Amish Triplets for Christmas Read online

  Eve closed the letter by writing, “Please pray God provides continued health for the baby and for me.”

  Again, a bitter thought flitted through Hannah’s heart. Why should she ask God for provision for Eve when her sister already had all she could ever need?

  She lowered her eyelids and inhaled deeply, willing herself not to cry. With her big toe, she pushed the rocker back and forth, dawdling until she felt composed enough to enter the house and serve her grandfather supper.

  Because he wasn’t seated at the table or resting in his chair in the parlor, she entered his room and found him lying in bed, feverish, the covers pulled to his chin. His breathing was labored, and he shook from a chill. He looked so infirmed, she immediately was contrite about how furious she had been. For the rest of the evening and through the night, each time she entered the room to change his compress or give him a sip of tea or broth, Hannah knelt by his bedside, praying for him to get well again.

  By Sunday morning, his fever hadn’t broken, although he dressed and sat with Hannah in the sitting room for Scripture reading and prayer, since it was an “off Sunday,” and there was no church meeting that week. Afterward, he stumbled toward his bedroom, and Hannah quickly wrapped his arm around her shoulder and supported his weight as he lumbered down the hall. When she had arranged his pillows around his head, she reached to draw the shades, but he grasped her hand.

  “Don’t leave me, Gloria,” he said, his eyes wild.

  That was her grandmother’s name. Hannah fretted he was confused from the fever.

  “I’ll be right back,” she mouthed. “I am only going to get you a fresh glass of water.”

  “Neh,” her grandfather pleaded. “Don’t leave me.”

  Hannah blinked back her tears, realizing he was afraid she’d leave him for good, like her grandmother did when she died. Perhaps he feared Sawyer would offer to hire her to go and care for the children in Ohio once her teaching job ended. The children had mentioned having a daadi haus on their property—separate living quarters would have made the arrangement appropriate. That must have been why he was unspeakably rude to Sawyer—he was afraid Sawyer had intentions of taking her away from him, leaving him here all alone.

  “Groossdaadi,” she promised solemnly, looking into his eyes, “I would never leave you.”

  Satisfied, he closed his eyes and fell into a deep slumber. Hannah pulled the shades, leaving just enough light so she could see to read the Bible, which she did for over an hour. Eventually, she stretched and peeked out the window.

  Whom did she expect to arrive for a Sunday visit? Eve and her husband would have let her know if they planned a trip. Jacob, Miriam and Abigail wouldn’t drop by because Miriam was limiting her activities. Doris had frequented their home on off Sundays, but it was more likely she was at the Plank farm today, trying to capture Sawyer’s attention. As for Sawyer, Hannah felt she’d be fortunate if her grandfather hadn’t frightened him away permanently.

  She sighed and flipped a page in her Bible. What was wrong with her? Usually she was content to spend a Sabbath resting and reading or in prayer, but today she felt at odds. No wonder her grandfather was concerned she’d abandon him: it was terribly lonely not to be in the company of people who cared about you and whom you cared about, too.

  Her grandfather stirred, coughing. She touched his arm—his skin was damp with sweat, and she knew his fever had broken.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked in a groggy voice.

  “I was making sure you don’t feel as lonely as I do,” she said. Knowing he couldn’t read her lips in the dusky light, she gave his arm a reassuring pat.

  “I am hungry,” he demanded, and she knew any hint of vulnerability he’d shown was gone. But she’d already made up her mind she’d stay home with him on Monday, just to be certain he was back to his usual grumpy self.

  * * *

  Come Monday morning, it was Doris, not Hannah, who stood at the top step of the schoolhouse stairs.

  “Guder mariye, Sawyer,” she said. “Sarah, Simon and Samuel, you and the other kinner will be in my classroom today.”

  “Did something happen?” Sawyer asked, panic rising in his voice. “Is Hannah alright?”

