The Prodigal Daughter Returns...

Yearning to find a meaningful life in the outside world, nurse Miriam Kaufman strayed far from her Amish community. She also needed distance from Nick Bradley, the cop who had caused her so much pain. Back in Hope Springs to care for her ailing mother, Miriam needs Nick, now sheriff, to find the mother of Hannah, the baby abandoned on her porch. Nick is as wary of Miriam’s intentions as she is of facing their past. Can two wounded hearts overcome their history to do what’s best for little Hannah?

“It wasn’t my idea to call you. We don’t want you here.”

The shock of seeing Miriam Kauffman standing in front of him took Sheriff Nick Bradley aback, but he quickly hid his surprise. It had been eight years since he’d laid eyes on her. A lifetime ago.

“Good morning to you, too, Miriam.”

She pressed her lips together in a tight, tense line. After all this time, she still 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.

“This is why we called you.” Amber gestured toward the basket.

“You called me here to see a new baby? Congratulations to whomever.”

“Exactly,” Miriam said.

“What am I missing?”

“It’s more about what we are missing.”

“And that is?” Nick demanded.

“A mother to go along with this baby.”

PATRICIA DAVIDS

After thirty-five years as a nurse, Pat has hung up her stethoscope to become a full-time writer. She enjoys spending her new free time visiting her grandchildren, doing some long-overdue yard work and traveling to research her story locations. She resides in Wichita, Kansas. Pat always enjoys hearing from her readers. You can visit her on the web at www.patriciadavids.com.

A Home for Hannah

Patricia Davids

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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But we are bound to give thanks always to God for you, brethren beloved of the Lord, because God hath from the beginning chosen you to salvation through sanctification of the Spirit and belief of the truth.

—2 Thessalonians 2:13

In memory of Dave.

The one, the only, the love of my life.

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

Dear Reader

Questions For Discussion

Chapter One

“Bella, what’s wrong with you?” Miriam Kauffman pulled her arm from beneath the quilt to squint at her watch. The glow-in-the-dark numbers read one forty-five in the morning. Her dog continued scratching frantically at the door to her bedroom.

Miriam slipped her arm back under the covers. “I’m not taking you out in the middle of the night. Forget it.”

Her yellow Labrador-pointer mix had other ideas. Bella began whining and yipping as she scratched with renewed vigor.

Miriam was tempted to pull her pillow over her ears, but she wasn’t the only person in the house. “Be quiet. You’re going to wake Mother.”

Bella’s whining changed to a deep-throated bark. At eighty-five pounds, what Bella wanted Bella usually got. Giving up in exasperation, Miriam threw back her quilt.

Now that Bella had her owner’s attention, she plopped on her haunches and waited, tongue lolling with doggy happiness. In the silence that followed, Miriam heard a new sound, the clip-clop of hoofbeats.

Miriam moved to her second-story bedroom window. In the bright moonlight, she saw an Amish buggy disappearing down the lane.

When she was at home in Medina, such a late-night visit would mean only one thing—a new Amish runaway had come seeking her help to transition into the outside world. But how would anyone know to find her in Hope Springs? Who in the area knew of her endeavors? She hadn’t told anyone, and she was positive her mother wouldn’t mention the fact.

Miriam pulled a warm cotton robe over her nightgown and grabbed a flashlight from the top of her dresser. She patted Bella’s head. “Good girl. Good watchdog.”

Guided by the bright circle of light, she made her way downstairs in the dark farmhouse to the front door. Bella came close on her heels. The second Miriam pulled open the door, the dog was out like a shot. Bella didn’t have a mean bone in her body, but her exuberance and size could scare someone who didn’t know her.

“Don’t be frightened—she won’t hurt you,” Miriam called out quickly as she opened the door farther. She expected to find a terrified Amish teenager standing on her stoop, but the porch was empty. Bella was nosing a large basket on the bottom step.

Miriam swung her light in a wide arc. The farmyard was empty. Perhaps the runaway had changed his or her mind and returned home. If so, Miriam was glad. It was one thing to aid young Amish people who wanted to leave their unsympathetic families when she’d lived in another part of the state. It was an entirely different thing now that she was living under her Amish mother’s roof. The last thing she wanted to do while she was in Hope Springs was to cause her mother further distress.

Bella lay down beside the basket and began whining. Miriam descended the steps. “What have you got there?”

Pushing the big dog aside, Miriam realized the basket held a quilt. Perhaps it was a meant as a gift for her mother. The middle of the night was certainly an odd time to deliver a package. She started to pick it up, but a tiny mewing sound made her stop. It sounded like a baby.

Miriam straightened. There’s no way someone left a baby on my doorstep.

Bella licked Miriam’s bare toes, sending a chill up her leg. She definitely wasn’t dreaming.

She took a few steps away from the porch to carefully scan the yard with her light. “If this is someone’s idea of a prank, I’m not laughing.”

Silence was the only reply. She waited, hoping it was indeed a joke and someone would step forward to fess up.

The full moon hung directly overhead, bathing the landscape in pale silvery light. A cool breeze swept past Miriam’s cheeks carrying the loamy scent of spring. The grass beneath her bare feet was wet with dew and her toes grew colder by the second. She rested one bare foot on top of the other. No snickering prankster stepped out of the black shadows to claim credit for such an outrageous joke.

Turning back to the porch, she lifted the edge of the quilt and looked into the basket. Her hopes that the sounds came from a tape recorder or a kitten vanished when her light revealed the soft round face of an infant.

She gazed down the lane. The buggy was already out of sight. There was no way of knowing which direction the driver had taken when he or she reached the highway.

Why would they leave a baby with her? A chill that had nothing to do with the cold morning slipped down her spine. She didn’t want to be responsible for this baby or any other infant. She refused to let her mind go to that dark place.

