The Amish Midwife - By Mindy Starns Clark Page 0,106

the way she has can be normal.” He leaned forward. “I speak from experience, remember? Being raised in such legalism—and the Amish are over-the-top compared to my experience—traps people completely. They have to break out and leave, like I did, to free themselves.”

“I don’t agree,” I said. “Sure, I think it’s weird that they only allow an eighth-grade education, and some of the rules do seem arbitrary, but I’ve seen plenty of Amish women who seem genuinely happy.”

Sean shook his head. “Because they don’t know anything else. They’re like indentured servants. Stockholm syndrome. You were lucky, Lexie. Even though it wasn’t your choice, you got out.”

Lucky? Really? I changed the subject to his work. I didn’t want to discuss adoption or the Amish anymore. He was telling me about a C-section delivery involving triplets when my cell rang. “What timing. It’s my Realtor,” I said.

“Ooh, take it. Maybe it’s a lucky day for both of us.” He beamed.

I flipped open my phone. Darci said, just as James had indicated, that a couple from California was interested in seeing the house. I gave her Sophie’s number to get the key and hung up, feeling ambivalent.

Sean knew what was going on from my side of the conversation and high-fived me. “That’s great,” he said. “You can pay for med school with your profit.”

I must have winced.

“I’m serious. You would make a good doctor.”

“I make a good midwife,” I said, and then I corrected myself with, “nurse-midwife.”

He nodded and then gave me his charming smile, his bright blue eyes lighting up like a tropical sky.

“Hey, I’m going to Baltimore for a weekend—late April or early May. Want to come with me?”

“Maybe.” I couldn’t think that far ahead, even though it was only a couple of weeks away.

“It would be great to have you come.”

I would think about it. Baltimore could be an option. Not to go to med school, necessarily, but to get to know Sean better.

“When was the last time you went home?” I asked. I realized all of his talk about his family was years in the past. And he hadn’t talked at all about any future visits in the works.

“It’s been a couple of years.”

“Really?” I couldn’t imagine, especially when he had all those brothers and sisters.

He nodded. “At least two.” He grinned again. “I’ve been busy.”

I was trying to form a reply when he added, “Speaking of busy, I need to run for now.”

I hung around the hospital after he went back to work, surfing their Wi-Fi by using the password Sean had given me. I googled Burke F. Bauer, Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and found the same articles Zed had.

Next I checked the adoption registry. Once again, no responses. I emailed Sophie, telling her the Realtor was going to call her about the key to the house so she could show it. I quickly explained I wasn’t sure I was going to sell—I was just exploring my options. I skimmed a few blogs I regularly kept up with, and at ten thirty I logged off, slipped my laptop into its case, and checked my cell phone for the tenth time since I’d texted Ada. No response there, either.

A half hour later I was back at the cottage, sneaking in the unlocked door and up to the security of my alcove.

The next morning Marta met me at the bottom of the stairs.

“In regard to last night—”

I put up my hand to stop her.

“I’m not interested in another lecture about letting things be, Marta. Unless you are willing to come clean and tell me everything I want to know, don’t bother,” I said curtly. I’d had enough of playing duck, duck, goose with her.

Her eyes grew cold as ice. She turned on her heel and marched into the kitchen.

I tried to ignore the tension between us as I went about my day, examining patients and thinking through my upcoming schedule. I had a short time until I was expected to report for work in Philadelphia, but besides the mystery of why I was born in Montgomery County, I realized no more information was there for me. My desire to work and live in Philly was now nonexistent.

Despite the ongoing conflict with Marta, I felt encouraged by my growing relationships with Zed and Ella, not to mention my patients. During the next week I checked my phone over and over, hoping for a text from Ada, and delivered three babies, numbers 259, 260, and 261, or numbers four, five, and six in Lancaster