“Remember what we said about community? We help one another, and no doubt they would have done so sooner if they had known that you needed these things.”
“I didn’t think to tell them.”
“Someone must have,” Mammi said. “I wonder who?”
Not her brothers. That was for certain. They wouldn’t have noticed if Mateo was sleeping on the couch. It seemed to her that the males in her family were oblivious to most things as long as they had clean clothes and a hot meal.
“I have no idea.”
“Well, it was someone who cares about you. That much is certain.”
They put up the donated items Saturday morning, scrubbed the house Saturday afternoon, and rested on Sunday since there was no church service. It had taken all day Monday to do laundry, but with Mammi there the entire process had gone more smoothly, and they only lost Mia twice.
Now it was Tuesday, and Sarah was looking forward to a day of sewing and maybe even beginning to plant their vegetable garden if the day warmed up enough.
All thoughts of gardening flew away when an Englisch car pulled up in front of the house. She glanced out the window and saw Chloe Vasquez walking up to their porch. “I forgot about the newspaper reporter coming today.”
She had shown Mammi the initial article in the Mayes County Chronicle, worried she might disapprove. Mammi had simply nodded and said, “Gut. People will know that children need homes.”
Now Mammi smiled at her and said, “Why don’t you two do your interview in the kitchen. I’ll watch over this little one.”
So she’d hurried to the door and then spent thirty minutes answering Chloe’s questions.
What was the hardest part so far? Finishing the twenty-seven hours of classes.
What was the best? Seeing the children smile whenever she did the simplest thing for them.
Did she regret getting involved? No. Not at all.
What worried her the most?
Sarah hesitated, and Chloe set down her pen. “Something you want to talk about?”
“It’s a small thing. Maybe it’s small. It seems big to me…”
“Just tell me.”
“Sometimes Mateo speaks in both Spanish and English, interchanging the words.”
To Sarah’s surprise, Chloe laughed. “Some people call it Spanglish. I think that’s pretty natural. Teens do it all the time. Even my husband does, and he just turned thirty-five.”
“Your husband?”
“Hispanic, remember? My last name is now Vasquez.”
“I forgot!”
“It’s okay. I’d love for him to come out and meet the kids sometime. When you feel like they’re settled.”
“Could he…or could you…maybe teach me some Spanish words?”
“I’d be happy to, and you know what? I imagine Mateo would like to teach you some too.”
The next hour passed quickly. When Chloe drove away, Sarah’s head was filled to the brim with English and Spanish. She was thinking of that when Mia and Mammi appeared in the kitchen, and Henry tromped in through the back door.
“You might want to come and see this.” He grinned impishly and ducked back outside before she or Mammi could ask any questions.
Grabbing a shawl, both holding on to one of Mia’s hands, they hurried in the direction of the barn. Sarah was surprised to see Paul’s tractor parked outside the front door of the barn, and even more surprised to see him unloading a crate.
Squawks came from the crate, and Mammi clapped her hands. “Chickens!”
Chickens? Paul had brought them chickens? He looked up, met her gaze, and smiled, as if he had brought them a Christmas present, as if she wanted chickens.
Sarah did not want one more thing to feed or clean up after.
Mammi and Mia were enchanted.
“This is wunderbaar, Paul.”
Had they met already? Apparently, sometime in the last five days, they had. Already their family was back and forth so much that it seemed as if Paul’s place was merely an extension of their own. Sarah wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Her brothers were getting awfully attached to Paul. What if he packed up and left? Could they deal with being abandoned again? Which was a ridiculous thing to worry about. She couldn’t protect her brothers against all of life’s changes, and Paul gave no indication he was doing anything other than settling in.
She returned her attention to the chickens.
“I appreciate the thought, but we already have two…”
“Hardly enough for such a large family, and I heard they weren’t producing many eggs.”
“Where did you hear that?”
Ignoring her question, he added, “You had six a while back, didn’t you? Before the coyote problem?”
“Yes, but—”
“Someone offered me a gut deal on them.” Paul smiled.
To Sarah it seemed as if he were delivering a well-rehearsed line.
“I can’t look after them at this point,” he continued. “But I thought if I gave them to you that maybe the boys could take care of them, and you know…share the bounty.”
“It’s a perfect chore for Isaac and Mateo.” Mammi clapped her hands together. “Isaac, in particular, has shown a real interest in animals.”
“Yup. Caught a squirrel last week.” Henry noticed Sarah’s look of dismay and added, “We convinced him to let it go.”
Sarah finally found her voice. “Where are we going to keep them?”
“Need to make a bigger and better chicken coop,” Mammi said. “I’m sure Andy has some extra lumber.”
“And I brought chicken wire. It…uh…occurred to me that you might need some.”
Sarah wasn’t buying it. She didn’t believe that Paul had simply come across a “good deal” that included six laying hens, one rooster, and chicken wire. She waited until everyone else, including Mia, had followed the chickens into the barn, and then she stepped in front of him.
“I should probably help,” he mumbled.
“Tell me again where the chickens came from, Paul.”
“Where they came from?”