A simple phone call would bring a slew of people to look after this child. It was, after all, a crime to abandon a baby. As a nurse, she was required by law to report this.

But that would mean facing Sheriff Nick Bradley.

“Miriam, what are you doing out there?” Her mother’s

frail voice came from inside the house.

Picking up the basket, Miriam carried it into the house and gently set it in the middle of the kitchen table. “Someone left a baby on our doorstep.”

Her mother, dressed in a white flannel nightgown, shuffled over, leaning heavily on her cane. “A boppli! Are you joking?”

“Nee, Mamm, I’m not. It’s a baby.”

Miriam’s first thought had been to call 9-1-1, until she remembered who the law was in Hope Springs. She’d cut off her right arm before she asked for his help. Who could she call?

Ada Kauffman came closer to the basket. “Did you see who left the child?”

“All I saw was a buggy driving away.”

Ada’s eyes widened with shock. “You think this is an Amish child?”

“I don’t know what else to think.”

Ada shook her head. “Nee, an Amish family would welcome a babe even if the mother was not married.”

“Maybe the mother was too afraid or ashamed to tell her parents,” Miriam suggested.

“If that is so, we must forgive her sins against Gott and against her child.”

That was the Amish way—always forgive first—even before all the details were known. It was the one part of the Amish faith that Miriam couldn’t comply with. Some things were unforgivable.

Miriam examined the basket. It was made of split wood woven into an oval shape with a flat bottom and handles on both sides. The wood was stained a pale fruitwood color with a band of dark green around the top for decoration. She’d seen similar ones for sale in shops that carried Amish handmade goods. The baby started to fuss. Miriam stared at her.

Her mother said, “Pick the child up, Miriam. They don’t bite.”

“I know that.” Miriam scooped the little girl from the folds of the quilt and softly patted her back. The poor thing didn’t even have a diaper to wear. Miriam’s heart went out to their tiny, unexpected guest. Not everyone was ready to be a parent, but how would it feel to be the child who grew up knowing she’d been tossed away in a laundry basket?

Stroking the infant’s soft, downy cap of hair, she felt the stirrings of maternal attachment. She couldn’t imagine leaving her child like this, alone in the darkness, depending on the kindness of strangers to care for it. Children were not to be discarded like unwanted trash.

Old shame and guilt flared in her heart. One child had been lost because of her inaction. This baby deserved better.

Putting aside her personal feelings, she called up the objective role she assumed when she was working. Carefully she laid the baby on the quilt again to examine it. As a nurse, her field of expertise was adult critical care, but she remembered enough of her maternal-child training to make sure the baby wasn’t in distress.

Without a stethoscope to aid her, it was a cursory exam at best. The little girl had a lusty set of lungs and objected to being returned to her makeshift bed. Who could blame her?

Ada started toward the stairs. “A little sugar water may satisfy her until you can go to town when the store opens and stock up on formula and bottles. I have your baby things put away in the attic. I’ll go get them. It’s wonderful to have a child in the house again.”

Miriam stared after her mother. “We can’t keep her.”

Ada turned back in surprise. “Of course we can. She was left with us.”

“No! 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 both front feet on his chest. He welcomed the chance to regain his composure and focused his attention on the dog.

“Bella, get down,” Miriam scolded.

The dog paid her no mind. The mutt’s tail wagged happily as Nick rumpled her ears. He said, “That’s a good girl. Now down.”

The dog dropped to all fours, then sat quietly by his side. He nodded once to Miriam and entered the house. The dog stayed outside.

His cousin Amber sat at the kitchen table. “Hi, Nick. Thanks for coming. We do need your help.”

Ada Kauffman sat across from her. A large woven basket sat on the table between them. The room was bathed in soft light from two kerosene lanterns hanging from hooks on the ceiling. The Amish religion forbade the use of electricity in the home.

He glanced at the three women facing him. Ada Kauffman was Amish, from the top of her white prayer bonnet on her gray hair to the tips of her bare toes poking out from beneath her plain, dark blue dress. Her daughter, Miriam, had never joined the church, choosing to leave before she was baptized. Tonight, she wore simple dark slacks and a green blouse that matched her eyes. Her arms were crossed over her chest. If looks could shrivel a man, he’d be two feet tall in about a second.

His cousin Amber wore jeans, sneakers and a blue

T-shirt beneath a white lab coat. She served the Amish and non-Amish people of Hope Springs, Ohio, as a nurse midwife. Exactly what was she doing here? If Miriam’s trim figure was anything to go by she didn’t require the services of a midwife.

Amber wasn’t normally the cloak-and-dagger type. He was intensely curious as to why she had insisted he come in person before she’d tell him the nature of the call.

He said, “Okay, I’m here. What’s so sensitive that I had to come instead of sending one of my perfectly competent deputies? Make it snappy, Amber. I’m leaving in a few hours for a much-needed, week-long fishing trip, and I’ve got a lot to do.”

“This is why we called you.” Amber gestured toward the basket. He took a step closer and saw a baby swaddled in the folds of a blue quilt.

“You called me here to see a new baby? Congratulations to whomever.”

“Exactly,” Miriam said.

He looked at her closely. “What am I missing?”

Amber said, “It’s more about what we are missing.”

“And that is?” he demanded. Somebody had better start making sense.

Ada said, “A mother to go with this baby.”

He shook his head. “You’ve lost me.”

Miriam rolled her eyes. “I’m not surprised.”

Her mother scowled at her, but said, “Someone left this baby on my porch.”

“Someone abandoned this infant? When? Did you see who it was?” He pulled his notebook and pen from his pocket and started laying out an investigation in his mind. So much for starting his vacation on time.

“About three hours ago,” Miriam answered.

Was she serious? “And you didn’t think to call my office until thirty minutes ago?”

Miriam didn’t answer. She sat in a chair beside his cousin. Amber said, “Miriam called me first. We’ve been discussing what to do.”

