Amish Triplets for Christmas

by Carrie Lighte

“You are not eating?” he asked when Hannah took only a scant amount of pork and sauerkraut.

  “The heat,” she mouthed simply, waving her hand in the air to indicate the warm weather even though she doubted it was the humidity that tied her stomach up in knots.

  “I’ll have another helping,” he ordered, thrusting the dish toward Hannah.

  She knew his request meant he enjoyed the food more than usual, and she served him an ample scoop. At least the next day she wouldn’t have to worry about providing their dinner, since they’d eat following church service. She only needed to be certain to have a light meal on hand in the event they received unexpected visitors for Sunday night supper, as was the practice in their district.

  After she dried the last dish, she sat adjacent to her grandfather, who was silently reading the weekly newspaper, The Budget. Out of the corner of her eye, Hannah could see the man’s profile fringed by the gray of his sideburns and beard. His lips moved as he read to himself, and she was instantly filled with compassion.

  She supposed the way he saw it, the shopkeeper’s son might as well have told him his life’s work was meaningless. Her grandfather once had a reputation for being one of the most skilled furniture makers in the district, and now he couldn’t even peddle his toys to Englisch tourists, who weren’t exactly esteemed for their eye for craftsmanship.

  He was old, deaf and near penniless, and she realized he deserved more respect than certain people—including herself, if only in her thoughts—had given him. Hadn’t he raised her and provided for her all these years? And didn’t she know how troubling it was to feel as if you’d lost your purpose? She might have lashed out the same way if she were in his shoes.

  Before folding back her sheets that night, she silently prayed, asking God to forgive her own anger and allow her to mend the rift with Joseph Schrock her grandfather had created by his. She ended by asking once again, And please, Lord, give us our daily bread.

  * * *

  “Daed, Daed!” screamed Sarah.

  Before his eyes were even open, Sawyer leaped out of bed and scrambled for her room. He propelled himself forward so quickly that he slipped and crashed against the door. He managed to brace himself against the frame with his hands, but not before his forehead made contact with the knob.

  I’m getting hit at both ends today, he thought as he staggered down the hall.

  “Hush, Sarah, hush,” he quieted her. “It’s only a dream.”

  “Giant black horses were circling me,” she cried. “I was all alone. I kept calling you and calling you, but you couldn’t hear me.”

  “I am here now,” he said soothingly. “I heard you calling me and I came. But you must remember, the Lord is always with you, so you are never truly alone.”

  After Sarah finally dropped back to sleep, Sawyer stretched out in his bed and put his arms behind his head, which by that time was throbbing from his fall. It was little surprise that Sarah had such a vivid dream; the day had been filled with unpleasant experiences.

  First, she had witnessed him narrowly springing clear of Albert Lantz’s buggy, only to land on his backside. His dignity had been the only part of him that was injured, but the near-accident frightened Sarah to tears.

  Then, an hour after dinner, Sarah and Samuel were both sick to their stomachs. The only reason Simon didn’t throw up was because he barely took two small bites of the undercooked fish John served, filling up instead on potatoes and broccoli.

  “When my brother and I were their age, we ate what our mamm served or we went to bed hungry,” Jonas said gruffly, and Sawyer hadn’t pointed out that their mother’s cooking was undoubtedly better than their dad’s.

  Rubbing his eyes, he prayed, Lord, please help Sarah to sleep through the night. When he took his hand away, his fingers felt sticky. He realized he’d broken his skin during the fall and knew he should get up to rinse it off, but before he could give it a second thought, he drifted into dreamland himself. The next thing he knew, it was time to rise and milk the cows before church services.

  “What happened to you?” Phillip asked as they headed to the barn in the light from the rising sun.

  “I tripped in the dark last night and whacked my head on the doorknob.”

  “You’re as clumsy as the boys,” Jonas ridiculed. “I heard the ruckus and assumed they were horsing around.”

  Sawyer counted to three so he wouldn’t respond defensively. Although the boys engaged in horseplay during the day, they’d never been disruptive of anyone’s sleep, so Jonas had no reason to suspect they caused the late-night commotion.

