The Baby Next Door Read online

  But it was what he loved, and he felt strongly that God had given him a passion for animals for a reason.

  Even though the women in his district couldn’t see that.

  And Grace Troyer certainly couldn’t.

  It was a pity, too, because he wouldn’t mind courting Grace—except she seemed to have lost her sense of humor and she certainly disliked his “zoo,” as she called it.

  Back at his place, he tended to his animals and brushed down the emus. It was midafternoon by the time he headed into town. He needed to pick up some supplies, but his real purpose for going was to stop by and see his friend. George Miller was ten years older than Adrian. He had six children, a wife whose quilts were in high demand and a nice seventy-two-acre farm.

  Adrian could tell from the boisterous shouts of children coming from behind the house that George was working on the family garden.

  “Little early in the year for tilling.”

  “Tell my fraa that. She’s already started the cabbage seeds inside. Says we need to get them in the ground soon.”

  “I told you not to add that window box to the mud room. It only means extra work for you.”

  “And yet gut food for the table.”

  “All these rows can’t be for cabbage.”

  “Nein—cucumbers, green beans, peppers, tomatoes and potatoes will be added after the cabbage. You know how it is. We’re always planting something.” George stretched his back until he heard a satisfying pop. “If you came to chat, why don’t you help me out while we talk?”

  Adrian picked up a hoe and set to work on the next row.

  Two of George’s oldest children seemed to have the right idea—one was turning over sod and the other was breaking it up. Two others were sitting on the ground, filling pails with dirt, then dumping it back out on their laps. He supposed the youngest two were inside. He felt a prickle of envy and pushed it away. He’d have a family when God was ready for him to have a family. There was no point in worrying over it.

  “What are you chewing on over there?”

  “Me?”

  “You’ve been standing in the same place since you picked up the hoe.”

  “Oh. Ya.” Adrian focused on moving down the row, matching George’s pace. Keeping his hands busy made it easier to share what was weighing on his mind. “I wanted to speak to you about something...about my farm.”

  “Uh-huh. It’s in a nice area—good dirt and tidy farms.”

  “I want to start a tour out that way.”

  “I believe you’ve mentioned as much before.” George kept his attention on the ground, but Adrian knew he was grinning. They’d been friends for many years, and they’d had this discussion several times in the last six months.

  “Since you’re the head of the Goshen Tourism Board...”

  “Goshen Plain Tourism Committee—we’re simply a branch of the overall tourism board.”

  “Whatever. When can we start tours to my place?”

  George leaned on his hoe and tipped his hat up. “How many animals do you have now?”

  “Two llamas, four alpacas, a couple emus, six exotic birds, some rabbits and goats, which aren’t exotic but children love to pet them. Plus the turtles and my three-legged dog.”

  George signaled for him to keep going.

  “Half a dozen wild turkeys, and I’m talking to Simon over in Middlebury about purchasing a camel or two.”

  “Sounds like things are really progressing.”

  “They are. I’ve also set up small pens for a petting area.”

  “I don’t think it’s enough.”

  “I could order a bison or a yak.”

  George shook his head. “You don’t need more animals, or maybe you do—I don’t know about that. What I’m saying is that you need other stops on your tour.”

  That was not what Adrian wanted to hear. He’d spoken to his parents and his schweschdern. None of them wanted anything to do with a tour business.

  “What would you suggest?”

  “A place where guests could purchase handmade items.”

  “Quilts and such?”

  “Sure. Englischers believe that all Amish women quilt.”

  “Your wife certainly does. Maybe she would—”

  George held up his hand to stop him. “Becca’s willing to provide quilts, but there’s no room here to show them. You’re going to have to find at least two more stops for your tour.”

  “Old Saul said he’d be willing to show his dairy cows.”

  “Gut.”

  “But my family isn’t interested.”

  “You need a stop where they can eat.” George again leaned on his hoe. “Have you tried talking to Grace Troyer?”

  “She is definitely not interested.”

  “Have you talked to her parents?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  George used the edge of the hoe to scoop dirt to the top of the row in front of him. “Grace has been a bit reclusive since she’s returned home.”

  “I wouldn’t call her reclusive.”

  “But Leslie and James are much more practical. In fact, if I remember right, Leslie does quite a bit of knitting.”

  “She does. There are baskets of yarn everywhere.”

  “And Grace is a gut cook, right?”

  “She told me once she wanted to go to cooking school.”

  “An Amish chef?”

  “Ya. That was when we were kids.” He broke up a particularly big clod of dirt. “You’re right that she’s been different since she’s been back. I think it’s because of Nicole. It’s a big responsibility to take on, raising someone else’s child.”

  George’s head jerked up. He studied Adrian, then shook his head as if to dismiss some idea. “She’s an excellent cook, and I know for a fact that her parents can use the money. Talk to them. Maybe they can change her mind.”