“Uh-huh. Who offered you a good deal?”
“Who?”
“You sound like an owl. Answer the question.”
“Oh. Well, Rebecca got some in at the store.”
“Your sister-in-law does not carry live poultry in her store.”
“True, but—”
She glanced into the pickup bed attached to his tractor. “And your deal included both chicken wire and several bags of feed?”
Now he was looking anywhere but directly at her.
“You ordered them.”
Paul squirmed uncomfortably, but he didn’t deny what she’d said.
Sarah remembered something her grandmother had said earlier, when they’d been discussing how the donation drive had started. Mammi had said their needs must have been shared by someone who cares about you.
“Did you have anything to do with the two mattresses and sacks of clothes and a box of toys for Mia?”
“I might have mentioned to Rebecca—”
“And now you’ve bought us chickens.”
“It’s a small thing, Sarah. Every family can use fresh eggs, and I know that you all will take gut care of them.”
He was frowning again, no doubt worried that she was going to argue with him, possibly concerned that she was going to send the squawking birds back.
She didn’t do either.
Suddenly she realized that Paul was a gut neighbor. Maybe even more than that. It was possible that the frown he often wore covered his concern, that he wasn’t comfortable sharing his feelings. She understood that well enough. And was it so necessary to say a thing when one’s actions plainly displayed it?
So instead of thanking him for the seven birds she did not want, birds that would feed her family and be a good experience for Isaac and Mateo…instead of trying to find words for any of that, she stood on her tiptoes, kissed him on the cheek, and before
he could reply, hurried into the barn.
CHAPTER 45
Paul didn’t want to stop planting, but he realized he needed to eat, and the tractor might overheat if he didn’t turn it off for a few minutes, and Sarah was waiting.
He arrived at the barn at the same time Andy did. “How’s it going with the corn?”
“Gut. How’s it going with the alfalfa?”
“Same.”
The two tractors sitting side by side appeared rather old and pitiful, but they worked. Without them, it would be difficult to till the fields and plant the crops. As folks had warned him, the Oklahoma dirt was more difficult to farm than it looked. It dried out as soon as you broke a row open. He couldn’t imagine doing what they’d done this morning with horses, though when it came time to mow and rake the hay in the fall, he was determined to have two workhorses to do it. For some reason, even as he drove and was grateful for the old tractor, it became more and more important to him to retain as much of the old ways as possible.
Sarah stood under an elm tree, placing lunch on the battered picnic table. Andy and Henry fell on it like vultures. Paul washed his hands and waited for her to head back into the barn for more supplies. When she did, he followed her inside.
“I wanted to thank you for feeding us yesterday and again today.”
“Thank me? They are my bruders, you know.” She smiled prettily at him, and Paul felt something in his heart lighten.
“Ya, sure, but you could have brought food for them and made me eat more eggs.”
She laughed at that. “Who would have ever thought your six hens plus our two could produce so many? Mammi was making a twelve-egg pound cake when I left, Mia at her side stirring the batter. They are a sight.”
“It’s been gut since your mammi came. Hasn’t it?”
“She’s more help than I can even begin to explain. And having her here—well, it seems to settle us as a family once more. The boys suddenly remember to take off their muddy boots before coming in, and everyone helps to keep the place tidy.” Sarah tucked a strand of blond hair back into her kapp. “We’ll see how long their helpful attitude lasts, but for now I’m grateful.”
She picked up a pitcher of lemonade, and Paul carried the glasses. They sat at the picnic table with Andy and Henry, and soon the conversation turned to crops.
“We’ll be done this afternoon if we push until dark.” Andy finished off his first sandwich and began to make himself another—thick, fresh bread, turkey from the deli, and locally made cheddar cheese.
“Maybe. Twenty acres of corn and another twenty of alfalfa doesn’t sound like much, but in this dirt…” Paul shook his head as he plopped a large spoonful of potato salad on his plate. “We could finish tonight if we stay at it.”
“Mammi is making a large stew,” Sarah said. “We could bring some over…”
“Nein. There’s no need to do that. End of the day? It would be easier for me to drive to your place.”
Henry laughed. “I see you’re not turning down her cooking. The woman is a saint. Not that I’m saying anything bad about your kitchen skills, Sarah.”
She laughed with them. “Actually, I’m learning from Mammi.”
“Recipes?” Paul asked.
“Some, but the main thing I’m learning is not to be distracted by anything while I’m cooking.”
“And to set Mia to helping,” Andy added.
“Ya, that keeps her from finding mischief.”
Paul listened to the banter and glanced out over his farm. Things were going well, better than he had expected. He had much to be grateful for.
“Tomorrow we’ll start on your place,” he said.
Andy refilled his glass of lemonade and nodded in agreement. “Between the two of us, and the gut Lord willing, we’ll both have a fine harvest by fall. I realize that no one likes to talk about this, but when Dat was here the farm was never very productive.”
No one disputed his observation, so he pushed on. “He had gut intentions, of course, but if we planted at all, it went in late, and we rarely finished what we started. This is the first year that I’ve been hopeful about the crops in a long time.”
