Amish Triplets For Christmas

Chapter Two

Because Doris gave her a ride home from school, Hannah arrived early enough to prepare one of her grandfather’s favorite meals: ground beef and cabbage skillet and apple dumplings. Making supper kept her distracted from the peals of thunder that sounded in the distance, and so did thinking about Sawyer and the children.

She supposed she could have accepted his offer to bring her home, instead of imposing on Doris. But what kind of example would she have been to the children—a grown woman, afraid of a storm? Hadn’t she reminded Sarah several times that day to trust in the Lord when she was worried about her father? Yet there Hannah was, trembling like a leaf because of a little thunder.

She realized there was a second reason she hesitated to ride with Sawyer: she worried what kind of foolish thing she might say. She didn’t know what had caused her to joke about his horse’s speed, but she couldn’t risk offending him, especially as he might be her new employer. Thinking about the slight smile that lit his serious, handsome face made her stomach flutter. She retrieved her satchel from its hook in search of a piece of bread, but then remembered she’d given her last crust to Simon, who gobbled it up in four bites.

When her grandfather entered the kitchen, his first words were not unlike those she had cast at Sawyer, but his tone was much gruffer.

“What is your reason for being so late?” he barked.

Because her grandfather had lost his hearing years ago, he had no sense of the volume of his voice—at least, that was what Hannah chose to believe.

“I’m sorry, Groossdaadi. I was helping my new scholars.” She looked at him directly when she spoke. Although her grandfather was adept at reading lips, she knew from experience a brief answer was the best reply, especially when he seemed agitated.

“Is dinner going to be late again?” he complained, despite the early hour.

Please, Lord, give him patience. And me, too, she prayed.

“Neh. It is almost done.”

“Gut,” he grunted. “You left me here with hardly a morsel of bread.”

Hannah knew the claim was preposterous; she fixed him a sizable lunch before leaving for school, and there was always freshly made bread in the bread box. Thinking about it made her remember Sarah’s desire to learn how to bake bread. Hannah hadn’t been exactly accurate when she’d said it was more fun to eat than to bake. Eating freshly baked bread was a pleasure, but smelling it baking was equally appealing.

She realized because her grandfather was deaf, he probably looked forward to having his other senses stimulated. Adding a little extra garlic to the skillet to enhance the aroma, she began to sing, and by the time she and her grandfather were seated, the storm had blown over.

After saying grace, she touched her grandfather’s arm to get his attention. He dug into his meal, chewing as he watched her lips.

“Gott has provided us help with our income,” she said, knowing that if she prefaced her proposal by indicating it was from the Lord, her grandfather would be less inclined to say no. “I have been asked to watch the kinner of Sawyer Plank. He is John Plank’s nephew, the one who is helping him harvest until his leg heals.”

Her grandfather shoveled a few forkfuls of meat into his mouth. When he looked up again, Hannah continued.

“I will need to bring them home with me after school—”

“Neh,” her grandfather refused, lifting his glass of milk. Unlike most Amish, they had always been too poor to afford their own milk cow, but for generations the Zook family had made it a faithful practice to deliver a fresh bottle—often with a chunk of cheese—to their milk bin.

As her grandfather took a big swallow, Hannah finished speaking, undaunted. “They will stay here through supper time. Then Sawyer will pick them up.”

“Neh,” her grandfather repeated. “I will not have kinner in my house.”

Hannah curled her fingers into a fist beneath the table, digging her fingernails into her palm. She knew how much her grandfather disliked having children around—after all, he’d reminded her and her younger sister, Eve, of that fact repeatedly when they were growing up. She waited until he’d had a second helping of beef and cabbage, and then she dished him up the biggest, gooiest apple dumpling before she attempted to persuade him again.

“Groossdaadi,” she pleaded, her eyes expressing the urgency he couldn’t hear in her voice. “I promise to keep them outside as much as possible. They will help with the chores. The boys will stack wood and clean the coop and do whatever else you need them to do. I will see to it they don’t disturb you in your workshop.”

This time her grandfather merely shook his head as he cut into the tender dumpling with the side of his fork. The crust oozed with sweet fruit.

“I know how hard you’ve worked to provide for us,” Hannah said, tugging on his sleeve to make him read her lips. “But I’ve stretched our budget as far as I can, and it will only get worse when I am no longer a teacher. Please, Groossdaadi, let me do my part and earn this income.”

As he ate the rest of his dessert, Hannah sent up a silent prayer. Please, Lord, let him agree to what I’ve asked. When he pushed his chair back across the floor, the scraping sound sent a chill up her spine, but she remained hopeful.

“They’d better not make too much noise,” he warned crossly before retiring for the evening.

Hannah had to bite her tongue to keep from retorting, “But, Groossdaadi, how would you know if they did?” Having grown up under his thumb, she understood what he’d meant: he wouldn’t permit them to make nuisances of themselves.

She threw her arms around his neck and looked him in the eye. “I will see to it they don’t,” she promised.

“Bah,” he muttered, but he didn’t pull away from her embrace until she let him go.

* * *

On the way home, when Sawyer asked the children how their first day at school was, they all spoke at once.