“There is nothing to discuss. What you do is call your local law enforcement and report an abandoned child. We could have had a search for the parents started hours ago. Amber, what were you thinking? I need to get my crime scene people here. We need to dust for prints, collect evidence.”

Miriam said, “No one has committed a crime.”

He glared at her. “I beg to differ.”

Her chin came up. She never was one to back down. He’d missed their arguments as much as he’d missed the good times they shared. If only they could go back to the way it had been before.

For a second, he thought he saw a softening in her eyes. Was she thinking about those golden summer days, too? Her gaze slid away from him before he could be sure. She said, “According to the Ohio Safe Haven Law, if a baby under one month of age is left at a fire station, with a law enforcement officer or with a health care worker, there can be no prosecution of the parents who left the child.”

He didn’t like having the law quoted to him. “This baby wasn’t left with Amber or at a hospital. It was left with you.”

“I’m a nurse.”

She really enjoyed one-upping him. He had to admire her spunk. “But this isn’t a hospital, it’s a farmhouse. I still have to report this to the child welfare people. They will take charge of the baby.”

“That’s why we wanted to talk to you and not to one of your deputies.” Amber had that wheedling tone in her voice. The one that had gotten him in trouble any number of times when they were kids.

Ada smiled brightly. “Would you like some coffee, Sheriff? A friend brought us cinnamon rolls yesterday. Perhaps you would enjoy a bite.” She shuffled across the kitchen and began getting out plates.

The baby started to fuss. One tiny fist waved defiantly through the air. Miriam stood and lifted the child out of the basket. She sat down in the rocker beside the table. Holding and patting the baby, she ignored him.

He exhaled the frustration building inside him. The Amish dealt with things in their own fashion and in their own time. He knew that. Miriam might not have been baptized into the faith, but she had been raised in it. Intimidation wasn’t going to work on her or her mother.

He crouched in front of Miriam and took hold of the infant’s waving fist. The baby grasped his finger and held on tight. It was a cute little thing with round cheeks and pale blond hair. He smiled. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

Miriam wouldn’t meet his gaze. “A girl.”

He looked at Amber. “Is she healthy? I mean, is she okay?”

“Perfectly okay,” Amber assured him.

“How old do you think she is?”

“From the look of her umbilical cord, a day at the most.”

He looked around the room. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Miriam finally met his gaze. Perhaps it was a trick of the lamplight, but he didn’t see anger in their depths. She said, “I saw an Amish buggy driving away.”

He wasn’t expecting that. To the Amish, faith and family was the core around which everything was based. An abandoned Amish child was almost unheard of. It had never happened in his county.

“She’s coming back for her child,” Ada stated firmly.

Miriam stayed silent. She didn’t take her eyes off the baby’s face.

Amber laid a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “The baby needs to be here when she does.”

He rose to his feet and held up his hands. “Wait a minute. There are protocols in place for things like this. The child goes to the hospital to be checked out.”

Miriam quickly said, “She’s fine, but we’ll take her into the clinic in Hope Springs for a checkup.”

“Child Protective Services must place the baby with a licensed foster care provider or approved family member. I can’t change that rule.”

“I’m a licensed foster care provider,” Miriam said and smiled for the first time. The sight did funny things to his insides. She should smile more often.

Surprised by a sudden rush of attraction, he struggled to regain his professionalism. “Good. Then you can offer your services to our child welfare people. If they agree, I don’t see why you can’t care for the baby. I would have brought a car seat with me if you’d told me I was coming to pick up a child. Now, I’ll have to have someone bring one out. Unless you have one I can borrow, Amber?”

“I have one, but hear us out before you make a decision or call anyone else.”

“I’m not breaking the law for you, cousin.”

“Nor will you bend it, even if the outcome destroys a life.” Miriam stood with the baby and moved away from him.

He’d been waiting for that. She knew exactly how to dig at the most painful part of their past. “Miriam, that’s not fair. You know I would change things if I could.”

“You can’t. My brother is still dead.”

“It was Gottes wille, Miriam. You must accept that. I forgave Nicolas long ago,” her mother said quietly.

Miriam didn’t reply. Nick knew a moment of pity for her. It couldn’t be easy carrying such bitterness. It had taken him a long time to forgive himself for the crash that took her brother’s life. With God’s help, he had found the strength to accept what could not be changed and to live a better life because of it.

He caught Amber’s questioning look. She had no idea what was going on. He shook his head and mouthed the word later. His history with the Kauffman family had no bearing on this case.

“What is it you want me to do?” he asked.

Amber said, “The mother left a note. She’s coming back in a week. We feel that technically she hasn’t abandoned her child. She simply left her with neighbors.”

“Why am I here at all?” he asked.

Ada withdrew the note from her pocket and handed it to him. It was written on plain notebook paper.

Please help us. I know this isn’t right, but I have no choice. It isn’t safe to keep my baby right now, but I’ll be back for her. Meet me here a week from tonight. If I can’t make it, I’ll come the following week on Friday at midnight. I love my baby with all my heart. I’m begging you to take care of her until I return. I pray God moves you to care for her as you would your own. Her name is Hannah.

Amber said, “We called you because it’s clear this young woman is in trouble. We want you to help us find her.”

He glanced at Miriam. She was expecting him to deny their request. He could see it in her eyes and in the set of her chin. No matter what Miriam thought of him there was a woman in trouble and he couldn’t ignore that. He said, “Ada, do you have a clean plastic bag?”

“Ja.” She opened a cabinet door and withdrew a zip-top bag.

Nick said, “Hold it open for me.” She did, and he slipped the note inside.

He glanced around at the women in the room. “What I think should happen is irrelevant. I have to uphold the law. I’m not sure if we have a crime here or not. I need to speak with the county attorney before I can let this child stay here.”

