Lenore’s hand fluttered to her heart as she watched him run outside. “My word, who would ever have thought that little boy would be so—”
“Amazing? Lovable?” Leah asked with a little laugh. “He’s been a real bright spot, and he’s so devoted to Betsy. Come in and see her before she wakes up crying for her bottle.”
As Lenore entered the comfortably furnished front room, she smiled at a white wicker crib near the picture window. The sight of Jude napping in his recliner with a tiny baby sleeping on his shoulder tugged at her heartstrings. “The poor man looks exhausted,” she said quietly. “I hope Betsy hasn’t been keeping you both awake since she arrived.”
“He’s lost a lot of sleep over Adeline and Alice lately,” Leah whispered with a shake of her head. “After another lecture at the dinner table today, he sent them upstairs. He . . . he took to Betsy the first moment he saw her. She’s such a blessing to us.”
Lenore nodded. She’d always liked Jude, and his unconditional acceptance of other men’s children made him even more admirable, in her opinion. She walked carefully toward the pair, hoping not to waken them. “Ohh,” she cooed as she leaned over to look at the baby. “What a precious little face—like a doll’s, so pretty and pink.”
Jude opened one eye. “That surely can’t be my face you’re talking about,” he whispered. “Sorry I didn’t hear you come in, Lenore. If you’ll take Betsy, I’ll go unload your rig.”
Lenore gladly cradled the little baby in her arms, delighting in Betsy’s tiny fingers and bow-shaped mouth—and her shining eyes when she opened them. “You know, babies this young all tend to look somewhat alike,” she remarked softly as she began to sway from side to side, “but Betsy reminds me a lot of you when you were this age, Leah. Your hair was this shade of brown, and you had such a thin little face.”
Her daughter looked startled. “I—I never thought about her resembling any of us, Mama. My face probably changed week by week when I was a baby.”
“That’s true of tiny faces,” Jude put in as he rose from the recliner. “But I’ve noticed a few similarities between Betsy’s face and yours, as well—and I’ve gazed at both of them enough to know, jah?” he added, gently touching Leah’s cheek.
Lenore smiled, relishing the rise of color in her daughter’s complexion. She was pleased that Jude and Leah still appeared to be crazy for each other despite the trouble Alice and Adeline were giving them. As Jude left to unload her buggy, she and Leah returned to the kitchen, where Leah took a metal canister from the refrigerator.
“It’s a gut thing you’ve got goat’s milk to feed this wee one,” she said. “So much easier on her tummy than store-bought formula. And you can’t beat the price.”
Leah smiled as she poured milk into one of the clean bottles from the drainer. “Stevie’s new mission is learning how to milk the goats, so he can help with feeding her. I let him practice on Tulip, because she’s the most patient.”
As she imagined the boy seated beside Leah’s goats, Lenore chuckled. “I suspect he’s an enthusiastic milker—maybe more eager than your goats would prefer.”
Leah laughed. “Stevie’s enthusiastic about most things, bless him—and that’s such an improvement over his earlier sadness,” she added. A creak in the floor above them made her glance upward. “We keep asking God for an attitude adjustment to transform the twins, but I don’t see it happening anytime soon. Incorrigible, they are.”
“God answers our prayers in His own gut time, and often in ways we don’t expect,” Lenore said, gazing from the baby to her daughter. “Before the girls come downstairs, tell me what I can do that’ll be the biggest help to you, Leah. If you’ve given Adeline and Alice certain duties, I don’t want to interfere—or let them off the hook, if they’re to be responsible for, say, the laundry or the cleaning.”
“Will you cook for us?” Leah replied plaintively. “I really miss your breakfast casseroles and your meat loaf and chicken spaghetti, and your soft bread and cinnamon rolls and—well, it’s high time I learned to cook the way you do, Mama. The twins can put food on the table, but their hearts aren’t in it.”
Lenore smiled wistfully. “I would love to cook for your family, Leah. I confess that all too often these days, I resort to a bowl of cereal or eating fruit straight from the jar, because making a regular meal for just myself seems like such a bother.” She smiled at little Betsy, who was wide awake now and starting to fuss for her bottle. “You have a higher priority than cooking now, so I’ll be happy to take over the meal prep.”
“Wow, that’s gut news!” one of the twins remarked as she entered the kitchen.
“Jah, making food has never really been our cup of tea,” her sister said, reaching for a snickerdoodle. “Baking cookies is fun, but fixing a meal is such a chore.”
Lenore turned to greet Alice and Adeline, who wore matching cape dresses of deep rose—with bodices so snug as to appear a size too small. “Hello, girls, it’s gut to see you again,” she began, carefully considering her response. She’d raised a daughter who hadn’t liked to cook—but Leah had never seemed so eager to get out of working. Nor had she worn such immodest clothing.
Don’t forget that these girls lost the woman who probably sewed for them . . . the woman who loved them as only a mother could.
When Jude came through the back door carrying two large, stacked plastic bins, Lenore was grateful for his timing. “Here’s some of the fabric I brought along, thinking we could make everyone some new clothes,” she said, gesturing for Jude to set the bins on the kitchen table. “Why not pick out the colors
