Amish Triplets for Christmas Read online

  “I understand,” Sawyer said, although he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. How could Albert Lantz be such a stubborn man? It would be one thing if he was the only one who suffered for his pride, but he created hardship for Hannah, as well. “John will be glad to have an extra hinkel or two.”

  Hannah gave his hand a quick squeeze. “Denki, Sawyer,” she whispered. “I appreciate all of the ways you’ve been considerate of me.”

  He felt anything but considerate toward Hannah’s grandfather as he reclined in bed that evening. Sadly, he didn’t think there was anything he could do to gain his favor. John may have been right after all; Hannah’s grandfather was nothing but a mean old coot.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Yoo-hoo,” Doris called, interrupting the coveted moments of conversation Hannah got to spend with Sawyer before the children trickled into the school yard. “What a gorgeous day, isn’t it? There’s finally a hint of autumn in the air.”

  “Jah,” Hannah replied impatiently. “But I’m sure you’re not interrupting us to discuss the weather.”

  Sawyer raised his eyebrows at her and stifled a laugh.

  “Neh,” Doris agreed obliviously. “I came to invite you both to visit on Sunday afternoon. I’ve invited John, as well. Miriam and Jacob won’t be attending, as Miriam has to minimize her travel to the bare necessities. But Amelia and James will be home, of course, and we plan to serve a scrumptious supper.”

  “Denki,” Hannah replied, chagrined that she’d been so dismissive of Doris. “I appreciate the offer, but as you know, my groossdaadi’s buggy is in a state of disrepair, so...”

  She let the thought dangle, hoping Sawyer would pick up on the hint.

  “I will bring you,” he immediately volunteered.

  “Of course, the kinner and your groossdaadi are wilkom to attend, as well,” Doris graciously offered.

  “Actually,” Sawyer said, “the boys have been invited on a picnic with Caleb and Eli’s family, and Sarah will be spending the afternoon at Abigail’s house.”

  “I will invite Groossdaadi,” Hannah said, adding, “if it’s no trouble for Sawyer to pick him up, as well. But he may decline since you know he rarely goes on Sunday visits.”

  “Of course I will be glad to pick him up, as well,” Sawyer said.

  Hannah noticed a curious look on his face when he agreed, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking the same thing, which was that she hoped he chose not to attend. She didn’t mean to be unkind, but an afternoon spent with Sawyer and her friends would be an experience she’d treasure—especially riding to and fro alone with Sawyer. She wanted to soak in every last moment with him before harvest ended and he returned to Ohio.

  Please, Lord, she prayed fervently, let me go with Sawyer alone to Doris’s house. But if it’s Your will to have Groossdaadi accompany us, provide me the patience to wilkom him as graciously as You always wilkom each of us into Your presence.

  To her astonishment, that afternoon when she and the children arrived home after dallying at the stream, she found a note on the kitchen table. In her grandfather’s lopsided penmanship, it said:

  You should not have written Eve about the buggy repairs—Menno paid for them. Gone to Lancaster. Back on Monday in time for dinner.—Albert Lantz.

  If it weren’t for his impersonal signature and the implied directive to leave dinner prepared for him on Monday, Hannah might have taken the note to be a forgery. The timing was too good to be true!

  “Do you want me to put the water on to boil for potatoes?” Sarah’s question broke through Hannah’s disbelief.

  “Jah, please do.”

  Hannah never wrote to Eve about the buggy, so she doubted Menno had paid for the repairs. Her brother-in-law knew better than to do that. It was more likely Bishop Amos heard of their situation and the repairs were paid for from the mutual aid fund. Poor Eve. Their grandfather would show up unexpected and he’d be on a rampage. That was the last thing she and her baby needed right now.

  Yet as Hannah sat wringing her hands over the note, she was overcome with a second realization: she would have the house to herself for the weekend! Not only would she be able to accept Doris’s invitation without her grandfather accompanying her, but she decided she’d invite Sawyer to join her and the children for supper on Saturday, as well.

