Amish Baby Lessons Read online

  “This house needs a woman’s touch...”

  Jane put Mercy into her bouncy seat. “There, liebling.”

  “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. “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 thin flannel socks. “Maybe she knows she’s no longer subject to a fumbling bachelor’s care.”

  “Why...” Jane stopped.

  “Why what?”

  “Nothing.” She’d almost asked him why he wasn’t married.

  It was none of her business. If she didn’t want him prying into her past, she had no right to pry into his...

  Living on a remote self-sufficient homestead in North Idaho, Patrice Lewis is a Christian wife, mother, author, blogger, columnist and speaker. She has practiced and written about rural subjects for almost thirty years. When she isn’t writing, Patrice enjoys self-sufficiency projects, such as animal husbandry, small-scale dairy production, gardening, food preservation and canning, and homeschooling. She and her husband have been married since 1990 and have two daughters.

  Books by Patrice Lewis

  Love Inspired

  The Amish Newcomer

  Amish Baby Lessons

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  AMISH BABY LESSONS

  Patrice Lewis

  Having then gifts differing according to the grace that is given to us, whether prophecy, let us prophesy according to the proportion of faith;

  Or ministry, let us wait on our ministering: or he that teacheth, on teaching;

  Or he that exhorteth, on exhortation: he that giveth, let him do it with simplicity; he that ruleth, with diligence; he that sheweth mercy, with cheerfulness.

  —Romans 12:6–8

  To God, for blessing me with my husband and daughters, the best family anyone could hope for.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Tante Catherine’s Macaroni and Cheese

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from Hers for the Summer by Jill Kemerer

  Chapter One

  A crowd of people swirled around her on the hot train platform in Lafayette, Indiana, but Jane Troyer ignored them. The station was busy, with garbled announcements made over distant loudspeakers and the din of hundreds of passengers. Her head ached from the chaos. She sat alone on a bench next to her suitcase, trying not to give in to despair.

  Running away from heartbreak was turning out to be harder than she’d thought. Moving to another town to live with her aunt and uncle had seemed like an easy solution. Until...

  “Geht es dir gut? Are you all right?”

  She lifted her head and saw a man in Amish suspenders and a straw hat, with a bag slung over one shoulder and a fractious baby in his arms. A streak of sweat ran down one temple and his blue eyes looked weary.

  “Nein, I’m not,” she replied. “Someone just stole my bag with all my money in it. I’m stranded here.” She wondered why Gott had deserted her at this strange train station.

  He bounced the baby. “Where are you going?”

  “To visit my aunt and uncle in Grand Creek. It’s about twenty miles away.”

  “I live in Grand Creek. Who are your aunt and uncle?”

  “Peter and Catherine Troyer. They run a dry-goods store, a mercantile, in the center of town.”

  “They’re practically my neighbors!” The man smiled. “I’d be happy to take you there.” He swayed the baby in his arms.

  “Will you?” She jumped up from the bench. “Danke! Danke!”

  “You’re welcome. But first I have some things to collect here at the station, some boxes.” The baby gave a wail, and he grimaced. “They’re large boxes too.”

  “Why are you picking up large boxes with a boppli in tow? That doesn’t make sense.” He seemed like he didn’t know how to handle a baby. The baby seemed to know it too.

  “Because there was no one to watch her. And I need the boxes. They’re part of my business.”

  “Would it help if I held the boppli? That would free your hands.”

  Despite the infant’s crankiness, the man seemed reluctant to relinquish his burden. “I wouldn’t do that to you. She’s irritable. She hasn’t calmed down all day.” As if to reinforce his words, the baby wailed, tears streaming down her face.

  “That’s okay. I don’t mind.” She reached for the child.

  “Well, if you’re sure...” He transferred the baby to her. “I hope you don’t regret it. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Jane accepted the warm little bundle and cooed at the child. “Hush, hush...”

  As the baby quieted, Jane looked up in time to see the man’s jaw drop. He snapped his mouth shut. “I’ve never seen her calm down that fast,” he said in wonder.

  “It’s a gift Gott gave me.” Jane shoved her eyeglasses higher on her nose. “Why don’t I stay here while you get your boxes? That way I can make sure some other Englischer doesn’t run away with my suitcase too.”

  “Ja. Here’s her diaper bag.” He removed the strap from his shoulder and dropped the bag on the bench. “I won’t be long.”

  Jane sat down. She wondered why the man didn’t have a beard. All Amish men grew their beards once they married, and certainly by the time babies came. And why was he trying to juggle an infant at the same time he was picking up large boxes from a train station? Why wasn’t his wife caring for the child? She shook her head. None of it made sense.

