Sarah's Orphans

by Vannetta Chapman

  “How do you know so much about kids?”

  “Lots of nieces and nephews. I am the youngest of seven.”

  “You mentioned that in the courthouse.” Part of Sarah’s mind was still sitting on the overturned crate, listening to Paul tell her how beautiful she was. Had he actually said that?

  “Ya, big family back home. Little children running everywhere. Couldn’t sit down without squishing one.”

  “They’re not bugs.”

  “Nope. I suppose not. My bruders think it’s their job to ensure the growth of the Amish community.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Kids. Every year there are more.”

  They walked slowly back to the front of the barn where lunch had been served. Maybe returning to a larger group caused Sarah to feel bolder because she asked, “Don’t you like kids?”

  “Sure I do. I like Mateo and Mia well enough. And I like your bruders.”

  “Just not any of your own.”

  Paul scratched at the side of his face as if he was deep in thought and frowned. It reminded her of when she’d seen him in the store, a few days before she’d found the children, before her life had changed. It had irritated her then, that frown. But now it made her laugh.

  Paul looked at her in surprise. “What’s so funny?”

  “You are.”

  “Me?”

  “That serious look on your face.”

  “You asked a serious question.”

  “I wasn’t asking you to marry me.”

  “No?” Now there was a pronounced frown on his face, and Sarah knew he was teasing.

  So instead of explaining herself, she gathered Mia up in her arms, found her purse sitting behind the tables, and went in search of Mateo and her younger brothers.

  No doubt Andy and Henry would be staying for the singing, but Sarah wanted to be home. She wanted to change out of her church clothes, sit in the rocker as the rain splashed on the roof, and make some sense of the twists and turns her life had taken.

  CHAPTER 40

  March blew in with gusty winds and warmer temperatures, bringing afternoons balmy enough for the boys to shed their coats.

  If Sarah had thought things would get easier once she’d been declared an official Bridge parent, she was sadly mistaken. It was possible she’d been so busy completing her certification that she hadn’t had time to see what a mess their home had become.

  The next few days, she dedicated herself to setting things to rights—unfortunately, their home was in a state of constant chaos.

  She attempted to once more sweep and mop the floors. With the rain and the mud and five boys plus one little girl, it seemed to be an unending task. After Mia tracked in mud twice, she gave up and turned to the piles of laundry. Which was when the hose from the washing machine to the hot water heater broke and flooded the mudroom. Her cooking continued to worsen, which she was surprised was even possible. She’d never been a good cook to start with, and now she was distracted constantly.

  Mia was a blessing for sure and certain, but she was also a three-year-old child with a lot of energy and no playmates. She pulled all of the pans out of the cabinet when Sarah was washing clothes, dumped out her sewing basket when she was sweeping the front porch, and managed to land in the mud when they were walking to the mailbox.

  Sarah pulled out the mail and was surprised to see a copy of the Mayes County Chronicle with a picture of the courthouse shown on the bottom of the front page. Chloe had visited on Monday and interviewed her, but she didn’t realize the article would appear that same week.

  Amish Family Joins Bridge Program

  The Amish in our area are well known for their good cooking, roadside stands, masterful quilting, and benefit auctions. But now the Plain people of Cody’s Creek are also becoming involved in the Bridge Program, which seeks to match a child in need of a home with a family that has met the Department of Human Services requirements (spelled out on the agency’s website).

  Beverly Rivers, head of the Oklahoma DHS office, encourages anyone interested to contact her. “Bridge parents are what make this program work. It’s because families are willing to provide a home, shelter, and, of course, love to a child in need that we are able to help the most vulnerable among us.”

  Ms. Rivers admitted this is not her first Amish Bridge family. “The Amish we have worked with are quiet, private people. You probably won’t see their faces in the paper or read about their adopting needy kids in a local magazine. What’s important is that we find a safe, stable home for children. We welcome people from all faiths and backgrounds.”

  Sarah would have liked to stand there and read the rest, but Mia began pulling on her hand and whining.

