Nick sat in the rocker and gave himself over to enjoying the moment. He hoped one day to have children of his own. Finding a woman to be their mother was proving to be his stumbling block.
He remembered how badly his mother had handled being a cop’s wife. Even though he’d chosen small-town law enforcement over the big-city life his father craved, Nick wasn’t eager to put a family into the kind of pressure cooker he knew his job could create. It would take a very special woman to share his life. Once, he’d hoped it would be Miriam, but that dream had died even before the wreck took her brother’s life.
Chapter Three
Miriam had recovered her composure by the time she came downstairs. She saw Nick rocking Hannah while her mother was busy wiping down the dusty cradle. Miriam’s eyes were drawn to the note still sitting in the plastic bag on the table. Somewhere, a young woman needed her help. She would concentrate on that and not on her tumultuous emotion.
She said, “It sounds like Hannah’s mother is in an abusive relationship.”
Nick said, “We’re only guessing.”
Miriam bit the corner of her lip. A young mother was having the worst day of her life. She’d done the unthinkable. She’d left her newborn baby on a doorstep. In her young eyes, the situation must have seemed desperate and hopeless. Miriam’s heart went out to her. At least, she had chosen to give her child a chance. It was more than others had done.
Nick said, “The note raises questions in my mind about the mother’s emotional state and about her situation but doesn’t spell out a crime. I’ll have it checked for fingerprints, but that’s a long shot. If the person who wrote the note is Amish, I doubt we’ll have his or her prints on file.”
Miriam held up the bag to study the handwriting. “You think the father may have written this?”
“I think our mother had help. Do you believe a new mother could harness up the horse and buggy drive out here after she’d just given birth? That’s one hardy woman if she did it alone.”
Nodding, Miriam said, “You have a point.”
Ada finished cleaning the cradle and covered the mattress with a clean quilt. “Amish women are tough. I know several who have had their child alone, and then driven to the home of a relative.”
Nick handed the baby to Ada. “That may be, but I have to consider the possibility that she had help. Miriam, did you see which way the buggy turned after it reached the highway?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t.” Miriam racked her memory of those few moments when the buggy had been in sight for something—anything that would help, but came up empty.
Somewhere a young woman needed help or she wouldn’t have taken the drastic measure of leaving her baby on a doorstep. Miriam had spent too many hours with confused, frightened Amish teenagers not to know the signs. This was a deep cry for help. She had turned her back on one desperate mother years ago. Nothing but bitter ashes had flowed from that decision. She would not do it again. This time, she had to help.
Turning around, she grabbed her denim jacket from the peg by the door. “The lane is still muddy from the rain yesterday. We might be able to tell which way they turned.”
“Good thinking.” Nick pulled the door open and held it for her. Bella was waiting for them outside. She jumped up to greet Nick with muddy paws. He pushed her aside with a stern, “No.” Bella complied.
Miriam glanced over her shoulder. “Mamm, it’s time to check your blood sugar. This added stress and lack of sleep could easily throw it out of whack.”
“All right, dear. I’ll get the baby settled and I’ll check it.” She rocked the baby gently in her arms and cooed to her in Pennsylvania Dutch.
“You know what to do if it’s low?”
“Ja. I’ll have a glass of milk and recheck it in thirty minutes. The honey is in the cabinet if it is too low, but I feel fine. Stop worrying.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Worrying was what Miriam did best these days. Her mother didn’t seem to realize how precarious her health was.
Outside, Miriam walked beside Nick down the lane. He asked, “How long has your mother been ill?”
“She had her first heart attack seven months ago. That’s when they discovered she was a diabetic. She had a second heart attack three weeks ago. Thankfully, it wasn’t as bad as the first one. She’s been doing okay, but I think she should be recovering more quickly than she has. Her energy level is so low. Everything makes her tired, and that frustrates her.”
“You’ve been here in Hope Springs for seven months?” He seemed amazed.
“Yes.” She’d taken pains to remain under his radar. Coming face-to-face with Nick was the last thing she wanted. His presence brought back all the pain and guilt she’d worked so hard to overcome. Now, he was in her home and in her business with no signs of leaving. Why hadn’t she followed her mother’s advice and left the midwife out of this?
“I imagine you had to quit your job in order to stay this long.” His sympathetic tone showed real compassion. It was hard to stay angry with him when he was being nice.
“I took a leave of absence from my job. My leave will be up in another month. I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t go back by then.”
“That’s got to be hard on both of you.”
“She doesn’t have anyone else.” As soon as Miriam said it, she regretted pointing out the obvious.
A muscle in his jaw twitched, but his voice was neutral when he spoke. “We both know the Amish community will take care of Ada. She isn’t alone.”
“I know they will keep her fed and clothed, but she needs more than that. She needs someone to monitor her blood pressure and glucose levels and to make sure she takes her meds. She needs someone to make sure she eats the right things. If one more person drops by with a pan of cinnamon rolls or shoofly pie for her, I’m going to bar the door.”
“Want to borrow my gun?” There was a hint of laughter in his tone.
“Don’t tempt me,” she replied, amazed that he could so easily coax a smile from her. Her anger slipped further away. They had both suffered a loss when Mark died, but their lives hadn’t stopped. Nick had managed to move on. Perhaps she could, too.
He stopped and squatted on his heels to examine the ground. “My tires have erased any tracks the buggy might have left. I don’t see anything distinctive about the horseshoe marks.”
“Do you think the mother was coerced into leaving the baby?”
He rose and hooked his thumbs in his wide belt as he scanned the countryside. “Frankly, I don’t know what to think. The whole thing doesn’t fit. The Amish don’t operate this way. It’s so out of character.”
“The Amish have flaws and secrets like everyone else.” She would know. Flaws and secrets haunted her, every day and every night.
He must’ve heard something odd in her voice for he fixed her with an intense stare. She gazed at her feet.
He asked, “Who knows you are a nurse? Is it common knowledge?”
“I’m sure my mother has mentioned it to some of her friends.”
“Did you notice the note said ‘Meet me here a week from tonight.’ Did that strike you as odd?”
“A little. Why?”
“I don’t know. It just didn’t seem to fit. What about someone from your past? An Amish friend who might know you’re here with your mother.”
“No, there’s no one like that.”
“How can you be so sure?”