  “You are as much of a nervous Nellie as she is,” Doris said with a giggle. “Hannah is fine. It’s her groossdaadi who is ill. She must have come here early this morning, because I found a note from her on my desk, along with her scholars’ lesson plans.”

  “I see,” Sawyer said, feeling both relieved she was alright and disappointed she wasn’t present.

  “She left a note for you, as well. You’ll have to forgive me for reading it—I thought it was meant for me.”

  Doris extended a folded piece of paper to Sawyer, who snatched it from her grasp.

  “Sawyer,” it said. “Grandfather has been ill since Saturday evening. He is on the mend, but I want to stay with him to tend to his care. If Doris agrees, might she take the children to the farm after school and watch them there until you are finished in the fields? This arrangement seems best. Hannah.”

  As soon as Sawyer glanced up from the letter, Doris batted her lashes and said, “I’m happy to bring the kinner home from school and tend to their care. I’ll cook supper, as well.”

  Sawyer hesitated. What had Hannah meant by This arrangement seems best? It was only for this afternoon, right? Perhaps this one time he should pick the children up himself and take them directly to the farm? But that would mean he’d lose valuable working hours, and they weren’t as far along as he’d hoped they’d be.

  “Don’t be shy.” Doris gave Sawyer a nudge while he was silently mulling over his options. “It would be my pleasure.”

  “Denki,” he agreed reluctantly. Then, so there would be no misunderstanding, he added, “I am certain Hannah’s groossdaadi will recover and tomorrow she will take charge of the kinner once again.”

  But he didn’t feel certain at all.

  * * *

  Over a light breakfast on Monday morning, Hannah relayed Joseph Schrock’s offer to expand the amount of shelf space her grandfather would be allotted if he’d reconsider consigning his toys at the shop.

  “Final means final!” her grandfather brayed, adamant that he’d never again conduct business with the Schrock family.

  He puttered out to his shed to work on the cradle for Miriam and Jacob’s baby, leaving Hannah to tackle her housework and laundering.

  Although Hannah knew the children would be fine with Doris at the farm, and she wanted to prove to her grandfather that her primary commitment was to his well-being, by midday, she was eager to get back to her usual routine at school.

  She missed all of her scholars and regretted having even one less day to spend with them before her class was combined with Doris’s after harvest ended. Not to mention how much she missed spending the afternoon with the Plank children.

  Also, she had to admit—at least to herself—she especially missed the few minutes of conversation she and Sawyer engaged in whenever they saw each other. It never seemed to matter whether they talked about the children’s schoolwork, the weather or what they had for dinner, and she derived equal pleasure from watching his forehead crease with thoughtfulness or his eyes sparkle in good humor. Was that the emotion she somehow conveyed in her letter to Eve that made her sister perceive she held an exaggerated regard for Sawyer? Whatever the feeling she had around Sawyer was, Hannah couldn’t deny longing to experience it again.

  She was so gleeful to return to school on Tuesday she didn’t mind at all that Doris jabbered on and on while Hannah wrote sums on the blackboard.

  “I am itching to tell you something,” Doris warbled. “But you must keep it a secret.”

  Hannah didn’t want to participate in Doris’s gossip. “If it’s something that’s not supposed to be shared, perhap
s you shouldn’t mention it,” she advised.

  “But I must,” she insisted. “It is too wunderbaar to keep to myself. I am being courted!”

  “What?” Hannah gasped incredulously.

  “Jah, it officially happened when he asked me yesterday, after I took the kinner to the farm.”

  Hannah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She knew Sawyer was sorry for the remarks he’d made about Doris, but she never imagined he’d come to think so highly of her that he’d actually court her. She felt as if she had been socked in the gut, but she choked out the words. “How nice for you and Sawyer.”

  “Sawyer?” Doris jeered. “Who said anything about Sawyer? I’m being courted by his onkel, John Plank. What would make you think I’d be interested in that cold fish Sawyer? In fact, he seems more your type than mine.”

