The Haven (3 page)

And wouldn’t Gideon Smucker be proud of M.K. for finding geometry in something as mundane as a person’s posture? Watching Sadie, M.K. straightened her back, hardly aware she was doing it.

Just as Uncle Hank opened his mouth to jump in on the what-to-do-with-the-baby discussion, Fern lifted her hand to ward him off. “It’s been a long day. And if I know newborn babies—and that baby can’t be much older than a month or so—it’s going to be an even longer night.”

Sadie looked confused. “Why is it going to be such a long night?”

Uncle Hank burst out with a snorting laugh. “By tomorrow morning, Sadie girl, you might just be changing your tune about keeping that baby!”

In that way Fern had of bringing the whole world up short, she pointed to Uncle Hank and said, “Whether that baby is here for a day or a month, he’s going to need some things we don’t have. You need to go to the Bent N’ Dent tonight to buy more supplies.” She pulled a list from her apron pocket and handed it to him. “Lickety-split. Store closes at seven.”

Hank shoveled one last biscuit into his mouth. “Better hurry up and pray, Amos, since I seem to be Fern’s factotum.” He winked at M.K. “See? I’m using them big words you keep trying to jam into my head.”

M.K. beamed. She adored her father’s uncle. “I’ll go with you, Uncle Hank.”

Amos bowed his head and the family followed suit. As soon as he lifted his head, M.K. jumped up, grabbed her black bonnet off the wall peg, and slipped out the door before Fern could call her back to help wash dishes.

As Uncle Hank went to get the horse to hitch to the buggy, M.K. stayed on the porch, tying the bonnet ribbons under her chin, listening to the conversation continue at the table through an open window. She heard Sadie ask her father, “What exactly did Fern mean about babies and long nights?”

“Babies need to eat every few hours,” Amos said.

“What?” Sadie said. “You can’t be serious!”

M.K. saw Sadie turn to Fern for confirmation. Fern was at the kitchen sink, adding dish soap into the basin.

“He’s right,” Fern said loudly, over the sound of running water. “Around the clock.”

Sadie groaned and dropped her forehead on the table with a clunk. Then her head popped up. “Maybe we could all take a shift!”

M.K. saw Sadie look at her father, who was not uttering a peep behind his nest of beard. He was studying the ceiling with great interest. Then she saw Sadie whip her head over at Fern.

“Oh no, don’t look to me,” Fern said in her crisp way. “This is
your
miracle. Besides, I don’t do babies. They’re a heap of trouble.”

M.K. popped her head in the window and whispered to Sadie, “I know all about babies. It can’t be that hard. I’ll help.” Then she jumped off the porch and ran down to Uncle Hank, waiting for her in the buggy.

T
he next morning Sadie woke up with a start, a jittery mess. The morning sun beamed bright through her front window. How could it be morning already? She had been up with the baby four times, maybe five, no signs or stirrings of M.K. or her father or Uncle Hank, until Fern finally came into the kitchen around 4:00 a.m. and told her to go to bed, that she would take a turn.

That was the way it was with Fern. She complained about having to take care of everybody, but then she took care of everybody.

Sadie was exhausted. How could such a tiny baby eat so much and cry so much? Downstairs, she heard the sounds of morning going on. Familiar, contented noises. The hinge of the kitchen door squeaked as her father went out to the barn. Bacon hissed and sizzled in a frying pan on the stove. She heard M.K. gallop down the stairs, talk to Fern for a moment, then gallop back up. Sadie’s bedroom door burst open. “Fern says to get up. She said that baby is starting to make noises about breakfast. She said to tell you she can’t be expected to be babysitting while you’re sleeping ’til noon.”

Sadie yawned. “Can’t you take a turn and feed the baby?”

“Me?” M.K.’s eyes went wide. “Oh no. I’ve never actually fed a newborn baby before. I might break him. Besides, Dad needs me out in the barn.”

“What happened to your big promise to help me with the baby last night?”

M.K. shrugged. “Never heard him.” She spun around, and then turned back. “Are we just going to call him That Baby or are we going to give him a name?”

Sadie looked at her blankly. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her. “I don’t know. I guess we should.”

M.K. whipped a list out of her apron pocket. “Here are my suggestions: Kayak, Level, Radar, Murdrum—”

“What kind of names are those?”

“They’re palindromes. Words that can read backwards or forwards. Gideon Smucker taught us all about them. I’ve been naming all of the new chickens these names.”

Sadie put up a hand like a stop sign. “I’m not naming that baby after one of your chickens.”

“Solos. Tenet. Racecar. Rotor. Madam. Dewed—”

Sadie threw a pillow at M.K., but she had seen it coming and was halfway down the stairs by the time the pillow reached the floor.