* * *

Miriam glanced out the window for the umpteenth time. Dawn was spreading a blanket of rose-colored light across the eastern sky. Nick had spent the past twenty minutes sitting in his SUV. Now, he held his phone to his ear as he slowly paced back and forth on the porch. Bella sat watching him, her normal exuberance totally missing. Miriam found it hard to believe that Nick hadn’t rejected their request outright and whisked Hannah into protective custody.

He owed no allegiance to the Amish. They didn’t vote him into office or elect any officials. While they were a peaceful, quiet people, many Englisch saw them as an annoyance. Their buggies slowed traffic to a crawl and even caused accidents. Their iron horseshoes damaged the roadways for which they paid no motor vehicle taxes to maintain. They often owned the best farmland and rarely sold to anyone who wasn’t Amish. Many outsiders looked down on them because they received only an eighth-grade education. They were outdated oddities in a rapidly changing, impatient world.

“What’s taking him so long?” she muttered.

Amber spread a fluffy white towel on the table and laid the baby on it. From her case, she withdrew a disposable diaper and a container of baby wipes. “Nick understands what is needed. He respects the Amish in this community. He’ll help us, you’ll see.”

Miriam found her eyes drawn to Nick once more. He made a striking figure silhouetted against the morning sky in his dark blue uniform. He’d always been handsome, but age had honed his boyish good looks into a rugged masculinity that was even more attractive. He’d gained a little bulk in the years since she’d seen him, but it looked to be all muscle. He was tall with broad shoulders and slim hips. At his waist he wore a broad belt loaded with the tools of his trade: a long black flashlight, a gun and handcuffs among other things.

As she watched, he raked his fingers through his short blond hair. She knew exactly how silky his hair felt beneath her fingertips. His hat lay on the counter beside her. She picked it up, noticing the masculine scent that clung to the felt. In an instant, she was transported back to the idyllic summer days they had enjoyed before her world crashed around her.

Thinking of all she had lost was too painful. Quickly she put the hat down and clasped her hands behind her back. “What is taking so long? Surely, he could make a decision by now. Either the baby can stay with us or she can’t.”

The outside door opened and Nick came in. He looked around the room until his gaze locked with Miriam’s. She couldn’t read the expression on his face. Was it good news or bad?

Chapter Two

“Well? What did you decide?” Amber demanded. “Do we have to involve social services?”

Nick couldn’t take his eyes off Miriam. Emotions could cloud a man’s judgment, and Miriam raised a whole bushel of emotions in him. She had since the first day they met when he was nineteen and she was an eighteen-year-old, fresh-faced, barefoot Amish beauty. Did she remember those wonderful summer days, or had her brother’s death erased all the good memories of their past?

He brought his attention back to the present issue. “I’ve talked it over with the county attorney. He is willing to agree that the baby has not been abandoned, although the situation is certainly unusual. Hannah can remain in the custody of Ada and Miriam Kauffman for a period of seven days.”

Miriam’s eyes widened with surprise. “She can?”

“For two weeks,” Amber said with a stubborn tilt of her chin.

Nodding curtly, Nick said, “However, if the family has not returned for her after two weeks, she becomes an abandoned infant, and I will call Child Protective Services.”

“I’m sure someone will come forward before then.” Amber’s obvious relief eased some of his misgivings. She was more familiar with the Amish in the Hope Springs area than almost anyone. If she thought he was doing the right thing, he was willing to follow her recommendation.

Miriam didn’t say another word. It was a struggle to keep from staring at her. He couldn’t believe she still had such a profound effect on him. He had stopped seeing her the summer he turned twenty because he knew how strong her faith was and how important it was to her. He hadn’t been willing to make her choose between her religion and his love.

The truth was he’d been afraid he would come out the loser. As it turned out, he had, only for a different reason.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve checked for reports of missing or abducted infants. Just because you saw an Amish buggy driving away doesn’t automatically make this an Amish infant. Fortunately, there aren’t any babies under one week of age that have gone missing nationwide. We’ll go with your theory until there is evidence otherwise. If an infant girl is reported missing, that changes everything.”

He paused. They weren’t going to like the rest of what he had to say. “Now, I’m not willing to let someone who dropped a baby on your doorstep just waltz in and take her back. If they do show up, this will be immediately reported to Social Services.”

Miriam glared at him. “I thought the point of us keeping the baby was to avoid that?”

“By letting you keep the baby, I’m making it easier for the mother to return or for her family to come forward when they might not do so otherwise. I’m sorry. I won’t budge on this. Someone who is desperate enough to leave her child with you in the dead of night needs help—she needs counseling. I mean to see that she gets it.”

The women exchanged looks. Ada and Miriam nodded. Nick breathed a mental sigh of relief. He said, “The note is too vague to open an official investigation into the mother’s whereabouts. I see concern, but there is no evidence of a crime. ‘It’s not safe’ could mean any number of things. However, I agree that we need to make an effort to find this young woman. The sooner, the better.”

Amber threw her arms around him. “You’re the best cousin I could ever ask for.”

“That’s not what you said when I wouldn’t tear up your speeding ticket.”

Amber blushed and cast a quick look at Miriam. “He’s joking.”

He rolled his eyes. “Right. Ladies, I don’t want word of this baby getting out to the general public. Keep it in the Amish community and keep a lid on it.”

Miriam frowned. “I would think public exposure is exactly what we want.”

“When news of an abandoned baby surfaces, the nut cases come out of the woodwork. Women who desperately want children will claim it’s their baby. Some are crazy enough that they will try to take legal action against you. People who want to adopt and simple do-gooders will come forward with offers to take the child. Trust me, it could become a media circus and a nightmare trying to sift fact from fiction.”

“All right. Where do we start?” Amber asked.

“We can start by trying to tie the basket or the quilt to a specific family.”

