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  AND BABY MAKES THREE

  “Hey, Mollie.” Paul stood and crossed the room in two giant steps. “Don’t you look all bright-eyed after your nap.” He tickled her under her chin and smiled when she smiled at him.

  “You sure are at ease with little ones for having none in your house.”

  “I guess I inherited that from Mamm.”

  “Would you like to hold her while I prepare her bottle?”

  “Sure.” He expertly lifted Mollie from Rosanna’s arms as if he’d been handling infants regularly.

  Rosanna scooped powdered formula into a bottle, added water and a nipple, and shook the bottle to mix the ingredients. Paul sure would make a great daed one day. How many times had that thought run through her head? When she turned back around, she found Paul had dropped onto a chair and cuddled Mollie in his arms.

  “Can I feed her? Do you think she’ll take the bottle from me?”

  “I don’t see why she wouldn’t. She certainly seems to like you.” Rosanna gave the bottle a final shake before handing it to Paul.

  When Mollie opened her mouth and started sucking the bottle, Rosanna plunked down on a nearby chair. The scene in front of her looked so natural that it nearly stole her breath away . . .

  Books by Susan Lantz Simpson

  THE PROMISE

  THE MENDING

  THE RECONCILIATION

  ROSANNA’S GIFT

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  ROSANNA’S GIFT

  Susan Lantz Simpson

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  AND BABY MAKES THREE

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Epilogue

  More by Bestselling Author Hannah Howell

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2020 by Susan Lantz Simpson

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  BOUQUET Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4980-7

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4981-4 (eBook)

  ISBN-10: 1-4201-4981-4 (eBook)

  For all those who have welcomed children into

  their hearts and homes

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to my family and friends for your continuous love and support.

  Thank you to my daughters, Rachel and Holly, for believing in me and dreaming along with me. (Rachel, you patiently listened to my ideas and ramblings, and Holly, I couldn’t have done any of the tech work without your skills!)

  Thank you to my mother, who encouraged me from the time I was able to write. I know you are rejoicing in heaven.

  Thank you to Dana Russell and friends at Mt. Zion United Methodist Church for all your enthusiasm and support.

  Thank you to Mennonite friends Greta and Ida for all your information.

  Thank you to my wonderful agent, Julie Gwinn, for believing in me from the beginning and for all your tireless work.

  Thank you to John Scognamiglio, editor in chief, and the entire staff at Kensington Publishing for all your efforts in turning my dream into reality.

  Thank you most of all to God, giver of dreams and abilities and bestower of all blessings.

  Prologue

  Rosanna wavered. She wanted to stay right where she was and talk to Henry. Maybe he’d mention something about taking a ride with him if she gave him enough time. But Mamm needed her. “I’m sorry, but I can’t talk right now, Henry. I need to help my mamm.”

  “With that Englischer?” Henry had stopped his horse near the back door of the big two-story house and stood beside his gray buggy.

  “You saw the girl who came to our door?”

  “Jah, I was just driving up. You have to help with her?”

  “From the way things looked, she definitely needs our help.”

  “Why doesn’t your mamm just call the rescue squad and send her to the Englischers’ hospital?”

  Rosanna stomped her black athletic shoe–clad foot and looked Henry straight in his small brown eyes. Since he stood only a hair’s breadth taller, looking him in the eye was not a challenge. “Henry Zook, you know gut and well Mamm would never turn away a woman who needed her help—Amish or Englisch. What’s gotten into you?”

  “Nothing. It just seems to me that girl should seek out help from her own kind.”

  Rosanna’s exasperation mounted. She’d heard from her older bruders that Henry wanted little or nothing to do with Englischers. That she could accept, she supposed, but not his lack of compassion for a fellow human being in need. Disappointment crept in with the exasperation. This was the fellow she wanted to step out with?

  She’d secretly watched him at school and had felt a huge void when he finished two years before she did. At the young people’s singings, she stole glances at him and, once or twice, caught him looking back. That proved he was interested, didn’t it? But this attitude was a little hard to swallow. Maybe Henry was just having a bad day. Everyone had one of those days now and again.

  Henry dropped his gaze under Rosanna’s scrutiny and stared at his toe drawing circles in the dirt. “Do you always help your mamm with, uh, with these things?”

  “Of course. I love helping her with—”

  “I see.”

  Henry had interrupted her before she could complete her sentence. Honestly! Childbirth was a natural occurrence, a blessed event. Men could be so squeamish about such things.

