Her Amish Child

She shouldn’t feel so nervous but her jitters were from anticipation and a bit of anxiousness to find out the truth about little Dinah. But she was also nervous about being alone with Josiah. She trusted Josiah and knew he would respect her and keep her safe, but something about going off alone with a man who wasn’t her husband did give her pause.

She missed Aaron with the sharpness of a knife carving out her heart, and the guilt she felt at even thinking about Josiah as handsome and strong made her purse her lips and stick as close as she could to her side of the big black covered buggy they used during the winter. Chester, the standardbred horse, was not happy being out in the cold. The gelding snorted his disdain and tossed his dark mane. Maybe the usually docile animal sensed the tension between Raesha and Josiah?

“The Campton Center is in the middle of town,” she said to ease that tension. The cold wind whipped at her bonnet and cloak, making Raesha shiver.

She loved spring and summer. Winter, which seemed determined to arrive early, made her sad. Aaron had died a few weeks before Christmas. But this year, they might have a baby in the house. Or nearby at least.

Josiah didn’t say much. Was he as wound up as she felt?

“I’m sorry you don’t know where you sister is,” she said, wishing she could ease that burden. Wishing she knew the truth about this whole unexpected situation.

“I appreciate that but she must be close by.” He watched the road for too-fast cars and clicked the reins. Chester pranced and settled into a steady, chopping gait. “I searched for her down in Kentucky but no one knew anything. The man to whom she was engaged went off on his own to search for her so I didn’t even get to talk to him.”

“I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you,” Raesha said. “Naomi and I said a prayer for you and your family last night.”

And she’d been in constant prayer since little Dinah had shown up on her doorstep. The adorable girl was so sweet and had such a happy disposition Raesha didn’t want to think about having to let her go.

“I came back here to check on the property but mainly to see if Josie might be here,” he said, his gaze slipping over her face. “And because a friend of Josie’s heard her talking about wanting to come back to Campton Creek and the home she remembered. She was never happy living in Ohio. She’s had a hard time of it since our mamm and daed passed.”

“I suspect you have, too,” Raesha said before she could stop herself.

“I have at that,” he replied, his eyes on the road, his expression stoic and set in stone. “I worked hard for my uncle and cousins but I never did fit in with them. I couldn’t find a suitable wife even when they tried to marry me off. Coming back here seemed a good choice since I hoped to find Josie here, too.”

So his family had tried to match him with someone, but had obviously failed. Was he that hard to deal with?

Not from what she’d seen.

“But you’ve possibly found your young niece.”

“Hard to believe but I do hope it’s so.” He clicked the reins. “I know it is so.”

They made it to town and the main thoroughfare, aptly called Creek Road since it followed the many streams jutting from the big meandering creek. Raesha pointed as they passed the Hartford General Store. The building, painted red and trimmed in white, covered a whole block.

“The Campton Center is just around the corner. The big brick house with a clear view of the creek and the other covered bridge that we call the West Bridge.”

Josiah nodded, eyeing the massive house on one side and the creek and bridge on the other. “It’s smaller than the big bridge to the east.”

“Ja, the creek deepens there toward the east,” she said, going on to explain how a young girl almost drowned there a while back. “Jeremiah Weaver, who returned to us almost two years ago, now teaches swimming lessons for all the kinder.”

“Gut idea,” Josiah said as he pulled the buggy in to the designated parking for the Amish across from the Campton Center. “This place is impressive.”

“Yes. Mrs. Campton has been generous with our community. She has no living children and her husband, who served in the navy, died last year. They lost their only son when he was off serving the country.”

Josiah stared up at the house. “We all have our battles to fight.”

Raesha stared over at him and saw the anguish in his expression. She had to wonder what kind of battles he’d fought to return to a place that brought him both good and bad memories.

What if he never found his sister? What if Dinah truly was his niece? Would he take the child and leave again once he’d sold the old place?

He glanced over at her, his eyes holding hers. He seemed to want to say something but she didn’t give him time.

“We should get inside.”

Josiah nodded and tied up the horse before coming around to offer her his hand.

Raesha let him help her out of the buggy, then she moved ahead of him, his touch burning a reminder throughout her system.

You can’t do this. You mustn’t get attached to this man. The child needs you. He doesn’t.

And I don’t need him either.

She’d be wise to remember that.

* * *

“Hello, I’m Alisha Braxton.”

The young female lawyer smiled and reached out her hand. Josiah removed his hat, and held it against his chest and then shook her hand. Raesha nodded and gave her a smile.

Josiah introduced himself and then turned to Raesha. “This is Raesha Bawell.”

The other woman took Raesha’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Bawell. I’ve shopped at your place many times while doing pro bono work here.”

“Denke,” Raesha said, glancing at the pastoral painting on the wall that depicted an Amish farm in the mist. She recognized the work as belonging to a local Amish woman who painted.

Alisha Braxton had golden blond hair that fell around her shoulders and pretty green eyes that held a strong resolve. She wore a navy blue business suit. “Have a seat and let’s see what I can do to help you two. You look like a nice couple. Why do you need legal help?”

Raesha shook her head. “We are not a couple.”

Looking confused, the pretty woman with the expressive green eyes laughed. “Oh, I just assumed you might be remarrying, Mrs. Bawell. I’m sorry.”

Raesha let out a gasp, a blush heating her face. “No, that is not the case.”

Josiah took over. “Mrs. Bawell is my neighbor. We need to find out if the baby she found on her porch is my niece.”

The woman’s eyes went wide. “Oh, I see.” Turning to Raesha, she said, “Let’s start at the beginning. You found a baby on your porch? When did this happen? And where is the baby now?”

“Three nights ago. My mother-in-law has the child at my home.” Raesha cleared her throat and tried to explain things in chronological order. “We have taken in children before but those were mostly family and friends. But we talked to the bishop and since the note indicated the mother is Amish, he allowed us to keep the child for a while.”

“I see,” the woman replied. “So why are you here?”

Raesha began to wonder why herself.

But she went on. “Yesterday, Mr. Fisher showed up and he believes, based on her appearance and a baby kapp we found in the basket with his sister’s initials stitched inside, that the child is his niece.”

Glancing at Josiah, she said, “I came here with him to seek advice and to see what his investigator has found. My mother-in-law has Dinah and we have a woman nearby in our shop if she needs help.”

Looking impressed, the young woman nodded, her wavy hair grazing her shoulders. “Who is your investigator, Mr. Fisher?”