The ire in his face dissolved, replaced with an embarrassed flush. “I suppose not.” He grabbed his toolbox. “Would you like Ruth to go with you? The boplin are napping. I could keep an eye on them.”

  A lovely, kind offer. There was the man Ruth married. A nice human being lurked behind the crusty exterior. “Danki. She knows about it. We’ve talked. I can do this part on my own.”

  “Be careful on the highway. Some of those farmers’ teenagers in their monster diesel trucks don’t know when to slow down.”

  “I will. Oh, and what is this horse’s name?”

  “Violet.” Amos chuckled. “Don’t ask me why. Ruth chose it.”

  Maisy waited until Amos left the barn to slump against Violet’s warm body. “Will wonders never cease, Violet?”

  Violet neighed.

  “No kidding.”

  Chapter 23

  Finding Kate puttering in her family’s flower garden came as no surprise to Maisy. The woman blossomed wherever she stood. Mums, asters, and daisies, among Maisy’s favorite fall flowers, lifted their colorful faces to the early afternoon sun. Purples, blues, pinks, oranges, and reds bloomed bright and cheerful. The sight of them slowed the thoughts racing through Maisy’s mind like a spooked herd of horses.

  Kate straightened, stuck her gloved hands on her lower back, and stretched. Her smile bloomed, a flower all its own. “Hi there, my friend. I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” She sauntered down the row between the dahlias and the cosmos. “It’s my therapy day.”

  “Therapy?”

  “Jah, weeding, planting, and plotting gives me time to work out problems.” Kate stopped and touched the perfect purple petals of a luscious aster. “The sweet aromas of the flowers mingled with the smell of dirt reminds me Gott is sovereign and the Creator of all that is beautiful in the world.”

  Everyone needed that reminder now and then. Maisy closed her eyes and inhaled her favorite scents. The tension eased in her shoulders. Her back ceased to ache. She stretched and opened her eyes. “I see what you mean.”

  “I’m so glad you came.” Kate had a way of making a person feel so welcome, so loved. It was a gift. “Do you want to help me plant some bulbs while we talk?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Feel free to take your shoes off.”

  Maisy glanced down. Kate’s bare toes wiggled in the loose dirt beneath her feet. How nice. “I believe I will.”

  She sat on the ground to remove her shoes and socks while Kate arranged plastic containers filled with three kinds of bulbs along a row where she’d already troweled the earth several inches deep. The containers were marked with labels that read tulips, daffodils, and hyacinths. What a feast for the eyes these flowers would be in the spring. “I really love flowers.”

  “Me too.” Grinning, Kate waved her trowel in the general direction of the mums and daisies. “I try to plant so we have flowers blooming each season to greet our visitors. The flowers from these bulbs will pop up in the spring. They’ll be so welcome after a long, cold winter. I favor perennials. They’re less work, but some annuals are too gorgeous to ignore. Besides, gardening isn’t work for me; it’s food for my soul.”

  A perfect way to sum up how Maisy felt about flowers. “My mom calls me Daisy Maisy because I love flowers so much.”

  Kate dropped the first tulip bulb in a hole about six inches deep. “I love that. Daisy Maisy.” She handed the container to Maisy. “You drop them in, and I’ll cover them up. So tell me, Daisy Maisy, what do you want to talk about?”

  Talking about babies in the middle of a garden where life bloomed seemed the most natural thing in the world. “I would like Isaac and Vicky to adopt my bopli.”

  Kate dropped her trowel. Her gloves softened the thud as she clapped. “You sweet maedel. What a beautiful idea.” She threw her hands in the air. “Gott is faithful. He has a plan for you and for Vicky and Isaac.”

  Such enthusiasm. It left little room for Maisy’s doubts and worries. “You think this is Gott’s plan?”

  “I think Gott uses what we give Him.” Kate scooped up a mound of earth and let it crumble between her fingers. “We only have to stand back and watch the Master at work.”

  “It’s not an easy decision for me.”

  “It shouldn’t be. This is your bopli we’re talking about.” Kate raised her face to the sun and smiled. She was the smiley-est person in all of Haven, maybe in all of Kansas. “In all things He works for our gut, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have to use our noggins to do what is right and gut.”

