Minding The Amish Baby. Carrie Lighte
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suh Melvin isn’t walking out with anyone.”
Melvin Umble? It was hardly a wonder. The last time Tessa saw him when she was visiting home, Melvin seemed far more interested in sprucing up his courting buggy than he was in an actual courtship, and he’d spoken endlessly on the topic. Tessa let her mother’s comment hang in the air.
“Would you like a cookie, Daed?” she asked. “They’re packaged, but they’re tasty.”
“How can I refuse? Apparently, it’s the way to my heart,” her father replied with a grin, and Waneta playfully swatted at him with the back of her hand.
“Henry!” she exclaimed. “I’m only trying to help our dochder.”
Deep down Tessa knew it was true that her mother was trying to help. But that was just it: Tessa didn’t need help because she was perfectly content in her present circumstances. More than content, she was happy. As far as she was concerned, she could live as a single woman indefinitely.
“Please think about what I said,” Waneta advised later as the three of them bundled into their woolen coats. They planned to spend the rest of the afternoon at Katie and Mason’s house. No doubt Tessa’s sister would serve a full supper in the evening. Although cooking a large meal wasn’t permitted on the Sabbath, Katie’s Saturday leftovers were bound to be savory and numerous.
“I always think about what you’ve said, Mamm,” Tessa replied, hoping to reassure her mother that she needn’t worry about her daughter living alone. “Nothing you and Daed taught me is ever far from my mind.”
“Nor are you ever far from our hearts and prayers,” Henry said.
“That’s very true, but I still wish she weren’t far from our home, either.” Waneta couldn’t seem to resist dropping one more hint as they stepped outside onto the small porch, but Tessa sensed it was far from her final one.
“Hallich Nei Yaahr,” Turner King greeted Tessa and her parents as he approached the daadi haus on the front corner of his property.
Although January was soon over, because they hadn’t seen him since the New Year began they wished him a happy new year, too. He extended a few colorful envelopes to Tessa. Since they technically lived at the same address, they shared a mailbox at the end of the lane. Usually, they gathered their own mail separately, leaving each other’s items behind, but these messages appeared to be belated Christmas cards and there was wet weather on the way. Turner didn’t want them to get ruined, so he delivered them on his walk back from the mailbox. “These were piling up,” he said.
Tessa’s mother clucked as her daughter accepted the mail. “She’d forget her own head sometimes,” Waneta commented. “What if one of those had been an urgent message from home, Tessa? It’s a gut thing we have Turner nearby to look after you.”
Turner noticed Tessa’s olive complexion breaking out in a rosy hue. As she stood next to her father, it was plain to see she’d inherited her prominent cheekbones and long, elegant nose from his side of the family. Turner bristled when his sister-in-law Rhoda once made the superficial remark that she wasn’t sure if she thought Tessa was the most striking woman in Willow Creek or just plain homely.
But observing Tessa and her father now, Turner understood what Rhoda meant: one couldn’t help but notice their unusual features, which differed drastically from those of most of the Amish leit in their district. For his part, Turner found their uniqueness becoming, and it was enhanced when father and daughter stood side by side. For a moment, he was distracted by how winsome she appeared. I shouldn’t be entertaining such a thought—Tessa’s closer to my little sister’s age than to mine.
“Denki for bringing these to me,” Tessa said sheepishly.
“It’s not a problem. I forgot to collect my own mail until today, too.”
“All the same, you will keep an eye on her, won’t you?” Waneta persisted, as if talking about a kind. “Especially now that she’s living alone, without Katie. We don’t want her getting into any kind of trouble.”
Tessa’s dark, deep-set eyes flashed with apparent anger before she averted her gaze. Clearly, she was as uncomfortable with this conversation as Turner was. One of the reasons he didn’t mind having renters was the Fisher girls mostly kept to themselves—at least, they did after he declined several of their invitations to supper when they first moved in. He valued his privacy and didn’t relish the idea of increasing his interactions with Tessa beyond the brief greetings they exchanged whenever their paths crossed.
“Tessa knows where to find me if she needs assistance,” he responded vaguely. Then he excused himself and hurried along the narrow lane leading up the hill to the larger house where he lived by himself.
As he walked, he marveled over the irony of Tessa’s mother asking him to keep an eye out for her daughter. If only Waneta knew Turner hadn’t been able to keep his own sister, Jacqueline, away from a world of trouble, she wouldn’t entrust Tessa to his watch.
Not that Tessa needed monitoring anyway. During the two years Tessa and Katie lived in his family’s daadi haus, the sisters always paid their rent on time and they kept the house and yard tidy. Admittedly, they often had visitors, including church members, their parents and female friends for sister days. Turner noticed Mason Yoder used to frequent the daadi haus, too, but like any suitor who called on the Fisher girls, he only stayed long enough to pick Katie up and drop her off. Aside from when they hosted a few raucous volleyball games in their yard with other single youth from church, the sisters were courteous, sensible tenants.
Granted, Turner had conversed more often with Katie than with Tessa. The younger sister’s effervescent personality frequently made him feel bumbling and dull by contrast. Rather than grow tongue-tied in Tessa’s presence, he preferred to interact with Katie regarding any issues that had arisen with the daadi haus. Now he wondered if Waneta’s comments indicated Tessa was a little too high-spirited for her own good. Maybe there was a reason unbeknownst to him behind the mother’s request. He understood how family members sometimes protected each other’s reputations; that’s exactly what he was doing for Jacqueline.
“It was difficult enough raising my own siblings. I don’t need to look after a fully grown tenant,” Turner grumbled aloud as he entered his empty house.
He tossed a couple of logs into the wood stove and then washed his hands before preparing a plate of scrambled eggs for supper. He thanked the Lord for his food, adding, Please keep Jacqueline safe from harm and bring her home soon.
Before opening his eyes, Turner rubbed his thumb and forefinger back and forth across his brows. It seemed he’d had the same unrelenting tension headache for fourteen years. It started the day his parents were killed by an automobile when he was eighteen and he was left to raise Mark, Patrick and Jacqueline, who was a toddler at the time. If his aunt Louisa, then a young widow, hadn’t been living in the daadi haus that once belonged to his grandparents, Turner never would have made it through those early years. She helped manage the children, especially Jacqueline, and he supported the family financially by taking over his father’s buggy shop. But the year Jacqueline turned ten Louisa married a mason from out of state and moved to Ohio.
With the grace of God, Turner managed to raise his brothers according to their Amish faith and traditions. But bringing up a girl—especially one who was entering her teens—was a challenge exceeding Turner’s best efforts. It wasn’t that Jacqueline was necessarily unruly; it was more that Turner suddenly was at a loss for how to communicate effectively with her. Having completed her schooling at fourteen, she was no longer considered a child, but neither was she an adult. To Turner it seemed she wanted all the privileges of adulthood without any of the responsibilities, and the brother and sister frequently locked horns. When Jacqueline turned fifteen, she moved to Louisa’s house in Ohio. By sixteen, her rumspringa began, and she suddenly left Louisa’s to live among the Englisch. Much to Turner’s consternation, it had been