“Still depends on the weather.” Paul stared out across their fields, as if he could look hard enough to see the future.
“But that is the one thing we can’t control.” Henry reached for several cookies. “Do what we can and don’t fuss over the rest, that’s what Mammi would say.”
Four hours later, they were still at it. Every muscle in his arms and back and legs hurt, but Paul wasn’t about to stop when they were so close to finishing. Who would think that driving a tractor could be so exhausting? Between the constant jostling, stopping to work on the mechanical beast, and the warm temperatures, by five o’clock he felt completely depleted. He looked up and spied four small figures walking toward Sarah, who was crocheting under the elm tree. He had tried once to send her home, but she demurred, saying she was actually enjoying a day away from their place.
When he saw Luke, Isaac, Mateo, and even Mia, Paul pulled the tractor up to the barn. He didn’t shut it off, but he hopped off to grab a glass of water.
“We came to work, Paul.”
“Did you now?”
Luke nodded, helped himself to one of the cookies, and took off to the south pasture, where his older brothers were still planting.
“And did you two come to plant as well?”
Mateo and Isaac both shook their heads, but it was Isaac who answered. “Actually, we came to see if you’d picked up the piglets.”
“Nope, but I heard from the guy. He’s supposed to deliver ten tomorrow.”
“Ten? We thought you were only getting four.” Mateo reached for a cookie, handed it to his sister, and took another for himself.
“The price was better than I thought.” Paul glanced at Sarah, who only smiled. They had a running joke about farm animals since he’d gifted her the chickens.
“We’ve been reading one of Brian’s books at school—all about pigpens and that sort of thing.” Isaac shuffled from foot to foot. “Learned some interesting stuff.”
“You’re welcome to take a look behind the barn to see how I did.”
That was all the permission they needed. Each boy snagged another cookie before trotting off in the direction of the pens.
“And what about you, little Mia?”
Sarah answered as Mia climbed up into her lap. “Apparently, Mammi thought some time out in the sunshine would do this little girl good.”
“Is that so?”
“Why?” Mia asked.
“Because sunshine is good for you.”
“Why?”
“Vitamin D.”
“Why?”
Glancing at Paul, Sarah said, “I read recently that the average four-year-old asks four hundred and thirty-seven questions a day.”
“And Mia’s only three, which means she’s either ahead of her age group—”
“Or the questioning is just getting started.”
“Why?”
“Maybe you should eat your cookie.” Sarah kissed Mia on top of her head.
Paul picked up two cookies, slugged down an entire glass of water, which he would sweat out before he reached the end of the field, and headed back to the tractor. The last thing he saw, the thing he would remember four hours later when their lives were once again turned inside out, was Mia sitting in Sarah’s lap, reaching up to touch Sarah’s face, as the child tried to feed her a cookie.
CHAPTER 46
Many things had improved since Mammi showed up on their doorstep over two weeks earlier. She seemed such a natural part of their life, and Sarah didn’t want to take her for granted. That was one reason she was working on the shawl today, and at Paul’s instead of at home, though Mammi had eyed the cloth bag slung over Sarah’s shoulder as she was leaving that morning.
“Taking some handwork with you?”
“I am. The barn is already spick-and-span. You would think Paul expects an
inspection any moment. There’s nothing for me to do there, and his house—well, I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“It’s gut to have work with you.” Mammi had slipped a silver-wrapped chocolate into her hand. “Enjoy your day, dear.”
And she had. She’d loved watching her brothers and Paul out in the field. The breeze had tickled her hair and swept away the worries of winter. Spring seemed like a miracle to her, and it was bursting everywhere she looked.
Now, with Mia in her lap, Sarah put aside her crochet work and focused on the little girl. They sang their ABCs. They counted birds on the fence post. They spied wildflowers that were colored green and blue and yellow. When Mia began to grow restless, Sarah attempted to occupy her with singing one of the hymns from church, but Mia was having none of it.
“Home, Sarah. Home to Mammi.” Her vocabulary was expanding as quickly as her appetite.
“Not yet. See all these dishes?” She’d piled them neatly at the end of the table, all except the plate of cookies and glasses for lemonade. “I have to take them back. We need to wait for Andy.”
“Sarah…” Mia began to pull on her arm and her voice took on an all too familiar whine. Soon she’d escalate into a hearty cry.
“Let’s count again.”
“No. Home, please.”
“Can you find the color purple?”
“No, Sarah. No.” As the pitch of her voice climbed higher and higher, lines formed between her eyes, and she pulled on Sarah’s hand with all of her might.
“What’s wrong, Mia?” Mateo plopped down on the bench next to Sarah.
“She wants to go home already. Maybe you could play with her?”
“I could take her home.”
“Weren’t you—”
“Looking at the pigpens with Isaac. Yeah, I was, but now he’s drawing a sketch of how Paul can make it better. I got bored.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll take her home. It’s no problem.”
“You won’t get lost?”
“Sarah.” Now he sounded comically like Mia, who was hopping from foot to foot and had taken to pulling on Mateo’s arm. “It’s next door. How can I get lost?”
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