  Hannah winced at Doris’s crass insult. “I don’t think he’s a cold fish at all,” she retorted. “But I’m not interested in being courted. My responsibility is to my groossdaadi.”

  “One day your groossdaadi will die,” Doris said frankly. “And you will be past marrying age—or at least, past childbearing age. That’s why John and I are so delighted to have kindled a relationship now. Odd, how we never considered each other in the years since his wife died. In a way, if it weren’t for his breaking his leg, our courtship might have never occurred. The Lord works in mysterious ways, jah?”

  “Jah,” Hannah agreed.

  Yet as she moved into the entryway to greet the students, Hannah was pestered by jabs of envy. Why didn’t the Lord work in mysterious ways for her? He seemed to provide for everyone else—even providing a match for someone as bold and overbearing as Doris Hooley! What about Hannah’s provision? The one provision she desired so deeply she scarcely could allow herself to admit it, much less to ask for it anymore?

  Just then, the children made their way up the walkway, with Sawyer several yards behind them. Watching them approach, Hannah rationalized that she, too, had everything she needed in that moment. Today, she would serve the students and serve God in her role as their teacher. Then she would care for the Plank children as if they were her own. If she was fortunate, she’d have a few extra moments to converse with Sawyer alone. For now, she had her daily bread.

  * * *

  “Teacher!” Sarah gushed. “How we missed you yesterday!”

  “Guder mariye,” Hannah greeted them, a smile spreading across her face. “I am very glad to see you, too. You may put your books at your desks and go play outside before the bell is rung.”

  “Guder mariye, Hannah,” Sawyer said as the children cantered out the door. “How is your groossdaadi?”

  “After a few days of rest, he is as healthy as a horse. But he’s not any more polite, I’m afraid. Sometimes when he’s coming down with an illness, his manners aren’t what they should be, and I apologize.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Sawyer replied. “I mean, I am glad to hear about the improvement in his health, not about his manners.”

  When Hannah giggled, Sawyer wasn’t sure if it was because he’d bumbled his words or because he’d made a joke—but he didn’t care; he just delighted in the sound.

  He continued, “You needn’t excuse him on my account. I took no offense. I was more concerned that you might have borne the brunt of his...his discontent after we left. So, how are you?”

  “I am glad to be back at school,” she admitted. Then, with a faraway note in her voice, she said, “I’m glad the kinner are coming home with me after school today. I truly missed their presence yesterday. Without them, I felt... I don’t know. I guess I might say I was at a loss.”

  Sawyer was flooded with a sense of warmth. “I was concerned your groossdaadi might not have wanted you to care for the kinner any longer,” he ventured. “I didn’t know what I would have done without you.”

  Hannah scrunched her eyebrows together. “Didn’t Doris take gut care of them?”

  “Jah, she did. Very gut care,” Sawyer immediately replied. The last thing he wanted to do was to inadvertently insult Doris again, especially not when she was within earshot. He lowered his voice. “It’s just that she’s not...”

  When he didn’t finish his sentence, Hannah inclined her head to meet his eyes. “She’s not what?” she asked. “She’s not a gut cook?”

  “Neh, neh,” Sawyer protested. “She made a delicious supper.”

  “Did you mean she’s not kind?” Hannah persisted. “Or that she’s not helpful?”

  After each question, Sawyer shook his head. His ears were burning, but he didn’t know how to change the subject or distract Hannah.

  “She’s not what?” she emphasized again, before impishly asking, “She’s not short?”

  “That’s true—she’s definitely not short.” Sawyer guffawed, savoring the twinkle in Hannah’s eye. “And neither am I. But that’s not what I was going to say.”

  “Then what exactly were you going to say?” Hannah teased, a saucy smirk on her lips.

  He leaned forward, so as not to be overheard. “I was going to say, ‘She’s not you,’” he answered in a husky voice.

  Hannah’s mouth puckered into an O and her cheeks blossomed with pink. For a change, it was she, not Sawyer, who appeared to be tongue-tied. Before either of them had a chance to say anything more, Doris bustled into the room.