Ada spread the blanket open on the table so they could examine it. It was a simple quilt of patchwork blocks with a backing of blue-gray cotton. She said, “I don’t see a signature or date, nor do I recognize the stitch work. It’s fine work. Perhaps someone in the community will recognize it.”

Nick put the basket on the quilt and snapped several pictures with his cell phone. “I’ll email these photos to some of the shops that carry Amish goods. Maybe we’ll get a hit that way.”

Amber’s cell phone rang. She opened it and walked away to speak to the caller.

“What else can we do?” Miriam asked.

“Do you recall what kind of buggy it was?”

“It was dark. I saw a shape, not much else.”

“Did it have an orange triangle on the back, reflective tape or lights?”

“I couldn’t tell.”

“So we can’t even rule out the Swartzentruber Amish families in this area. They don’t use the slow-moving-vehicle signs. What about the horse? Could you recognize it again if you saw it?”

“No, I didn’t see the animal, just the back of the buggy.”

Amber returned to the room and said, “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. I have a patient in labor. Miriam, I’ll leave the car seat with you. Nick, can you help me get it out of my car?”

“Sure.” He followed his cousin outside to her station wagon knowing she was going to grill him about his past relationship with Miriam.

Amber opened the door to the backseat. “It sounds like you have a history with the Kauffman family. Why don’t I know about it?”

He leaned in to unbuckle the child safety seat. “It was years ago. You were away at school.”

“Care to fill me in now?”

Lifting the seat out of the car, he set it on the roof and stared out across the fertile farmlands waiting for spring planting. He could hear cattle lowing in the distance and birds chirping in the trees. The tranquility of the scene was at odds with his memory of that long-ago night.

He closed his eyes. “The summer I turned nineteen, I started working for Mr. Kauffman as a farmhand. They lived over on the other side of Millersburg back then. It was our grandmother’s idea. She thought I should learn how hard it was to work a farm the way the Amish do. She thought it would give me a better appreciation of the land.”

“Grandmother is usually right,” Amber said with a twinkle in her eye.

“She is. Anyway, I worked there for two summers. Miriam, her brother Mark and I became good friends.”

“Why do I sense you and Miriam were more than friends?”

“We were kids. We fell in love with the idea of being in love, but she was strict, Old Order Amish. We both knew it wouldn’t work. We chose to remain friends. It wasn’t until a few years later that things changed.”

“What happened?”

Nick took a stick of gum from his pocket using the added time to keep his emotions in check. Even now, it was hard to talk about that night. He popped the gum in his mouth, deftly folded the foil into a small star and dropped it back in his shirt pocket.

“Ten years ago I was a brand-new deputy and a bit of a hotshot back then. I didn’t go looking for trouble, but I didn’t mind if I found it. One night, we got a report of a stolen car. On the way to investigate, I caught sight of the vehicle and put on my lights. The driver didn’t stop. Long story short, a high-speed chase ensued. A very dangerous chase.”

“What else were you supposed to do?”

“Protocol leaves it up to the responding officer’s discretion. What I should have done was drop back and stop pressing him when I saw the risks he was willing to take. I should have called for a roadblock to be set up ahead of us. I didn’t do any of those things. I kept after the car. It was a challenge to outdrive him, and I wasn’t about to back down.”

“It sounds like you were doing the job you’d trained to do. I know your father was killed during a traffic stop. I’m sure that made you doubly suspicious of anyone who tried to get away.”

She was right. “That did factor into my decision, but it shouldn’t have. I tried to get around the car, but we slammed into each other. The other driver lost control and veered into a tree. I’ll never forget the sight of that wreckage. The driver was killed instantly. It was Mark, Miriam’s twin brother.”

Amber laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you relive the whole thing.”

“You want to know the really ironic thing? I’m the one who taught Mark how to drive. I never understood why he didn’t just stop. He’d never been in trouble. I doubt he would have spent more than one night in jail. To have his life ended by a rumspringa stunt, a joy ride, it wasn’t right.”

“The Amish believe everything that happens is God’s will, Nick. They don’t blame you. That would be against all that they hold sacred.”

“Miriam blames me. I tried to talk to her after Mark’s funeral. Even months later she wouldn’t see me. As you can tell, her feelings haven’t changed.”

“Then she needs our prayers. Finding forgiveness is the only way to truly heal from such a tragedy.”

He lifted the car seat from the roof of Amber’s car. “You should get going. You don’t want the stork to get there ahead of you.”

Amber grinned. “You’re still planning on coming to my wedding, right?”

“Rats, when was that again? I might be fishing.”

She punched his arm. “A week from this coming Saturday and you’d better not stand me up for a trout.”

“Ouch, that’s assaulting an officer. I could arrest you for that.”

“Whatever. Phillip would just break me out of jail.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“Absolutely—almost sure. Tell Miriam she can bring the baby into our office anytime tomorrow morning. I happen to know Dr. White has a light schedule. If the baby begins to act sick before then, she should take her to the hospital right away. She’s a nurse. She’ll know what to do.”

“I’ll tell her.”

Her expression became serious once more. “Nick, Miriam had to know when she called me that I would involve the law. She might not admit it, but I think she reached out to you.”

Nick considered Amber’s assertion as she drove away. What if she was right about Miriam’s actions? What if she was reaching out to him? Could he risk the heartbreak all over again if she wasn’t? He glanced toward the house. She had left her Amish faith. That barrier no longer stood between them, but the issue of Mark’s death did.

Nick was about to start a week’s vacation. If he left town now, he might never have another chance to heal the breach with Miriam. He wanted that, for both their sakes. In his heart, he knew there was a reason God had brought them together again.

He shook his head at his own foolishness. He was forgetting the most important part of this entire scenario. Somewhere there was a desperate woman who needed his help. She and her baby had to be his first priority.

