Maybe caring for little Mercy full-time would fill the ache that came from knowing she was unlikely ever to have a baby of her own.
CHAPTER THREE
Early the next morning, Jane walked toward Levy’s home. Mist burned off from across the fields, and the sun shone through it in streaming bars of light. The air was cool and fresh. She walked up to the house and knocked on the front door.
“Come in!” he called.
Morning sunshine poured through the windows as she walked in, lighting a room that was comfortable but not clean. Dusting and sweeping, apparently, had gone by the wayside with little Mercy’s arrival.
“In here!” called Levy.
Jane dropped the bag she’d carried onto the floor and followed his voice into the bedroom off the kitchen. Levy was changing the baby’s diaper.
“At least she’s not crying,” observed Jane, leaning against the doorframe.
“Ja, something of a marvel. All right, geliebte, almost finished…”
“You’re actually not bad at that.” Jane watched as he tucked the cloth diaper neatly into a diaper cover around the baby’s bottom and fastened the straps.
“Amazing what I’ve learned since Mercy arrived,” he admitted. He slipped a flannel dress over the baby’s head and pushed her little arms into the correct holes.
“Where did you get the diapers and baby clothes?”
“People in the church donated them. I had to buy the bottles and formula, though.” He lifted the baby up.
“Here, I’ll take her,” Jane said.
Levy placed the baby into Jane’s arms, and her heart melted a bit at the sweet-smelling little bundle. “Goodness, she’s such a precious baby.”
“Ja. When she’s not crying, that is.” He ran a hand through his hair. “She’s just a whole lot more work than I ever anticipated.”
“Well, it doesn’t sound like you had any warning.”
“That’s an understatement. Let me show you around, so you know where to find things.”
Jane trailed behind as he showed her where the baby’s diapers, formula, bottles, clothing and other things were located. She was pleased to see the bouncy seat on the table, which would allow the infant to be present during meals or other kitchen activities.
“I know it’s awkward to be in someone else’s home,” he concluded, “especially since you’re just settling in with your aunt and uncle.”
“Ja, I was going to ask about that. Do you mind if I go back and forth between here and there?”
“Nein, of course not. I trust you to do whatever you need to do with Mercy.” He glanced at a clock over the kitchen sink. “But I need to get to work. Will you be okay on your own?”
Jane chuckled. “Probably better than you are on your own.”
His eyes crinkled with amusement. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, and feel free to explore the house and property.” He picked up his hat, plopped it on his head and strode out the door.
Jane watched as he seized several garden tools and walked toward fields planted deep with corn and other vegetables. Beyond the barn she saw fenced pastures where three cows and their calves grazed. A rooster crowed from a coop near the barn, and she saw a tangle of fencing that could only be a pigpen. In all ways, Levy’s property was a typical Amish small farm.
She looked down at Mercy, who gazed back with unfocused eyes. Jane dropped a kiss on the baby’s nose. “It’s just you and me, little one. What shall we do first?”
She began by taking Levy up on his offer and exploring the house. It was smaller than most Amish homes, just two dusty, unused bedrooms upstairs, a cellar below, and the rest of the living quarters on the first floor, including the master bedroom he shared with the infant. A treadle sewing machine occupied one corner of the living room. A small room off the living room turned out to be an office. From the ledgers and notepads, she concluded it’s where he did his accounting work.
Mercy looked ready to fall asleep, so Jane sat in a rocking chair until the baby drifted off. She noticed the film of dust on the furniture, the unswept floors, the clutter of unwashed dishes in the kitchen sink. Levy needed more than a nanny for this motherless infant—he needed a housekeeper. She wondered why he wasn’t married. Unlike her, he was an attractive person. Surely some woman would notice that?
When Mercy had fallen asleep, Jane laid the baby in her crib, then tackled the house. She explored the basement and found shelves of canned food and jars of dried beans, as well as hundreds of empty canning jars. Selecting some split peas and a jar of canned ham, she went upstairs and started making some split-pea soup for lunch. She washed the piles of dishes. She dusted and swept the entire downstairs.
Mercy awoke with a wail, so Jane changed her diaper and sat down in the rocking chair to feed her a bottle. It was then that Levy returned.
“Soup!” He sniffed the air. “I didn’t expect you to cook, Jane, but it sure smells good.”
“What would you normally eat midday?”
“Just a sandwich or two.” He ladled the steaming soup into a bowl. “And you did the dishes!”
“This house needs a woman’s touch.” Jane lifted the bouncy seat on the table and laid Mercy in it. “There, liebling, now you can watch as we eat.”
“Was she good this morning?”
“Like gold. She’s such a sweet baby.”
Levy closed his eyes for a silent prayer, then swallowed a spoonful. “It was Gott’s will you got stranded at that train station. Already I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
For just a moment, Jane’s heart gave a thump. Whatever happened, she wouldn’t let herself become attracted to Levy. She wouldn’t. “I’m grateful for the job.” Her remark was deliberate, to remind Levy she worked for him and nothing else.
“Mercy seems happy too.” He toyed with the baby’s feet, encased in