  “Neh, it was me. Sarah had another nightmare, so I was rushing to her room when I fell.”

  “If you ask me,” Jonas advised, “she shouldn’t be so afraid of her own shadow by now. She’s a scholar, not a bobbel.”

  Sawyer didn’t know how to take Jonas’s remark. Perhaps he and Phillip weren’t used to the ways of small children because they didn’t have younger siblings. Or, because it had been several years since Lydia died, maybe they couldn’t remember how their mamm nurtured them when they were youngsters.

  That was yet another reason he appreciated Gertrude’s—and now Hannah’s—presence in the children’s lives: he wanted them to have a maternal influence, especially Sarah. Sawyer knew how to raise boys, but girls were a different matter. Still, he wondered if Jonas was right and he was being too soft. Eliza would have known better what to expect of a girl Sarah’s age.

  He changed the subject, teasing his cousins about a topic he knew was at the forefront of their teenage minds.

  “I’m looking forward to the services today,” he said. “I want to see if it’s true, that there are no young women in Willow Creek to capture your fancy. Although, Jonas, if you usually show up wearing that scowl on your face, it’s no wonder they go into hiding.”

  Jonas joked back, “The sight of your forehead is the only thing that would make a woman go into hiding, dopplich!”

  Sawyer didn’t mind his cousin calling him clumsy. “Kumme, we’d both better wash the ‘ugly’ from our faces, then,” he agreed, affectionately clapping Jonas on the shoulder as they headed back to the house to get ready for church.

  That Sunday, services were held at Miriam and Jacob Stolzfus’s home. Afterward Sawyer surveyed the young women setting the long, makeshift lunch tables the men had set up in the yard. Most of the females wore black kapps to church, indicating they were unmarried, but they appeared so young as to be children themselves.

  He was just thinking he could understand why Jonas attended singings in a neighboring district when he spotted the black kapp of a maedel delivering a pitcher of water to a freshly set table. From behind, Sawyer couldn’t distinguish her age for certain—she was small enough to be a teenager but something about her posture suggested the poise of an adult.

  He craned his neck to peer over a row of men taking their places at the table. The woman glanced over her shoulder at that moment and Sawyer recognized it was Hannah. His pulse quickened when she gave him the briefest of nods before turning forward again.

  He’d have to wait for her to finish serving before telling her he’d bought a surplus of items for her pantry so she wouldn’t worry about having three extra mouths to feed in the coming weeks. Just as she didn’t want their arrangement to add to Sawyer’s concerns, he didn’t want it to add to hers. But meanwhile, when he spotted Hannah’s grandfather voraciously wolfing down a helping of bread, cold slices of ham, cheese and pickled beets, he deliberately took a seat at the farthest end of the table. He already had two bumps too many to risk getting a third.

  * * *

  Although lunch at the women’s table was a rushed affair—everyone knew there were more people after them waiting for a seat, so they ate quickly and then vacated the space—Hannah welcomed the opportunity to visit with the other ladies afte
rward while they did dishes.

  “Have you heard the news?” Doris Hooley hissed, nodding toward Miriam.

  “You mean about Miriam being with child?” Hannah asked, realizing she was spoiling Doris’s gossip. She was surprised Miriam had confided in Doris, too, but perhaps she was too exuberant to exercise prudence. “Isn’t it wunderbaar?”

  “Jah,” Doris agreed and directed her next question to Miriam. “Did you know that John Plank has a nephew visiting for harvest season? We have a wealthy widower in our midst—and he is six foot two if he’s an inch!”

  “His name is Sawyer Plank,” Hannah confirmed to Miriam. “He was chatting with Jacob when you visited the schoolhouse recently.”

  “I think I recall seeing him,” Miriam said. “My Abigail talks about his Sarah incessantly. They’ve become fast friends. She enjoys his sons, as well.”

  “Jah, they’re all very eager scholars and—”

  “Enough talk about the kinner,” Doris interrupted. “Let’s talk about their daed. I found him to act a bit stiff initially, but perhaps he’s the silent, brooding type. He needs a little loosening up. Hannah, you’ve had many conversations with him. What do you think?”