  “This feels like it’s right and gut.”

  “That’s a start.”

  Maisy worked in silence for a few minutes, dropping the bulbs six inches apart. At the end of the row she straightened. Humming tunelessly Kate worked her way down the row, covering the bulbs. At the end she surveyed their work. “We’ll plant the hyacinths next and then the daffodils. After that we’ll need to water, fertilize, and cover with mulch.”

  “You said it was a start.” Maisy picked up the container filled with hyacinths bulbs. “I’m not sure what’s next.”

  Kate’s expression turned somber. She cocked her head and sighed. “I know you know this, but it’s so important that you be certain before you breathe a word of this to Vicky and Isaac. They’re fragile souls right now. Have you given adequate thought to what it will be like to hand over your newborn bopli to another woman? To what that will feel like? Are you sure you can go through with it?”

  “It’s hard for me to imagine.” If ever there was a time for absolute truth, it was now. Maisy turned to the next row. She dropped a hyacinth bulb into the trench. Planting new life, knowing the fruit—or in this case the flower—of their labor would not be seen until spring. Patience, food, water, light, all the ingredients were needed to grow a beautiful, healthy plant.

  “I used to wonder how women could give their boplin up for adoption. It seemed unfathomable. It seemed wrong. It seemed like something an Englisch woman was more likely to do than a Plain woman. Which is judgmental in itself, I know.”

  Kate crouched next to the bulbs and covered them. “It’s gut that you’re examining your feelings so carefully.” She stood and removed her gloves. “I think we need to pay a visit to some friends of mine.”

  “What friends?”

  Maisy followed Kate into the grass, where the other woman plopped down and brushed dirt from her feet. She reached for her shoes. “Friends who have some experience with what we’re talking about.” She pointed at Maisy’s shoes. “Better put them on.”

  “What about the bulbs?”

  “I’ll finish when I get back. This is an urgent matter. The sooner you have all the information you need to make a decision, the better for you and for Isaac and Vicky.” She studied her shoes for a second. “And especially for the bopli.”

  They decided Maisy should follow Kate in her own buggy so she wouldn’t have to come back to Kate’s to get it afterward. Forty-five minutes later they pulled into Freeman Bontrager’s farm. Kate’s short explanation of the trip had simply been that Freeman and Lorene adopted an English girl’s baby at birth. They never told the girl she was adopted. Then Abigail Bontrager’s birth mother showed up one day and wanted to be a part of her daughter’s life. How that played out, Kate said, would best be explained by the Bontragers.

  Maisy’s situation was different. Everyone involved was Plain—well, not everyone. Nate was English, but he wasn’t part of the equation. Should Isaac and Vicky tell the baby he was adopted? Did Maisy want the baby to know? Would he grow up feeling sad or rejected because his birth mother chose to give him to a couple? How would he feel about a birth father who never claimed his right to fatherhood? So many questions, so few answers. Maybe Kate was right. Maybe Abigail Bontrager, who was now Abigail Kurtz, could give her some insight in to the pros and cons of her situation.

  Her stomach churning, head pounding, Maisy slipped from her buggy and followed Kate up the steps to the Bontragers’ front door. A second later a young woman not much older than Maisy opened the door. She, too, was expecting—only much more so. “Hi, Kate, what a nice surprise.” Her curious gaze bounced to Maisy. “And you brought a visitor. Wunderbarr. It so happens that Mudder just pulled a pan of pumpkin bars from the oven. Come in, come in.”

  Kate made the introductions as they followed her inside. Despite her girth, Abigail Kurtz moved with enviable grace. She was a pretty woman with strawberry-blonde hair peeking out from her prayer covering and deep-blue eyes. Kate grilled her on her health, who was delivering her baby, and all the womanly things associated with childbirth.

  Abigail seemed to take it in stride. She said another local midwife would do the honors here at the Bontrager house so her mother could help as well. “It’s a super-busy time for Owen with the sunflower harvest, so he wanted to make sure I’m not alone when the bopli decides to make an appearance.”

