Amish Triplets for Christmas Page 15

  Although Hannah was speaking about loving the children, her words caused Sawyer to think of Eliza. Without knowing it, Hannah touched upon the conflict Sawyer felt about being drawn to her. He supposed she was right; people cared about each other in unique ways—their caring wasn’t a competition. His interest in Hannah didn’t negate the love he’d shared with Eliza, did it?

  Hannah continued to speak hesitantly. “In fact, you might be surprised to find Gertrude was relieved that someone else assumed the primary maternal role in the kinner’s lives for a season.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Sawyer asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” Hannah replied. “I’ve overstepped my bounds. I really should say gute nacht now.”

  * * *

  As she hopped down from the buggy, she could hear Sawyer following close behind.

  “Wait,” he said, touching her elbow. “Please tell me what you meant by that. Are you tired of caring for the kinner?”

  “Neh!” she objected. “Not at all. It’s just that...”

  She walked toward the swing and sat down before saying anything more. Sawyer played with the ropes overhead, causing her to twist back and forth.

  “It’s just what, Hannah? Please tell me.”

  “It’s just I know what it’s like to be responsible for raising kinner when you’re barely out of childhood yourself.”

  “Ah,” Sawyer said thoughtfully, letting go of the ropes.

  “Please understand, I know that Gott calls us to serve one another—that our service to our families is part of how He provides for us. From what the kinner tell me, you and your wife served Gertrude by raising her when your mamm and daed died. She in turn served you and Samuel, Simon and Sarah by helping raise them when you lost your wife.”

  Sawyer nodded, so Hannah continued.

  “I don’t regret one instant of taking care of Eve when she was young. I’m honored the Lord gave me that privilege. But after Groossmammi died, there were times when I could have benefited from another adult giving me a hand. I do wish, when I was the proper age, I might have been afforded the opportunity to experience the pleasures of being a young adult.”

  Hannah had never confided these feelings to anyone, and she felt raw with vulnerability, waiting for Sawyer to respond.

  His voice was throaty when he asked, “What pleasures do you mean?”

  Hannah was glad it was too dark for Sawyer to see the tear trickle down her cheek. “Pleasures such as going to singings. Or walking out with a young man. I mean, there were a few suitors, but I didn’t feel strongly enough about them to make it worth battling Groossdaadi for permission to be courted. Either that, or they didn’t feel strongly enough about me to risk Groossdaadi’s intimidation.”

  “I can’t imagine that!” Sawyer declared. “Any suitor worth his weight would stop at nothing to walk out with such a fine young woman.”

  “Denki,” Hannah said with a sigh. “But after enough refusals, they gave up on me and I gave up on my groossdaadi’s behaviors. Time passes, just like that, so here I am, unmarried at twenty-nine.”

  Fearing she’d said too much, she forced a cheerful note into her voice. “I’m not complaining—if it weren’t for my grandparents, especially Groossdaadi, who knows what would have become of Eve and me. Most people find him difficult, but I couldn’t love my groossdaadi more than I do, and I consider it a privilege to care for him and contribute to our household. And although I don’t have bobblin of my own, I’ve been blessed to teach the district’s kinner. Of course, teaching isn’t the same as motherhood—that’s why it’s been especially rewarding to care for Samuel, Simon and Sarah. I’ve gotten a little taste of what it’s like to be a mamm.”

  “You’re absolutely certain you’re not tiring of it?”

  “Of course not!” she insisted. “Now, do me a favor.”

  “What is it?”

  “Give the swing a little push. Actually, give me one hundred pushes, please. That’s Sarah’s rule—one hundred pushes per turn per person.”

  “My daughter makes a lot of rules.” Sawyer guffawed. He moved behind Hannah and gently lifted the swing, then set it in motion by releasing it. “And my sons break a lot of rules.”

  “You have very obedient, thoughtful, helpful kinner,” Hannah said, stretching her legs toward the sky. It was as if her muscles remembered the movements from childhood, and she pumped harder to gain more height. “You’re doing a fine job raising and instructing them.”