  “Hello, you two,” she chirped. “You both look as guilty as kinner caught with their hands in the cookie jar! You haven’t been sharing a secret, have you?”

  “Not at all,” Hannah responded, giving Sawyer a furtive wink. “Sawyer was just telling me about the wunderbaar supper you made the other evening.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Sawyer.” Doris beamed. “Because as you know, we’re meeting at your onkel’s house for church this Sunday and I have agreed to prepare dinner for everyone. I was about to ask Hannah if she’d help with the dinner preparations, too.”

  “Of course,” Hannah agreed. “It’s the least I can do, especially since Groossdaadi and I never host because we don’t have a big enough gathering room. Sarah will assist me. Now, let’s call the scholars in for school, shall we? It’s past time.”

  Sawyer recognized a hint when he heard one, just as he recognized the quality of his exchange with Hannah had crossed the line from friendly to flirtatious. He hadn’t intended for it to happen, but as the buggy sailed toward the farm, he realized he wasn’t exactly sorry that it had.

  * * *

  For the rest of the week, temperatures hit record-breaking highs for September. It was so stifling in the tiny schoolhouse that Hannah frequently delivered the lessons outside on the grass beneath the willow tree, where at least there was a small rustle of hot breeze. Yet she hardly minded the unseasonal heat; it gave the illusion that it was still summer. She wanted time to stand still so she wouldn’t have to think about harvest ending or saying goodbye to her scholars and to the Plank family. Especially now that Sawyer revealed how special she was to them—in particular, how special she was to him.

  “He didn’t use that exact phrase, but surely that was what he meant. Why else would he have been so embarrassed when he finally spoke the words?” she wrote in a letter to Eve on Thursday after dinner. She had been alternately elated and befuddled ever since her conversation with Sawyer on Tuesday.

  In the next sentence, she contradicted herself.

  Oh, who am I to think Sawyer Plank has any romantic feelings toward me? He probably only meant I was unique compared with Doris in the way I care for the children, or because of the relationship I have with them, not with him.

  Sawyer and I haven’t had another opportunity to speak to each other alone again since Tuesday, as the children have always been close at hand, so I cannot gauge what he might be feeling at this time. I’m afraid I’m better at reading the emotions of children th
an those of adults—especially men.

  It hardly matters anyway, does it? At the end of harvest, Sawyer will return to Ohio and I will stay with Grandfather.

  Yet I must confess, my dear sister, I long for a fraction of what you describe between you and your husband. Try as I have to suppress it, it is still something I yearn to experience. I would welcome the affections of a man about whom I feel the same for any period of time, even a brief season.

  Please pray that I wouldn’t envy those who have what I don’t. I know envy is a sin, and I loathe the way I feel when I am envious.

  After rereading her words, Hannah deliberated about whether or not to tear up the page. Such intimate romantic matters were seldom discussed, even among sisters. But Hannah didn’t know how else to make sense of her emotions since she’d never before experienced feelings like these. She was in such a daze, she didn’t hear her grandfather enter the parlor.

  “The buggy needs extensive repair,” he announced loudly. “I will speak to Turner King about it tomorrow.”

  “But why? What happened?”

  The buggy was old, but as of two days ago, it was operating well. Why would it suddenly need extensive repair? When her grandfather left the room without responding, she shuddered.

  He must have had a collision when he went to town this week. More likely, he caused a collision. She briefly considered tromping out to the garage to see the damage herself, but then decided against it. It was almost dark, and besides, seeing it would only upset her, especially if it was severe. Her grandfather was unharmed, and she assumed the other driver was, too, which was all that really mattered.

  Yet her heart sank, knowing the repair costs would far outweigh whatever her grandfather earned for the cradle and rocker he was making for Miriam and Jacob. She picked her pen back up and inscribed a final line: “And please pray that the Lord will continue to provide for our daily needs, which are abundant.”