Amish Triplets for Christmas Page 5

  Her hurt was further magnified by the letter she had received upon arriving home.

  Dearest Hannah, her sister’s familiar penmanship said. I am so ecstatic I will burst if I have to keep it to myself any longer: I am with child!

  Of course, Hannah was elated that God had provided such a blessing for Eve, and she was exuberant she would soon be an aunt. But her joy was tinged with envy. Not only had her sister managed—at twenty-four years of age, which was considered late in life by their district’s standards—to meet and marry a good man who thoroughly loved her, but soon she’d experience motherhood, too.

  Every time Hannah thought she’d finally accepted that her prime responsibility was to care for her grandfather and her life wouldn’t include marriage or children, the desire for both manifested itself again, like symptoms of a virus she couldn’t shake. Would she ever be cured of the longing to have what it seemed she wasn’t meant to? And why can’t I have it? she lamented. It wasn’t as if she longed for something sinful: the Bible described children and married life as being gifts from God.

  She eased out of bed, donned her prayer kapp and knelt in the darkness. Please, Lord, show me Your provision for my life, especially once my teaching job ends, she beseeched. And help me to be content with it, whatever it may be.

  When she awoke the next morning, her pillow was still damp and her eyes were swollen, but her spirit was inexplicably peaceful. She didn’t know how it would happen, but she did know one way or another, God would provide for all of her physical, emotional and spiritual needs. She donned her kapp and knelt again.

  Lord, please forgive my envy and lack of faith. Help me to spend this day in glad service to You, she prayed.

  Despite the heat, she felt refreshed as she hiked through the fields toward the schoolhouse, listening to the birds and inhaling the scent of wildflowers. After Sawyer’s visit the previous morning, she had distanced herself from Sarah, Simon and Samuel for the rest of the day, fearing their father might interpret any kind attention she paid to them as spoiling them.

  But this morning, she realized she hadn’t responded maturely to Sawyer’s misunderstanding or given him a chance to acknowledge his mistake. She saw why he was concerned about his children’s health, and she’d certainly respect his wishes regarding their diet. As long as she didn’t give them treats, she didn’t believe he’d fault her for being nurturing and warm.

  The thought of a treat caused her mouth to water. Yesterday she was so out of sorts that she barely swallowed five bites of supper, and suddenly she felt ravenous. When she reached the classroom, she unwrapped a piece of sweet bread from her bag and pulled the preserves from the cooler. She bit into a thick slice, closing her eyes to enjoy the flavor in quiet solitude.

  “Guder mariye, Teacher,” several small voices squeaked merrily, interrupting her thoughts.

  Her mouth was too full to reply, but she reflexively stashed the remaining food into her bag, embarrassed to be caught eating at her desk again.

  * * *

  “Guder mariye,” Sawyer echoed his children.

  Hannah chewed quickly and then swallowed before replying. “Guder mariye.”

  “Is that the bread your groossmammi learned you how to make?” Samuel pointed.

  “Teached you,” Sarah corrected. “And it’s not polite to point.”

  “Hush,” Sawyer instructed them both. “We disrupted your teacher’s breakfast. Kumme, we’ll wait outside until she is finished.”

  “Denki, but I wasn’t really eating,” Hannah protested.

  Sawyer noticed a smudge of preserves at the corner of her mouth. She must have sensed him looking at it, because she traced her lips with her finger, her cheeks blotching with color.

  “I mean, I wasn’t eating breakfast,” she faltered. “It was only a treat. I have eggs for breakfast. Sometimes ham. That is, despite what you may think, I don’t ordinarily just have treats for breakfast. Or for snacks. Or at any time of the day. Not every day, anyway, or not without eating something else, as well. But I was terribly hungry, you see, because—”

  “I am terribly hungry, too,” Sawyer interrupted. His resolve not to apologize suddenly dissipated, and he felt nothing but a desire to ease Hannah’s discomfort, which he knew he had caused with his comments the day before. “The kinner are hungry, as well. Last night, my onkel’s dinner sat like bricks in our bellies, so this morning we were unable to eat breakfast. What we wouldn’t do for a piece of bread and strawberry preserves...”