  Hannah was so flabbergasted by Doris’s assessment that she didn’t know quite how to respond. “I hold him in high regard as the daed of my students.”

  Doris rolled her eyes and commented to Miriam, “She has to say something formal like that—he’s also her employer. She’s taking care of his kinner after school.”

  “That’s not true!” Hannah protested.

  “You’re not caring for his kinner after school?” Doris smirked mischievously.

  “I think what Hannah means,” Miriam interjected, “is that her primary focus is on her scholars, not on their daed, even though she finds him to be a very decent man.”

  Hannah shot her a grateful look, but Miriam’s words were wasted on Doris, who retorted, “Well, while you’re focusing on the kinner, I’m going to focus on Sawyer. I would have thought that someone in your financial situation would have been leaping to stake a more, shall we say, permanent arrangement with him. But if not, just don’t complain that I didn’t give you every opportunity. You, of all people, should know not to let an eligible bachelor pass you by, lest someone else snatch him up.”

  Hannah was doubly embarrassed. First, because Doris drew attention to how strapped she was financially and implied that Hannah would use Sawyer to improve her future status. Secondly, Doris’s remarks included a direct reference to Hannah’s rejection of Jacob, and she felt so mortified that Doris had brought up the subject after all these years that she couldn’t even look at Miriam.

  “Excuse me, please. I’m finished here and I need some air,” Hannah calmly stated, wringing out the dishcloth.

  She found a quiet place in the yard beneath an apple tree. Picking up a stray piece of fruit, she rubbed it against her skirt and paced in small circles. There was a third reason for Hannah’s agitation: it annoyed her that Doris was intent on pursuing Sawyer.

  It wasn’t that Hannah had a romantic interest in him herself, but she resented how easy Doris assumed it would be to win his affections and perhaps even become his wife. Or perhaps she resented the fact that in Doris’s case, marriage could have been simply a matter of falling in love and getting wed; Doris had no other responsibilities or obstacles standing in her way. Even her advanced age didn’t seem to discourage her. Hannah supposed she could have drawn inspiration from her friend’s attitude, but on this roasting afternoon, she just felt irritated.

  The longer she waited for her grandfather to finish his meal, the more agitated she became, and she was so consumed by her own impatience that when she heard her name called from behind, she twitched, dropping the apple.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to startle you,” Sawyer said.

  He had been trying to remember to use a softer tone, especially around Hannah, but he had been so keen to talk to her, he couldn’t contain his eagerness. He bent to pick up the fruit that had rolled toward his feet. Before straightening to his full height, he noticed she avoided meeting his eyes, and he thought she was angry at him for his trespass. Had she been praying? Did she wish to have a quiet moment alone?

  “Better a bruised apple than a bruised foot,” she said, her fingertips grazing his as she accepted the fruit. She seemed almost embarrassed to look at him.

  “Pardon me?” he questioned. She was so quick-witted that he sometimes was puzzled by her turns of phrase.

  “I mean, I am the one who is sorry. Please accept my apology for my groossdaadi’s reckless steering yesterday.”

  Sawyer waved his hand in dismissal. “Your grandfather was concentrating on the horse, not on me. I shouldn’t have been standing so close to the wheel. After all, he is deaf.”

  “Deaf, jah, but blind, neh.” Hannah’s white smile brightened her face, and when she finally peeked upward at him, she gasped. “Oh, neh! Your forehead! Was that from yester—”

  Sawyer’s hand flew to his eyebrow. He’d forgotten all about it. “Neh,” he assured her. “Your groossdaadi may be a poor driver, but I am even a worse sleepwalker. I got this when I collided with a doorknob trying to comfort Sarah last night. She has nightmares, you see.”

  “How upsetting,” she commented, scrunching her forehead.

  “Some people think I should let her calm herself at night. They say she’s too old to be so frightened by her dreams.”

