* * *
After they’d eaten lunch, John urged Sawyer to join him on the porch before returning to the fields.
“It’s never too hot or too late for coffee,” he said, hobbling toward him with a crutch under one arm and a mug sloshing precariously in his other hand.
Sawyer accepted the strong, hot drink. Brewing coffee appeared to be his uncle’s only culinary skill; from what Sawyer had tasted so far, the food he prepared was marginally palatable, although there was certainly a lot of it.
“I’ve been thinking,” Sawyer started. “I’d like to hire a young woman to watch the kinner after school. She can transport them home in the afternoon and cook our supper, as well.”
“Our meals don’t suit you?” joshed John.
“Jah, the food is ample and hearty,” he answered quickly, not wanting to insult his host. He launched into an earnest explanation. “But since you can’t get into and out of the buggy without an adult to assist you, it would be easier to have someone else pick them up from school in the afternoon. This way, my work will only be interrupted in the morning, not in the morning and afternoon both. If the woman I hire is going to care for the kinner in the afternoon, she may as well fix us supper, too.”
John chortled. “Trust me, Sawyer, I understand. The boys and I haven’t had a decent meal since my Lydia died five years ago. But they’re teenagers and they’ll eat anything. How did you get on without Gertrude these last few weeks in Ohio?”
“I hired their friend’s mamm to mind the kinner with her own while I was in the shop during the day, but evenings were chaotic,” Sawyer admitted. “You can guess what the cooking was like by how scrawny the kinner are.”
“You need a full-time wife, not a part-time cook,” John ribbed him. “Someone who will keep you company, not just keep your house.”
“So I’ve been told,” Sawyer replied noncommittally. His uncle was only a few years older than he was, and they good-naturedly badgered each other like brothers. “I imagine you’ve been given the same advice yourself?”
“Jah, but I live in withering Willow Creek, not in thriving Blue Hill. Isn’t there a matchmaker who can pair you with one of the many unmarried women in your town?”
Chuckling self-consciously, Sawyer confessed, “After a dozen attempts, the matchmaker declared me a useless cause, much to Gertrude’s dismay.”
He’d found his lifetime match when he’d met Eliza, the love of his life and mother of his children. But rather than try to explain, he offered John the excuse he’d made so frequently he half believed it himself. “I can’t be distracted by a woman. I have a cabinetry shop to run, employees to oversee. Their livelihood depends on me, and business is tough. But Gertrude is at that age where her mind is filled with romantic notions about love and courting, probably more for herself than for me.”
“My sons are at that age, too,” John said. “It’s only natural.”
“Perhaps,” Sawyer agreed. But he wanted to protect his sister from the risk that came with loving someone so much that losing the person caused unimaginable grief. She was too young to experience that kind of pain.
Besides, as long as Gertrude lived with them, he didn’t have to worry about the children being raised without a female presence in the house. His sister tended to their every need, as much like their older sibling as their aunt.
Aloud he said, “I’ll arrange to hire someone as soon as possible. Do you have any recommendations?”
“Most of the women in Willow Creek are married with kinner and farms of their own, and they live too far from here to make transporting your kinner worth anyone’s while. Either that, or the younger meed need to watch their siblings,” John replied. “But Hannah Lantz, the schoolteacher, lives nearby and she’s unmarried. She’s very capable to boot.”
Sawyer suppressed the urge to balk. There was something about the winsome teacher that unsettled him, although perhaps it was only that he hadn’t gotten off on the right foot with her by showing up late to school.
“Are you sure she’s the only one?”
“Not unless you want Doris Hooley fawning over you.”
“Who’s she?”
“She’s the upper-grade schoolteacher. You haven’t met her yet?”
“Neh,” Sawyer answered. “Not yet.”
“Consider yourself fortunate.” John grinned. “I don’t know her well, but it’s rumored she can be very...attentive. Especially toward unmarried men.”
A woman’s amorous attention was the last thing Sawyer wanted. Deciding he’d present his employment proposition to Hannah that afternoon, he downed the last of his drink.
“If only I were half as strong as your coffee,” he joked, “the fields would be harvested in no time.”
But the work was so grueling that Sawyer lost track of time and returned to the schoolhouse nearly an hour after the rest of the students had departed. The boys were tossing a ball between them and Sarah was sitting on the steps, her head nestled against Hannah’s arm as Hannah read a book aloud to her.
When he hopped down from his buggy and started across the lawn, Hannah rose and the children raced in his direction.
“I told Sarah not to worry—there was a gut reason you were late,” Hannah said.
Her statement sounded more like a question, and whatever vulnerable quality he noticed in her face earlier was replaced by a different emotion. Anger, perhaps? Or was it merely annoyance? Whatever it was, Sawyer once again felt disarmed by the look in her eyes—which were rimmed with long, thick lashes—as if she could see right through him.
“Forgive my tardiness,” he apologized, without offering an explanation. He didn’t have a valid excuse, nor did he want to start rambling again. He needed to make a good impression if he wanted her to consider becoming a nanny to his children.
“I notice there’s another buggy in the yard,” he observed. “Is it yours?”
“It’s Doris Hooley’s,” she responded curtly. “She’s the upper-grade teacher.”
“In that case, may I offer you a ride home?”
* * *
“Denki, but neh. I have tasks to finish inside. Besides, it seems as if your horse trots slower than I can walk,” Hannah answered in a tone that was neither playful nor entirely serious. “Samuel, Simon and Sarah, I will see you in the morning, Gott willing.”