  Cocking her head to one side, Hannah narrowed her eyes at him for what seemed an interminable pause. Rather than speaking, she again removed the jar of preserves from the cooler and pulled the bread apart in chunks. After spooning a dollop onto each piece, she directed the triplets to eat theirs at their desks. She gave the biggest piece to Sawyer, who stood next to her while he devoured it.

  When he was finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I must apologize,” he began. “I fear I misjudged you.”

  “Say no more. I accept your apology.” She smiled readily. Then she asked, “Are your onkel’s meals really like bricks in your bellies?”

  “Unfortunately, they are. In fact, I have a hunch Simon dropped their lunch bag on purpose. I know I would have, if it meant I’d get to eat a piece of your sweet bread instead.”

  Hannah’s giggle reminded him of a wind chime. “It tastes alright, then?”

  “Better than a dream,” Sawyer replied.

  Hannah’s face again flushed. “That’s a kind thing for you to say,” she replied modestly and busied herself putting the lid on the jar before meeting his eyes again.

  “I want you to know I do understand and respect your concerns about your kinner’s health,” she said somberly. “I have noticed they are thin, but it’s possible they’re going through a growth spurt, and their width hasn’t caught up with their height yet. In any case, in Willow Creek, we like to think our gut farm air has a way of working up healthy appetites, and I’ll feed those appetites with wholesome, hearty suppers.”

  Sawyer blinked and ran his hands over his head, pushing back his curls. Until that instant, he hadn’t realized how much he’d needed reassurance that the children would be alright. He was so often in the position of instructing and comforting his children, encouraging Gertrude and guiding his crew at work that he rarely received a word of consolation himself. Her sentiment was as heartening as something Eliza may have said, and he was touched. His silence allowed Hannah to continue speaking.

  “My intention is to help relieve your concerns, Sawyer, not to add to them. I hope you won’t worry about Simon, Sarah and Samuel while they’re under my care. But if you have a concern, please tell me—I promise not to have another tantrum like a kind myself, as I did yesterday.”

  Sawyer broke into a huge grin. “Hannah Lantz,” he replied, “you may be slight in stature, but you most certainly are no child!”

  When Hannah looked perplexed, he rushed to explain, “I mean that you’re every bit a woman.”

  Her forehead and cheeks went pink and her eyes widened. Clearly he was embarrassing her.

  “An adult, that is,” Sawyer clarified. “Someone I wholeheartedly trust to mind my kinner.”

  As he stood there feeling every bit the fool, two boys shuffled up the stairs into the classroom.

  “Guder mariye, Caleb and Eli,” Hannah greeted them. To Sawyer she said, “Those are friends of Samuel and Simon’s.”

  “Ah, Caleb, whose bloody mouth you tended to—the kinner told me about it.”

  “High drama in the school yard,” Hannah said with a giggle, and Sawyer knew any awkwardness between them had passed. “It’s all in a day’s work.”

  “Speaking of work,” Sawyer remembered, “I should be going now.”

  “Me, too.” Hannah nodded. “I hope you have a pleasant
day.”

  The day was already far more pleasant than Sawyer could have hoped for himself.

  Chapter Four

  “Be careful!” Hannah’s grandfather commanded as she helped him hoist the dollhouse into the buggy Saturday morning. “This could fetch a pretty penny, but not if you crack it.”

  Hannah dismissed his harsh admonishment as concern about their income. The dollhouse was larger and more detailed than any he’d ever made before—clearly he had designed it to appeal to Englisch tourists—so it was no wonder he wanted to be certain it arrived without a nick. She mopped her brow and took her place beside him in the buggy, uttering a silent prayer for travel mercies.

  As they sped past the fields and into town, Hannah let her mind wander to her conversation with Sawyer, as it had often done in the past hours, making light work of wringing and hanging the clothes and scrubbing the floors. Better than a dream, he had said about her sweet bread. She knew pride was a sin, but being given a compliment was such a rare occurrence she couldn’t help but treasure his words. They weren’t merely flattery, either—his bright green eyes had shone with genuine earnestness as he’d spoken the phrase.