  “Sometimes I worry because they haven’t a woman—an adult woman—present in the household. As you’ve pointed out, Gertrude is barely out of childhood herself. She is competent with their everyday care, but her judgment is... It hasn’t reached its full maturity yet.”

  Hannah didn’t want to pry, but since she had just divulged her innermost struggles to Sawyer, she felt comfortable asking him, under the cloak of night, “Yet, you’ve not remarried...?”

  He stepped around from behind her and walked forward a few paces in silence, his back toward her as he searched the sky. She dragged her feet on the grass until she came to a stop. She was about to apologize for her trespass into such a personal subject when he spoke.

  “I never found anyone I’d consider courting, much less marrying. Not in Blue Hill, anyway,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. Suddenly, he pointed to the sky. “Did you see that? A shooting star!”

  “I did!” Hannah exclaimed, springing from the swing to stand by his side. They allowed the silence to linger as they beheld the sky in awe.

  “Well,” Sawyer finally said. “I suppose Doris and the kinner saw it, too, so that means they can turn in for the night now. I should get back to put them to bed. Let me walk you to the door.”

  When they reached the porch, Hannah briskly climbed three stairs and then abruptly pivoted so she could be eye to eye with Sawyer, who hadn’t begun to ascend them yet.

  “As fond as I am of the kinner,” she said, “I’m glad we had this opportunity to talk alone.”

  “I’m glad, too,” Sawyer answered, his eyes shining in the moonlight. “In fact, you might say I planned it this way.”

  Overcome with a yearning to prolong the moment, Hannah reached forward and ever so tenderly traced the wound on his forehead. “It’s getting better,” she whispered before sliding her hand down along the side of his cheek.

  Holding her gaze, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and drew her hand to his mouth. He pressed his warm lips against her open palm once before agreeing, “Much better.”

  Then he turned on his heel and disappeared into the night.

  * * *

  As he unhitched his horse, Sawyer noticed Doris’s buggy was gone. John was sitting alone on the porch when Sawyer got to the house. So much for their private stargazing.

  “You’re drinking coffee at this hour?” he asked his uncle, who lifted a cup to his lips.

  “Neh, it’s tea,” John replied sheepishly. “Doris got me started on this.”

  “She’s left already, I see. Did the kinner spoil your solitude?” Sawyer ribbed him.

  “On the contrary, we all caught a glimpse of a falling star before Doris tucked them in and then left at a respectable hour,” asserted John. “Speaking of solitude, you certainly ushered Hannah away from here quickly.”

  “She didn’t want her groossdaadi to worry about her.”

  “Everyone around here knows her groossdaadi is a mean old coot. The only thing he worries about is what time his supper is going to be on the table.”

  “Nobody’s all bad,” Sawyer said softly. “I was sure grateful he was looking out for my sons when the fisher cat came around.”

  “Aha, I knew it!” John slapped his good knee. “A man defending Albert Lantz can only mean one thing—you’re smitten with Hannah!”

  Admitting to
himself he had feelings for Hannah was one thing, but acknowledging it to John was quite another, so Sawyer replied, “Of course I’m fond of her. She’s my kinner’s hired nanny, and she provides them wunderbaar care,” Sawyer replied.

  “I’m not talking about your professional relationship, and you know it. Tell me your heart doesn’t skip a beat every time she looks at you with those enormous baby blues,” John pressed him.

  Sawyer’s voice cracked as he tried to deny it. “You’re so taken with Doris you think everyone else is secretly courting each other, too.”

  “If you don’t want to admit it, fine. I won’t force you,” John relented. “But mark my words—if you want to capture Hannah Lantz’s heart, you better capture her groossdaadi’s first. She won’t do anything without his approval.”

  “Jah, jah,” Sawyer said, opening the screen door. “Enjoy your solitude, John. I’m going inside.”

  “I’m right. You’ll see!” John called, chuckling.

