“I’m just glad to see horses and buggies again.” She gazed around at the wide, quiet streets arced over by generous shade trees. As they approached the far edge of town, lots gave way to small farms between five and fifteen acres.
“You said you came from Ohio? Does it have Englischers? How many people live there in your town?”
“I’m guessing Jasper has five thousand people or so.” She shoved her glasses up her nose. “Ohio is pretty crowded. This town seems smaller and more rural. I like seeing all these small farms. It seems things are spread out a bit more here in Indiana.”
“Grand Creek has about two thousand people. I live on the outskirts, that way.” He gestured. “Near your aunt and uncle.”
“And you live by yourself?”
“Ja. I, uh… I do now.”
Jane noticed his hesitation. Was he referencing his sister? She wondered at the secrecy.
Yet it was none of her business. She was here to heal, to work, to be useful—not to get involved in a stranger’s problems. Starting over in a new town was better than stewing in heartbreak and unrequited love.
Soon a white two-story clapboard house came into view. It was set back from the road and shaded by huge maples, with generous front and back porches. “That’s where you’re going.” Levy pointed. “There’s your uncle in the yard, mowing the grass.”
She peered through the late-afternoon sunshine and saw her uncle’s light blue shirt. His hair and long beard were grayer than she remembered.
“I haven’t seen him in years!” Jane couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. “The last time I saw Onkel Peter and Tante Catherine was three years ago, when my sister Elizabeth got married.”
Levy turned the horse into the drive. “Everyone likes them, and their dry-goods mercantile does very well.”
“Onkel Peter! Onkel Peter!” Jane waved.
Her uncle paused in his mowing and squinted. “Jane? Child, I thought you were coming by taxi.”
“I was. Then an Englischer stole my money. This man, Levy, he found me and brought me along.”
“Ja, I see that.” Her uncle smiled. “Vielen Dank, Levy.”
“Here, put the baby in the basket.” Levy dragged the lined basket up front.
Jane laid the infant in the makeshift cradle. The child whimpered. “She might need her diaper changed,” she warned Levy, who looked uncomfortable being in sole charge of the baby once more. Then she jumped out of the buggy and embraced her uncle.
“Your aunt will be very happy you’re here,” said Peter. “She’s been talking nonstop about your visit.”
But Jane was watching Levy. “Will you be okay?” she asked him.
“I’ll be okay.” He clucked to Maggie, the horse. “I hope!”
Jane heard Mercy’s wailing as he drove away. She shook her head. “He’s in trouble,” she muttered.
* * *
Levy tried to ignore little Mercy’s cries from her basket. The familiar tension and sense of helplessness enveloped him, as it had since the baby was metaphorically and literally dumped in his lap.
In contrast to his incompetence, this unknown woman, Jane Troyer, had an amazing ability when it came to soothing the infant.
What an odd package she was. Mousy brown hair, large glasses and amazing huge blue eyes. She was not beautiful, but there was something about her that piqued his interest. Her astounding aptitude with Mercy showed a maternal instinct he admired. Certainly she had more instinct than his sister Eliza had.
He compressed his lips. What was Eliza thinking, to send such a tiny infant to him? Did she think he was qualified to raise his niece, especially after the mess he’d made raising his own sister?
He hadn’t asked to step into the role of surrogate father to his only sibling. But when his parents were killed in a buggy accident when he was eighteen, he’d thought himself capable of reining in a rebellious twelve-year-old sister.
He was wrong.
“Gott, forgive me,” he whispered. Whether he required forgiveness for his thoughts about his sister, or his failure to raise her properly, it was lost in the anxiety of getting Mercy to stop crying.
He pulled Maggie, the horse, into the small barn and hopped out. Ignoring the squalling infant, he unharnessed the animal, led her into a stall, gave her a brief grooming, fed and watered her and opened the back stall door so she could access the adjacent pasture. Finally he collected the red-faced baby and diaper bag and headed into the house. By the time he sat in the rocking chair and got the baby to take a bottle, he was frazzled and exhausted.
Why had the young babysitter elected to bail on him today of all days?
He rocked the infant as she nursed, his thoughts racing through all the work he needed to get done, but couldn’t. His income depended on selling his produce at the farmer’s market, but he couldn’t work if he had to care for Mercy. And if he couldn’t depend on the teenage babysitter if she was going to flake on him when he needed her most. What could he do? He’d have to ask around to see who else might be available. Without finding Mercy a consistent caregiver, he couldn’t work his farm, sell at the farmer’s market, or do anything necessary to earn a living. A baby, he now realized, required almost constant care and attention.
His thoughts settled on Jane. She said she had a job at the Troyers’ dry-goods store, but he wondered if she would be interested in taking care of Mercy instead.
It was worth asking her. No, it was worth begging her. He needed help. Now.
CHAPTER TWO
Uncle Peter—a little more solid around the middle than last she saw him—picked up her suitcase and