  She was so blessed to have a husband who cared so deeply and a mother eager to help. Maisy swam through a treacherous wave of envy that threatened to drown her. She, too, had family and friends who would help her—she was blessed even in these trying circumstances. She needed to remember that.

  In the kitchen they made the acquaintance of Lorene Bontrager. She and her daughter could be twins, making it hard to believe Abigail was adopted. She bustled to the table with a platter of the pumpkin bars. The aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg calmed Maisy’s nerves and made her mouth water.

  “It’s so gut to see you, Kate.” Lorene’s gaze rested on Abigail. Something about her expression suggested she knew exactly who Maisy was. “You’re Ruth Plank’s kossin from Jamesport?”

  “Jah.” Maisy stifled the urge to wiggle in her chair. “I’ve been staying with her for a few months now.”

  Despite her troubled expression, Lorene said nothing more as she handed out napkins and offered the bars. Maisy took one. Maybe she could simply eat bars and let Kate do the talking.

  Abigail poured glasses of cold tea and brought them to the table. “So what brings you out this afternoon?”

  “We’re hoping you’ll be willing to share your hard-earned wisdom with us.” Kate nodded encouragingly at Maisy. “Maisy is considering asking another Plain couple here in Haven to adopt her bopli.”

  Understanding flashed in Abigail’s face. She sank into the chair across from Maisy. Her hands rested on the table’s top, fingers splayed. She sat very still. “That’s a big decision.”

  “It is.” Maisy willed her voice to remain steady. “Kate has told me a little about your experience—both of you. I’m trying to imagine what it’ll mean for my bopli to grow up adopted. How he’ll feel when he finds out. Should the couple tell him when he’s little or wait? What if he decides he wants to know me? I know every situation is different—”

  “Not so different.” Lorene slid into a chair next to Kate. The lines around her mouth and eyes deepened. She squeezed her daughter’s hand and let go. “Abigail’s biological mudder was unmarried like you. She was also very young. Her parents didn’t want her to marry the bu. They were the ones who pushed for the adoption. Stephanie didn’t want to do it, but they didn’t give her a choice. Stephanie knew me and Freeman. She came to us. She asked us to adopt her bopli.”

  Maisy grasped the cold glass for a few seconds. Then she put her hands to her hot cheeks. To have her situation compared to the English woman’s in such a matter-of-fact tone was like ripping the scab off a partially healed wound. “The daed of my bopli is Englisch. We agreed we couldn’t marry because of this. I won’t leave my faith.”

  “You’re still unbaptized, though.” Lorene’s lips thinned. Her frown deepened. “Because of that you aren’t shunned, but our bishop did say for us to avoid contact with you.”

  “True, but Bryan would also want what’s best for this bopli.” Kate jumped in. “He’s aware of the couple’s predicament. This would be a great blessing for them. Surely you would want Maisy to benefit from your experience as she figures out what to do.”

  If Lorene took Kate’s words as castigation, it didn’t show on her face. She plucked at the pumpkin bar on her napkin, her expression pensive. “When all this happened, my mann and I were concerned we might not have our own bopli. When Abigail’s birth mother approached us, we prayed and we talked to our bishop. Freeman and I agreed it was the right thing to do for us and for the bopli. Within a year our dochder Jane was born, but that didn’t change a thing. We loved our first bopli, our Abigail, from the minute she was born. We never thought of her as our adopted dochder. She was simply our firstborn.”

  “If anything can be learned from hindsight, I would say it has to do with not telling me I was adopted.” Abigail slid an arm around her mother and gave her a quick, one-armed hug. “I know it’s easy to criticize in hindsight. I was so hurt and angry and confused when my biological mother showed up here out of the blue. To find out at twenty I was adopted and my biological parents were Englisch was a blow I almost didn’t recover from.”

  “We would do it differently if we had it to do again.” Tears wet Lorene’s eyes. She sniffed and wiped her nose with her napkin. That it was still a delicate subject after all this time reflected how painful a period it had been. “But we can’t. It will be different for you, I reckon, with Plain parents taking the bopli.”

  “They aren’t able to have their own. At least they haven’t yet. They almost adopted a bopli and the birth mudder backed out. It broke their hearts. That’s why I need to make sure this is the right thing for me to do.”