“We made friends with some other boys,” Samuel said.

“Eli and Caleb. They said they have a German shepherd, and it had six puppies,” Simon announced. “Can we have a puppy, Daed?”

“It’s ‘may we.’ Teacher says we’re supposed to say ‘may I,’ not ‘can I.’ A can is something you store food in,” Sarah corrected him. “I made a new friend, too, Daed. Her name is Abigail, but she said I can call her—I may call her—Abby.”

Distracting the children from their request for a puppy—Gertrude was allergic—Sawyer commented, “It sounds as if you’ve already learned something from your teacher, too?”

“Jah,” Samuel agreed. “We learned how to bat a ball after lunch hour! The teacher can hit it farther than anyone else, even the boys from the upper classes!”

“And she fixed my hair, see?” Sarah twisted in her seat to show him where her hair was neatly tucked into a bun. “It didn’t hurt a bit, even the snarled parts. The teacher said her mamm taught her how to brush them out when she was a girl my age. Her hair is dark like a crow’s and wavy, but mine is light like hay and straight, but she said her secret brushing method works on all colors of hair and all sizes of tangles.”

As minor of a matter as grooming was, even Gertrude complained about how much Sarah always wiggled when she was combing her hair. During Gertrude’s absence, Sawyer often had to refrain from using a harsh tone to make Sarah sit still. The small but important empathy Hannah demonstrated to his daughter by carefully fixing her bun seemed like a promising indicator of the care she’d provide as their nanny.

After they arrived home, the children helped with chores around the farm: Sarah swept the floors and sorted and washed vegetables, and the boys cleaned the chicken coop, stacked firewood and helped in the stable. Their chores in Ohio were similar, but because they lived on a modest plot of land in a neighborhood instead of in a large farmhouse on sizable acreage, their new assignments in Pennsylvania took them much longer to complete. Simon and Samuel usually had boundless energy, but by supper time, they were too weary to lift their chins from their chests at the table.

“Try a second helping of beef stew,” Sawyer urged them.

“I’m too tired to chew,” Samuel protested.

Simon asked, “May we go to bed?”

“Look,” Sawyer pointed out. “Onkel bought special apple fry pies from Yoder’s Bakery in town. You may have one if you eat a little more meat.”

“Denki, Onkel. That was very thoughtful of you,” Sarah said, imitating a phrase Sawyer knew she’d learned from Gertrude. “But I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“No promises the pies will be here tomorrow,” Sawyer’s cousin Phillip warned.

“We survived for five years without our mamm here to cook for us,” Jonas, Sawyer’s other cousin, scoffed. “You shouldn’t coddle them, Sawyer, particularly the boys.”

Sawyer got the feeling Jonas resented the children’s presence, but he couldn’t fault Simon, Samuel and Sarah for being too tired to eat; he, too, was exhausted from the day’s events.

Still, he didn’t believe in wasting food, and when Simon chased a chunk of beef around his bowl with his spoon, Sawyer directed, “Sit up and eat your meal. Waste not, want not, as your mamm always said.”

“I’m not hungry.” The boy sighed.

Sawyer warned, “You need to eat so you can do well in school tomorrow.”

“He’ll just ask the teacher for a piece of sweet bread instead,” Sarah said. “Like she gave him today.”

“Sarah, it’s not kind to tattle,” Samuel reminded her. “Besides, the teacher gave us all a piece of bread.”

“Jah, but she gave Simon an extra piece in the afternoon,” Sarah reported. “The very last piece, smothered in strawberry preserves. Teacher says strawberries taste like pink sunshine.”

“Sweets in the afternoon before supper,” Jonas scoffed. “No wonder they turn up their noses at meat and potatoes. Pass me his serving. My appetite hasn’t been spoiled and neither have I.”

Simon ducked his head as he handed over his bowl. He had a small freckle on the top of his left earlobe, whereas Samuel had none. It was how Sawyer could tell the two boys apart when they were infants. Watching Simon’s ears purpling with shame, Sawyer felt a small qualm about Hannah. Well-intentioned as the gesture may have been, Sawyer wondered if it represented her common practice. He couldn’t allow her to continue to ply the children with sweets instead of wholesome meals if he expected them to grow healthier under her care, and he decided to speak to her about it when he saw her next.

* * *

After supper, Hannah’s grandfather retired to his room to read Scripture as she washed the dishes and swept the floors. She folded the linens she had hung out to dry that morning before leaving for school. As she was putting them away, she passed the room that used to be Eve’s. Spread on the bed was one of the quilts her younger sister had made. Although it was darker and plainer than those she fashioned to sell to tourists, there was no mistaking her meticulous stitching and patterns.

Hannah had never developed the superior sewing abilities Eve possessed. As the eldest, she was tasked with putting supper on the table, gardening, caring for Eve and meeting her grandfather’s needs. Not that she minded; she felt indebted to her grandfather for raising her and Eve, and she knew the Lord provided everyone with different talents. She admired her sister’s handiwork a moment longer before closing the bedroom door with a sigh. How Hannah missed Eve’s chatter ever since she moved to Lancaster to set up house with her husband last year.

