“So Isaac got married, eh?” Uncle Peter asked as he began milking.
“Ja.” Jane sighed. “And I’ll admit, I’m angry about it. To be fair, I don’t think he ever knew I loved him. But it hurt when Hannah—my best friend—fell in love with him. It was too hard for me to be around them anymore. I had to leave.”
“It sounds like you’re angry with your friend Hannah. But no one understands the chemistry of the heart except Gott. Things will work out, schätzchen. Meanwhile, your aunt and I couldn’t be happier to have you staying with us as long as you like.”
With her forehead pressed against the cow’s flank, she felt the pressure of tears at her uncle’s kindness. “Danke, Onkel Peter. I’ll help out every way I can.”
“And I hope you’ll have some fun too. There are many activities for the youngies around here. In fact, there’s a barbecue this Friday evening, so you can start getting acquainted with people your age. Who knows, maybe…” He trailed off.
“Maybe not,” she replied, following her uncle’s unspoken wish that she might meet someone special. “Right now I don’t want to meet anyone. I’d rather work in your store. That’s all.”
“Your time will come, child.” Her uncle’s words were gentle and teasing.
Jane felt better. “Ja, I know. Sometimes I just get impatient.” She squeezed out the last few drops of milk. “Do you want me to get the other cow?”
“Nein, I’ll finish up. You’re probably tired after your journey anyway. Tell your aunt I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Jane released the cow and seized the bucket filled with warm, foamy milk. The early July twilight enveloped her as she walked back to the house. She paused a moment to admire the tidy, widely spaced farmhouses set back from the gravel road with small holdings tucked in back. Crickets chirped from hidden ditches, and robins hopped along lawns and fence posts. She saw the familiar huge gardens and small fields of corn and oats.
In the large airy kitchen, Aunt Catherine took a bubbling casserole dish out of the oven. The rich smell of cheese filled the air.
“Macaroni and cheese!” exclaimed Jane. “You remembered!”
Catherine laughed. “Of course I remembered your favorite dish.”
Jane knew the cheddar cheese was homemade from the output of the cows she’d helped milk. The top of the dish was crusty with a mixture of breadcrumbs and Parmesan cheese.
Jane set the bucket of fresh milk on the counter. “Show me around the kitchen so I know where everything is.”
The spacious kitchen was painted in cheerful shades of sage and cream, with a large, solid table and six upright chairs dominating the center. Streams of evening light poured through the window over the sink. Her aunt opened cupboards and drawers until Jane was familiar with the layout. Uncle Peter came in and set two more buckets of milk on the counter. Catherine strained the milk through a clean cloth, then poured the milk into large jars and put them down in the cool cellar. Jane set the table.
After a silent blessing, Catherine dished up the food. Jane forked some pasta into her mouth. “Oh, Tante Catherine, no one makes this better than you.”
Then she paused. From outside, she thought she heard the thin distant wail of a crying baby.
Peter cocked his head. “Is that…?”
Jane heard the wail grow louder, then a knock came at the kitchen door. Peter jumped up and answered it.
Levy stood on the small porch, looking harried. The baby wailed in his arms. “Gut’n owed, Peter,” said Levy politely. “Is your niece in?”
“Ja. Komm in.” Peter stood aside as Jane rose to her feet.
Levy stepped into the kitchen. “Gut’n owed, Jane.”
“Gut’n owed.” She wiped her mouth and put the napkin on the table. “Is there something you need?”
“I need a nanny.” His words were blunt and held a note of desperation.
She gaped. The poor man certainly looked stressed beyond belief, and Jane wondered if the infant had stopped crying since she last saw him.
“You need a nanny?” she parroted. “Now?”
“Ja, now. This instant. I can’t seem to make her stop crying.”
More from instinct than anything else, Jane reached for the child and cuddled her. “Shh, liebling, shhh…” She swayed the baby in her arms.
Within half a minute, the baby calmed down and fell into a peaceful silence.
She looked up and saw the same stunned expression on Levy’s face he’d worn when she’d quieted the baby at the train station that afternoon.
He snapped his jaw closed. “How do you do it?” he asked in wonder. “I haven’t been able to soothe her at all.”
“I’ve always been able to calm babies,” she replied simply. “I used to babysit all the time, and often mothers hired me to help when they had a newborn.”
“Levy, we’re just sitting down to eat dinner.” Catherine pointed to an empty chair. “Have you eaten? You’re welcome to join us.”
“Ja, danke, I will. I’ve been too busy with the boppli to think about food.”
Catherine fetched another plate and some cutlery, then dished up a portion of the casserole for Levy.
With the quiet baby in her arms, Jane sat back down. “You said you need a nanny, and I can understand why, but I came here to work in Onkel Peter’s store.”
“I know. But Peter—” he turned to the older man “—I’m in desperate need of help. You know how busy I am this time of year. I can’t tend the garden or harvest crops or even sell at the farmer’s market while caring for an infant.”
“Ja, I see that. But the decision is Jane’s.”
Levy turned to her. “What do you say?”
Jane looked at the warm, trusting baby in her arms. The infant’s eyelids drooped,