  A driver honked his horn, jarring Hannah from her thoughts. She touched her grandfather’s sleeve to warn him of the approaching vehicle so he could move to the shoulder of the road, but he jerked his arm away. She was relieved when they finally pulled into the lane behind the mercantile. So many tourists’ cars filled the lot that Hannah and her grandfather had to tie their horse at the designated horse and buggy plot nearly a quarter of a mile away.

  They purchased their groceries and returned to the buggy to secure them there before heading to Schrock’s Shop, which was located three doors down from the mercantile. Hannah helped her grandfather unload the dollhouse first; they’d come back to retrieve the other toys later. She was aware of but not bothered by the curious stares of the Englischers as they trudged down the long street toward the shop.

  Hannah’s grandfather had been apprenticed as a carpenter—he once owned a small furniture shop that eventually closed for lack of business. After that, he reluctantly went to work in the Englisch-run factory on the edge of town. Ever since the company retired him some eight years ago, he had been consigning wooden toys at Schrock’s, where his work was highly prized among tourists. Eve’s quilts were equally appreciated. However, sometimes it seemed the Englisch were willing to praise more than they were willing to pay, so the income generated from the sales was nominal at best.

  Still, the sales had been a provision from the Lord, and Hannah thought about how thankful she was for that as she pulled open the door to the back entrance.

  “Guder nammidaag,” she said, wishing a good afternoon to Joseph Schrock, Daniel Schrock’s son, who was in charge of making consignment arrangements for new merchandise.

  He looked up from where he was sitting at his desk, a pinched expression on his face. “Good afternoon, Hannah, Albert,” he greeted them in Englisch.

  As they placed the dollhouse carefully on the floor, Hannah expected Joseph to fuss over it more than he usually did, since the dollhouse was especially handsome. Instead, Joseph slid his pencil behind his ear and offered them a chair.

  Her grandfather refused. “I am not so old I need to sit after a stroll down the lane.”

  Hannah’s cheeks grew hot, but out of respect for her grandfather, she remained standing, too. Joseph excused himself to close the door leading to the main gallery where the customers browsed.

  “The news isn’t good, Albert,” Joseph acknowledged. He mouthed the words toward Hannah’s grandfather, but his eyes shifted to Hannah. He held up two fingers. “Only two of your items sold since you were last here. The Englisch are less inclined to buy wooden toys any longer. They spend their money on electronic devices, I am told.”

  Hannah chewed her lip, nodding.

  “I’m afraid we have to limit the amount of shelf space we can devote to your items, Albert. Until what you have here already sells, we cannot accept more toys. Especially not something as large as that dollhouse.”

  Hannah’s grandfather pounded his fist against the desktop, causing Hannah and Joseph both to jump.

  “I made the cradle you slept in, Joseph Schrock!” he shouted. “Your own sons have slept in it, as well. Now, are you to tell me you’re turning away my goods?”

  “My father made the decision, and it is final,” Joseph stated, nervously pushing his glasses from where they’d slid down the bridge of his nose.

  “What is final,” Hannah’s grandfather thundered, “is that we will never darken your doorstep again!”

  He grunted as he bent to heave the dollhouse from the floor, and Hannah leaped to his aid.

  “I’m sorry,” Joseph apologized to her. “I hope you understand.”

  Hannah felt pulled between being loyal to her grandfather and being polite to Joseph. She dipped her head so her grandfather wouldn’t see her lips move but replied in their German dialect so Joseph would remember whom he was dealing with. “Mach’s gut, Joseph.”

  * * *

  Although he spent Saturday morning working in the fields with his cousins, Sawyer cut his work short to take a trip into town in the afternoon for groceries. John was learning to navigate around the house on his crutches and to provide minimal assistance on the farm, but he still couldn’t climb into and out of the buggy without another adult helping him. Rather than having two adults make the trip, Sawyer volunteered to go.

