger man, Turner’s time and energy were wholly consumed by raising and providing for his siblings. He’d expected he’d have more flexibility once they entered their teens, but in many ways Jacqueline’s disappearance limited him more now than caring for her as a child had done. How could he court anyone when his weekends were spent searching for his sister? Furthermore, he couldn’t imagine sharing the secret of Jacqueline’s circumstances with anyone outside the family. Although Jacqueline hadn’t been baptized yet so she wasn’t in the bann—or shunned—it was still considered disgraceful for her to have run away to the Englisch world.

As for marrying in the future, Turner felt he couldn’t risk starting a family of his own, for fear his wife would bear daughters. What if he failed to raise them to stay true to their Amish faith and traditions as miserably as he’d apparently failed to raise his sister? He couldn’t bear that kind of heartache again, nor could he allow his wife to suffer through it, either. No, despite his desire to marry, Turner figured the Lord must have willed for him to remain a lifelong bachelor.

Exhaling slowly, he reminded himself the next day was Monday and he’d be back in his shop with his brothers working at his side. Repairing and modifying buggies, crafting wheels and organizing inventory filled Turner with satisfaction. Unlike in the situation with his sister, there was almost no problem he couldn’t figure out and fix in his workshop.

He lifted a forkful of eggs to his mouth, but they’d already gone cold. What he wouldn’t do for a home-cooked meal—the kind his aunt used to make or his mother before that. He’d received many Sunday supper invitations, but for the past year he’d turned them down, anxious his hosts might question him about his sister. The last anyone in Willow Creek knew, Jacqueline was at Louisa’s in Ohio, and he preferred to allow them to think that was still the case. After living among the Englisch for over a year, she’d have enough explaining to do and attitudes to overcome when—or if—she returned to their community. She didn’t need rumors to begin before she’d even arrived.

Unfortunately, his isolation also meant Turner rarely enjoyed a hearty meal, unless one of his sisters-in-law made it for him. They didn’t know about Jacqueline’s disappearance, either, despite their expressed curiosity about her whereabouts. The three brothers rarely discussed Jacqueline’s absence, even with each other, but Turner knew Mark and Patrick felt as concerned about their little sister as he did and they were equally committed to guarding her against gossip, even if their wives’ questions—especially Rhoda’s—were well intentioned.

As he prepared for bed that night, Turner again reflected on his brief encounter with Tessa’s parents. If he’d been as protective as they were, might Jacqueline still be part of their family and community? Or had he been too strict? Was that what caused her to leave? There hadn’t been any significant conflict between them when she’d gone to live with Louisa. In fact, all three of them had agreed it would be beneficial to have a female influence guiding Jacqueline as she entered womanhood. Turner certainly didn’t blame Louisa for his sister’s running away, but in retrospect, he regretted allowing Jacqueline to leave Willow Creek in the first place. What if by letting her go he’d given his sister the idea she wasn’t dearly wanted, an integral member of their family? Turner shuddered. Once again, he asked the Lord to keep her safe and warm, to guard her against sinful temptation and to bring her home soon.

The pain that had been plaguing Turner all day moved from his forehead down the side of his jaw and into his neck. As his head sunk into the pillow, he decided no amount of distress was worth such physical discomfort. He had to stop worrying, keep praying and start working harder at finding his sister. Meanwhile, he wasn’t going to be his tenant’s keeper, no matter how insistent her mother was.

When the new day dawned, Tessa practically leaped out of bed. She loved Monday mornings, when she returned to her job at Schrock’s. Initially, because her parents sheltered her so closely, she had little experience interacting with the Englisch, and she barely spoke a word to the tourists. But after two years as a clerk, she’d grown accustomed to the Englischers’ ways and she readily struck up conversations as she assisted them with their purchases. Although she missed her close friend, Anna Chupp, who quit clerking when she got married, Tessa enjoyed engaging with the Schrock family and other Amish leit who consigned their goods in the shop.

“Guder mariye,” she greeted Joseph when she entered through the back door.

“Guder mariye, Tessa,” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Before you go into the gallery, I’d like to have a word with you.”

“Of course. What can I do to help?”

Joseph smiled wanly. “Your willingness to be of assistance makes it very difficult for me to tell you this, Tessa. But you know our holiday sales weren’t what I hoped they’d be this year. Now that Grischtdaag has passed and Englisch schools are back in session, there will be fewer tourists passing through Willow Creek until the weather warms. I’m afraid I temporarily have to reduce your hours.”

Tessa’s stomach dropped. “By how much?”

“I can only schedule you to clerk on Saturdays,” Joseph confessed, shaking his head. “If I had my druthers, I’d keep you on full time and release one of the other employees, but of course I can’t do that.”