  “Rosanna!” Mamm’s voice carried right outside to where Rosanna was wasting ti
me with Henry. That’s what Mamm would think she was doing. How many times had Mamm asked her why she wasted her time and dreams on Henry Zook? “I have to go, Henry. Maybe we can talk later?” Could her hint be any more blatant? If he didn’t catch on that she wanted to step out with him, then that head under the mud brown hair must be pretty dense.

  Henry shrugged. “I really came here to see your bruder Tobias anyway.”

  Rosanna flounced off without a backward glance and kicked the heavy wood door closed behind her. That was not the response she’d hoped for.

  All thoughts of Henry and everything else flew from Rosanna’s mind as she and Mamm worked in sync to help this stranger who had shown up at their door ready to bring her infant into the world. The air outside may have had a bite, but here in the spare bedroom that used to belong to her two married bruders, Rosanna fanned the girl on the bed. She mopped the girl’s brow in between contractions and encouraged her to push when Mamm deemed it time to do so. The thin wisp of a girl nearly crushed the bones in Rosanna’s hands but never cried out. In fact, she didn’t speak at all until after the birth.

  Chapter One

  “She’s yours.” The voice came out as a mere gasp. The young woman raised a trembling hand to flick the matted light brown hair off her forehead but dropped it back onto the mattress as if the effort was too great.

  Rosanna Mast pulled her gaze from the hazel eyes boring into her own to send a silent plea of help to her mamm. Amish midwife Sarah Mast, shrugged her shoulders and continued drying the mewling, rooting infant. Rosanna sponged the young woman’s face with a cool, damp cloth. She looked more a girl than a woman, younger even than Rosanna’s twenty-one years. She’d told them her name was Jane after Sarah had asked repeatedly what they should call her.

  Sarah expertly cradled the newborn in the crook of one arm. She raised the other arm to wipe her forehead along the sleeve of her blue dress. She stepped closer to the bed and held the infant out to the woman who had just given birth to her. “You have a perfect little girl.”

  “No!” If the voice hadn’t been so raspy, Rosanna felt sure the sound would have been an earsplitting shriek. The girl shook her head so hard, Rosanna expected to see brain matter fly out of her ears. She made no move to reach for the bundle in Sarah’s arms. Instead, she kept her arms on the bed with the edges of the cotton sheet bunched tightly in her fists. “Yours,” she croaked, looking Rosanna straight in the eye. “I. Want. You. To. Have. Her.” The words were uttered as if with great effort, but the piercing gaze never wavered from Rosanna’s eyes.

  Rosanna felt her mouth drop open to her knees. The girl must be delirious. She must have a fever. Rosanna had assisted her mamm with births more times than she could count. Never had she seen a new mudder refuse to cuddle her boppli. Never had she heard a woman say she wanted to give away her newborn. And to her of all people!

  Sarah again offered the infant to the panting girl. She leaned down to give her the opportunity to better see the little one. “Look at your dochder. What will her name be?” Sarah’s voice was soft, soothing.

  “Ask her!” The young woman jerked her head toward Rosanna.

  “I-I-I . . .” Rosanna couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence. She tried again. “Sh-she’s your boppli.” Rosanna looked to Sarah. What in the world was going on here? Mamm would make it right. She always knew what to do.

  “She is yours.” The exhausted-looking girl let go of the sheet she clutched so tightly and pushed against the mattress to raise herself. Two seconds later she flopped back onto the bed, totally spent. She gasped for breath. “I want you to have her.” The voice might have been ragged, but it was forceful at the same time.

  “Why me? You must be confused.” Rosanna glanced from the girl to her own wringing hands to her mamm, and finally to the helpless newborn.

  “Not confused.”

  “Here, why don’t you nurse your boppli and then we’ll talk. She’s hungry.”

  “No! I-I can’t.” She panted after her outburst. Her eyes widened in panic or fear or desperation. Rosanna couldn’t be sure which.

  “Calm yourself, dear. We’ll help you.” If Sarah’s soothing voice and serene manner didn’t settle the young woman, nothing would, though Rosanna felt far from settled herself. Sarah shifted the infant to one side and patted the thin arm lying limp on the bed with her free hand. She turned to Rosanna. “Here, Dochder. Hold the boppli. I have to find something to feed her.”