  Samuel, Sarah and Simon were apt contributors to the daily chores around the house and with the farm animals. The boys also wanted to participate however they could in the fields, but Sawyer’s cousins generally treated them more like hindrances than helpers, and often sent them on errands to fetch tools that were impossibly heavy for the boys to carry on their own. Sawyer thought it best to keep the children from being underfoot.

  He also figured by doing the shopping he’d have a bit of input into what kind of meals John prepared for breakfast and dinner. But his main objective was to stock up on staples for Hannah and her grandfather, who surely weren’t equipped to feed three more mouths.

  Sawyer and the children were toting packages toward their buggy when Simon hooted, “Look, there’s Teacher!”

  Across the street, an old man and Hannah were struggling to lug a cumbersome object along the sidewalk.

  “They have a dollhouse!” Sarah marveled.

  “Kumme,” Sawyer directed. “Follow closely.”

  He led them across the street through a clearing in traffic.

  “Hannah,” he beckoned. “Hannah Lantz!”

  She came to a halt but the old man continued, nearly losing his balance. The dollhouse teetered between them. Sawyer dropped his parcels where he stood and lunged to steady their burden.

  “Please, allow me,” he said as he deftly pulled the dollhouse to his chest. In the process, his arm brushed Hannah’s, and heat rose to his face. The touch was unintended, but he hoped she didn’t think his gesture was impudent or resent him for interfering.

  “Denki,” she replied and greeted the children, but she didn’t introduce the old man, who had pivoted and swooped up Sawyer’s packages from the sidewalk.

  “My sons can carry those,” Sawyer began to say, but the man walked on without acknowledging him.

  “My groossdaadi is deaf,” Hannah reminded him quietly, so the children wouldn’t hear. “He is also stubborn, so please let him carry the bags. We are just down there, on the other side of the lot.”

  Sawyer nodded and they continued walking side by side. In his peripheral vision, he noticed her expression was so forlorn, he wondered if she was ill. Was this the same woman whose lilting laughter had filled the schoolroom only days before? He tried to think of something conversational to say, but he drew a blank.

  At the bug
gy, Hannah’s grandfather handed the packages to the boys and Sawyer helped him secure the dollhouse into the back. The old man untied the horse from the far end of the hitching rail and repositioned the carriage. Then he climbed inside next to Hannah and took the reins in his hands.

  Only then did he pause to acknowledge Sawyer, who looked him squarely in the eye and enunciated exaggeratedly, “I am Sawyer Plank, whose kinner Hannah will be caring for after school.”

  “Albert Lantz,” the man yelled back.

  “That is high-quality workmanship,” Sawyer stated, nodding toward the dollhouse.

  “Hmpff,” the man snorted, but his eyes seemed to brighten.

  “Your granddaughter Hannah is a fine teacher,” Sawyer said. “The kinner—”

  But before he could finish his sentence, the old man broke eye contact and slapped the reins against the horse’s back.

  “Giddy up!” he shouted, and Sawyer hopped back, his legs buckling beneath him as the wheels rolled forward and the buggy pulled away.

  * * *

  Hannah clenched her fists on her lap, fighting back tears. It was bad enough that her grandfather had demonstrated such an unbridled temper to Joseph Schrock, but he had been deliberately rude to Sawyer Plank, as well.

  Joseph knew what her grandfather was like, but Sawyer met him only today. Perhaps Sawyer might have believed her grandfather didn’t hear the words he spoke, but there was no mistaking the fact that her grandfather nearly rolled over his foot with the buggy! Why did he behave that way, especially toward someone who was being as helpful as Sawyer was?

  By the time they returned home, carried the dollhouse back to his workshop and Hannah had set supper on the table, her grandfather’s mood seemed to have lightened. Hannah’s burden, however, had intensified, as she wondered how to stretch out their meals. If only her grandfather hadn’t left the store in such haste—they hadn’t collected what was due them from the two toys that sold, and they desperately needed the money.