No, because that would mean releasing Melinda Schrock, the clerk who recently wed Joseph’s nephew, Jesse. Tessa understood family came first.

“I see,” she said plaintively.

“It’s only for a season. When spring rolls around, I’ll have you back to full time again.”

There was only one problem with Joseph’s plan: without a steady income, Tessa wouldn’t be able to pay her rent. She’d have to move back home before spring ever “rolled around.” And once she did that, there’d be no escaping her mother’s matchmaking attempts—not unless she got married, anyway.

Some escape that would be, she thought later as she fidgeted in bed long past midnight, mentally calculating her savings and racking her brain for another temporary employment opportunity, some job she could give up at a moment’s notice in order to return to the shop. In the end, the only solution she could devise was asking Turner if she could postpone making her rent payments until her work schedule picked up again—something she was hesitant to do. Turner had already been more than generous in allowing her and her sister to live there, renting the daadi haus at a fraction of what he could have required. He even reduced Tessa’s rent when Katie moved out. Although she’d be asking for only an extension, not a reduction, of her payments, she didn’t want to take advantage of his benevolence. Nor did she want him to think she was irresponsible; her mother’s recent comments to him on that subject had been humiliating enough.

More than that, Tessa was reluctant to speak with Turner because she harbored a sense of self-consciousness in his presence. When she and Katie moved in, Tessa had developed a full-fledged crush on Turner, who was sinewy and tall and whose tempestuous blue eyes and reticent nature gave him an air of mystery. That he’d been so well respected in the community and so charitable about their rent made her like him all the more. As a result, she tended to become highly animated whenever she spoke to him, sometimes making frivolous remarks because she was nervous in his presence. But he never accepted the sisters’ invitations to share Sunday supper with them and their friends at the daadi haus, and Tessa suspected he was put off by her obvious interest in him. Eventually, she conceded Turner was too unsociable for her liking anyway and she gave up trying to get to know him better.

Indeed, over time she observed how often he wore a scowl across his face. While Turner wasn’t quite ten years older than Tessa, she thought his countenance aged him. It apparently kept people at a distance, too, including his own sister. It was rumored Jacqueline had gone to live with her aunt the year Katie and Tessa moved into the daadi haus, and the girl hadn’t paid her brother a visit since then. Tessa wasn’t altogether surprised. Although Mark and Patrick King were generally congenial, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen Turner smile. She imagined his somber demeanor would have felt oppressive to his teenage sister, especially since Jacqueline was said to be naturally humorous and outgoing.

In any case, unless the Lord directed her toward another solution, Tessa resigned herself to asking Turner for an extension on her rental payments. Scooting out of bed, she put a prayer kapp on over her loosely gathered hair and prayed a simple prayer: Lord, I don’t know what else to do and I really want to stay in Willow Creek. Please reveal Your will for me in this situation. Amen.

While still on her knees she heard the sound of tires crunching up the snowy lane. Curious, she rose, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders as she made her way toward the kitchen, where she turned on the gas lamp. Meanwhile, a succession of honks came from outside. Tessa couldn’t imagine who would be so rude, but when she opened the door, she spotted a car reversing its direction and heading back toward the main road. She figured it must have been desperate Englischers who were lost and needed help finding their way. But if that was the case, why had the driver honked as if deliberately trying to wake the household, and then left as soon as Tessa appeared, without waiting to receive directions first?

As she was about to close the door, something at her feet caught her eye. She peered through the near dark. It was a basket of laundry, of all things! Tessa was aware Turner paid an Amish widow, Barbara Verkler, to do his laundry for him, but she was perplexed by the absurd manner and timing of its delivery. She lifted the cumbersome basket, brought it indoors and was about to put out the lamp when something inside the basket moved beneath the light cloth draped across the top. A mouse? She didn’t need another one of those getting indoors. Tessa wrinkled her nose and gingerly lifted the fabric.

There, bedded snugly on a pillow of clothing and diapers, was a chubby, pink-cheeked, toothless and smiling baby that appeared to be about three months old. The infant kicked her feet and waved her arms, as if to say “Surprise!” But Tessa was beyond surprised; she was so stunned she staggered backward. Was this a joke? The baby flailed her limbs harder now and her smile faded as she began to fuss. Tessa realized the child wanted to be held, and as she lifted the baby from the basket, an envelope slid from the blanket onto the floor.

Sensing it would provide information about whatever prank someone was playing on her—she didn’t think it was a bit funny—Tessa bounced the baby in one arm and opened the envelope with her other hand. The note said:

Dear Turner,

I’m sorry to leave Mercy with you in this manner, but I know I can count on you to take good care of her for a few weeks until I’ve had time to decide what to do next. Please, I’m begging you, don’t tell anyone about this—not even Mark or Patrick, if you can help it.