  “All right. Let’s clean you up—again.” They turned toward the house, Mia now happy that they were on the move. Sarah thought of the news article and wondered if it would encourage others to become foster parents.

  They slowly made their way back down the lane, Mia covered in mud and Sarah trying to coax her to walk. If she picked up the child, she’d be covered in mud herself. The mere thought of doing more laundry was enough to make her want to curl up and take a nap. The day was cloudy, wet, and a bit dreary.

  They’d nearly made it to the porch when a red Chevy pulled into their lane. The driver came right up to where Sarah was waiting with Mia. She couldn’t see who was in the passenger seat. The windows were tinted, and the woman ducked her head. She seemed to be rooting around in her purse. Then she reached forward and paid the driver. Who would pay a driver for a ride to come and see Sarah?

  She waited, hesitating and curious. She thought she made out a prayer kapp and a woman’s profile. Sarah’s mind went completely blank. She couldn’t think of anyone who would come to visit her. Her mother’s image briefly crossed her mind, but she pushed it away. This woman was larger, and besides, her mother had given them no indication that she planned on returning to Cody’s Creek. In fact, she hadn’t written them at all.

  The Englischer turned off the vehicle, got out, and waved. “Afternoon,” he said as he walked toward the trunk and pulled out a large suitcase.

  The woman in the backseat seemed to be gathering up packages. Sarah pulled herself together and hurried to open the door, peering closely through the glass.

  A small gasp escaped her lips, and she wondered if she was imagining things. But no, it really was her grandmother from Montana—her father’s mother. Fannie Yoder was solidly built and as energetic as a four-year-old, though she had just turned seventy. Sarah had spent very little time around her over the years. She remembered a woman who was kind but brokered no nonsense. The question was—what was she doing in Cody’s Creek?

  “Mammi?”

  She had visited briefly for Dat’s funeral. There had been an argument between her mother and grandmother, something Deborah would never talk about. The next morning Sarah had woken to find her grandmother gone.

  “Sarah. How are you, child?” Mammi enfolded her in a full embrace, and then she held her at arm’s length. “You look gut. Something of a mess, but healthy.”

  “I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “Didn’t know myself until I woke up yesterday morning. The Lord pricked my spirit, surely He did, and I knew…I was certain that He meant me to be here, helping you.”

  At that moment, Mia stood up from where she’d been kneeling in the mud, making pies. She held up one in her little hands and offered it to Sarah, who backed away. If the child had been dirty before, she looked as if she’d positively rolled in the mud now. She was completely covered from the top of her dark brown hair to the toes of her small pink tennis shoes.

  “Oh, Mia.” What had she been thinking letting go of the child’s hand? If she’d watched her closer, this wouldn’t have happened.

  “Up! Please, Sarah.”

  “No, you don’t.” Sarah held her at arm’s length, and then she remembered her grandmother was watching.

  Unperturbed by the sight of an extra child
, Mammi said, “Best put that pie on the porch railing to cool, child. All pies go on the porch railing.”

  Mia ran up the steps to do as she was told.

  When she ran back to them, Mammi patted the pocket of her coat, pulled out two pieces of foil-wrapped chocolate, and placed one in each of their hands. Then she adjusted her two bags on her shoulders, grabbed her suitcase by the handle, and thanked the driver. Without asking a single question, she marched up the porch steps and into the house.

  Sarah took Mia’s hand, holding the forgotten mail in the other, and followed her grandmother into her house.

  Mammi had stopped inside the front door, her eyes taking in the wreck that was once their living room and tilting her head to see into the kitchen. Sarah expected a reprimand, but instead Mammi smiled, nodded her head, and proclaimed, “Looks like I was right to come. If you’ll put my things in a bedroom, I’ll see to cleaning up this little gal.”

  Sarah started to say that Mia was shy, that she rarely went to strangers, and that she would do it herself. But the little imp looked up at Mammi, smiled broadly, and said, “I’m hungry.”

