We need to find out who her mother is. She has made a terrible mistake. We need to help her see that. We need to make this right.”
Ada lifted one hand. “How will you do that?”
“I...I don’t know. Maybe they left a note.” Miriam quickly checked inside the basket, but found nothing.
“Vel, until someone return for her, this boppli needs a crib and diapers.”
Miriam quickly tucked a corner of the quilt around the baby. “Mamm, come back here. You shouldn’t go climbing around in the attic. You’ve only been out of the hospital a week.”
A stormy frown creased her mother’s brow but quickly vanished. “I’m stronger than you think.”
That was a big part of her mother’s problem. She didn’t realize how sick she was. Miriam tried a different approach. “You have much more experience with babies than I do. You take her, and I’ll go hunt for the stuff.”
Her mother’s frown changed into a smile. “Ja, it has been far too long since I’ve held such a tiny one. Why don’t you bring me a clean towel to wrap her in first.”
Miriam did as her mother asked. After swaddling the babe, Ada settled into the rocker in the corner of the kitchen with the infant in her arms. Softly she began humming an Amish lullaby. It was the first time in ages that Miriam had seen her mother look content, almost...happy. Miriam knew her mother longed for grandchildren. She also knew it was unlikely she would ever have any.
Ada smiled. “I remember the night you and Mark were born. Oh, what a snowstorm there was. Your daed took so long to come with the midwife that I was afraid she would be too late.”
“But the midwife arrived in the nick of time.” Miriam finished the story she’d heard dozens of times.
“Ja. Such a goot, quiet baby you were, but your brother, oh, how he hollered.”
“Papa said it was because Mark wanted to be born first.”
“He had no patience, that child.” Ada began humming again, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Miriam struggled with her own sadness whenever she spoke of her twin brother. Mark’s death had changed everyone in the family, especially her, but the old story did spark an idea.
“Mamm, who is the local midwife?”
“Amber Bradley does most of the deliveries around Hope Springs.”
“Bradley? Is she related to...him? Is he married to her?” Did he have a wife and children of his own? Thinking about him with a family caused an odd ache in her chest. Miriam had taken pains to avoid meeting him during her months in Hope Springs. She realized she knew almost nothing about his current life.
Ada said, “Nee, he’s not wed. Amber may be a cousin. Ja, I’m sure I heard she was his cousin.”
Nicolas Bradley was the sheriff, the man Miriam had loved with all her heart when she was eighteen and the man responsible for Mark’s death. Would the midwife involve him? Miriam hesitated but quickly realized she had no choice. She didn’t have any idea how to go about searching for the baby’s mother. If Amber chose to notify Nick, Miriam would deal with it. She prayed for strength and wisdom to make the right decision.
“The midwife might have an idea who our mother is. She is certainly equipped to take care of a newborn. If nothing else, she will have a supply of formula and the equipment to make sure the baby is healthy.”
Ada frowned at her daughter. “I have heard she is a good woman, but she is Englisch, an outsider. This is Amish business. We should not involve her.”
“I’m no longer Amish, so it isn’t strictly Amish business. Besides, she may feel like we do and want to keep this out of the courts. I’m going to call her.”
“You know I don’t like having that telephone in my house.”
Her mother tolerated Miriam’s Englisch ways, but she hated to allow them in her Amish home. It was a frequent source of conflict between the two women.
Irritated, but determined to remain calm, Miriam said, “I’m not giving up my cell phone. You are a diabetic who has already had two serious heart attacks. You could need an ambulance at any time. If you want me to stay, I keep the phone.”
“I did not say you should leave. I said I do not like having the phone in my house. If I live or die, it is Gottes wille and not because you have a phone.”
“It might be God’s will that I carry a phone. Did you ever consider that?”
“I don’t want to argue.” Ada clamped her lips in a tight line signaling the end of the conversation.
Miriam crossed the room and dropped a kiss on her mother’s brow. “Neither do I. I have said I’ll only use the phone in an emergency and for work. I think this counts as an emergency.”
When her mother didn’t reply, Miriam quickly ran upstairs to her bedroom and pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her purse. A call to directory assistance yielded Amber Bradley’s number.
When a sleepy woman’s voice answered the phone, Miriam took a deep breath and hoped she was making the right decision. “Hi. You don’t know me. My name is Miriam Kauffman, and I have a situation.”
After Miriam explained what had transpired, Amber agreed to come check the baby and bring some newborn essentials. She also agreed to wait until they had discussed the situation before notifying the local law enforcement.
Miriam returned to the kitchen. Her mother was standing beside the kitchen table. She had taken the quilt out of the basket. Miriam said, “Amber Bradley is on her way. I convinced her to wait before calling the police, but I know she will. She has to.”
Ada held up an envelope. “I told you not to involve the Englisch. I found a note under the quilt. The child’s name is Hannah and her mother is coming back for her.”
* * *
The farmhouse door swung open before Sheriff Nick Bradley could knock. A woman with fiery auburn hair and green eyes stood framed in the doorway glaring at him. “There has been a mistake. We don’t need you here.”
The shock of seeing Miriam Kauffman standing in front of him took him aback. He was certain his heart actually stopped for a moment before chugging ahead with a painful thump. He struggled to hide his surprise. It had been eight years since he’d laid eyes on her. A lifetime ago.
He touched the brim of his trooper’s hat, determined to maintain a professional demeanor no matter what it cost him. How could she be more beautiful than he remembered? “Good morning to you, too, Miriam.”
After all this time, she wasn’t any better at hiding her opinion of him. She looked ready to spit nails. Proof, if he needed it, that she hadn’t forgiven him. A physical ache filled his chest.
“Miriam, don’t be rude,” her mother chided from behind her. Miriam reluctantly stepped aside. A large yellow dog pushed past her and came out to investigate Nick’s arrival. It took only a second for the dog to decide he was a friend. She jumped up and planted
