Dok walked into the house and smelled something wonderful cooking. Simmering tomato sauce, she guessed, hoping Matt had made his famous marinara and meatballs. Her favorite. She set her purse down and breathed in the comforting aroma of a home-cooked meal. He was a great cook.
But normally, Matt cooked only on his days off. It was unusual for him to have the time or inclination to cook on a workday. He took cooking very seriously. Dok teased him that he used up every single dish and utensil when he cooked, and she wasn’t entirely teasing. His cooking was worth the mess.
Matt was in the kitchen, apron around his waist, stirring a pot. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and peered at the marinara sauce. “Just what I was in the mood for.”
“How was your day?”
“Long. Long but good. I stopped by Bee’s on the way home. She’s got that third-day postsurgery hit-by-a-Mack-truck feeling.”
“Hopefully, Damon can lighten the load for her until she’s back on her feet. He’s determined to help her, whether she wants it or not. On the morning she had surgery, he even called me to make sure she had a ride home from the hospital. Worked out well because you had just texted to see if I could pick her up, but I was stuck at work.”
“How does he know her?”
“They were in the Olympics together.”
“No kidding?” She wondered why Bee hadn’t mentioned that fact. It was kind of a big deal. “And how exactly did Damon know that you knew Bee?”
“Oh, that? Turns out they were both at our wedding.”
Really? Dok had no memory of him, but she hadn’t known most of Matt’s friends. Besides, that whole day was a blur.
“When Damon came for dinner a few weeks ago, he asked me how Bee was doing. It was crazy timing—the very day you’d told me she’d been diagnosed with breast cancer.”
“Hold on. Matt, did you tell Damon about Bee’s diagnosis?”
A guilty look came over his face. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t have. I just . . . felt sorry for her. You know, widowed, then hit with a cancer diagnosis.” He turned back around to stir the marinara sauce. “Anyway, it all worked out. Damon wondered if she had planned for someone to take care of her horses while she was recovering, and I knew, from you, that she didn’t. When he offered to help her out, I set up a time to connect with Bee.”
Nice. Knowing Matt’s friend was there had made Dok feel less worried about Bee’s reclusiveness. She sat at the kitchen table and went through the mail. “Any update on the abandoned newborn? Or the mother?” She noticed Matt’s whole body stilled.
He turned off the burner and set the spoon down. “I was going to tell you more over dinner.”
An oddness filled the room, almost like a vibration. “Tell me more about what?”
“Do you remember my cousin Laura?”
“No.”
“I’m sure I’ve talked about her. She has a couple of kids and the youngest one, Monica, was wild. Crazy. Always giving Laura a run for her money.”
“Is there a reason you’re telling me about her now?”
“Turns out Monica the wild child . . . well, she’s the mother of that newborn.”
Dok’s jaw dropped open. “So it was your mother’s handkerchief. Amazing.” She shook her head. “Such a small, small world.” She let out a sigh. “Well, best of luck to Laura. I hope the mother and baby are with her soon.”
“Not possible.” He filled up a glass with wine and handed it to her. “Laura moved to Florida a few months ago because her husband has been having health problems.”
Dok took a sip of the wine. She didn’t know where he was going with this, but something made her feel like she should brace herself.
“So apparently Monica slipped out of the hospital.”
That funny feeling grew stronger. “With the baby? Or without?”
“Without.” Matt sat down across from her and folded his hands together. “I got a call today from the baby’s caseworker. A lady named Sandra. She asked if we would consider providing emergency foster care for the baby.”
“Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.” Dok was floored he would even bring it up. “Matt, be realistic. Newborns take a lot of work. We’re not exactly spring chickens. We both have demanding careers. Our house is constantly under renovation. Just think of how complicated this would be in our lives. And why? We could find all kinds of families who would be wonderful at fostering this baby. Look at Luke and Izzy Schrock.”
“The caseworker wants the baby with a relative, and I’m the only relative left in the state of Pennsylvania. Ruth, this baby belongs to my people. I feel a sense of responsibility to him.”
Dok wasn’t wavering. “If you don’t want to consider an Amish family, then why not ask someone in your extended family to step up?”
“Who could we ask? I’m not like you. My family is small. No one else can take him.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Both. They all live in another state.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “I know this is a big ask. But I feel the right thing to do is to take the baby in.”
“You’re really serious about this?”
“I’ve never been more serious. I’ve even thought of taking a leave of absence from work if I can’t get vacation time.”
Dok swirled the wine in her glass, watching the way it coated the sides. Saying yes to fostering this baby would create enormous disruption in their routines. But she wondered if saying no might drive a permanent wedge between them. “Matt, what kinds of drugs did the baby have in his system?”
“Amazingly, nothing was detected.”
Dok let out a relieved sigh. Thank you, Lord, for protecting this child.
He glanced at the two-by-fours that divided the kitchen from the dining room. “I was even thinking that when the baby sleeps, I could finish a few things up.”
