Wistful in Wisconsin

first thing about caring for one, she would learn to provide what Little Blossom needed.
“Blossom.” The word slipped out of his mouth, and Lilah’s eyes rounded. He explained quickly.
“Just a nickname. When I look at the baby’s mouth, she reminds me of a rosebud so I’ve been thinking of her as Blossom.”
Excitement brought a glow to Lilah’s face. “Rose! I love that for her name. And you can go on calling her Blossom as her nickname.”

Chapter 5
The Accusation
By the time the buggy pulled up to the farmhouse, Blossom had started rooting against Lilah’s chest. It disturbed Fred that the towel he’d tied around her wasn’t wet. At least, Lilah hadn’t complained of it being so. He knew Blossom definitely needed to eat.
While it was a terribly intimate act to ask of Myra, Fred determined to get immediate milk for the little one. His sister-in-law would be the best source of that. With Lilah on his right arm and Blossom cradled in the left, he stood at the front door and knocked.
His oldest niece, Johanna, answered with a welcoming smile. “Uncle Fred, you finally got here!” Her beckoning hand waved them inside. “Hurry! We want to meet your friend.”
Lilah’s hand gripped his arm. He looked down, expecting to see fear or shyness on her face. She might be a ball of worry on the inside, yet a friendly, smile curved her lips.
Inside, Lilah removed her hand from his arm. He moved his right hand to Blossom, pulling back the cloth that protected her face from the strong March breezes. At the baby’s cry, girls rushed from all directions to stare at the tiny infant.
Questions rushed at him from four excited blondes as the twins pulled on his arm, trying to get a look at the baby. Each asked where and who the baby was. Their mother stood back and looked from Fred to Lilah and then to the baby.
Myra sighed before suggesting, “I expect it’s time to feed your baby. I’ll take you to a private room.”
Fred held up his right hand to stop her. “No, Lilah can’t feed the baby. It’s a lot to ask, but could—”
He broke off before finishing. There was no way he could ask it of her. He’d said enough for Myra to volunteer if she was willing.
At a particularly desperate wail from Blossom, moisture stained the front of Myra’s dress. She snatched the baby from him, as if she thought he’d keep Blossom from her. Moving quickly with the baby held over the wet patches, Myra headed into his mother’s bedroom, now the spare room, at the back of the house. Soft, assuring words floated back to him as Myra crooned to the baby. Then a door quietly clicked shut.
The girls were now hanging on Lilah. Dora and Darlene had wrapped their chubby, little girl arms around her legs while Johanna and Berta each hugged one of her arms. They welcomed her in the way they knew best. He appreciated that acceptance as he saw the smile of joy glowing on Lilah’s face. She definitely needed family of some sort in her life.
By the time he’d retrieved the baskets from the buggy, the girls had Lilah settled onto the sofa in the front room. Myra returned to the front room soon after Fred seated himself next to Lilah.
Holding up eager hands, Lilah took the contented and diapered baby from Myra. Little Blossom even wore a clean sleeping gown. His sister-in-law was nothing short of amazing.
With her hands free of the baby, Myra placed them on her hips. Narrowing her eyes, she stared at Fred. When she finally spoke, her voice was surprisingly mild.
“Well, where did my littlest visitor come from if this lady isn’t her mother?”
When Myra didn’t use Lilah’s name, Fred realized he hadn’t introduced them yet. Growing up with city manners, Myra would wait for that courtesy.
Slapping a hand across his forehead, Fred gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Sorry. I was too worried about the baby to remember my manners.”
Smiling first at Lilah then Myra, he went through the ritual. “Myra Sittig, meet Lilah Levitt. She grew up in a large city, like yourself. I’m sure Idyll Wood is as much a shock to her as it was for you.”
Looking at Fred with a raised eyebrow, Myra dryly said, “I’m not sure the town was as much a shock as the four children.”
Clearing his throat, Fred looked down at his hands for a moment. He’d forgotten that Myra didn’t know about the girls before she married Holder. Things had been so good in the family that he tried not to remember that awful year before his sister-in-law’s arrival.
Awkward tension hung like a fog. A change of topic definitely was called for right about now. Turning on the sofa, he smiled sweetly at Lilah. She, in turn, seemed to melt into his side. Nearby, one of the girls giggled.
“Lilah, tell her about the baby,” Fred prompted gently.
Rocking the little one in her arms, Lilah began her story. Myra showed very little emotion until she learned that the mother, Marta, had been a victim of the brothel owner and his customers. Tears flowed, then. Her girls ran to stand by her, each touching or patting her arm.
Sniffling, she reached into a pocket of her apron, pulling out a square of clean linen. “Your little Rose certainly needs you. Both of you, I think.” She placed a hand on first Dora’s cheek and then Darlene’s. Fred wondered if she was remembering the toddlers with no names she’d met the day Myra married Holder.
Myra’s tone, when she spoke, left no room for argument. They were the words of a mother who expected to be obeyed. “For a few days, you will stay here with us, Lilah. Between Johanna, Berta, and me, we’ll