  Fifteen minutes later as he lay in bed, Sawyer contemplated how correct John was about Hannah’s grandfather’s possessiveness—she had told him as much herself. But that was years ago. People changed. Her grandfather couldn’t possibly be that controlling now that she was an adult, could he?

  As he rolled onto his side, the pillowcase fluttered against his cheek and he thought of Hannah’s fingertips against his skin. Even if her grandfather was resistant to the idea of him courting Hannah at first, Sawyer decided he would win his favor. But how? Perhaps with a small gift, something that showed he was grateful to have both Hannah and her grandfather in his children’s lives. He could imagine half a dozen presents suitable for Hannah, but not a single idea came to mind for her grandfather. Stumped, he closed his eyes and pictured shooting stars until he fell asleep.

  * * *

  Hannah willed herself to stay awake. She didn’t want to slumber, lest at sunrise she should discover she’d dreamed the entire day, from the morning, when Sawyer referred to her as beautiful, inside and out, to the evening, when he kissed her hand—and all of the wonderful moments in between.

  But when Monday dawned and Sawyer greeted her at school with a shy radiance about his face as he said, “It is a pleasure to see you, as always, Hannah,” she knew her dream was a reality that wasn’t about to vanish anytime soon.

  Even the clammy weather couldn’t dampen her spirits. “We should take a field trip to the stream tomorrow,” she announced to her class. “We’ll bring sketch pads and study the plant life we find there. We can dip our feet in the water as we’re eating our lunches. I’ll make a special apple dessert from a recipe my sister sent me. We’ll have a celebration before harvest ends. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds great!” Caleb acknowledged.

  “Jah,” the other scholars agreed.

  “I think it sounds like a poor idea.” Samuel pouted. “I don’t want to go.”

  “But, Samuel, you love the stream,” Hannah said.

  “I used to, but I don’t anymore,” he argued. “I’m not going.”

  Hannah was stunned. Samuel had never talked back to her or refused to participate in a school activity. She quietly dismissed the rest of the scholars for lunch hour, asking Samuel to stay indoors so she could get to the bottom of what was troubling him.

  “Samuel, please come to my desk,” she requested, and he complied. “Now then, what happened to make you dislike the stream?”

  His eyes welled with tears, but he chewed his lip and wouldn’t speak.

  “Are you frightened of the fisher cat?” she guessed. “Because I don’t think he’s around anymore. But we will say a prayer for safety before we leave, and I’ll carry a big walking stick again, too.”

  Samuel hung his blond head, and his little shoulders heaved as he cried into his palms.

  “Oh, Samuel,” Hannah gasped. “When you’re so sad, it makes me sad. Please tell me what’s bothering you.”

  “The stream is our special place,” he sobbed. “Now you’re going to share it with everyone else.”

  “Oh,” Hannah murmured. “And that makes you sad?”

  “Jah,” he hiccuped.

  “But I’ve seen you share things with your sister and brother and classmates all the time. I thought you like to share.”

  “I do,” Samuel replied, sobbing harder.

  “Then why does sharing the stream make you cry?”

  “Because pretty soon, I won’t be here to share it.”

  “Oh, Samuel, that makes me very sad, too,” Hannah whispered, fighting back tears herself as she enveloped the boy. “But I’m so greedy I want to have as many special days with you as I can before you leave. That way, when you are gone, I can go to the stream and think of you there and I won’t be so lonely because I’ll have a memory to call to mind.”

  Samuel’s breathing slowed as Hannah patted his back.

  She continued, “If you don’t want to come to the stream with your classmates, I understand. But I wish you’d come and help me make another memory. Not to mention, you know where all the best rocks are, so I was hoping you’d show the other scholars how to flip them over very carefully to see what’s underneath.”

  “Jah,” the boy agreed. He wiped his face with his sleeve and announced valiantly, “I’ll carry the big walking stick for you, in case the fisher cat is still lurking. Because your hands will be full with the special apple dessert, right?”

  “Right!” She laughed, tousling his hair. “Now scamper outside and tell your friends you changed your mind. They’ll be glad to hear it.”