Right. As if the sounds of construction work wouldn’t wake up a baby. Had Matt ever really been around babies? “But this would only be a week or so, wouldn’t it? Just until the caseworker finds a more permanent placement, right?”
“Yeah, sure. Just a short time. For as long as the baby needs us.” He took in a deep sigh. “I’ve been thinking that this could be good for us, Ruth. We haven’t exactly made us”—he waved his hand between them—“much of a priority these last few years. I know that work demands a lot out of us, but it seems as if we’ve let work get out of balance. It’s all we do. It’s all we think about, or talk about.”
She knew he was being kind. He was describing Dok’s absorption with work, not his.
“Sometimes,” he said, “it seems like we’re . . . like two trains on different tracks. I just feel as if we need to do this. For the baby’s sake, but also for our sake.”
She felt a tightening in her stomach. “Are you saying you’re unhappy in our marriage?”
“Not unhappy, not exactly. I just think . . . we could do more with our marriage. We could be more to each other. I guess I just feel like . . . we’re missing something.”
“Missing something?”
“Yes. Like . . . fun.”
Fun?
“We haven’t even gone on a vacation in . . . I don’t know how long.”
“We went to that medical conference in Miami last spring.”
He rolled his eyes. “Not sure I would classify hanging around with a couple of hundred doctors as fun.”
Dok felt differently. She’d had a wonderful time. “I don’t see how fostering an infant could be considered fun. Babies are a lot of work. And who knows what kind of prenatal care this baby had? He might have all kinds of residual issues from his mother’s drug use.” She thought back to the rudimentary exam she’d given him after she’d found him on the office steps: good heart rate, good reflexes, good muscle tone, good pink color. Small but healthy, considering the start to his life.
Matt let out a sigh. “Seems like this could be good for us, sharing this kind of role.”
“You mean, as parents.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s what I mean.”
Dok and Matt had met while in their late forties. It was the first marriage for them both, as they’d both been devoted to their careers. Neither of them had a strong desire for children. Maybe a twinge now and then, but a visit to David and Birdy’s house usually cured that. There were plenty of nieces and nephews to give Dok, at least, a sense of family and belonging and connection to the next generation.
But Matt . . . he didn’t have those kinds of familial connections. He would’ve made a wonderful father, though he had always insisted that his life was full enough. “Matt, when we talked about marriage, we both agreed that we just weren’t the traditional parenting types. That was one of the things that drew us together. Are you changing your mind?”
“I’m not saying that we’re missing something because we don’t have children. I’m saying we’re missing something because . . . work is the main priority. The only priority. And as far as this baby goes, well, maybe we aren’t the traditional parenting types. But he’s not asking us to be traditional. He’s asking us to provide a loving home for him, just the way we are.”
“You can’t be naive, Matt. Babies don’t exactly fit into a two-career household like ours. After all, you’re taking vacation time to be a full-time caregiver.”
“It’s emergency foster care. That’s all. One week. Two, tops.”
She was quiet for a long moment, knowing he was waiting for her response.
Finally, he left his chair and came around to hers, crouching down in front of her. “Ruth, I want you to be on board with this. I won’t say yes unless we’re both on board.”
“Short-term. You promise?”
“Absolutely,” he said with a big grin. He kissed her and went back to the stove, turning on the burner to get the marinara sauce simmering again. “Just short-term.”
She wondered, though.
Copyright © Suzanne Woods Fisher 2024, Baker Publishing Group
Amish Fiction about a Small Town Community Doctor and an Abandoned Baby
Ruth "Dok" Stoltzfus is the kind of doctor who still believes in house calls, addressing not just her patients' physical needs but their emotional ones too. When newly widowed Bee faces a breast cancer diagnosis, Dok connects her with Fern Lapp for support. When her painfully shy assistant Annie finds herself drawn to a new calling, Dok goes to great lengths to help her achieve her dream. And when an abandoned newborn mysteriously appears at her office one frosty morning, Dok's world takes an unexpected turn as ripples of change touch several lives.
A Healing Touch is a captivating tale of compassion, resilience, and the bonds that form in surprising places. Bestselling and award-winning author Suzanne Woods Fisher invites you into a new story that's like medicine for the weary soul. Join Dok, Annie, and the tight-knit Stoney Ridge community as they navigate the twists of fate, discovering that sometimes the greatest healing comes from the heart.
Amish | Women's Fiction Contemporary [Revell, On Sale: October 1, 2024, Paperback / e-Book, ISBN: 9780800745288 / eISBN: 9781493447145]
With over 1.5 million copies sold, Suzanne Woods Fisher is a bestselling author of over 30 books, ranging from novels to children’s books to non-fiction. She is a Christy Award finalist, a winner of Carol and Selah awards, and a two-time finalist for ECPA Book of the Year. She writes stories that take you to places you’ve never visited—one with characters that seem like old friends. But most of all, her books give you something to think about long after you’ve finished reading it. Suzanne lives with her very big family in northern California.
No comments posted.
© 2003-2025 off-the-edge.net
all rights reserved Privacy Policy