Sadie stretched and yawned, then rolled her feet onto the cold floor. She dressed quickly, pinned her hair in a tight knot, and covered it with a bandana, pondering baby names. M.K. was probably right—they did need to call that baby something other than That Baby. But naming him seemed so . . . real. So permanent. If only she could have somehow hidden the baby from the eyes of other people in Stoney Ridge, just to have time to think this all through. But nothing stayed hidden in Stoney Ridge for long, and by the end of the first day, everyone in the community would know this baby had been dropped on the Lapps like an unwanted puppy.

When she reached the kitchen, Fern was already giving the baby a bottle of formula. Silently, she handed the baby to Sadie and went outside to hang a load of wash on the clothesline. After Sadie finished feeding the baby, she changed his diaper, placed him in the basket, and carried the basket outside to help Fern. She rubbed her eyes with her right hand, then rested her palm over them against the brilliance of the day. From an oak in the yard, a plump red robin whistled and chattered, and another answered from across the yard.

As soon as Fern saw her, she handed the bag of clothespins to Sadie. “I need to get out to the garden before it gets too warm. You finish up here.”

Fern went around the back of the house to reach the garden and Sadie picked up where she had left off, hanging wet towels. The baby had fallen asleep, and the morning sun was warming Sadie’s back. As she clipped a towel onto the line, worries swooped down on her like pigeons on bread crumbs. What was she to do about this baby? What if no one ever claimed him? She wasn’t ready for this. She looked forward to getting married one day, dreamed about it, planned every detail of her wedding. Someday, she wanted children. But someday wasn’t supposed to have arrived yet.

Maybe it would be the best thing for everybody to let the church find a family who could raise him. She was glad that her father didn’t know what she knew about the baby—what she
thought
might be true. She considered telling him last night, but there didn’t seem to be a quiet moment for such a conversation. And her concerns about her father’s health spiked last night. He looked so tired after dinner. She had assumed that the heart transplant would have cured him. Fixed and done, like replacing a new engine in the lawn mower.

Maybe a heart transplant is never really over. She saw the amount of pill vials in the kitchen. The pills, she knew, were to suppress his immune system so that it wouldn’t reject the heart. But it also made him susceptible to all kinds of illnesses. He couldn’t even plow the fields this year like he used to because of the fungus that was in soil. Too risky. Maybe a heart transplant was a way to prolong a person’s life, but the life might never be quite the same.

The baby let out a sound and she bent down to check on him. One eye squinted open, followed by a big yawn, then he drifted back to sleep. He was a cute little thing, with downy dark hair and a rosebud mouth.

It wouldn’t be hard for someone to love him. She thought of Mattie and Sol Riehl. Mattie was always taking in foster babies. Maybe Mattie and Sol would want this baby. But then she frowned. If Mattie and Sol took in this baby, the state of Pennsylvania would get involved. The Riehl home was frequented by social workers who checked up on the foster children. She had heard Mattie complain about what a headache it was to work with government agencies. And there had been that time when Mattie and Sol were hoping to adopt a little girl who had lived with them for over a year, only to have the Child Protective Services return the little girl to her mother. It had broken Mattie’s heart. No, Sadie did not want the government to catch wind of this parentless baby and make decisions for his welfare.

Last night at dinner, her father had said that they would all need to decide what was best for the baby. What would he say if he knew what she knew? But then, she reminded herself, she didn’t know anything for sure. It was just a hunch. That was all. Nothing more than a hunch. She should probably do a little investigating before she said anything to anyone.

She reached a hand into the clothespin bag and came up empty. Since the baby was sleeping peacefully in the basket, she decided to leave him as she scooted back to the house to get another package.

After Sadie found the spare bag of clothespins that Fern kept in a kitchen drawer, she opened the kitchen door and froze. A stranger—a man—was crouching down by the baby’s basket. She’d never seen him before. He was wearing a straw cowboy hat and cowboy boots. Her heart started to race when she saw him reach down to pick the baby up. Without thinking, she grabbed her father’s rifle off of the wall rack next to the kitchen door and shouted from the porch.

“You there!” She aimed the rifle at the young man.

The man spun around to face Sadie. His eyes went wide when he saw the rifle aimed at him.

“Don’t make any quick moves, you . . . you . . . baby thief!” Sadie spoke distinctly and authoritatively. She surprised herself.

The man carefully put the baby back in the basket and stepped away from it, hands held high like he was surrendering.

Sadie felt like a mother tiger protecting her kit. “Who are you and why are you trying to steal that baby?”

“Ma’am, I’m . . . I’m not trying to steal your baby.” His eyes were wide and innocent looking, but Sadie wasn’t going to be fobbed off that easily. “I was walking by and heard him crying and I was just going to hold him. That’s all.”

The baby was making noises, little mewing complaints at first, and now was starting to wind up like a siren. How could a tiny baby have such a loud, ear-piercing cry?

