Sarah's Orphans

by Vannetta Chapman

  “You won’t know until you read what she has written,” Mammi said, and then she’d convinced Mia to follow her out to the garden to check on their gourds. Her latest project was to hollow them out and turn them into bird feeders. So far they’d sold several dozen on weekends when they opened their produce stand.

  Sarah walked to the utensil drawer, fetched a knife, and slit the envelope. Then she sat down and smoothed the single sheet out with a trembling hand. So many different emotions were running through her heart that she could barely focus on the words in front of her. She closed her eyes, whispered a prayer, and tried again.

  Dear Children,

  I suppose that you know I am with my aenti in Sarasota. Mammi has faithfully written me once a week and kept me up to date on how you are. Please thank her for me. When I didn’t have enough courage to call, to reach out to you, she eased my worries and soothed the ache within my heart.

  There are so many regrets, so many things I wish I could do again. That’s not possible, though, is it? So instead I will ask your forgiveness. I should not have left you when I did. No matter how sick I was, I should not have put my own needs first.

  I am so proud of each of you. Andy and Sarah—Mammi tells me you have turned into fine adults. Henry, Luke, and Isaac—I think of you more than you can ever imagine. Mateo and Mia—I can picture you so well from Mammi’s descriptions. I hope to meet you one day.

  It seems inadequate to say I pray for you every morning when I rise and every evening before I sleep, but I do. Memories of you fill my heart, and I hope that one day when I’m better, we can be reunited again. For now know that the sunshine and the doctors are helping me, and I am improving every day.

  If you decide not to write to me, I understand. However, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me…you can’t imagine what it would mean to receive a letter from you.

  With much love,

  Mamm

  Sarah read the letter twice and then a third time. Finally, she became aware of Mammi and Mia sitting on the front porch, singing songs. She folded the letter, slipped it into the envelope, and walked out onto the porch.

  Sinking into the rocker next to Mammi, she said, “I didn’t know that you were writing her every week.”

  “I write all of my children once a week, and Deborah is still my child.”

  “What…what is wrong with her? She mentioned doctors.”

  “The doctors determined that your mother has a fairly severe thyroid problem. They’ve been treating it with medication, and it seems the sunnier winter helped her with some of the depression.”

  “Oh.” Sarah felt numb. She’d wondered about her mother every day. She’d imagined the worst things. She’d been angry, and she’d been worried. She had feared that her mother was lost to her forever.

  “She wants us to write. Do you…do you think we should?”

  “That’s a decision you will have to make, Sarah. I wish I could tell you what to do.” Mammi rocked and stared out across their land. “Only…only know that I am glad I came here. This family has been such a blessing to me. I imagine you wish your mother had acted differently, but if she hadn’t left, I might not have come. So I am grateful, ya, it’s true. I’m grateful that her troubles brought us together, though I would rather she had an easier path.”

  That evening Sarah wrote her first letter to her mother. After she’d read Deborah’s letter to her brothers, each wanted to add to the letter she’d written, even Mateo, who hadn’t met her, and Mia, who drew a picture filled with each of them, all with long arms and big heads. She’d insisted that Sarah label each family member. It wasn’t lost on Sarah that Paul was included in the picture.

  CHAPTER 76

  As fall turned to winter, Sarah allowed herself to spend more time with Paul. She enjoyed their walks around both farms. She replayed their conversations over everything from ways to increase the production on the land to the beauty of a sunset over a snow-covered field.

  She watched as the boys became even closer to Paul. It was plain to her that they looked up to him as they did to Andy. Soon it was time to kill the pigs. They had grown quite large, and the ones they had sold had fetched an excellent price. But they kept three to provide meat for the winter. The boys insisted on being there when they were butchered, saying they weren’t babies and they had understood from the beginning that the pigs had been raised for food.

  She appreciated the way that Paul explained the process to the boys, assured them that the pigs wouldn’t suffer, and answered their questions. She thought perhaps she saw tears in their eyes, but within a week they were planning improvements to the pen for next year’s piglets.

  Paul assured her the boys would be fine, and they were. It seemed that he understood her worries before she did herself.

  Twice he kissed her.

  The first time was on Christmas afternoon, when he’d asked her to go for a walk and given her his gift. She’d been so surprised when she’d pulled off the wrapping and stared down at the wooden box.

  “It’s beautiful.” She’d ran her fingers over the scene on the top. “Did you carve this?”

  “Ya. It’s supposed to be the scene from your front porch. I was thinking you could use it for small things you save from the children.”

  “Like the tooth Mia lost last week?”

  “Exactly. It was actually my mother’s idea.”

  He had talked to his mother about her?

  “She told me a mother needs a place to put away special memories. That children grow so quickly, you’ll be glad you saved a few things.”

  “I…I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything.”

  And then he’d leaned toward her and kissed her softly, leaving her breathless and happy and confused.

  The second time he kissed her was on the first day of the new year. “May this year bring you many gut things, Sarah Yoder.”

  His attention left her confused. She thought she should be focused on the children, on taking care of their home, on improving the relationship she had with her mother.