  The infant in her arms had large blue eyes, the wrinkled lids showing her to be very young, perhaps no more than a couple weeks old. At a time when most of her friends were married and starting families, Jane’s arms had ached to hold her own baby, but that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon.

  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 niece.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  She saw his mouth tighten, but he didn’t explain why he was caring for his newborn niece, and she didn’t ask where the baby’s mother was.

  “I had a youngie watching her,” he explained, “but she’s inexperienced with babies, and she was busy today anyway, just when I needed her most. I’m going to have to find someone more dependable.”

  “Ach, that’s hard.” She looked down at little Mercy in her arms. The warm bundle filled an empty hole in her heart, and she hugged the baby to herself. “Look, she’s sleeping. She’ll be quiet now the rest of the trip, I think.”

  Levy sighed. “I can’t thank you enough. Bopplin are a lot harder than I thought.”

  “Ja.” If this was his niece, why was he taking care of his sibling’s child? There was some sort of mystery here.

  He set the horse at a comfortable trot as the town fell behind them. He took a side road filled with rolling hills and broad farms. A slight breeze cooled the heat.

  “So—what brings you here to visit your aunt and uncle?” inquired Levy. “Where are you from? Are you staying long with them?”

  Jane took a moment before answering. She didn’t want to start explaining why she’d taken such an extended trip or what she left behind. Now was not the time to explain her mixed-up love life.

  “I’m from Jasper, Ohio,” she answered. “It’s about a four-hour train ride from here. I told Onkel Peter I’d be happy to work in the store. He said he could use another clerk, and offered me a job.” Anxious to avoid delving into her background, she changed the subject. “What is it you do?”

  “Produce farming, with some accounting on the side. The boxes I picked up at the station hold crates and display materials for weekend sales at a farmer’s market where I sell every Saturday through the end of October. Nearly all my yearly income is earned during the summer at the farmer’s market, so it’s a very busy time for me. As you can imagine, taking care of Mercy is going to be difficult.”

  Jane’s brow furrowed. “Why are you taking care of her at all, if she’s your niece?”

  “Because my sister isn’t here.” His words were clipped.

  All kinds of questions floated around in Jane’s mind. If his sister wasn’t here, what about the baby’s father? Was the infant an orphan? It seemed Levy was being just as cagey about why he was caring for a young infant as she was in relating her reasons for leaving her hometown. “She’s a beautiful baby” was all she said.

  “Yes, she is. And she deserves more than being cared for by a bachelor uncle.”

  “Why haven’t you asked someone to help you? The community must be full of women who would be happy to lend a hand.”

  “I... I’ve only had her a few days. The youngie I hired doesn’t seem to be comfortable with an infant this young. I’m going to have to find someone more experienced.” He gave her a sidelong look, then turned his attention back to the horse. The animal’s hooves clattered in a comfortable rhythm.

  Jane didn’t ask the circumstances under which little Mercy was dropped in her uncle’s lap. She would hear it soon enough. “Ja, it’s unusual for a man to take care of a baby all
on his own.”

  “It also gives me a new appreciation for young mothers.” He steadied the horse as a car passed. “You’re not married?”

  “N-no.” She kept her expression neutral. She had no intention of explaining herself. “I’d rather not discuss it.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Is there a story there?”

  “If there is, it’s none of your business.”

  “If you say so.” He grinned, and Jane caught her breath. She didn’t want to encourage any flirting. It made her uneasy. In her twenty-three years, she’d learned men didn’t flirt with her. Men didn’t court her. Men hardly paid attention to her at all—except to see her as a useful person, a woman willing to work hard. A woman willing to tackle difficult chores. It seemed to be her role in life.

  She shoved her glasses back up her nose. “You’re rude, Mr. Struder.”

  “And you’re a mystery, Miss Troyer.”

  She hugged the baby closer, feeling as if the infant was a defense against unwelcome assumptions by Levy Struder. The unasked question hovered in the air—Why don’t you have any of your own?—and she was grateful Levy didn’t voice it. Instead, she turned the tables. “Mercy must have caused you quite a flurry of preparations, if she came to you unexpectedly.”

  “Ja, she did. I had nothing for a baby. It’s hard to get work done. I tried bringing her out into the fields with me in her basket, but that only lasted a few minutes at a time. I didn’t realize how demanding young babies are. Or how much women do to care for them.”

  “That’s our secret weapon,” joked Jane. “We make it seem easy.”

  By the time they approached Grand Creek, Jane was glad to see the familiar green fields, produce stands and white farmhouses of an Amish community. Mercy woke up and whimpered briefly, but she settled into Jane’s arms and seemed content to be held.

  “I’ve never seen her so quiet.” Levy waved at a distant acquaintance as they passed by on the road. “She’s been fussy since she came to me. Frankly, I was just about at my wit’s end.”