  “Nonsense!” Hannah declared. “I recall suffering from terrifying dreams after my mamm and daed died when I was a child. They worsened again when Groossmammi passed, and during other times of adjustment. Sarah is fortunate to have you to comfort her. She’ll outgrow the nightmares in due time.”

  Once again, Sawyer found Hannah’s insights to be reassuring. He was about to thank her for her encouragement when she added comically, “Of course, you might want to wear your hat into her bedroom at night, lest you scare her all the more with that wounded forehead of yours.”

  Their laughter was interrupted by Doris’s shrill voice.

  “Yoo-hoo,” she called. “I hear there’s a patient in need of nursing.”

  She waved a vial and cloth as she promenaded in their direction.

  “Hello, Sawyer. Jonas told me you had an accident.”

  “Did he, now?” Sawyer grimaced. “It’s nothing, really.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Doris ordered. “Here, let me clean it off with witch hazel.”

  Sawyer put his hands up defensively as Doris approached. No woman had tended to his wounds or touched his face since Eliza died.

  Suddenly a man bellowed from the distance, “Hannah! Hannah!”

  “I must go. I’ll see you both in the morning, Gott willing.” Hannah excused herself before Sawyer had the chance to mention the groceries.

  “Why must you flinch?” Doris chastised. “You’re a big strong man, not a bobbel, so stop squirming. This won’t hurt a bit.”

  As she dabbed witch hazel onto Sawyer’s skin, he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. Why was it that his conversations with Hannah never lasted nearly as long as he wanted them to, but his interactions with Doris never ended quickly enough?

  Chapter Five

  Hannah was writing on the blackboard when Sawyer and the children arrived the next morning.

  “Guder mariye, Hannah,” Sawyer said, remembering to subdue his voice.

  She turned to face them, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Guder mariye, Sawyer. Guder mariye, Simon, Sarah and Samuel.”

  “Guder mariye,” they chorused.

  Each of the children approached her desk, gingerly piling it with the sacks they carried, and then scooted outside to play before the other students arrived. Sawyer placed his two larger sacks on the flo
or.

  “What is this?” she asked in surprise.

  “It’s for your pantry. I realize your travel into town is limited, and I doubt you had time to shop for enough food for three extra mouths.”

  “Denki,” Hannah voiced aloud to Sawyer and then paused to express her silent gratitude to the Lord for His answer to her prayers.

  Sawyer quickly said, “I hope you don’t receive these supplemental items as an insult—I’m not suggesting you prepare any meals in particular.”

  “Neh, not at all. It’s very thoughtful.” Amused, she confessed, “But I must say, it looks like enough to fill a silo.”

  Sawyer chuckled at himself. “My sister Gertrude is the one who manages our purchases. I admit I never pay much attention to the ingredients she buys.”

  Hannah faltered. “Nothing will go to waste. It’s just...”

  “Just what?”

  “It’s just I haven’t brought a wheelbarrow to carry it home in,” she said with a giggle.

  Sawyer threw back his head, laughing aloud. “I suppose I will have to return this afternoon to give you a ride home, then.”

  Hannah protested that if he came back in the afternoon, it would disrupt his farmwork and defeat the purpose of her watching the children, but he insisted.

  “Just this once won’t cause a hardship,” he asserted. “It would be my pleasure. Truly.”

  After Sawyer uttered the words, Hannah remained silent, weighing the situation. Her grandfather wouldn’t accept groceries from another man, even though she couldn’t possibly stretch their menu without the supplemental food. She didn’t want him being rude to Sawyer again, but she supposed there was nothing she could do to stop him.

  “It would be my pleasure to accept,” she finally stated. “Denki, Sawyer. I will see you this afternoon, Gott willing.”

  * * *

  Although she had intended to show the children the hidden bird’s nest she’d spotted near the stream on the shortcut home, Hannah was just as glad to be traversing in the buggy. The hot and humid weather still hadn’t broken, and the sun beat down on her shoulders. She caught a faint whiff of Sawyer’s sweat, which was mingled with the scent of soap and freshly pitched hay. Watching Sawyer’s masculine hands loosely holding the reins made her aware of how rarely she’d been in such close proximity to any man except her grandfather.