  Humming, she rose to cut the potatoes Sarah had been peeling. Thank You, Lord, she prayed silently, for Your most unusual provisions concerning the buggy repairs and my own wishes, selfish as they may have been. Please keep Groossdaadi and the cars around him safe. And please give Eve an extra measure of patience this weekend. She will need it.

  * * *

  Sawyer felt a small pang of guilt as he polished off his second piece of chicken potpie. He hoped Hannah’s grandfather believed Menno when Menno inevitably denied paying for the repairs. Sawyer hadn’t meant to cause any conflict between them.

  But as he surveyed the table, with Hannah blotting her delicate lips with a napkin across from him, and his children hungrily finishing their robust portions, he had to admit to himself, he wasn’t sorry that his actions resulted in Albert’s absence.

  “You’re smiling, Daed,” Sarah noticed. “That must mean you like the potpie I made with help from Hannah.”

  “What did she tell us about fishing for compliments?” Simon scolded. “Remember? We’re supposed to take satisfaction in serving others and not point out our own gut deeds.”

  “Jah,” Samuel agreed. “It’s like when Hannah serves the apple goodie for dessert. Simon and I aren’t supposed to boast about how hard we searched to find the ripest apples without any wormholes.”

  Sawyer caught Hannah’s eye and winked. “At the risk of drawing attention to anyone’s gut deeds, I will tell you that was a delicious potpie, Sarah. Now, let’s see if there are any worms in the apple goodie, shall we?”

  “Then may we go to the stream?” Samuel asked.

  “I don’t know if there will be time before dark,” Hannah replied. “The days are getting shorter.”

  “But Daed is here. He’ll protect us,” Simon suggested.

  “Please?” Sarah echoed.

  “Jah, I’ll protect you,” Sawyer repeated. “Please?”

  “I know when I’m outnumbered.” Hannah giggled. “Alright, then, leave your dishes on the table and let’s go now before the bats come out.”

  But by the time they got to the stream, the sun was on the verge of setting, so Sawyer forbade them to go wading. “We ought to get back to the farm. You’re visiting your friends after we have our home church services tomorrow. You need a gut sleep.”

  “I wish we could stay overnight here,” Simon hinted.

  “Jah,” agreed Samuel. “Sarah was allowed to stay overnight, but we didn’t get a turn.”

  “You did, too!” Sarah protested. “Don’t you remember?”

  “We were sick. That doesn’t count,” Simon said. “You got a turn when you were sick and another when you were well.”

  “Stop your squabbling,” Sawyer chided them. “You are not staying overnight.”

  Samuel suggested, “You could stay, too, Daed. You could sleep in Hannah’s groossdaadi’s bed.”

  “Then we could have breakfast and our family church worship time together here, since we’re sort of a family,” Simon proposed.

  “Jah,” Sarah agreed. “Hannah’s our sort-of mamm.”

  “Gott must love us a lot to give us our mamm and also a sort-of mamm like Hannah once our mamm died,” Samuel reflected. “Doesn’t He, Daed?”

  Sawyer was startled by the insightfulness of his son’s remark, which showed that while he’d never forget his mother, his heart was open to loving Hannah, too. Samuel’s words caused Sawyer to remember Hannah saying when love was involved, it wasn’t a competition—th
ere was room enough for all. It was growing clearer to him that a space was expanding in his own heart, too.

  “Gott’s love and provisions for us are abundant, indeed,” Sawyer resolutely confirmed. “But you heard my answer. We are not staying here overnight. Now run up ahead before I tickle the silliness right out of you.”

  Beneath pastel pink and vibrant orange clouds, the children bounded up the hill. Sawyer glanced sideways at Hannah and noticed she was biting her lip.

  “I’m sorry if anything the kinner said embarrassed or...or bothered you,” he stammered. “Despite your best efforts to teach them modesty and discretion, I’m afraid they still tend to say whatever they feel.”

  “A little candor can be refreshing,” Hannah replied. “Especially when it comes from the mouths of babes. I fear it’s you who was bothered by their remarks.”

