without his wife. And he’d been rather curious about the woman ever since her arrival. But now that she had bravely ventured down the path, all the way to his cabin, he was downright mystified.
Six
Nathan Fisher paid no attention when the late model sedan drove up his driveway. English folks often pulled into the yard to ask directions or to see if they were selling eggs, cheese, or garden produce. Once an elderly Englischer asked if he had any cuckoo clocks for sale. When he had been dumbfounded by the question, the woman explained that because the Amish originally came from Switzerland, she thought he might have maintained an old-country trade.
Cuckoo clocks. Just when you think you have heard it all.
Whoever this person was, most likely he or she would soon leave when no one came out with things for sale. He had chores to do. His recently baled hay needed to be stacked in the barn loft out of the weather. Cows needed milking and garden vegetables were ready to be picked. Although Ruth had managed their garden on her own, he couldn’t expect his aunt to keep house, cook meals, care for his son, and do outdoor chores too. He needed to do more than his share because she owed him no lifetime commitment. Besides, he couldn’t drop what he was doing in his present condition. He was dirty from head to toe and probably smelled worse than their sow after a roll in fresh mud.
Pulling on the rope with all his strength, Nathan raised another pile of bales up to the loft. Two more loads and his latest cutting of hay should be finished. He would cover the remaining bales with plastic and leave them outdoors to supplement pasture grass for the next few weeks.
“Hello? Mr. Fisher?” A female voice called from the barn doorway.
Nathan clenched down on his back teeth. “Jah, I’m Nathan Fisher, but I’m busy right now. We have no eggs for sale if that’s why you’re here. And if you’re collecting donations, my aunt’s up at the house. Tell her there’s some money in the canister by the door.”
The woman chuckled, stepping inside rather than going on her way. “I’ll remember that come time for the March of Dimes drive, but today I’m not soliciting money. I’m here to talk to you.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her from the ladder. The woman was as skinny as a fence pole, with curly yellow hair standing out from her head like a lion’s mane. But her manner of dress was all business—gray suit, white blouse, and high-heeled shoes. As Nathan stared, she ventured deeper into the barn. “Careful there, ma’am, in those fancy shoes. There are things in here you do not want to step in.”
She instantly stood still. “Right, then. I’ll wait for you outside in the shade.” She pivoted and headed to the pasture fence, where low dog-wood trees offered cool relief.
Because she did not appear to be leaving, Nathan had little choice but to tie off the pulley rope, wipe his dirty hands on a rag, and walk out into the oppressively hot sunshine. He shielded his eyes from the glare. “What can I do for you, Miss…”
“Mrs. Patricia Daly,” she said, digging in her purse. “I’m a social worker with Children’s Services. I’m here to make a home inspection regarding the care of an infant, Abraham Fisher.” She smiled pleasantly and held out her identification card from a brown wallet.
He blinked once or twice like an owl. “What kind of inspection?”
She slipped the wallet back into her shoulder bag. “Just routine. Nothing to worry about. Your son was admitted to the hospital for observation following your wife’s passing. In these situations, the case is assigned to Children’s Services. A follow-up visit is scheduled to make sure the baby is receiving proper care and nutrition. And please accept my deepest sympathy for your loss.”
What she just said took a moment to sink in, but when it did Nathan felt his back go rigid. “You’ve come to check if I’m feeding my boy?”
“Put in those terms my job sounds awful, doesn’t it? And I am sure you’re taking fine care of your son, Mr. Fisher, but not everyone, especially not every widower, faced with so enormous an undertaking rises to the occasion.”
Nathan shifted his weight and tucked his hands under his suspenders. “You would be better off speaking plain English, ma’am, so I don’t misunderstand your meaning.”
She nodded after a moment’s thought.