Your Lynne

Tessa couldn’t believe what she was reading. This baby was intended for Turner’s doorstep, not hers; the driver must have seen the address on the mailbox and assumed Turner lived in the daadi haus. So, who was Lynne? Tessa always assumed there was more to her serious, enigmatic landlord than what met the surface, but she never imagined he was guarding a secret like this. Before she had an instant to contemplate what to do next, someone pounded on the door. Had the driver realized his mistake and returned for the child?

“Tessa!” Turner shouted urgently, as concerned for her safety as he was annoyed about the disruption to his sleep. “It’s me, Turner. Are you all right?”

When the door opened, Tessa was pressing a finger to her lips. “Shh. You’ll upset the bobbel,” she chastised, gesturing with her chin toward the baby she cradled in her other arm, its face obscured by Tessa’s posture.

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 Englisch 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.

Chapter Two

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.

With her pudgy arms and cheeks and her pink skin, Mercy had obviously been well nurtured. At least, she was until her mother abandoned her. Tessa sighed. She supposed she couldn’t really say the baby was abandoned. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d been left with a complete stranger. Turner knew who the mother was, even if he wouldn’t say. Tessa could only guess why the mother didn’t speak to him directly about caring for the baby instead of just leaving Mercy on the doorstep. Maybe she truly was in a rush, but it seemed if she legitimately had an emergency, she would have called upon other relatives or friends who were better prepared to look after a baby than Turner was. And why did she insist on secrecy, even from Turner’s brothers?

The entire situation didn’t make any sense, but one thing was clear to Tessa: upon reading the note, Turner’s expression changed from one of irritability at being woken late at night to a wide-eyed vulnerability that made him appear almost like a baby himself. Realizing stoic, self-sufficient Turner King was shaken and burdened filled Tessa with a sense of compassion and she was eager to help. Yes, she’d taken offense at his repeated admonishments not to tell anyone about the baby, but his distrust was a small affront compared with waiving her rent for the next few months as payment for caring for Mercy.

Granted, being a nanny wasn’t her favorite job, but it was one she had a lot of experience doing. As a teenager the only way she could earn an income had been to mind children. In her community, when an Amish woman had a baby, the family often hired a girl like Tessa to watch the other offspring, so the mother could devote herself to the newborn. While Tessa had doted on the children under her care, she had wished there were other opportunities in Shady Valley for her to earn money. It was expected that most Amish women would marry and give up their jobs when they began families of their own. Even at a young age, Tessa realized she’d probably have her whole lifetime to keep house and care for children, so she’d wanted to experience a different kind of responsibility while she still could. That was why she was so attached to her job at Schrock’s.

Yet right before she fell asleep, Tessa realized that although she wouldn’t have chosen to be laid off from the shop any more than she’d wish an emergency on Mercy’s mother, the timing was mutually beneficial for both her and Turner. It was so uncanny Tessa knew it had to be the Lord’s answer to her prayers. He had delivered the alternate solution she’d just requested and she was grateful for it.

When she woke before daybreak, Tessa brewed a pot of coffee and then peeked out the back window of Katie’s former bedroom. From this vantage point, she could see a light burning at the house on the hill. Were Turner and the baby awake already? Had they ever gone to sleep the night before? Figuring Turner wouldn’t refuse a cup of coffee, she dressed, donned her winter cloak and bonnet, and trudged up the lane carrying the full pot. She heard Mercy’s cries before she climbed the porch steps.

“Guder mariye,” she said when Turner opened the door. He looked as if he’d spent the night chasing a runaway goat: his posture was crooked, his clothes were rumpled and his eyelids were sagging. “I know it’s early but I thought you could use a cup of kaffi.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” Motioning toward Mercy, he confessed, “I don’t know what’s wrong with her. I’ve fed her, burped her and changed her windle, but she keeps screaming.”

“She probably misses her mamm,” Tessa said, setting the coffeepot on the table so she could receive the red-faced baby from Turner’s arms. Rather, from his arm. Tessa noticed Mercy was dwarfed by Turner’s size; he could have easily balanced her with just one hand. Yet he was every bit as gentle as he was adroit, and as he carefully passed the screeching baby to Tessa, she was aware of the way his arm softly brushed against hers.

While Turner filled two mismatched mugs with coffee, Tessa cooed, “Guder mariye, Mercy. What’s all this fussing about, hmm? How can we make you more comfortable?”

Mercy’s wailing continued as Tessa held the baby close to her chest. She asked Turner to place a quilt on the table and then she set the baby down and took notice of her clothes. Mercy’s diaper was lopsided and gaping and her legs were cold and damp. “I think she needs a bath,” Tessa suggested. “And I’ll show you how to change her windle so they’re secure.”