  When she confessed as much to Mammi, her grandmother waved away her concerns. “Never think you are too busy for love, Sarah. Love is what carries us through the bad days and sweetens the good.”

  But Sarah wasn’t so sure. There were too many questions, things she didn’t even want to voice. Why did anything have to change? Finally life was good. They were able to pay their own way. In February they would again return to family court, and while Judge Murphy could postpone her ruling, Sarah thought she wouldn’t. She thought that the judge would decide—one way or the other—when they saw her again.

  It was on Valentine’s that Paul asked her to marry him. She’d finally agreed to go to dinner, something he’d tried to convince her to do for many weeks. She almost laughed when he picked her up in his horse and buggy, and it seemed as if they were both remembering the first picnic they’d shared, the ride on his old decrepit tractor, the way the day had turned sour.

  But dinner at the small restaurant downtown was gut. They never ran out of things to talk about, and Sarah felt herself relaxing around him—something that happened more and more often.

  When he’d pulled into her lane, she’d gathered up her bag and tightened the belt on her coat.

  Paul reached out and said, “I was hoping we could talk for a minute.”

  “Here?” Night had fallen, but a crescent moon shone on the snow-covered fields.

  “Ya, so we could have some…um…privacy.”

  He’d pulled the buggy to a stop, checked the battery heater to be sure it continued to pump out heat, and then he turned toward her and removed his hat.

  “I think you know how I feel about you.”

  “You’re a gut friend.”

  “I want to be more than that.”

  She didn’t know what to say, so she stared at her hands.

  “You are an amazing woman, Sarah Yoder. I knew it the first time you came into the
store, buying flour and oats and insisting you could carry it all yourself. I’ve probably loved you since then.”

  “Paul—”

  “Let me say this. It’s…it’s important that I say it. I watched all of my bruders marry, but I thought it would never happen to me. I was happy being a bachelor, though I knew…I knew I wanted to be a farmer.” Now he glanced out across the fields.

  When he turned toward her again, Sarah thought that surely he could hear her heart hammering in her chest.

  “Buying this farm brought me closer to you. I want to marry you, Sarah. I love you, and I want to be your husband.”

  “I can’t…I can’t answer that question right now.”

  “Okay.” He frowned, reminding her of that first time in the dry goods store when she’d thought he was such an unfriendly person.

  “We’re about to find out about Mateo and Mia. And Henry wants to start his own business in the spring. Andy, he’s broken up with Emma twice, but now—”

  “Sarah, I love your family. I understand that you’re under a lot of pressure. I don’t want to add to that.”

  “But you are! I can’t make a decision like this. Not now.”

  He’d pulled her hands into his lap and rubbed her fingers until they were no longer numb. He looked at her and said, “Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

  “Ya. I will.”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  It was two days before she shared the conversation with Mammi. She’d expected her grandmother to tell her to follow her heart or remind her again of the importance of love, but instead she’d simply put a piece of chocolate in her hand and said, “We’ll pray about this, Sarah. Both of us will.”

  A week later they received a letter from the court, saying the date for their hearing had been postponed until May.

  CHAPTER 77

  Henry, Luke, Isaac, Mateo, and Mia stood in a line in front of the couch—fidgeting, tugging on their clothes, and whispering to one another. It was rare for the children to miss a day of school, but Sarah had readily agreed that everyone should go to the court hearing. To her each and every person in front of the couch was a part of her family. They looked related to one another, and it wasn’t just because of their Plain clothing. They watched out for one another, loved one another. Even now Mateo was helping Isaac with something in his pocket.

  “That had better not be a frog,” Luke said. “No amphibians in the judge’s courtroom.”

  “Nein, it’s not,” Isaac assured him.

  “It’s something much better, Sarah.” Mateo and Isaac exchanged a high five, and Sarah decided what was or wasn’t in the boy’s pocket wouldn’t matter.

  What mattered was what the judge thought when she looked at the five of them, plus Andy and herself and, of course, Mammi. Surely Judge Murphy would see the affection that Sarah saw. It told the story of what they’d been through together. The way they interacted with one another was what mattered, not who their birth mother was.

  But would it be enough? After all, their skin color told a different story. Mateo’s and Mia’s dark to their light. In the end, it would depend on what the judge chose to see.

  “Everyone ready? Gut.” Mammi marched into the room, wearing her dark blue dress and white apron, its pockets bulging with chocolate candies.

  “You’ll ruin their teeth.” Sarah crossed and recrossed her arms as Mammi walked down the row passing out the treats.

  “Nein. They brush their teeth several times a day and see Doc Jerry regularly. No worries about that, Sarah.”

  Andy pushed through the back door. “The van is here.”

  Sarah was relieved to see that he had somehow found the time to change into clean clothes. He’d taken on all the chores himself that morning—caring for the horse and donkey, goats and chickens, so Sarah wouldn’t worry over the younger ones being ready on time.

  In her heart, Sarah knew she couldn’t convince the judge with proper clothes and clean hands. Judge Murphy seemed to be a wise woman, someone who looked past a person’s words to their deeds. But the Englisch world was different than theirs. Sarah didn’t know if Judge Murphy would decide that a more traditional family would be best for Mateo and Mia. As she’d done a thousand times in the last month, her soul offered up a prayer. Mammi had reminded her just the night before that the outcome was already determined. She believed her grandmother and vowed in her heart that she would do her best not to try to wrestle it away from God’s competent hands.