  Adrian didn’t think anything would change Grace’s mind. She’d once been an outgoing, friendly young woman, but she’d changed. Adrian didn’t know what had happened while she was away, but he did know that she wasn’t interested in helping him create a successful tour business. What Grace wanted more than anything was to be left alone, and an Amish tour stop would be the exact opposite of that.

  Looking in her direction for help was bound to be futile.

  His heart sank as he thought of his animals and how much it would cost to feed them over the next year. He needed to make some money, and he did not want to go back to work at the nearby RV factory to do that. He wanted to be on his farm with his animals. If that meant confronting Grace Troyer, then that was what he’d have to do.

  He could very well lose the farm if he didn’t find a way to raise some money. There were annual taxes to pay, not to mention he needed money for his own food and clothing. Then there was the care of his buggy horse, plus the cost of the animals’ feed and the occasional veterinary bill. He also had a responsibility to give to the church.

  Adrian needed the tours to happen, and he needed them to happen soon. There was simply no way he was going to let Grace stand between him and his dream.

  Chapter Two

  The next afternoon Grace found Adrian in the enclosed area that was labeled Exotic Birds Aviary. The structure was approximately fifteen feet wide, twelve feet tall and stretched for the length of most Amish homes. It reminded Grace of a large dog run. The walls and roof were made of chicken fencing, which she supposed kept the birds inside. When she’d first arrived home in February, she’d noticed that Adrian had wrapped the entire thing in plastic sheeting. When she asked him, he said it was so that the plants—and the birds—would stay warm. He’d even set up a heating system that used solar panels.

  The plastic had since been removed, bright April sunshine was streaming through the fencing, and the smell of spring was in the air.
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  Grace had read about aviaries before, and she’d always imagined them as being calm, quiet, peaceful places. Adrian’s aviary could best be described as chaotic. The birds set to screeching as soon as she walked inside, a three-legged dog bounded past her and several rabbits hopped toward patches of grass.

  “Grace, I’m surprised to see you here.” Adrian hurried toward her. “Why are you carrying that rolling pin?”

  Grace glanced down at her hand. Why was she carrying a rolling pin? Well, that was Adrian’s fault. He was the reason she wasn’t still rolling out pie crusts. “I’m not here for chitchat, Adrian. Why did you talk my parents into being a stop on your tour?”

  “Well, now, I saw your dat out in the field early this morning and we got to talking. One thing led to another, and I suppose I mentioned that I could use his help.”

  “You could use his help?”

  “Plus, I thought it might be gut for them—financially.” A rather large yellow-and-green bird landed on his left shoulder, and Adrian jerked his head to the right, as if to give it more space.

  “What is that?”

  “This? It’s a bird.”

  “I’ve never seen one like it before.” She realized her tone sounded quite accusatory. Well, it was his fault this bird was here, that this entire menagerie of animals was here and that her parents were buying into his absurd tourist plan. She attempted to refocus on her anger, but the bird was making it difficult. It had begun tweeting quite adamantly.

  “You probably haven’t seen one like it before because it’s from Australia.”

  “You’ve been to Australia?”

  “Nein. A woman in Middlebury bought this one as a pet. She had it for nearly four years. Then a few months ago, she moved into an assisted living facility. She couldn’t take the bird with her, so she gave it to me.”

  “Yes, well—”

  “They cost nearly four hundred dollars, so I was quite happy to provide her a home.”

  “That’s wunderbaar, but—”

  “She’s a red-rumped parrot.”

  That stopped Grace in her tracks. “But she’s yellow and turquoise.”

  Adrian side stepped over to what must have been a feeding station. Grace could just make out scraps of fruit and vegetables scattered across it.

  “Dolly has red feathers on her back—all red-rumped parrots do.”

  As if to show off her best feature, Dolly hopped to the feeding station, turned and walked across the platform. Her colors really were quite exquisite, including bright red feathers on her back. Grace was temporarily speechless.

  “Why are you holding a rolling pin?”

  She looked at Adrian, then Dolly, then the rolling pin.

  “Oh, yes. Well, I was baking, but then Mamm mentioned your tour. So I decided I needed to speak to you about it right away. What were you thinking?” She waved the pin in the air. “Why do you have to drag us into your crazy plans?”

  “There was no dragging.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “Apparently your parents are.”

  “That’s beside the point.” She slapped the pin against her palm as Adrian added a bit of birdseed to the feeding platform. “Are you even listening to me? I don’t want my family involved. I don’t want Nicole around all those...strangers.”

  It sounded lame, even to her own ears, but it was the best explanation she could offer at the moment.

  Adrian rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he walked over to a giant birdcage full of finches. The cage reached from the floor to the ceiling, was big enough around that she could have stepped into it and was filled with some sort of shrubbery. Only as she stepped closer, she could see it wasn’t all shrubbery—there were dozens of finches inside.

  Adrian scooped small black birdseed out of a barrel and deposited it into a feeding tube. “Did you know the size of finches range from four to ten inches?”