“I didn’t want to hurt her tummy by making it too tight,” Turner said, amusing Tessa with his innocent but thoughtful mistake. This was a side of Turner she’d never seen before. “I’ll go fill the tub.”

“Neh, not the tub,” she replied, chuckling blithely in spite of Mercy’s screams. “She’s too small for that. We can bathe her in the sink. You get her ready, please, and I’ll make sure the water is the right temperature.”

Tessa rolled up her sleeves and set a towel in the bottom of the sink to serve as a cushion. Then she filled the sink part way and tested it with her elbow. She took Mercy from Turner and eased her into the water. Almost immediately Mercy stopped crying. Within seconds, she was smacking the water with her feet and hands, looking momentarily startled each time droplets splashed upward, but then she’d smile and slap the water again.

“She likes it!” Turner exclaimed.

Surprised by the brightness of his grin, Tessa threw back her head and laughed. “Most bobblin do, provided the water’s not too hot and definitely not too cold,” she said instructively.

After she washed, dressed and sufficiently fed Mercy using the supplies Lynne had provided, Tessa rocked the baby up and down in her arms. “She’s getting drowsy,” she observed. “You look exhausted, too. Why don’t you go get a couple hours of sleep before you head to your shop? I’ll stay here in the parlor with Mercy, in case she wakes up.”

Turner twisted his mouth to the side and shook his head. “Neh, that’s all right.”

Tessa reflexively bristled; why was he so uneasy? It wasn’t as if she was going to abscond with the baby to the Englisch authorities the first chance she got. “I’ll take gut care of her and if anyone kummes to the house, I’ll knock on your bedroom door right away,” she assured him. “No one will ever know Mercy and I are here.”

Turner rubbed his brow. Was he tired, apprehensive or in pain? It was difficult for Tessa to tell. Finally he said, “Denki, I’d appreciate that,” and shuffled from the room.

“Now it’s time for you to get some sleep, too, little haws.” Tessa referred to Mercy as a bunny as she lowered the baby into the basket. “When you wake, we’ll have a wunderbaar day, won’t we?”

The comment was more of a wish than a promise. Tessa had spent enough time caring for little ones to know that sometimes it was an enjoyable, fulfilling experience, and sometimes it was tedious, demanding work. Tessa also knew there wouldn’t be anyone else around for her to talk to. The very thought made her feel as if the walls were closing in. It’s only a short-term solution to ensure my long-term situation, she reminded herself. Besides, it’s helpful to Turner and the Lord knows how much he needs that right now.

Tessa tiptoed toward the kitchen to clean the sink and hang the damp towels, smiling about how loosely Turner had diapered Mercy and how delighted he’d been that she liked her bath. If grumpy Turner King could demonstrate good humor under his present circumstances, she could be cheerful, as well. Yes, she was determined to make today a wonderful day. For herself, for Mercy and for Turner.

Turner clicked the door shut behind him. While he was grateful for Tessa’s suggestion to catch a nap before work, he had lingering qualms about her being in the house while he was asleep. Namely, he was nervous someone might stop by—not that that was likely to happen, since it rarely had before—and discover Tessa there, whether with or without the baby. While he knew there was no hint of impropriety in his or Tessa’s behavior, he worried her presence there so early in the morning might tarnish their reputations.

But hadn’t she promised she’d wake him instead of answering the door if anyone came by? Ultimately, he was too tired to worry an instant longer and he collapsed into bed. He was so exhausted from being up half the night with Mercy it seemed as if his head had just hit the pillow when Tessa rapped on the door. “Turner, it’s almost eight o’clock,” she called. “Mercy’s asleep in the parlor and I’ll be in the kitchen.”

As he opened the bedroom door a fragrant aroma filled his nostrils and Turner snuck past the dozing baby into the kitchen. “Something smells appenditlich,” he said.

“I figured you’d need a decent meal to start your day. I made pannekuche and wascht but since there’s no syrup, you’ll have to use jam. It wasn’t easy preparing something substantial. You must dislike cooking as much as I do—your cupboards are even emptier than mine.”

Unlike most of the Amish leit in their district, Turner hadn’t owned a milk cow, or even chickens, since Jacqueline left home. He relied on the local market for his dairy supply as well as for his other staples, and sometimes he neglected to shop until he was down to the last item in his pantry. He was surprised to hear Tessa’s cupboards were often bare, too. Since she said she didn’t like to cook, he was touched by her thoughtfulness in preparing their meal.

“Well, denki for making this,” Turner said, sitting down at the opposite end of the table. It felt strangely intimate to eat breakfast alone with a woman. After saying grace, he told Tessa, “Don’t feel as if you need to cook for me in the future.”

Tessa’s gleaming eyes dimmed. What had he said wrong? He only meant he didn’t expect her to do anything other than care for Mercy. If last night was any indication, she’d have her hands full enough as it was.