  They all fit in the van with one seat belt to spare. Why was there an extra seat? She’d carefully planned…

  “Mia’s gone.” Andy immediately unbuckled and ducked out of the van.

  “But she was just here.” Sarah thought she’d watched the girl closely. How did she manage to slip away? And why?

  Luke patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll check the bedrooms.”

  “I’ll check the kitchen,” Henry said.

  “We’ll check the kitchen and mudroom.” Mateo and Isaac hurried toward the back of the house.

  They scattered out, searching in all of Mia’s favorite hiding places.

  It was Sarah who found her, standing in the middle of their garden, clutching a fistful of spring weeds that had bloomed beside their rows of vegetables.

  “For you, Sarah.” Mia ran over to her and held up her gift.

  A smudge of dirt now marred her newly laundered apron, and a bit of her dark hair had escaped from her kapp. Small things. Unimportant things. Sarah focused on the gift and chose to ignore the rest.

  “See? Flowers.”

  “I see. I do.” She gathered Mia in her arms, making a show of smelling the flowers. “Danki.”

  Mia rested her head on Sarah’s chest, but for once she didn’t stick her thumb into her mouth. Instead she whispered, “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mia.”

  She hurried to the van, her brothers tumbling out of the house to join her.

  As they pulled out on the two-lane, she glanced toward Paul’s place. Her hands began to sweat and her heart thumped more forcefully against her breastbone. Why had she allowed herself to fall in love with Paul Byler? Didn’t she have enough to deal with emotionally? She should be completely focused on the children, not on an adolescent dream of two people living happily ever after. Too often she found her thoughts wandering toward him, acting like a teenager who was moonstruck over a boy.

  But she wasn’t a teenager. She was an adult with the responsibilities of an adult. She was the mother of the children around her.

  As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, Mammi reached over and squeezed her hand, but she offered no words of wisdom. What could she say that she hadn’t already? Sarah understood. She knew it was her choice to accept Mammi’s wisdom or struggle through this season of life figuring things out on her own.

  And what had Mammi said just last night?

  Either Sarah decided to trust Paul, to trust the life he offered, or she didn’t. That was a decision she would have to make…but not today.

  Today was about the children.

  CHAPTER 78

  Paul climbed into the SUV with Joseph, Rebecca, and Bishop Levi. They’d had a short discussion the night before as to whether they should go. Bishop Levi was going because he wanted to provide spiritual support whichever way the case was decided. Paul’s brother and sister-in-law were going because they had come to think of Sarah as one of their own. And Paul? In the end he decided he would go because he’d been there since the beginning, since the day he’d walked in on Sarah doing the laundry, Mateo dripping in rinse water, and Mia hiding on a bottom shelf.

  He hadn’t realized that he’d lost his heart to the family that afternoon, but he had. It was something he was willing to admit now—finally. Though there was much work still to do on his farm, the work would be there the next day. Today, he would support Sarah.

  They waited until the van Sarah was riding in had pulled in beside them. The two drivers worked out their ro
ute to the courthouse in Tulsa, and the van’s driver took the lead.

  He only caught a glimpse of Sarah. She was sitting in the middle seat, and glanced at him long enough for Paul to give her a thumbs-up.

  “Try not to worry,” Rebecca said.

  “She still hasn’t given me her answer.”

  Rebecca shared a look with Joseph. Then she pulled her knitting from her bag and said, “Sarah has a lot to deal with right now.”

  “Ya, that she does.”

  “And no answer is nearly a yes,” Joseph said.

  “That makes no sense.”

  “It does! If a customer tells me no, they don’t want something, I respect their decision. But if they tell me maybe, then the door is open for me to sell them that item.”

  “But this isn’t something I’m selling her. This is our future.”

  “Still, a maybe is better than a no.”

  Paul wasn’t so sure. With a no, he could go on with his life—lonely existence though it might be. A maybe meant that his heart kept hoping.

  As if sensing the desperate turn of his thoughts, Rebecca began chatting about the beautiful weather and how grateful she was that the rains had stopped.

  Paul allowed his mind to drift to thoughts of the courtroom. Would today make Sarah’s life better or worse?

  If the judge decided against permanent placement, her heart would be broken. Would she be able to accept the decision? They had talked about it often enough. Paul knew that she ached for Elisa Lopez. She told him once that she prayed every night for the children’s mother, that she might find help and healing.

  But neither of them believed the children would be better in that situation—moving from town to town, subject to Elisa’s relapses.

  There was another reason the judge might rule against permanent placement. She might decide that the children would be better off with a Hispanic family. Could such a family love them more? No. But they could offer both Mateo and Mia more insight into their cultural heritage.

  Paul had no idea how the judge would rule. The bishop had explained that she might again postpone making a decision. Everything would be done with the children’s best interest in mind. Paul didn’t understand the Englisch well enough to even hazard a guess as to what the outcome would be, and he certainly wasn’t familiar with their legal system.