The cowboy pointed to the baby. “I’ve always been pretty good at getting babies to stop crying.” He took a step closer to Sadie and she lifted the rifle, so he backed up. “I’d feel a little better if you would stop aiming that rifle between my eyes.”

A thick strand of hair whipped loose from her simple bun, effectively shielding her eyes. “I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d identify yourself and try to explain what you’re doing on my farm at this time of day.”

“Sadie Lapp!” Amos was marching from the barn over to Sadie. “Put down that gun. What on earth are you thinking?”

Sadie lowered the gun. Her father reached her and snatched the rifle out of her hands. “He was trying to kidnap the baby!”

The man visibly relaxed as soon as the rifle left Sadie’s hands.

M.K. came skipping out of the barn. “What’s going on?”

Silence. Finally, Amos said, “With all of the hoopla yesterday, I forgot to tell you girls about this game warden intern . . .” His face scrunched up as he tried to remember the young man’s name.

“Will Stoltz.”

“That’s right. Will Stoltz is staying in the cottage and babysitting the falcons.”

“Not exactly babysitting,” Will Stoltz said, holding a finger up in the air. “More like protecting an endangered species from an overly zealous public.”

Sadie stared at the man. Now that she wasn’t shaking from holding a gun at him, she noticed that he wasn’t very old. Twenty, twenty-two, tops.

“I’m not a kidnapper,” Will Stoltz said earnestly. “I’m with the game warden.”

“You thought he was a kidnapper?” M.K.’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Sadie, were you going to
kill
him?”

Amos rolled his eyes. “Not with an empty rifle, she wasn’t. And Sadie, what were you thinking? Since when does a Plain person point a gun at another human being?” He shook his head. “Will, the daughter that gave you a scare is Sadie, my middle daughter. And this one here is Mary Kate, my youngest.” He raised an eyebrow at M.K. “She needs to be heading off to school.” He flipped the rifle up on his shoulder. “Sorry for the cold reception.” He turned and walked back to the house with the rifle.

“No problem!” Will called out to him cheerfully. “Easy mistake to make.”

Sadie scowled at Will and brushed past him to pick up the baby. The baby was really crying now, howling mad. Louder and louder. Sadie was starting to panic. Maybe something was seriously wrong with the baby. Maybe that’s why the baby was abandoned in the bus station. This baby was defective. “M.K., go get Fern.”

“Why?” M.K. said.

“Because I can’t get the baby to stop crying and I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“Let me try,” Will said. As Sadie hesitated, he added, “Like I was trying to tell you, I’m pretty good with babies.”

Still, she was reluctant to pass the baby to him, so he added, “I won’t hurt your baby.”

“Oh, that’s not her baby,” M.K. offered, giving Sadie a look that said “See? I am
not
spreading rumors” look. “Sadie found that baby at the bus station. Just yesterday. We don’t even have a name picked out yet. But I’m working on it. My latest suggestion is Otto.”

“Hush, M.K.,” Sadie whispered.

The baby’s face was bright red and a tiny little tear leaked down his cheek.

“No kidding, you’re not the baby’s mother?” Will said. “The way you were coming at me with that gun, you reminded me of a mama bear, thinking I was a threat to her cub.”

Sadie hardly heard him. She was at her wit’s end trying to calm the baby. Nothing seemed to work. She gave Will one more head-to-toe look and decided he didn’t look terribly threatening, so she handed the baby to him. He swept the baby against his chest and gently patted his back, bouncing gently as he walked around in a circle. M.K. was peering around Sadie, watching the young man. Sadie could tell that M.K. was fascinated. They both were.

The baby’s crying slowed, then stopped entirely. Sadie and M.K. exchanged a look.

Sadie looked Will up and down. “How did you do that?”

“It’s all in the jiggle,” he said in a loud whisper. “And babies like to be pressed up against your shoulder, not held low in your arms like you were doing. Must help with gas pains.”

It wasn’t long before the baby drifted off to sleep again. Ever so gently, Will bent down and tucked the baby into the basket. He rose and brushed his palms against each other. “Easy, once you get the hang of it.”

Standing this close to the intern, Sadie saw that he had blue eyes. Really blue eyes, framed by thick brown lashes and strong straight brows darker than his hair, blond hair that swept into his eyes. He was sunburnt and needed a shave, but he was quite nice looking, sort of rugged. He was wearing jeans, dirty at the knees, and a plain white T-shirt under his short-sleeved khaki shirt. He tipped his cowboy hat to them, smiled, and went on his way. He had the kind of a smile that could have melted a glacier.

Sadie and M.K. watched him stroll over to the barn, thumbs hooked in his jeans’ pockets, whistling a tune.

“Good thing you didn’t kill him, Sadie,” M.K. said. “We might be needing him.” She sniffed the air and scrunched up her face, zeroing in on the odor wafting up from the baby in the basket. “Think the cowboy changes diapers?”