“Since Mercy was asleep, I didn’t have anything else to do and I was getting hungry myself,” Tessa replied, helping herself to a sausage.

Turner stacked pancakes on his plate and took a bite. They melted in his mouth. “Do you want to watch Mercy here or at the daadi haus?” he asked.

“Here, since I’m far more likely to get unexpected visitors at the daadi haus than you are.”

Embarrassed Tessa noticed how seldom he received company, Turner swiped a napkin across his lips. “That probably would be best,” he agreed.

Tessa continued, “Monday through Friday I can arrive as early as you like until Mercy’s mamm returns. For the most part, I can stay as late as you need me to stay, too. But I do have occasional evening commitments I’d prefer not to miss.”

Evening commitments. Did that mean she was being courted? It was the customary practice for Amish youth in Willow Creek to court on Saturdays and to attend singings on Sunday evenings, not during the week. But for all Turner knew, it might be different for some couples, depending on how serious they were. He set his napkin beside his plate. “What time do you usually go out?” he asked.

Tessa’s cheeks flushed and she swallowed a sip of water before speaking. “I didn’t say I was going out.”

Now Turner’s face burned. He hadn’t meant to be presumptuous. “Sorry. I assumed someone like you would be going out.”

“Someone like me?” Tessa arched an eyebrow. “What am I like?”

Turner sensed he was wading into murky waters. “I only meant that you’re young. You’re social. You’re, you know...carefree.”

“Carefree?” Tessa echoed. “I’m not sure that’s accurate. But, jah, sometimes I like to socialize on Saturday evenings. On Sundays after church, too, although I suppose I could change my plans if necessary.”

So then, did that mean she was being courted or not? Turner didn’t know why it bothered him that he couldn’t be sure. “Neh, there’s no need for that. I’ll watch Mercy on the weekends—my brothers can tend shop on Saturdays, if needed.”

Tessa dabbed the corners of her lips. Turner had never noticed how they formed a small bow above her slightly pointed chin. “On Wednesdays, Katie and I usually have supper together at the daadi haus. I suppose I could cancel, but I don’t know what excuse I’d give her...”

“Neh, you shouldn’t cancel,” Turner insisted. “The last thing I want is for you to be tempted to create a false excuse. I’ll be back in plenty of time for you to eat supper with your sister tomorrow evening.”

He rose to don his woolen coat for the short stroll to the buggy shop on the western corner of his property. Setting his hat on his head, he hesitated when he heard Mercy stirring in the next room. His brothers were going to wonder what was keeping him and he didn’t want them to come to the house, so he reached for the doorknob. Just then, Mercy began wailing in earnest and Tessa moved toward the parlor.

“Don’t worry, I’m here,” she said as she left the room.

Turner didn’t know whether her words were intended for the baby or for him. As grateful as he was for Tessa’s help, she also kept Turner on edge. Is she a little touchy, or am I imagining it? he wondered, hoping she wasn’t temperamental enough to change her mind about protecting his secret or honoring their arrangement. But as he strode across the yard, he again reminded himself he had no choice but to trust her.

By noon, Turner and his brothers finished assembling an order of wheels for the Amish undercarriage assembler who owned a shop several miles away and partnered with the Kings. Although Mark offered to make the delivery, Turner insisted he’d do it himself. His reasons were twofold. First, he’d stop at an Englisch supermarket, where no one would look twice if he purchased formula for the baby along with food for himself.

Second, the trip would give him an opportunity to check out the area’s minimarkets. According to Louisa, it was rumored among Jacqueline’s acquaintances that Jacqueline had recently returned to the Lancaster County area, not far from Turner’s home. Although his sister didn’t have the required work permit, her peers said she supposedly was working in what the Englisch called a “convenience store.” The term saddened Turner, especially when he saw what was sold at such shops. But he made a habit of stopping in at the area’s stores under the pretext of buying a soda, hoping he’d bump into Jacqueline. He realized this method was about as precise as searching for a needle in a haystack with mittens on and his eyes closed, but it was better than nothing.

As usual, his Tuesday trip yielded no further clues about his sister’s whereabouts and by the time he made his delivery, purchased groceries, returned home and stabled his horse, Turner’s eyes were bleary with fatigue.

“Look who’s here!” Tessa exclaimed when he walked into the parlor, and he grinned in spite of himself. Tessa was holding Mercy against her chest, one hand supporting the baby’s legs in a sitting position, the other embracing her across her waist. As if in welcome, Mercy cooed and a long string of drool dangled from her lower lip.

“Let me get that,” Turner said. As he gingerly removed the spit cloth from Tessa’s shoulder to wipe the baby’s mouth, his knuckles skimmed Tessa’s cheek. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his ears aflame, but she acted as if she hadn’t noticed.

