Her mother waved her off and began arranging her underthings in the dresser drawers. “Don’t be silly, Leah. Jah, Calvin Eicher and Ivan Beachy have been sniffing around, but why would I consider either of them?” she asked in a teasing voice. “They make a point of arriving at mealtime—unannounced—and when they’re not spreading on the compliments too thick, they’re asking if I’d do some mending. Or they invite me to their homes as though it’ll be a really hot date to spend time cutting their hair or cleaning up their cluttered kitchens. No, thank you!”
Leah laughed out loud. “With their families grown and scattered around, they want your company, Mama.”
“They want my farm, Leah. And they both need a mother more than a wife.” Mama widened her eyes purposefully. “And compared to your dat, they have all the personality of dusty cardboard boxes. End of discussion.”
The set of Mama’s jaw confirmed that she had absolutely no interest in the two widowers she’d mentioned, so Leah let the subject rest. Her mamm planned to stay for a nice long while so there would be plenty of time for the mother-daughter conversation she craved . . . and time to share the secret that was beginning to swell beneath her apron as well.
“Our big news of late—besides Alice’s and Adeline’s joining the church, of course—is that the sheriff brought me a big settlement check from those two English fellows who shot most of my cattle,” Leah said as she shook out the last dress in the suitcase. “And I mean a big check.”
“Only right that those young men pay you for the animals they slaughtered,” Mama insisted. “From what Abner and Bishop Vernon told me, they didn’t leave you with many cows—not to mention the way they were corrupting the twins. Adeline and Alice will remain forever marked by tattoos their future husbands might not like much.”
Leah wondered what else Abner and his uncle might have shared with her mother, but she didn’t want to blurt out the news of her pregnancy. It was a happy topic best shared on the porch swing with refreshing glasses of iced tea rather than on the spur of the moment in a guest room that seemed stuffy from lack of use. She opened the two windows, allowing the breeze to circulate the fresh scent of honeysuckle and sunshine. “The girls will have a lot to admit to the fellows they marry someday,” she agreed. “But I suspect they’ll be attracted to the sort of Amish men who’ve had a few adventures of their—”
The loud backfiring of an engine made Leah stoop to stare out the window. Her heartbeat accelerated to a crazy rate when she saw an old red car rolling slowly up the lane toward the house. “Oh! Oh, could it be?” she whispered as she dashed for the door. “Mama, I think that’s Natalie—little Betsy’s mother!”
Leah raced downstairs so fast she didn’t feel her feet hitting the steps. Stevie looked up from the kitchen table, where he was writing his alphabet and numbers to show his Mammi Lenore, but hope was making Leah’s throat so tight she couldn’t speak to him. As the screen door banged behind her, she was vaguely aware that the twins were in the garden hoeing weeds, but she only had eyes for the car door that was swinging open with a loud creak.
The sound of a high-pitched cry inside the car made Leah’s heart shrivel. “Natalie?” she called out to the girl emerging from the vehicle. “What brings you here? It—it’s gut to see you,” she added.
When the dark-haired young woman gazed at her, desperation tightening her young face, Leah stopped several feet away from her. Natalie’s complexion was splotchy and she’d put on enough weight that her T-shirt and jean shorts appeared a couple sizes snugger than Leah remembered. For a moment she just stood beside the car, plucking nervously at the hem of her shorts. Then she burst into tears.
Leah approached her slowly, sensing that the young girl’s life had gone sadly awry. “Natalie?” she asked softly. “How can I help you, dear? Shall we get Betsy out of the car and go inside for something cool to drink?”
With a loud sniffle, the young woman reached into the car and pulled out a basket—the same basket she’d left on the porch on a chilly March morning, except Betsy had grown so much that she barely fit in it. The baby was crying, sounding hungry and frustrated, yet Leah hesitated to rush over and pick her up. Natalie appeared determined to handle her noisy child her way—which meant she started toward the house as though she didn’t even notice that Betsy was upset.
Leah felt torn. It wasn’t her place to ask Natalie if Betsy could return to them, yet her arms yearned to hold the wee girl and comfort her. Thinking quickly, she held the door for Natalie and then grabbed a container of goat’s milk from the spare refrigerator in the mudroom. “I—I’m not sure we have any baby bottles, because I sent them along with you when—”
“I can’t keep her.” Natalie set the basket on the kitchen table, oblivious to wide-eyed Stevie.
At that, Leah set aside the milk and scooped Betsy out of the basket. The baby wrapped her little arms around Leah’s neck, clinging for dear life even as she began to relax. The