  Rosanna automatically reached for the bundle Sarah passed to her. At least her arms weren’t numb like her brain. She looked down into the sweet little face and smiled. The miracle of birth never ceased to thrill her. She’d been ever so glad Mamm had let her start assisting with births. Every newborn was a gift. This precious one somehow seemed even more special. She felt right in Rosanna’s arms. A perfect fit. Rosanna snuck a peek at the girl in the bed. Her eyes were closed tightly, and she didn’t show any sign whatsoever of wanting to bond with her infant. How was Mamm going to fix this?

  Well, first off, she’d prepare a bottle of store-bought formula for this wee one, who would soon be wailing in hunger. Most Amish women nursed their newborns, but occasionally someone needed a bit of help. Mamm always kept a little formula around for emergencies. That would take care of this boppli’s physical needs. But what about her emotional needs?

  “You are such a beauty,” Rosanna crooned. The infant focused on her face. Rosanna knew better, but she thought for sure the little bow-shaped mouth curved up in a tiny smile. She knew she was not supposed to pay attention to outward appearances, but this little girl was gorgeous. She wasn’t at all red and wrinkly like most newborns. Her head was not misshapen from squeezing through the birth canal. It was totally perfect and even sported a shock of honey-gold hair.

  “Are you ready to see your boppli now, Jane?”

  “I don’t want to look at her.” Jane turned her face in the opposite direction.

  “I know the whole childbirth experience can be overwhelming, but you need to at least look at your little girl.”

  “No! The boppy or whatever you called her belongs to you.” Jane pointed a shaking finger in Rosanna’s direction.

  “Why do you keep saying that? You can’t simply give your boppli away.” Rosanna had never been more confused in her life.

  “I already have.”

  “What?” The word slid out of Rosanna’s mouth on a gasp.

  “Look in my bag.” Jane nodded toward the oversized purse on a nearby chair. At Rosanna’s hesitation, Jane spoke louder. “Go ahead. Look in my bag.”

  Rosanna shuffled to the chair, holding the poor unwanted infant closer. She lifted the bag and carried it to the bed. “You can search for what you need.” She wasn’t about to prowl through someone’s personal belongings.

  The weary young woman pushed against the mattress to hoist herself up in the bed. She plunged a hand into the deep recesses of the bag and fumbled around. “Aha! Here it is.” She pulled a slightly dog-eared paper from her bag and waved it in the air. “Read this.”

  Rosanna wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to read the paper fluttering in Jane’s hand. She wished Mamm would hurry back into the room. What was taking her so long to mix a bottle of formula?

  “Read it!” The voice from the bed came out stronger, more forcefully this time. The paper shook violently in Jane’s hand.

  Rosanna jumped, startled by the sudden command. She cradled the newborn with her right hand and reached for the paper with her left one. She squinted to focus in the waning daylight. She should have lit a lamp earlier. At least the print was in bold, black letters. “I-I don’t understand.” Now she was more confused than ever.

  “You are Rosanna Mast, correct?” The voice had taken on a slightly sharp tone.

  “Jah, but why is my name on this paper?”

  An exaggerated sigh filled the room. “You are the baby’s mother.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You just gave birth to her.” Rosanna stretched out
a hand to lay across Jane’s forehead. The girl must have a raging fever. Rosanna felt a sting when her hand was batted away.

  “I do not have a fever. I am of sound mind. You are the adoptive mother then. How’s that?”

  Rosanna could only stare. What in the world was this obviously mixed-up young woman talking about?

  “You have heard of adoption, haven’t you?”

  “Of course.” Rosanna dropped her eyes for a quick glance at the infant, who obviously had grown too tired to be hungry and dropped off to sleep. Rosanna’s body swayed to and fro in a slight rocking motion all of its own volition.

  “I chose you to be my baby’s mother.”

  “Why? Why would you give her up? Just look at her. She’s precious.”

  Jane turned her head away to avoid looking at the bundle in Rosanna’s arms. “I’m only nineteen. I can’t take care of a baby. And I’m sick. She needs a good home.”

  “Why me? And how did you know my name to put it on this paper?”

  “I’ve watched you at the market the past few weeks. I can tell you’re a good person. I’ve seen you with other people’s children. Besides I want her to be raised Amish. My world certainly hasn’t been very kind to me. I want her raised right. You can do that.”

  Rosanna shivered and snuggled the newborn closer. It was all so creepy that someone had been watching her, even if it had been a young, very pregnant girl. “My name? You put my name on this paper, but I’ve never met you.”

  “I felt like I knew you as well as I’ve ever known anyone. It wasn’t hard to get your name. I simply asked around. Oh, and I asked about you, too. Everyone said you were a wunderbaar person. I assumed that meant wonderful.”