But at least now that Hannah would be watching the Plank children and she had lessons to plan and students’ work to review, the evenings wouldn’t seem to last forever, as they did during the summer months.

Kneeling by her bed, she prayed, Denki, Lord, for Your providing for Groossdaadi and me, as You have always done. Please help me to be a gut nanny to Sarah, Simon and Samuel.

She removed her prayer kapp and hung it on her headboard before sliding between the sheets. A loud rumble of thunder caused her nightstand to vibrate, and she closed her eyes before lightning illuminated the room. No matter how hard she tried to push the memory from her mind, the metallic smell in the air always brought her back to the night her mother and father perished when lightning struck the tree under which they’d sought shelter during a rainstorm. She had been such a young girl when it happened that the memory of the storm itself was more vivid than almost any recollection she had of her parents prior to their deaths.

She rolled onto her side and buried her face in the pillow, much like Sarah had buried her face in Hannah’s sleeve when Sawyer failed to show up on time. Hannah wondered if Sarah was insecure because Sawyer was an unreliable parent or merely because she was anxious about being a newcomer. The boys seemed to be more outgoing than their sister was. They adjusted to their lessons magnificently and joined the games during lunch hour. But Sarah seemed uncertain, trying to say and do everything perfectly and in constant need of reassurance from Hannah. She supposed the girl might have been feeling at a loss without any other females on the farm, and she decided to do her best to serve as a role model for her.

Raindrops riveted the windowpane, and although the air was sultry, Hannah pulled the quilt over her head, mussing her hair. She recalled how Sarah’s bun had come undone during lunch hour. Hannah giggled, imagining Sawyer struggling to pin his daughter’s hair in place. Then, as she thought of his large, masculine hands, a shiver tickled her spine. The suddenness of it surprised her, but she attributed it to the change in air temperature.

Before drifting off, she anticipated showing the children the shortcut home from school and studying insects and birds along the way. She imagined teaching Sarah how to make sweet bread and chasing squirrels with Samuel and Simon. They would grow sturdy from her meals and smart from her tutelage. She would sing hymns and read stories to them on rainy afternoons. It would be like teaching, only different: it would be, she supposed, more like being a mother than she’d ever been. Now that she actually had the opportunity, she had to admit, she could hardly wait!

* * *

Sawyer felt as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders. As he knelt beside his bed, he prayed, Thank You, Lord, for Hannah’s willingness to care for the kinner. Please work in her groossdaadi’s heart to agree to it, as well. Bless Kathryn and her family, especially the baby, and keep watch over Gertrude. Please keep the crew safe and productive in Ohio.

Praying about his employees, Sawyer exhaled loudly. Upon returning to the farm that afternoon, he had discovered a soggy express-mail letter in the box from his foreman reporting that one of his crew members severed his finger the day Sawyer left for Pennsylvania. Due to being short staffed already, we are falling even further behind on orders, the note said. It was another urgent reminder to Sawyer that he needed to hasten his work with his cousins so he could return home as soon as possible. At least being able to work longer days without interruptions would help with that.

He was relieved that Hannah, in particular, possibly would be watching the children. He owed her a debt of gratitude for rescuing him from Doris’s clutches. He had known women like Doris in Ohio, who seemed to use the children’s welfare as an excuse to call on him and Gertrude. At least, that was what Gertrude had claimed on a few occasions.

“I thought you wanted me to marry again,” he teased one afternoon after Gertrude was irked by a female visitor who stopped by with a heaping tray of oatmeal whoopee pie cookies and an entire “sawdust pie.” (When the woman found out Sawyer wasn’t present, she took the sweets home without allowing the children or Gertrude to sample so much as a bite.)

“I do want you to marry again,” Gertrude insisted. “But I want you to marry someone genuine, like Eliza.”

There will never be anyone as genuine as Eliza, he thought.

Take Hannah, for instance. Whereas Eliza was soft-spoken and reserved, Hannah seemed a bit cheeky, which made it difficult to discern how sincere she was. Sawyer supposed Hannah was used to teasing men for sport; someone as becoming as she was no doubt found favor with the opposite gender, especially because she appeared competent and helpful, as well. Yet, surprisingly, she was unmarried—Sawyer ruefully imagined her suitors probably were tardy arriving to court her, so she turned them away.

Lightning reflected off the white sheets on Sawyer’s bed and thunder shook the walls. He stretched his neck, listening for Sarah’s cries, but there were none. He figured she was too exhausted to stir.

Sawyer’s thoughts drifted to the dark tendrils framing Hannah’s face that afternoon. They had probably come loose when she was playing ball with her students. He supposed someone who earned the affection of his daughter and the admiration of his sons in one day deserved his high regard, too. It wasn’t her fault she was so pretty; he recognized he shouldn’t judge her for that.

He remembered how Hannah suddenly hurried him out the door that afternoon. Despite her authority in the classroom and her outspoken joshing, there was something unmistakably vulnerable in her eyes. But he had no doubt she’d take excellent care of Simon, Samuel and Sarah—especially once he restricted the amount of treats she served them—for the short time they were visiting Pennsylvania.