  Grace held up a hand to stop him. She did not need a lecture on finches. “Adrian, I don’t want Englischers stomping all over our home.”

  “Well, we’re starting in a week, so it’ll probably be warm enough to feed them outside.”

  “That’s another thing... Who decided that I would be willing to cook for twenty people?”

  “I thought you liked cooking.”

  She stared down at the rolling pin. Why couldn’t she be home rolling out pie crust? Why did she have to have this conversation? “I do like cooking.”

  “Then, what’s the problem?” He stepped closer, and she had the absurd notion that he meant to reach out and touch her. She stepped back and nearly tripped over a large brown rabbit.

  “It’s hard to explain. You’re going to have to take my word for it.”

  “Oh.” Adrian put both hands on his hips and stared at the ground. Kendrick the Llama walked by the aviary, and Adrian glanced up, then whistled. The beast turned to look at him and immediately took off running in the opposite direction.

  Instead of being irritated, Adrian smiled as if a small child had accomplished a wonderful feat. “What were we talking about?”

  “Tours. Englischers. Cooking.”

  “Right. Well, I suppose if you don’t want to do it, I could ask Widow Schwartz.”

  “Are you kidding me? Did you try one of her biscuits last week? Nein. You didn’t. I know you didn’t, because you appear to still have all your teeth.”

  Adrian started to laugh, but he stopped himself when he caught the frustrated expression on her face.

  “I’m sorry, Grace. I—I... Honestly, I thought you enjoyed cooking.”

  Grace sighed and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  An owl flew from the back of the aviary to the front and settled on a dead tree limb Adrian had propped against the fence. “Mac had an injured wing. I found him in the barn loft. I think he’ll be ready to fly soon.” The owl studiously ignored them, tucking its head under its wing.

  “I do enjoy cooking.”

  “So why are you dead set against this?” Adrian stepped closer, stuck his hands in his pockets and waited.

  Adrian was comfortable with conversations filled with long pauses. He made her crazy with his animals and his rescues and his short attention span, but she understood that he was a decent person at heart. It was just that his life seemed so chaotic, and by proximity, it seemed to bring disorder and confusion into her life, as well. The one thing Grace didn’t need was chaos. She wanted order and quiet and seclusion.

  A tourist group didn’t bring with it any of those things.

  And she was convinced strangers meant danger for Nicole.

  She should have never watched that TV show at her aenti’s—it was all about what lengths an advocacy group would go to in order to reunite biological dads with their children, even children the fathers hadn’t known about.

  She’d tried to contact Kolby once, but she’d reached a dead end when the phone number he’d given her no longer worked. Something told her she probably should have tried harder to find him—perhaps legally she was required to try harder.

  Grace suddenly felt immensely weary. It was something that happened on a disturbingly regular basis since she’d had Nicole. Most of the time she was fine, then other times she simply wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep for a week.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I will be.” She made no attempt to hide her grimace. “I’m not happy about this, Adrian. I wish you’d asked me first.”

  “You would have said no.”

  “Which is exactly my point.”

  He motioned toward a bench set back in the corner, under an arch that had a flowering vine of some sort growing on it. She hesitated, then took a seat. Adrian leaned against the owl’s dead tree limb, arms and ankles crossed, patiently waiting. When she still didn’t speak, he hopped in.

 
“The truth is that I need the tour group. It costs money to feed all of these animals, and then there’s the occasional trip to the veterinarian. Plus I have taxes to pay on this place.”

  “Surely none of that is a surprise.”

  “It’s not, but in my mind if I did the right thing, if I provided a safe habitat for all these animals, then Gotte would provide my needs.”

  “‘My God will supply all your needs.’ That’s Bishop Luke’s favorite verse.”

  “One of them.”

  “Life isn’t that simple, Adrian.”

  “What do you mean? Give me an example.” His attention was completely on her now—something that was rare and disconcerting.

  “I know the Bible says that, and I believe it...”

  “But?”

  “But you also have to use the brain that Gotte gave you. Did you work out a business plan at all when you bought the property? You purchased it while I was away, so I had no idea that I would come home to...this. What were you thinking?”

  “Oh, I thought about it quite extensively before making an offer. I examined the property closely and did a lot of reading on animal habitat. This place was a real jewel. No home on the property that took up prime animal space—just the barn, which I needed anyway. More importantly, there’s a stream and a pond. I knew there would be plenty of water and that I’d have room to grow some of the food.”

  “Did you think of where you’d live?”

  “I live in the barn.”

  “I’m aware. But certainly you didn’t plan to live in a barn. It just happened, right?”

  “Now that you mention it, ya. It did. I’d planned to stay with my parents a few more years until my business was established. But there’s too much work with the animals. They need me morning, noon and night. The travelling back and forth didn’t make sense. So I bought a cot and walled off a small area of the barn.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. You have to think things through. Otherwise you end up sleeping on a cot in the corner of a decrepit barn.”