Minding The Amish Baby

“He won’t,” Tessa firmly assured him, her chin in the air.

Turner got the sense she was offended, but once again he didn’t know why. After saying good-night, he tromped back to the house. To his relief, Mercy was still sleeping soundly, which was exactly what he wanted to do. But when he got into bed, sleep escaped him. All he could think about was whether Jacqueline had been drawn into the Englisch world by a boy who promised he wanted only a single date and if she didn’t like him, he’d never ask for another thing.

Then Turner questioned if he really came across as disagreeable as Tessa suggested. She had a lot of nerve, didn’t she? Perhaps if she bore even a fraction of the kind of concerns and responsibilities he had, she wouldn’t be so quick to judge. Or maybe if Turner were a younger man with little to worry about except which Willow Creek maedel he should court, he’d walk around wearing a ridiculous grin on his face.

Ah well, there was no sense dwelling on how his life might have turned out if he hadn’t had to raise his siblings. He pulled the quilt to his chin and shut his eyes so he wouldn’t be “a very grouchy person” come morning.

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