This visit to her aunt and uncle was to help her mend her broken heart. Her best friend had married the man Jane had spent so many years loving from afar. She didn’t blame Isaac for never noticing her. Most men didn’t. But it still hurt. Why had Gott made her so plain? She blinked back tears of self-pity.
Her mother always told her she made up for her lack of beauty with an abundance of character, but that was small comfort as her friends, one by one, settled into marital bliss, leaving her the sole unmarried woman from among her cohorts.
Her older sister Elizabeth, married now, was the beauty of the family. It was hard growing up in her shadow, even though her sister’s character was just as lovely as her face. But Jane—who needed to wear glasses from a young age, then grew lanky and tall—felt awkward by comparison. Except when it came to babies. For whatever reason, her confidence soared with a baby in her arms.
The ironic thing was she was unlikely to ever have babies of her own. Marriage just didn’t seem to be Gott’s plan for her.
The baby currently in her arms crinkled her face and started to wail again. Jane guessed she was hungry. “Where’s your mamm?” she asked. Jane tried soothing the infant, but the boppli only wailed louder.
In desperation, Jane rummaged through the diaper bag and found two bottles.
Jane removed one, popped off the cap and determined it was the right temperature. She inserted the tip into the baby’s mouth. The boppli immediately stopped crying and started suckling. A little piece of Jane’s heart melted as she cuddled the infant.
“Gut, you found the bottles.”
Jane looked up. The man hurried toward her, beads of sweat trickling down one side of his face. He was taller than her by several inches, which put him near six feet in height. He had the strapping look of a hardworking farmer. His dark blue shirt, damp from humidity, mirrored the dark blue of his eyes. But it still puzzled her why he had no beard. Married men grew beards.
“I loaded the boxes as fast as I could. Sorry to take so long…” he continued.
“Don’t worry about it. I found everything I needed in the diaper bag. But now you’ll have to wait until she finishes eating.”
“That’s fine.” He sat down on the bench. “Ach, what a day it’s been so far.” He heaved out an enormous breath.
“Bad day?” She shifted the infant. Her own troubles were forgotten for a moment as her curiosity got the better of her.
“You don’t know the half of it. I’m grateful you minded the boppli while I collected my boxes.” He fished a bandanna out of his pocket and mopped his face. “Ach, it’s warm for this early in July.”
“She’s a gut baby,” she offered. “No trouble at all.”
“For you, maybe. For me, she’s been nothing but trouble.”
“My name is Jane Troyer, by the way.”
“Levy Struder. The baby’s name is Mercy.”
“Oh, that’s lovely.” She smiled at the infant, whose eyes were half-closed as she concentrated on drinking her bottle.
“And apt. She needs all Gott’s mercy she can get.”
Jane didn’t ask for an explanation, but she put two and two together. Could Levy be widowed? He didn’t act like a grieving man, but he did look like a harried one.
The baby pulled away from the bottle at last, so Jane took a clean cloth diaper from the bag and put it over her shoulder. She hitched up the infant over the cloth and patted her back. “I think she’s ready to go.”
“Ja. I’ll take your suitcase. My buggy is this way.”
Jane patted little Mercy’s back until she heard a delicate braaap, then kept the baby there as she followed Levy toward a hitching post in the shade of a tree where a dozing horse stood hitched to a buggy.
He swung her suitcase into the back of the buggy, on top of a large number of big cardboard boxes. “I’ll hold the baby while you get in.”
She handed over the drowsy child. A large basket, padded with soft blankets as an impromptu cradle, occupied the seat. She moved it toward the back, climbed in and took the baby in her arms. Levy unhitched the horse, gave it a pat on the neck and climbed in beside her. He clucked, and the horse trotted out of the train station’s parking lot.
“Ah, it’s good to get away from there.” Jane leaned back in the seat and cuddled the infant close to her chest. “It’s been a long trip, and I don’t like being among so many strangers.” The horse pulled them through busy streets, laden with cars and stoplights and noise.
“You said you were robbed? What a bad start to your visit. How much money got stolen?”
“I had about fifty dollars in my bag.” Her face hardened. “It was all I had.”
“Did you report it to the station manager?”
“No. What could he do? The thief snatched my bag out of my hand and disappeared. By the time I would have found the station manager, my money would be far away.”
“Did he steal anything else?”
“Just a handkerchief.”
“There’s a spare in the diaper bag if you need one.” Humor crinkled his eyes. “I wonder if the thief was disappointed in getting only a handkerchief.”
“Serves him right.” Seeing the lighter side, Jane chuckled. “At least it was clean.”
Levy guided the horse away from the station. “It will take about two hours to get to Grand Creek,” he warned. “I try not to make this trip any more often than I have to. I can’t tell you how hard it was, driving here with Mercy in a basket.”
“Why didn’t you leave her with someone?” She paused, then decided to probe a bit. “Your wife?”
“I’m not married. This is my