  “On the contrary,” Sawyer stated. His knees went weak as he gazed into Hannah’s eyes. He dearly wanted to kiss her rosy pink lips, but he was afraid if he moved, he’d scare her off, like a bird.

  “A bat!” Sarah shouted from the hilltop.

  “It is not—it’s a sparrow,” Samuel argued back, just as loudly.

  “Neh, it’s an owl!” claimed Simon.

  “Are you certain you don’t want to keep my bickering brood overnight? They’re yours for the taking,” Sawyer joked, and he and Hannah laughed breathlessly all the way up the hill.

  * * *

  Hannah didn’t mind washing the dishes on her own; it gave her something to do while she daydreamed. She felt guilty, knowing her pleasure was coming at such a cost to her sister, and she could only imagine the scenario that must have been unfolding at her home. But Eve got to experience married life alone with her husband daily. She had only the tiniest glimpse of that for one weekend, and as Simon would have said, it was her turn!

  She didn’t know what warmed her heart more: Sarah claiming, Hannah’s our sort-of mamm, or the look Sawyer gave her when he denied being embarrassed by the sentiment. She fell asleep replaying every aspect of the evening in her mind, as clearly as if she were watching the scene take place with figures in the dollhouse her grandfather made.

  Come morning, she was surprised by the slight chill in the air, and she thought to warn her grandfather to wear long sleeves. Then she remembered he wasn’t home. She read Scripture and spent time in quiet prayer before fixing a second cup of tea. She’d never noticed how quiet it was there before. As the rocking chair creaked back and forth, she contemplated whether this was what it felt like for her grandfather to be deaf.

  She was ready and waiting when Sawyer arrived at three thirty. Before she could cross the lawn, he had stepped down and was heaving a potted plant from the buggy. Its lavender spray was so wide it nearly eclipsed his face as he ambled toward her.

  “Russian sage!” she exclaimed. “And it’s already in bloom for autumn.”

  “It’s a perennial, you know,” he said awkwardly and set it down on the porch. Then he glanced at it and back at her. “I was right. It reminds me of the color of your eyes.”

  If the three children weren’t watching from the buggy, Hannah might have embraced him and never let go.

  “Denki,” she said. “It’s lovely.”

  The children prattled about the day’s upcoming events as they journeyed, much to Hannah’s amusement. Sawyer dropped them off at their respective locations with warnings to mind their manners and a reminder that he’d be back after supper time but before dark to pick them up.

  “After all, it’s a school night,” Sawyer joked as he and Hannah traveled alone down the lane. “I’ve heard their teacher is very strict.”

  “Oh, neh!” Hannah bantered back. “That’s the other schoolteacher you must be thinking of. I’m the sweet one. I even have thimble cookies to prove it,” she said, holding up the container she’d been carrying on her lap.

  When Sawyer laughed, Hannah wished she could bottle the sound, so she could loosen the lid and listen to it anytime she wanted—especially after he returned to Ohio. She pushed the dreaded thought of his departure to the back of her mind.

  “Why did you sigh just now? Did you forget something?” he asked as they pulled into Doris’s lane.

  “Neh,” she answered. To herself, she thought, I’m memorizing every part of this by heart.

  “Wilkom!” Doris called, flapping her hand. “Kumme around to the side. We’re playing lawn croquet.”

  Hannah waited for Sawyer to unhitch the horse so they could join the group together. Amelia and Doris were settled into lawn chairs, but James and John were taking practice shots knocking the croquet balls through the hoops.

  “John!” Hannah exclaimed. “Doris and Sawyer didn’t tell me you got your cast off! When did that happen?”

  The men stopped playing, and John limped over to where Hannah was standing with Sawyer. “I just got it off on Friday. The Englisch doc was surprised it had healed so nicely. He said most Amish men try to put too much weight on it too soon and it ends up needing to stay in the cast longer than not.”

  “So essentially what you’re telling us is that you’re lazier than most Amish men?” Sawyer joshed.