After Turner dabbed the baby’s mouth dry, Tessa handed her to him. “I’ve made a list of items we’ll need for the bobbel,” she said.

A list? “I already bought formula when I was making a delivery.”

“Gut. Did you pick up extra bottles, too?”

“Neh, I didn’t think of that.”

“It would be helpful to have another spare or two. Also, I’m concerned about Mercy sleeping in the basket. She can’t roll over yet, but she’s a good little kicker and I wouldn’t want her to topple it.”

“I might have a cradle stored in the attic. I’ll look tonight.”

“And then there’s the matter of Mercy’s windle. I’ll use your wringer to wash them, but we ought to purchase cloth so I can cut a few more. I could do that in town but it might arouse suspicion.”

“You’re right,” Turner replied, jiggling Mercy. “If you tell me what to get, I can pick the material up in Highland Springs the next time I make a delivery. But I don’t have a wringer—I gave mine to Patrick and his wife when they married. Barbara Verkler does my wash for me. She picks it up from my porch on Monday morning and delivers it on Tuesday.”

“Uh-oh. I knew about Barbara but I didn’t realize that meant you didn’t have a washer here at all. I’d better take Mercy’s dirty windle home with me and wash them there.”

“Denki,” Turner said, impressed Tessa thought of details about Mercy’s care that never would have occurred to him. He followed her to the door and waited while she donned her cloak.

“I’ll be glad to see you again tomorrow,” she said, tapping the baby’s nose.

Turner was surprised but pleased. “You, too,” he replied, not realizing until too late that Tessa was speaking to Mercy instead of to him.

As soon as Tessa latched the door behind her the baby let loose a howl Turner couldn’t quiet no matter how he tried. Tomorrow might as well have been a month away.

“Supper was scrumptious,” Katie raved, cleaning her plate with a heel of bread. “Was the sauce actually homemade?”

“Jah,” Tessa confirmed.

On Tuesday, although she’d enjoyed reading Scripture and praying quietly while Mercy slept, Tessa had begun to feel stir-crazy without having any tasks to do or anyone to talk to, so on Wednesday she had toted ingredients with her to Turner’s house. Since she had time, she’d decided to forgo the jarred spaghetti sauce she usually bought and use fresh tomatoes and basil to create her own. Tessa had inwardly smirked when Turner gladly accepted the helping of meatballs and pasta she’d set aside, despite what he’d said about it being unnecessary to prepare meals for him.

After spending more time with him in the past few days than during the entirety of the time she’d lived in Willow Creek, Tessa expected to have gained better insight into his personality. Instead, she found him just as difficult to understand. Sometimes his response to her best intentions—such as when she’d prepared breakfast for him—bordered on disapproval. But at other times his appreciation for Tessa was obvious, such as when he’d clumsily indicated he couldn’t wait to see her again or when he was retrieving a cradle for Mercy and he’d also brought a rocking chair down from the attic for Tessa to use.

“There’s got to be another way you can earn enough money to pay your rent,” Katie said, interrupting Tessa’s thoughts. She spooned a generous helping of meatballs into a glass container. Both girls appreciated that Mason understood their need to spend time with each other, and they always made enough food for Katie to bring home to him. “I can speak with the eldre after school tomorrow. Maybe one of the families needs help around the house, or—”

“Neh!” Tessa vehemently objected. “Denki, but for now, I can make ends meet.”

Katie cocked her head. “Are you certain?”

“Jah,” Tessa replied, struggling to come up with an explanation that was both honest and convincing for why she didn’t need a temporary job. “I have a little money in savings. Besides, I’m not certain when Joseph might need me back again, so I’d hate to commit to working for someone else and then have to quit as soon as I began.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Katie agreed. “Are you going to tell Mamm and Daed you’re not working at the shop?”

Tessa frowned. “Neh, not if I can help it. If Mamm finds out Joseph has no pressing need for me—even though it’s only temporary—she’ll say I’m no longer required to continue working for him and I should return home.”

“Don’t worry,” Katie consoled her. “Unless she questions me directly, I won’t say a word about it, but you know she has a knack for figuring these things out on her own.”

“Jah, and if she does, I might as well pack my bags. There are only two things Mamm wants right now—for me to kumme home and for me to find a steady suitor and get married. The minute I return to Shady Valley, she’s going to arrange for Melvin Umble to call on me. I just know it.”

“That’s the perfect solution!” Katie exclaimed, clapping. “We need to match you up with a suitor here.”

“Oh, you mean so I don’t get into an argument with Mamm about Melvin once I move back? I’m not sure a long-distance courtship would be enough to deter—”

In her enthusiasm, Katie cut Tessa short. “Neh, I’m not suggesting a long-distance courtship in the future. I’m suggesting a local one in the present. Think about it. If Mamm caught the slightest hint you already have a suitor here, she’d likely pay the rent for you to stay at the daadi haus herself!”