  “Indeed? We’ll find something for you to eat as soon as we wipe away the mud.”

  The two disappeared through the kitchen doorway and out into the mudroom. Sarah expected to hear cries. The one thing Mia fought was a good scrubbing, but instead she heard her Mammi’s voice and Mia’s giggles. Shaking her head, Sarah carried the suitcase into her mother’s room. It was the only place in the house that looked clean and orderly, probably because no one went in there. She had dusted it a couple of times, just in case her mother returned, but generally she kept the door shut—some part of her mind attempting to close off the memories and the questions, no doubt.

  Hurrying back to the sitting room, she scooped up her grandmother’s two bags, which were surprisingly heavy. Had she brought books with her? How long was she staying? Why was she here? Sarah deposited the bags next to the bed. By the time she reached the mudroom, Mia was nearly clean.

  “Do you have another set of clothes for her?”

  “Ya. Sure.” Actually, she only had two, and she’d been washing one set out each night for the next day. Fortunately, the day before hadn’t included a mud bath, so those clothes were reasonably clean—the blue jeans and pink top that she’d been wearing when they’d first seen her in the old trailer.

  She scooped up a towel with the clothes and delivered them to Mammi.

  “I’ll dress her if you’ll make us some hot tea, and I believe Mia would like a sandwich.”

  There wasn’t any bread left. She’d intended to make some, but then Mia had dumped the sewing basket, and she’d become distracted cleaning that up. Sarah found some crackers and a jar of homemade peanut butter Mary Beth had sent over. She set the kettle on the stove and carted the breakfast dishes to the sink. Why were they still on the table? She had meant to clean it off when the boys left, but then she’d realized Mia was missing and gone in search of her. Ten minutes later she had found her sitting in the bathtub, blessedly empty of water, playing with her doll. But she’d forgotten the dishes.

  Mammi dressed Mia and set her on one of the chairs. “She’s a mite small.”

  “Mia’s three.”

  “She needs a booster seat.”

  “Oh. Well, usually she just sits on one of our laps.”

  “We’ll get Andy started on something this afternoon. Where are the boys?” Mammi finished stacking dishes beside the sink, wet a dish towel, and wiped the table clean.

  “Andy and Henry go over to help at the neighbor’s a couple times a week.”

  “Deserted place next door?”

  When had Mammi seen the Fisher place? Perhaps on the way to the funeral. It was visible from the road, but just barely.

  “Ya. Paul Byler, the man who bought it, is slowly fixing up the place.”

  “Must be a hardworking young man.”

  “I’m not sure how young he is.”

  “Regardless, he’ll make a good neighbor. Industrious people who aren’t afraid of a challenge usually do.”

  The kettle on the stove whistled, and Sarah jumped up to fill their mugs.

  When she placed them on the table, Mammi added a scoop of sugar to hers and said, “Now, catch me up on everything, including little Mia.”

  CHAPTER 41

  Paul’s tractor was finally working well enough to drive it to town.

  After Henry and Andy left, he fired it up and headed toward his brother’s dry goods store. He still wasn’t convinced that tractors were the way to go, but every man in their congregation had assured him he would change his mind in a few weeks when he began planting his first crop.

  “Paul! What a nice surprise.” Rebecca rushed out from behind the counter to greet him.

  “Needed to pick up more coffee.” He was both pleased and embarrassed by the smile on his sister-in-law’s face. In truth he’d been missing them too, but he hadn’t realized it until he walked into the store.

  “I have a chicken roasting upstairs in the oven. There’s more than enough for all three of us.”

  He didn’t even bother to resist the invitation. He might be good at rebuilding barns and fences, but he was a terrible cook. A man could only eat so many cans of soup.

  An hour later, he helped her clean the dishes as his brother pulled out his pipe and studied it.

  “Still pretending to smoke that thing?”