  “Neh,” John replied and took a friendly swing at him. He teetered on his good leg, and Doris jumped up to offer her arm to steady him. “What I’m telling you is that I couldn’t have healed so quickly if it weren’t for this lovely woman here.”

  For the first time in all of the years she’d known her, Hannah observed Doris blushing shyly and averting her eyes.

  “Denki, John,” she said demurely.

  “In fact—” John cleared his throat “—it’s no secret, since you’ve all been told by either Doris or me, that we’ve been courting. But what no one here knows—well, no one except for James, because I spoke to him about it before making it official—is that Doris and I are getting married.”

  By now, Doris was beaming, her head held high. “It’s being published soon in church—even though John has been married already, I still want to follow the tradition of announcing it as a first-time bride. John told his sons last night, and we’ve already begun our meetings with the deacon. But other than those people—and now you—no one else knows. So please don’t tell them.”

  “Who is there left to tell?” Sawyer quipped, and everyone laughed good-naturedly.

  “That is wunderbaar news,” Hannah managed to say. “When do you intend to hold your wedding?”

  “The first Tuesday in November,” Doris chirped.

  “So soon?” Amelia questioned.

  “It can’t be soon enough for us,” John said. “Doris has waited her entire life to marry. It’s been five years since I buried my wife. We are past our youth, and we believe we’re acting in wisdom, in accordance with the blessing Gott has provided us.”

  “The wedding day can’t come quickly enough,” agreed Doris. “There is only one obstacle we hope you will help us with, which is partly why we’re confiding in you.”

  “What’s that?” Amelia asked.

  “We didn’t have time in advance to plant an extra celery patch, and I don’t need to point out how important celery is to the wedding meal!”

  “I will save you every last stalk from my garden,” Hannah pledged, before giving her friend a hug. “You’ll have a surplus of creamed celery to share with your wedding guests and plenty left over to decorate the tables beside.”

  * * *

  While the women were cleaning the supper dishes and James went to milk the cows, John said to Sawyer, “You know, the doc said I’ll be up to speed in a week. Maybe not one hundred percent, but enough that the boys and I can manage what’s left of harvesting by then.”

  Although he’d been champing at the bit to return to Ohio to sort out the problems at his shop, Sawyer suddenly found himself wishing he had more time in
Willow Creek. His mind reeled with the discussions he needed to have and the arrangements he needed to make with Hannah before he left.

  But he said, “I’ll help out through Saturday, then. We’ll spend the Sabbath resting and leave first thing on Monday morning.”

  “I can’t thank you enough.” John choked out the words, his tone unusually serious.

  “Nothing you wouldn’t do—nothing you haven’t done—for me,” Sawyer said.

  “Even so, it’s humbling to have another man do your work for you. But Doris kept reminding me what a sin it is to be prideful and to refuse help from others. I’m indebted.”

  “You’re not indebted—you’re family.”

  The moment the last supper dish was done, Sawyer suggested that he and Hannah should leave in order to round up the children.

  “Is it that time already?” Hannah’s brow was furrowed, as if in disappointment.

  “I don’t want them to wear out their wilkom,” he stated definitively.

  After bidding their good-nights, they rode in silence before Sawyer pulled down a dirt lane.

  “The Stolzfuses’ house isn’t this way,” Hannah said, “although I can see why you’d be confused. That fence looks similar.”

  “I’m not confused. I turned here on purpose,” he admitted, bringing the horse to a halt at the crest of the road, which opened to a magnificent field alive with birdsong and overrun with late-blooming wildflowers. “I wanted to spend a few moments with you alone, if that’s alright.”

  “It is,” she said, and they got out and ambled over to the fence.

  Sawyer sat on the railing so his face was level with hers. Hannah’s profile glinted with the light of the sun hanging low in the sky as she looked out over the field.

  “Some of the leaves are beginning to change,” she observed about a stand of trees in the distance.

  “Jah,” Sawyer agreed, briefly glancing over his shoulder in the direction she was pointing, but he only had eyes for her.