  After he left, she realized the half-truth of her advice to the boy. Yes, having memories to call to mind could help during times of separation—but sometimes the more memories people created together, the greater their loneliness became when they were apart.

  As she blotted her desk where her own tears had fallen and pooled, she prayed, Please, Lord, provide us the comfort only You can provide. She was going to need it.

  * * *

  It had taken considerable thought, but Sawyer finally drummed up a couple of gestures that he hoped would put Hannah’s grandfather in a better frame of mind when Sawyer discussed his interest in Hannah with him. In conversing with Turner King after services on Sunday, Sawyer had learned about the expensive repairs Albert Lantz’s buggy would require. He knew Hannah and her grandfather would be hard-pressed to afford them, so he decided to commission Turner to begin the necessary work.

  In this regard, Sawyer’s generosity was spurred not as much by an attempt to win the grandfather’s favor, but rather by concern about Hannah’s transportation, especially into town, or during inclement weather or emergencies. In fact, on Monday when he went to the repair shop, he made Turner promise not to tell Albert or Hannah—or anyone in the district—who paid for the repairs.

  “I don’t want you to lie, of course, but you can leave the details unsaid,” Sawyer suggested. “For all anyone knows, you were compensated from the district’s mutual aid fund.”

  Turner pledged to deliver the buggy to Albert first thing on Friday morning if Sawyer paid him on Thursday evening, which Sawyer promptly did. After stopping by Turner’s shop with the payment, Sawyer was off to his second stop: the Hershbergers’ farm, where he made a much smaller purchase—the gift he hoped would soften Albert up and show him Sawyer had his and Hannah’s best intentions in mind.

  His final destination was Hannah’s house. Hopping from the buggy, he pulled the crate from the floor.

  “Daed, Daed, what’s in there?” the children asked as they charged across the grass.

  “It’s for Hannah.”

  Even from a distance, her smile caused his pulse to race.

  “For me? What in the world—”

  As he approached her, a fluttering of wings inside the crate gave away the surprise.
>
  “Hinkel!” Simon pronounced.

  “Hinkel?” Hannah repeated as Sawyer set the box at her feet.

  “Four of them!” Sarah counted.

  “To replace those that were, er, lost,” Sawyer explained. Noticing Hannah’s expression, he stated, “You’re disappointed.”

  “Neh,” she protested. “It’s a very thoughtful gesture for you to have picked these up for us. But you must allow me to pay you for them.”

  “Of course not,” Sawyer argued. “They’re a gift.”

  The children had lifted the chickens from the crate and were following them around the yard as they pecked for bugs. Hannah’s laughter sounded more nervous than amused, but Sawyer had no idea why.

  “Hens aren’t the kind of gift a man gives to a woman he fancies, are they?” he finally asked. “It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten.”

  Hannah’s eyes were even more captivating than her smile when she tipped her head and asked, “You fancy me, then, do you?”

  “I thought that was obvious,” he replied. “I actually feel as if we have been courting already. Not in the traditional sense of my taking you home after singings and such, but, you know...”

  “Jah, I do know, and I agree,” Hannah confirmed. “Despite bemoaning the fact I never had a real opportunity to go through the teenage rites of passage, I actually appreciate it that as adults, we can skip some of the awkward rituals, can’t we? The hens were a lovely idea, but you needn’t give me a gift.”

  “I wanted to,” he insisted until he saw her face cloud over again. “But if you don’t want them, I will take them away.”

  “I do want them. The gut Lord knows what it meant to us when we lost four at once. It’s just that my groossdaadi is such a proud man. He would rather we go hungry than accept a gift.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Sawyer shouted, and then moderated the volume of his voice. “My kinner eat here every evening and all day on Saturday. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Actually, that’s not true,” Hannah debated. “The least you can do is pay me, which you do handsomely. The hens are beyond generous. I wish I could accept them, but I don’t want...I don’t want my groossdaadi to lash out at you.”