  “If he ever tries putting tobacco in it, he’ll have to fight both me and the doctor.” Rebecca set a coffee cake on the table, causing both Joseph and Paul to perk up. They were plenty full from the meal, but both had grown accustomed to a little dessert after dinner. When Paul had been staying in their apartment, Rebecca had been trying to break her husband of that habit, but he’d fought her all the way.

  “It’s reduced sugar, and I even tried some of those healthy egg substitutes.” She set about slicing the cake. “It was futile trying to convince Joseph to give up his evening dessert. This is made with applesauce to sweeten it, so surely it can’t hurt him. Let me get the coffee.”

  Paul had eaten one piece and was contemplating a second when he got around to the real reason for his visit.

  “I’m thinking that Sarah is short on supplies for the young ones—clothes, shoes, stuff like that. For Mateo she’s been able to scrounge up a few things that were Isaac’s, but I don’t believe he had that much extra. For Mia, it seems she has nothing.”

  “I should have thought of that.” Rebecca hopped up from the table, found a pad of paper and a pen, and began making a list. “What else?”

  “Jackets for the children. They probably don’t need coats now that the weather is turning.”

  “They had coats. Didn’t they?” Rebecca’s pen hovered over the sheet of paper.

  “Ya, but somewhat threadbare.”

  “What else?”

  “Two more mattresses and bedding to go with them. Apparently, there wasn’t much extra in the house to begin with, and now…”

  “Sarah told you this?” Joseph clamped the pipe between his teeth.

  “Nein. I spoke with her on Sunday, but she didn’t mention needing anything.”

  “Sarah is a fairly private girl.” Rebecca added two more items to the list, and then she set down the pen and studied Paul. “How well have you gotten to know them?”

  “Not that well. Both Andy and Henry are hard workers. Andy has his hands full keeping their place running, but he still comes over to help me as much as he can. Henry is working for me two days a week, and I’m going to pay him by giving him a portion of the seed I’ll buy for my fields.”

  “That’s gut of you, Paul.” Joseph smiled and tapped his pipe against the table. “Those children need someone in their life. It’s a real shame what they have been through.”

  “The reason I’m telling you all this is because Henry let a few things slip. Sarah has to do laundry every night because the children only have two sets of clothes—the ones they
were found in, and the set Mary Beth gave them.”

  Rebecca refilled their coffee cups. “Mary Beth has been distracted with the birth of another grandkinner, or she would have been out to check on them by now.”

  “It’s only been a week,” Joseph pointed out.

  “True, but a week can seem like a long time when you are dealing with small children. We were all so excited that Mateo and Mia were placed with Sarah. We didn’t stop to think that she might not be prepared for them.”

  Paul cleared his throat and stared down into Rebecca’s strong coffee. He used to worry it would keep him awake, but somehow, when he had lived here, he always passed out soon after dinner.

  “Out with it, Paul Byler.” Rebecca leaned forward. “I can tell something else is bothering you.”

  “It would seem that Sarah is a bit overwhelmed—between the cleaning and cooking and sewing.”

  “It hasn’t been that long since her mother left, leaving her in charge of the house and the boys. And after that, Sarah took on the care of two more.” Now Rebecca sat back, studying the ceiling as if she might find answers there. “Sarah has a big heart, but no experience with little girls or foster children.”

  “Couldn’t you ladies do a pounding?” Joseph returned the unused pipe to his shirt pocket.

  “That’s a wunderbaar idea. I’ll go downstairs and call the phone shacks and leave a message at each one.”

  “Word will get around quickly.” Joseph stood and stretched. “It’s a gut thing you brought this to our attention, Paul.”

  “Wasn’t sure I should, but I hate to see her struggling.”

  Rebecca and Joseph shared a smile.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Joseph walked over to the sitting area and picked up a well-worn copy of the Budget.

  “Now he’s ignoring me.”

  “Nein. Joseph doesn’t like to stick his nose into other people’s business.”

  “Sarah’s?”

  “Yours.”

  “What does this have to do with me?”

  It sounded like Joseph laughed at that, but Paul couldn’t be sure.

  “Walk downstairs with me,” Rebecca said.