She turned on her heel, gathered her skirt and scurried back up the steps into the schoolhouse. Inside the classroom, she quickly gathered a sheaf of papers and stuffed them into her satchel.
She knew she hadn’t acted very charitably, but Sawyer Plank seemed an unreliable man, turning up late, twice in one day, without so much as an explanation or excuse for his second offense. Did he think because he was a wealthy business owner, common courtesies didn’t apply to him? Or perhaps in Ohio, folks didn’t honor their word, but in Willow Creek, people did what they said they were going to do. Not to mention, Sarah was fretting miserably that something terrible had happened to detain her father. It was very inconsiderate of him to keep them all waiting like that.
As Hannah picked up an eraser to clean the chalkboard, Doris sashayed into the room. Although she lived in the opposite direction, she had volunteered to bring Hannah home. Hannah suspected Doris wanted an excuse to dillydally until Sawyer arrived so she could size him up. But whatever the reason behind Doris’s gesture, Hannah was grateful for the transportation home on such a muggy afternoon.
“Where have the triplets gone?” Doris inquired. “I thought they were with you.”
“They just left with their daed.”
“Ach! I must have been in the washroom when he came to retrieve them,” Doris whined.
They were interrupted by a hesitant rapping at the door—Sawyer hadn’t left after all. He removed his hat and waited to be invited in. Hannah hoped he hadn’t hea
rd their discussion.
“You may enter. I won’t bite.” Doris tee-heed. “I’m Doris Hooley.”
She was so tall her eyes were nearly even with Sawyer’s, and Hannah couldn’t help but notice she batted her lashes repeatedly.
“Guder nammidaag,” he replied courteously.
She tittered. “You remind me of a little boy on his first day of school, so nervous you forget to tell the class your name.”
Apparently unfazed by Doris’s brash remark, Sawyer straightened his shoulders and responded, “I am Sawyer Plank, nephew of John Plank, and I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to ask Hannah something concerning the kinner.”
“Of course,” Hannah agreed. Although she had no idea what he wanted to request of her, she felt strangely smug that Sawyer had sought her out in front of Doris. “What is it?”
“As you may have guessed, my work on the farm makes it inconvenient for me to pick up the kinner after school,” he began. He continued to explain he considered delivering the children to school to be a necessary interruption of his morning farmwork, but that he hoped to hire someone to transport them home and oversee them after school through the evening meal.
“She also would be expected to prepare a meal for all of us, but I would pay more than a fair wage. Of course, she would be invited to eat with us, as well.”
He hardly had spoken his last word when Doris suggested, “I’d be pleased to provide the kinner’s care. I have daily use of a buggy and horse and could readily bring them to the farm when school is over for the day. I think you’ll find I’m a fine cook, too.”
Sawyer opened his mouth and closed it twice before stammering, “I’m sorry, but you’ve misunderstood. I—I—”
“I believe he was offering the opportunity to me, since I’m the kinner’s teacher and they’ll be more familiar with me,” Hannah broke in. Despite her initial misgivings about Sawyer, she was absolutely certain this was the provision she’d been praying to receive. She didn’t give the matter a second thought before adding, “And I agree to do it.”
“I see,” Doris retorted in a frosty tone directed at Hannah. “Well, I’ll leave the two of you alone to discuss your arrangement further.”
“Denki. I will stop by your classroom as soon as I’m ready to leave,” Hannah confirmed.
Before exiting, Doris turned to Sawyer and brazenly hinted, “With Hannah watching the triplets, I hope you find you have time for socializing with your neighbors here in Willow Creek.”
* * *
No sooner had Doris flounced away than Hannah confessed, “I was being hasty. I shouldn’t have accepted your offer. I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t possibly help you.”
“Why not? If it’s a matter of salary, I assure you I’ll pay you plentifully and—”
“Neh, it isn’t that,” Hannah insisted. “It’s...my groossdaadi. I have a responsibility to him. I must keep our house, make our supper... He is old and deaf. He can’t manage on his own. And unlike Doris, I don’t have daily transportation. Our buggy is showing signs of wear and the horse is getting old, so we limit taking them out for essential trips only.”
Sawyer was quiet a moment, his eyes scanning her face. She looked as downcast as he felt.
“Suppose the kinner come home from school with you and stay until after supper? Would your groossdaadi object? I would collect them each evening. They could help you with your household chores and they wouldn’t make any—”
“Jah!” she interrupted, beaming. “I will have to ask Groossdaadi, but I don’t think he’ll object. I’ll need a few days to confirm it with him and make preparations. Perhaps I could begin next Monday?”
“Absolutely.” Sawyer grinned. “Now, would you please permit the kinner and me to give you a ride home? I’ll need to know where you live in order to pick them up on Monday.”
She hesitated before saying, “Denki, but Doris has already offered.”
“Are you certain?” he persisted.
Just then, a flash of lightning brightened the room and Hannah dropped the eraser she was holding, effectively halting their conversation. “I’m certain,” she stated. “You mustn’t keep your kinner waiting any longer. They’ve been so patient already.”
Sawyer was taken aback by the sudden shift in Hannah’s demeanor. As he darted through the spitting rain, he thought that her countenance was like the weather itself; one minute her expression was sunny and clear, but the next it was clouded and dark. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her at all, but at least his worries about the children’s care had subsided for the time being.
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.
Amish Triplets for Christmas Page 2