* * *

Miriam decided to ignore Nick when he came into the kitchen again. He held a car seat in his hands. The kind that could easily be detached from the base and used as an infant carrier. He said, “Would you like me to put it in your car?”

“I’ll get it later.”

“Is there anything else you ladies need?”

“We’re fine,” Miriam said quickly, wanting him out of her house. She’d forgotten how he dominated a room.

Ada spoke up. “Would you mind bringing the baby bed down from the attic for us?”

His eyes softened as he smiled at Ada. “Of course not.”

“I’ll get it later, Mamm, I’m sure the sheriff has other things to do.”

“I’ve certainly got time to fetch the crib for your mother.”

His cheerful reply grated on Miriam’s nerves. She felt jumpy when he was near, as if her skin were too tight.

Her mother said, “Goot. Miriam, I’ll take Hannah.”

Miriam handed over the baby. Her mother smiled happily, then looked to the sheriff. “Nicolas, if you would give me the bottle warming on the stove, I’ll feed her.”

He lifted the bottle from the pan at the back of the stove. To Miriam’s surprise, he tested it by shaking a few drops of formula on his wrist, and then handed it over.

Did he have children? Was that how he knew to make sure a baby’s formula wasn’t too hot? Had he been able to find happiness with someone else, the kind of happiness that eluded her?

He caught her staring when he turned and asked, “Which way to the attic?”

She all but bolted ahead of him up the stairs to the second floor. The attic was accessed by a pull-down panel in the ceiling of her bedroom. She rushed into the room, swept up her nightgown and the lingerie hanging from the open drawer of her bureau, stuffed everything inside and slammed it shut. She whirled around to see him standing in the doorway.

Her bed wasn’t made. Papers and books were scattered across her desk. A romance novel lay open on her bedside table. The heat of a blush rushed to her face. For a second, she thought she saw a grin twitch at the corner of his lips. Her chin came up. “I wasn’t expecting company in my bedroom today.”

The heat of a blush flooded her face. She stuttered, “You know what I mean.”

Stop talking. I sound like an idiot.

Nick pointed to the ceiling. “Is that the access?”

“Yes.” She worked to appear calm and composed, cool even. It was hard when his nearness sent her pulse skyrocketing and made every nerve stand on end.

He crossed the room and reached the cord that hung down without any trouble. The long panel swung open and a set of steps came partway down. He unfolded them and tested their sturdiness, then started upward. When he vanished into the darkness above her, Miriam called up, “Shall I get a flashlight?”

A bright beam of light illuminated the rafters. “I’ve got one.”

Of course he did. She’d noticed it earlier on his tool belt. Sheriff Nick Bradley seemed to be prepared for every contingency from checking baby formula to searching cobweb-filled corners. Strong, levelheaded, dependable, they were some of the words she had used to describe him to her Amish girlfriends so long ago. It seemed that he hadn’t changed.

Miriam jerked her mind out of the past. This had to stop. She couldn’t start mooning over Nick the way she had when she was a love-struck teenager. Too much stood between them.

He leaned over the opening to look down at her. “Any idea where the baby bed is? There’s a lot of stuff up here.”

“No idea. If you can’t find a crib in an attic, you’re not much of a detective.” Her words came out sounding sharper than she intended. She was angry with herself for letting him get under her skin.

The sound of a heavy object hitting the floor overhead made her jump. It was quickly followed by his voice. “Sorry. I don’t think it broke.”

She scowled upward. “What was that?”

“Just an old headboard.”

“Great grandmother’s cherrywood headboard, hand carved by my great-grandfather?”

“Could be.” His voice was a shade weaker.

Miriam started up the steps. “Let me help before you bring the house down on our heads.”

“It’s tight up here.”

“It might be for a six-foot moose,” she muttered. She reached the top of the steps to find him holding out his hand to help her. Reluctantly, she accepted it and stepped up into the narrow open space beside him. They were inches apart. She wanted to jump backward but knew there was nothing but air behind her. It was hard to draw a breath. Her pulse skipped and skittered like a wild thing. She pulled her hand from his.

He said, “It’s tight even for a five-foot-three fox.”

She could hear the laughter under his words. Annoyed at his familiarity, she snapped, “It’s not politically correct to call a woman a fox.”

He cleared his throat. “I was referring to your red hair, Miriam. It’s also not politically correct to call an officer of the law a moose.”

Turning away, he banged his head on a kerosene lamp hanging from one of the rafters.

She slipped past him on the narrow aisle. “If the shoe fits... I think the baby stuff is down here.”

Beneath the dim light coming through a dormer window, she spied a cradle piled high with old clothes and blankets. A wide-rimmed black hat and a straw hat sat atop the pile. She knew before she touched them that they had belonged to Mark.

Tenderly Miriam lifted the felt hat and covered her face with it. She breathed deeply, but no trace of her brother’s scent remained. A band tightened around

her heart until she thought it might break in two.

“Are they Mark’s things?” Nick asked behind her.

She could only nod. Even after all these years, it was hard to accept that she would never see him again. He’d been her other half. She was incomplete without him. She could hear his laughter and see his face as clearly as if he were standing in front of her.

Nick lifted a stack of boxes and papers from the seat of a bentwood rocker and set them on the floor. He took the clothing and blankets from the cradle and laid them aside, leaving the flashlight on top of the pile. Picking up the cradle, he said, “I’ll take this down. You can bring the baby clothes when you find them.”

He didn’t wait for her reply. When he was gone, she sat in the rocker and crushed her brother’s hat against her chest as hot tears streamed down her face.

* * *

Nick descended the attic steps with the sound of Miriam’s weeping ringing in his ears. He wanted to help, but he knew anything he offered in the way of comfort would be rejected. It hurt to know she still grieved so deeply.