Tessa squinted suspiciously at her sister. Ever since Katie married Mason, she seemed eager to match Tessa up, too. Katie claimed it was because she valued finding a man she loved so much she wanted Tessa to experience something similar, but Tessa suspected Katie may have felt guilty about leaving her behind. There was no need; although initially Tessa was sorry to see her sister go, she quickly adjusted to living completely by herself and now she actually preferred it that way. Especially since Katie and Tessa still visited each other regularly.

“That may be true, but I’ve already been courted by the only eligible bachelors I can think of in Willow Creek,” Tessa complained. Everyone except Turner, that is, she mused, recalling how her skin had tingled when his hand accidentally touched her face the previous evening. She immediately banished the peculiar thought.

“In Willow Creek, jah,” Katie said. “But Mason’s sister-in-law Lovina has a brother who just moved nearby to Elmsville from Indiana, and he has expressed interest in remarrying.”

“A widower? How old is he? Forty? Forty-five? Sixty?”

“Schnickelfritz!” Katie flicked a dish towel at her sister. “For your information, he’s thirty-three.”

“Is that how many kinner he has, too?”

“Of course not. David only has four kinner.”

“Only?”

“Four isn’t a lot. I hope to be blessed with at least that many.” Katie brought the last of the dishes to the sink. “Kinner are a gift from the Lord, Tessa.”

“I know that,” Tessa replied. “But I can’t imagine myself as a mamm to one kind yet, let alone four at once.” As adorable as Mercy was, and as fond as she was becoming of the baby, Tessa had grown antsy after only two days of caring for her. She couldn’t wait to get back to the shop where she’d be among people who could talk back to her when she spoke to them. “What do you think I have in common with this David, anyway?”

“I’m not sure,” Katie admitted. “But you need a suitor and he wants a wife, so you ought to at least meet him. If you don’t strike it off, that’s fine, but you need to keep an open mind. You never know who the Lord might provide for you.”

“How do you propose I meet him? It’s not as if a thirty-three-year-old widower visiting from out of town is going to show up at one of our district’s singings.”

“That’s why you’re going to host a potluck supper here the next time he visits Willow Creek. Mason and I will kumme, and we’ll invite Mason’s sister, Faith, and her husband, Hunter. We can also ask Anna and Fletcher Chupp to kumme.”

Tessa groaned. “But then it will be obvious you’re trying to match David and me, which will be uncomfortable, especially if we have nothing in common.”

“How about if Anna and Fletcher each invite a single friend, too?”

“I don’t know...”

“Have you got any better ideas?”

“Neh.”

“Then a Saturday evening potluck it is. I’ll find out when David’s going to be in town, and then we’ll extend the invitations,” Katie said, smiling.

Tessa wished she was as optimistic as her sister was, but she felt more dread than hope about meeting David. Still, it gave her the excuse to host a party and she supposed that if there was even the tiniest possibility Katie’s plan would help prevent Tessa from returning home, it was worth a try. Somehow, though, when she weighed the option of becoming an instant mother to four children against the option of going home, going home didn’t seem so bad after all.

Friday afternoon was especially challenging for Turner. For one thing, the shipment of LED components he’d ordered didn’t arrive, which meant Patrick couldn’t finish installing the new lighting system for Jacob Stolzfus’s buggy. For another, Mark encountered a problem as he was working on the brakes of Jonas Plank’s buggy. Unlike most of the buggies in Willow Creek, his used disc instead of drum brakes. Jonas said he kept going through brake pads too quickly, so Mark removed the calipers and when he saw how damaged the pads were, he examined the rotors, which were severely scored. The buggy would need new ones.

Because disc brakes were rarely used among the Amish, Turner had to call several Englisch salvage yards to find what he needed. Although it was permissible for the Amish in Willow Creek to use phones for business purposes, Turner didn’t have one installed in the buggy shop, so he had to traipse to the phone shanty. It was quicker to walk than to hitch and unhitch his horse, but even so, the trip disrupted his regular work. He finally secured the parts from a place in Highland Springs, but the yard owner was going out of town and told Turner he couldn’t pick them up until late the following Thursday afternoon. Jonas Plank pulled a face when Turner explained the situation to him, and it took all of Turner’s self-control not to remind him he’d urged the young man to purchase a buggy with drum brakes from the start.

Then on Friday evening, despite Turner’s best attempts to pacify her, Mercy cried so long and hard she eventually wore herself out. Between managing the challenges of his shop, taking care of the baby after work and struggling with his concerns about Jacqueline, Turner was bushed. After putting Mercy to bed, he stayed up just long enough to devour a ham sandwich before going to sleep himself.