  “Ach. You’re talking about Vicky and Isaac. Vicky’s mudder is a gut friend of mine.” Lorene sat up straight. The anguish melted away, replaced with enthusiasm. “Indeed it would be a gift, a blessing, for them to adopt a Plain bopli. Not dealing with an Englisch mudder should make it easier.”

  If Maisy could be sure she could go through with it. “Are you okay now with being adopted, Abigail?”

  Her expression distant and intent, Abigail brushed crumbs from the table. “I am. Lorene and Freeman are my eldre. They raised me. They loved me. They disciplined me. They never let me want for anything. They taught me to be true to Gott and the Ordnung. I’ve been blessed with a gut life. I visited my biological family and I realized I’m Plain through and through. It’s not a bloodline. It’s a way of life.

  “That doesn’t mean I regret getting to know my biological family. I’m related to them, too, but in a different way. Knowing them has given me another perspective on life. It’s another part of who I am. Knowing their family tree and history gives richness to my life.”

  “Well said, my dear.” Kate clapped softly. “You have gained wisdom from your experiences.”

  Vicky and Isaac would give Maisy’s baby that same loving, caring upbringing. There was no doubt about that. They could give him so much more than Maisy could. It was for the best. So why did the pain of that realization threaten to bring Maisy to her knees? “I hope I can be as brave and as wise.”

  “Don’t measure yourself by another person’s yardstick.” Lorene’s features had relaxed. She spoke with a gentleness that brought a lump to Maisy’s throat. “If I learned anything through this experience, it’s that speaking openly about it is so important. Talk to Vicky and Isaac about the future and whether you want to be involved in your bopli’s life after the adoption. Don’t base that on your feelings and your wants. Think of the bopli first. What’s best for him.”

  “Gut advice. Danki.” Maisy managed to whisper her response without a quiver in her voice.

  Why was she so emotional? Because the response to what was best for her baby stared her in the face. The baby would be better off with Vicky and Isaac. He would have a good life with two loving parents. She wasn’t ready to be a mother. Her baby deserved parents who were.

  Her decision was made for her.

  Chapter 24

  Once Betsy was convinced Maisy would remain steadfast in her decision to give her baby up for adoption, she agreed to broach the subject with Vicky and Isaac—alone. She told Maisy to go home and wait. And wait. And wait. After what they’d been through, they might not be ready to consider trying to adopt again. Days passed. Maisy stayed busy at work and at home. Every time the bell dinged at the hardware store, she jumped and turned. No Betsy. Until finally, three days later, it was indeed the midwife standing on the welcome mat.

  Maisy’s heartbeat blew through a stop sign and galloped for the highway. “Well?”

  Betsy waved her hand toward the door. “Ask Harvey if you can have a few hours off.”

  As usual Harvey was amenable. Twenty minutes later Betsy and Maisy pulled into a neat wooden A-frame house a few miles from Amos and Ruth’s place. Mums and marigolds added yellow, orange, and reds to the flower boxes that lined the front porch. Everything was neat and clean. Betsy put the car in Park and removed the key. “Are you okay? You’re awfully quiet.”

  “They didn’t seem concerned about my . . . character?”

  “They have no concerns about your character. Isaac has other concerns, but Vicky thinks you can convince him that you’re serious about the adoption. That you won’t do to them what the previous mudder did.”

  Maisy’s stomach clenched. Even now nausea reared its ugly head at least once a day. She put her hand to her mouth. “I might need . . .”

  She hopped from the car and made it to the wind-tousled weeds that lined the dirt road before she vomited.

  Betsy rubbed her back. When it was all over, she held out a package of spearmint gum. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

  Maisy managed a nod. “I won’t.”

  By that time Vicky had come out to the front porch. Betsy propelled Maisy forward. “It’ll be fine.”

  Easy for her to say. Vicky looked much better than she had the last time Maisy saw her. Still too thin, but the dark circles around her eyes and the puffiness of her face had receded. She waved at Betsy and smiled. “Thanks for coming.” Curiosity in her pale-blue eyes, she turned to Maisy. “Bewillkumm.”