After making his way down to the kitchen, he found Ada and the baby both asleep in the rocker. The bottle in Ada’s slack hand dripped formula onto the floor. When he took it from her, she jerked awake, startling the baby who whimpered.

“Habe ich schlafe?” Ada peered at Nick with confusion in her eyes.

“Ja, Frau Kauffman. You fell asleep,” he answered softly.

Childhood summers spent with his Amish grandmother and cousins had given him a decent understanding of the Amish language. While it was referred to as Pennsylvania Dutch, it was really Pennsylvania Deitsh, an old German dialect blended with English words into a language that was unique.

Ada sat up straighter and adjusted the baby in her arms. “Don’t tell Miriam. She already worries about me too much.”

“It will be our secret. Where shall I put the cradle?”

“Here beside me. I sleep downstairs now. Miriam insists on it. She doesn’t want me climbing the stairs.”

Taking a dishcloth from the sink, Nick mopped up the spilled milk. “I imagine Miriam gets her way.”

Ada looked toward the stairs, then leaned closer to Nick. “Not so much. If I get well, she will leave again. I may be sickly all year.”

He grinned. “That will be our secret, too.”

“Goot. Where is she?”

Nick’s grin faded. “She’s still in the attic. She found some of Mark’s things. I don’t think she was ready for that.”

“My poor daughter. She cannot see the blessings God has given her. She only sees what she has lost.”

“She needs more time, that’s all.”

“No, it is more than that. I miss my son every day. I miss my husband, God rest his soul. I mourn them, but in God’s own time I will join them in heaven. Until then, He has much for me to do here on earth. It will soon be time to plant my garden. With the weather getting nicer, I must visit the sick and the elderly. I have baking to do for the socials and weddings and I must pray for my child.”

“I’ll pray for her, too.”

“Bless you, Nicolas. I accept that Miriam will never return to our Amish ways, but my child carries a heavy burden in her heart. One she refuses to share. I pray every day that she finds peace.”

Ada struggled to her feet. Nick gave her a hand. “Danki. Take the baby, Nicolas.”

“Sure.” He accepted the tiny bundle from her amazed at how light the child was and how nice it felt to hold her.

“Sit. This cradle needs a good cleaning after more than twenty years in the attic. I’m so happy it is being put to use. It has been empty much too long.”

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?”

“We were Swartzentruber Amish, remember? They are the strictest of the Old Order Amish. When I refused to join the faith, my parents had to shun me. My friends did the same. It wasn’t until after my father died that my mother chose to become a member of a less rigid order.”

“Didn’t that mean she would be excommunicated by her old bishop?”

“Yes. She gave up her friends and the people she’d known all her life. It was very hard, but she did it so that she could see me again. She was accepted into Bishop Zook’s congregation about a year ago. They are more progressive here. Unlike my old congregation, Bishop Zook’s church believes a person has the right to choose the Amish faith. Those who don’t are not punished.”

He said, “Bishop Zook is not the only bishop who believes that. Amber’s mother and my mother are sisters who both chose not to join the faith. They have siblings who remained Amish. My grandmother embraces all her family, Amish and English alike.”

“Some districts are that way, some are more strict, some are rigid in their beliefs and don’t tolerate any exceptions. People hear the word Amish and they think the Plain People are all the same. There are enormous differences.”

Miriam cocked her head to the side. “Wait a minute. If your mothers are sisters, why do you share the same last name with Amber?”

He grinned and started walking again, scanning the ground as he went. “Our mothers are sisters who married two brothers. Got to love small-town romances. Where did you live before you moved in with your mom?”

“Medina, Ohio.”

Bella left Miriam’s side and went hunting through the old corn stubble of the field beside them. It would soon be time for the farmer who rented her mother’s land to begin planting new crops.

“What kind of nursing do you do?” Nick asked, slanting a curious glance her way.

Was he really interested? “I work in adult critical care.”

“That’s a tough job.”

“Overdoses, strokes, trauma, heart attacks, we see it all.”

“And car accidents.” He looked away, but she saw the tension that came over him.

“Yes, car accidents,” she replied softly.

She expected him to drop the subject, but to her surprise, he didn’t. “Do you like it? I mean, not all the outcomes can be good.”

“Every patient deserves the chance to reach their full potential. I’m part of a team that works to make that happen. Sometimes, what they regain isn’t as much as they had before their event, but it’s not for lack of trying on our part. For every loss of life, we see a dozen recoveries.” It struck her as odd to be talking about her work with Nick, but she wanted him to know she was about making a difference in people’s lives and she loved her work.

“When do you find the time to foster little kids?”

“I don’t. I foster teens.”

“Really?”

She met his gaze. There was a new respect in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. Lifting her chin, she said, “They are mostly Amish runaways.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Today has been chock full of surprises.”

“You don’t approve? They are kids with nothing but an eighth-grade education. They don’t have driver’s licenses or social security cards. They are completely ill prepared for life in the outside world.”

“I know that.”

“If by some stroke of luck they can find work, they have to take low-paying jobs. Most get paid under the table from employers happy to take advantage of them. Without outside help, leaving the Amish is almost impossible for some of them.”

“You left.”

She started walking again. “Don’t think it was easy.”

“When did you start hating the Amish way of life?”

Stunned, she spun to face him. “I don’t hate it. It’s a beautiful way to live. The Amish believe in simplicity. Their lives are focused on faith in God and in keeping close family and community ties.”

Quietly, he said, “They believe in forgiveness, too, Miriam.”

“It sounds easy to say you forgive someone. Actually doing it is much harder. Did they ever catch the man who shot your father?”

He looked away. “No.”

“It’s tough when there’s no justice in life, isn’t it?”

Meeting her gaze, he nodded. “Yes. That’s why I trust that God will be the ultimate judge of men.”