Not long after, the blaring of a car horn jarred him from slumber. Jacqueline’s back! he thought and bounded from bed to don his daytime clothes. His heart thumped as he shoved his feet into his boots, flung open the door and bolted outside onto the porch without a coat.

When the horn sounded again, he realized it was coming from the other end of the lane, near the daadi haus. A man’s voice traveled distinctly across the winter air. “I’m not going to stop honking until you come out, Tessa!”

So it wasn’t Jacqueline after all. Turner couldn’t quite catch Tessa’s reply to the man’s demands, but her tone sounded alarmed so he hurried through the night in the direction of the ruckus. As he neared the daadi haus, he could hear Tessa scolding the driver. “I said hush! You’re going to wake my landlord, who’s a very grouchy person on a gut day, so I can’t imagine how agitated he’ll be if his rest is disturbed at nearly midnight by an Englischer. Please leave.”

“It’s not my fault I’m an Englischer,” the man argued. “I’ll become Amish if it means you’ll go out with me. Just once. Please? I’ll be a complete gentleman. We’ll go out to eat, that’s all. If you don’t enjoy your time with me, I won’t ask for another thing again. I promise.”

“Neh, Jeremy. You need to leave. Now.”

“Not unless you agree to go out with me.”

“The only place I’m going is back inside, and I want you to leave.”

The moon cast enough light for Turner to watch as Tessa started back up her walkway and onto the porch. Unsure whether he ought to interfere, he hesitated, but when the young man sounded his car horn again, Turner stepped out of the shadows. Suddenly all the frustration he felt about his sister living among the Englisch boiled up inside him and he struggled to suppress the urge to direct it toward the driver. The Amish were pacifists and Turner’s faith required him to forgive both figurative and literal trespassers.

“Tessa asked you three times to leave. Do I have to ask you a fourth time?” he stated in a deep, gruff voice.

Jeremy’s head swiveled in Turner’s direction. “Of course not. I’m sorry for causing a commotion. I’ll leave right away, sir,” he said, his voice suddenly meek.

“Denki,” Turner responded. “Please don’t return without an invitation from me.”

As Jeremy repositioned the car so he could drive forward down the lane, the headlights circled the porch where Tessa stood clutching a shawl around her shoulders. Turner had never seen her dark, glossy hair loosened from its bun and he wasn’t surprised Jeremy was smitten with her, considering the emphasis the Englisch placed on physical appearances. Still, Turner considered Jeremy’s late-night visit an unacceptable intrusion and he wondered if this boisterous Englischer was the reason Waneta wanted him to keep an eye out for Tessa. Tessa had been baptized into the Amish church, so she wouldn’t dream of becoming involved with an Englischer in any romantic capacity—about that, Turner had no doubts. But he worried she may be too guileless to realize her lively personality could be misinterpreted by young Englisch men who didn’t understand her commitment to the Lord and the Amish way of life.

“I’m very sorry about that, Turner,” she said. “Jeremy’s parents own the Englisch diner on Main Street and he often stops by Schrock’s, so I’ve chatted with him a few times. I’m surprised by his behavior tonight. Usually he’s so well-mannered.”

“As true as that may be, Englischers don’t think the same way we do about, er, romantic relationships and courting, so you probably shouldn’t give your address to them.”

“I didn’t give my address to Jeremy!” she protested. “His sister has given me a ride home before so she might have told him where I live, but I certainly didn’t invite him here! I’d never do such a thing!”

Her adamant objection made it clear to Turner he was mistaken to think she would have been so naïve. Wanting her to know he’d stand behind her if Jeremy showed up again, Turner said, “That’s gut. But he’ll have to answer to me if he kummes here again without an invitation.”

“He won’t,” Tessa firmly assured him, her chin in the air.

Turner got the sense she was offended, but once again he didn’t know why. After saying good-night, he tromped back to the house. To his relief, Mercy was still sleeping soundly, which was exactly what he wanted to do. But when he got into bed, sleep escaped him. All he could think about was whether Jacqueline had been drawn into the Englisch world by a boy who promised he wanted only a single date and if she didn’t like him, he’d never ask for another thing.

Then Turner questioned if he really came across as disagreeable as Tessa suggested. She had a lot of nerve, didn’t she? Perhaps if she bore even a fraction of the kind of concerns and responsibilities he had, she wouldn’t be so quick to judge. Or maybe if Turner were a younger man with little to worry about except which Willow Creek maedel he should court, he’d walk around wearing a ridiculous grin on his face.

Ah well, there was no sense dwelling on how his life might have turned out if he hadn’t had to raise his siblings. He pulled the quilt to his chin and shut his eyes so he wouldn’t be “a very grouchy person” come morning.

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