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clasp her husband’s hands. But of course she couldn’t do it. Showing such emotion wasn’t something that was done, and she wanted to be sure she was acting completely properly.
    Not that the social worker would know all that much about proper etiquette for Amish wives. No, Miss Bernadette Fogle didn’t seem to be the type of woman to put much stock in things like that. In the three times they’d met, Miss Fogle—Bernie to pretty much everyone she knew—had been much more concerned about their love for a baby than if they were everything proper.
    And thank goodness for Bernie’s easygoing demeanor, too! Over the last few months, Judith had had some challenging moments. After suffering a miscarriage and hearing the news that she couldn’t ever give birth to a baby of her own, it had taken her weeks to lift herself up from a deep depression.
    Only through the grace of God, the patience of her family, and Ben’s love had she begun to accept the possibility of adoption.
    It had been a difficult process. But now that they were in the middle of it, Judith felt only anticipation and excitement for what was to come.
    As if she’d noticed Judith’s jiggling knee, Bernie smiled softly. “Judith, there is nothing to be nervous about. Remember, your paperwork and interviews went very well. You two have been deemed to be exceptional candidates for adoption.”
    As Judith exhaled in relief, her husband leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Bernie, do you have news for us today? I fear Judith and I are on pins and needles here.”
    After a pause, Bernie smiled. “Actually, I do have news. I’ve come to ask if you would consider being foster parents for a time. You know, while you’re waiting to adopt.”
    Ben frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
    Bernie crossed her legs, visibly searching for the right words. “Well, on occasion, we have a need for a family to take in a newborn. For a time.”
    â€œFor a time?” Judith echoed, finally finding her voice.
    Bernie nodded. “It’s, ah . . . a special situation.”
    â€œWe’d appreciate it if you spoke a bit more directly,” Ben said, his voice hinting at his growing impatience. “This is hard enough on my frau without you talking in circles.”
    Judith’s heart went out to him. Not caring anymore about how it would look, she scooted closer to him. If she couldn’t hold his hand, she wanted to feel his support at the very least.
    â€œTell us about this baby, Bernie.”
    â€œIt’s a little boy. His name is James.” Bernie’s expression softened before she continued. “There’s no easy way to say this. His mother is in the correctional facility in Marysville.”
    It took a moment to understand what Bernie meant. “His mother is in prison?”
    â€œI’m afraid so.” She leaned back against the couch. “About ten or twelve years ago, some Mennonite and Amish families in Pennsylvania were asked to help foster some prisoners’ children. It was a successful partnership. The families cared for the babies and young children like they were their own, giving them lots of love and support—the things that are the hallmarks of your community. Recently, we’ve decided to try out this program in our county and state.”
    Judith felt her throat tighten as disappointment sank in. “So you are not asking us to adopt this baby? Just keep him for a bit?”
    â€œYes. Until his mother can care for him, or his family has presented themselves as capable alternatives.”
    Ben frowned. “But this is not what we asked for, Bernie.” His voice hardened. “We filled out the paperwork to adopt a baby. Not to watch over some . . . some prisoner’s child.”
    Bernie studied him before quietly putting the papers she had resting on her lap back in her leather