She waited for the boiling anger to engulf her, but it didn’t materialize. Maybe she was just too tired. She wanted to stay angry at him, but it was easier when she couldn’t see the pain in his eyes. He knew what it was to lose someone he loved.

Nick started walking again. “If you admire the Amish, why help kids leave?”

“Because there are other ways to live that are just as important and as meaningful. You can’t be a doctor or a nurse if you are Amish. You can’t create new medicines or go to college, build dams or explore the oceans. You can’t question the teachings of your church leaders. That said, two-thirds of the teenagers who come to me wanting a taste of Englisch life go back to their Amish families. Why? Because it’s what they desire in their hearts. My job is to help them sort out what they truly want.”

“Okay, I get it. That’s cool.” He walked to the edge of the highway and sank to his heels again as he examined the ground.

Did he get what she did and why? Or was he simply trying to placate her? She stopped a few feet away from him. Her shifting emotions made it difficult to stay focused on the task at hand.

He looked at her. “Could your efforts to help Amish youth be the reason someone brought this baby to you?”

“I don’t think so. No one here knows what I do in Medina. My mother doesn’t approve. While I’m living under her roof, I have to respect her feelings. Most people know me only as a driver for hire. I needed some kind of income while I’m here, and I can’t spend the long hours away from Mom that a nursing job would require.”

He gestured toward the road. “Our buggy went toward Hope Springs. See the way the impression of the wheels turn here and carried the mud out onto the highway.”

“I do.” She gazed at the thin tire track disappearing down the winding roadway. She could see half a dozen white Amish farmhouses along either side of the road before the road vanished over the hill. How many Amish families lived in that direction or on one of the many roads that branched off the highway? Fifty? A hundred? Where would they start looking for one scared, desperate young woman?

“Ah, now this is useful.” Nick took a step closer to the roadway. A small puddle had formed after the rain. The imprint of the buggy wheel was deep where it rolled through the mud.

“What is it?” she asked.

He pointed to the print. “The buggy we are looking for has a jagged crack in the steel rim of the left rear wheel. If it breaks all the way through, someone is going to need a new rim put on.”

“It looks like a crooked Z. It should be easy enough to spot.”

He stood and rubbed a hand over his jaw. He took another stick of gum from his pocket, unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. Carefully he folded the silver foil into a star. He noticed her stare and said, “I quit smoking a few years ago, but I can’t kick the gum habit.”

He had his share of struggles like everyone else. It made him more human. Something she wasn’t prepared to see.

She looked away and asked, “How do we begin searching for Hannah’s mother?”

“Even if I had the manpower to launch a full-scale investigation, I couldn’t check every buggy wheel in the district. Most Amish families have three or four buggies, depending on how many of their kids are old enough to drive. It could take months.”

“And Hannah has only two weeks before her mother’s

rights are severed if she doesn’t return.”

“Time may not be on her side.”

“That’s it? You’re going to give up before we’ve started? I’m sorry I let Amber call you. I can tell you aren’t going to go out of your way to save this family. I don’t know why I thought you would.”

* * *

Nick studied the myriad expressions that crossed Miriam’s face and wondered where such passion came from.

He said, “I’m not sure I know what you want me to do?”

“We have a letter asking for help. We can’t ignore it. This young girl’s life may be ruined by a rash decision. I don’t think we should wait for her to come back. I think we should go find her.”

“Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

It was as if his question had caused a mask to fall over her face. Her expression went completely neutral. Instead of answering his question, she said meekly, “I want to help, that’s all.”

Miriam’s abrupt switch triggered his cop radar. She was hiding something. By her own admission few people knew she was a nurse. Fewer still would know that she aided Amish youth looking to leave their faith and go out into the world. Was accepting an unwanted baby part of her plan to help an unwed Amish girl escape into the Englisch life?

He didn’t want to believe she would lie to him, but did he really know her? They hadn’t spoken in years. People changed.

Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that Hannah had been left on Miriam’s doorstep. If the mother knew Miriam, would she be able to stay away? He figured she would need to know how her little girl was doing. The sight of Miriam with the child just might draw that woman out if she were still in the Hope Springs area. He wanted to be around when that happened. It would mean spending time, lots of time, in Miriam’s company.

Could he keep his mind on his job when she was near? At the moment, all he wanted to do was run his fingers through her gorgeous hair. The early morning sun brought fiery highlights to life in her red-gold, shoulder-length mane as it moved like a dense curtain around her face and neck. It was the first time he’d seen her without the white bonnet the Amish called a prayer kapp. In his youth, he’d fantasized about what her hair would look like down. His imaginings paled in comparison to the beauty he beheld at the moment.

He realized he was staring when she scowled at him. Forcing his mind back to the task at hand, he asked, “Are you sure you can’t think of anyone who might be Hannah’s mother? Maybe you gave a ride to her or to her family recently and mentioned you were a nurse.”

“No one stands out. Believe me, I’ve been racking my brain trying to think who she might be.”

“I need to get back to the office and have our note and the hamper run for prints. Why don’t you make up a list of the families who might know you’re a nurse? We can go over them later. Something may click in the meantime. If it does, give me a call.”

They returned to the house, covering the quarter mile in silence. When they reached his SUV, Miriam whistled for the dog. As Bella ambled up, she stopped to give Nick a parting lick on the hand. He patted her side. “She’s a nice dog.”

“Thank you.”

“When did you rescue her from the pound?”

Miriam paused. “How did you know that?”

“It seems to be your MO.”

“My what?”

“Your modus operandi, your mode of operation. Runaway teens, sick people, foundling babies—it just makes sense that your dog would be a rescue, too.”

Her frown turned to a fierce scowl. “Don’t think you know me, Nick Bradley, because you don’t. You don’t know me at all.”

She turned on her heels and marched toward the house.

At the porch, she stopped and looked back. “My mother was right. This is Amish business. We will handle it ourselves. Have a great vacation.”

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