Amish Triplets for Christmas

by Carrie Lighte

  “Of course.” Sawyer was stumped and didn’t know what else to say.

  “I know I said she has the reputation of being desperate, but that’s not how I see her, now that I’ve gotten to know her. She’s made many sacrifices to help our family lately, especially given that the boys are not always receptive to her. Jah, she’s a terrific cook and she dotes on me, but what I enjoy most is that I can talk to her about things. She offers a perspective only a woman can give. And she makes me laugh, which I haven’t done for years.”

  “I see,” said Sawyer, who understood too well what his uncle meant. “Then you have my blessing.”

  “Denki,” John replied. “Now, at the risk of embarrassing you all the more, I’m going to give you a piece of advice.”

  “If the grass looks greener on the other side, fertilize?” Sawyer joshed, growing uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

  “Who told you that gem? Jonas?” John howled. “Neh, my advice is that you’re too young to stay a widower for the rest of your life. You owe it to the kinner. Trust me, it only gets more difficult to raise them alone as they grow. But more than that, you owe it to yourself. There’s no substitute for the kind of companionship—the kind of love—a woman and man share, especially a husband and wife. You know that.”

  Sawyer did know there was no substitute for that kind of love, which was exactly why he didn’t expect he’d find anything quite like it ever again. But perhaps John was right. Perhaps it was time for him to consider marriage for the sake of the children. He couldn’t expect Gertrude to live with them forever, and there was no denying how much healthier and happier they were with Hannah in their lives. Granted, he’d known her only a short while, but he and Hannah shared a growing affinity for one another. He wondered if, with more time, she might consider the possibility of an enduring relationship.

  As they slowly made their way to the house, John seemed to read Sawyer’s thoughts. “If you’re considering courting someone, you should ask her soon,” he suggested. “After all, you know what they say. ‘One of these days is none of these days.’”

  “That’s interesting advice from someone who’s moving so slowly he might as well be going backward,” Sawyer joked.

  “Hey!” John shouted, swinging his crutch. “I can’t help it. I’m injured!”

  But Sawyer had already bounded into the house, where Doris had lunch waiting for them.

  * * *

  “Now how are we going to make the pies?” Sarah howled when she realized the boys hadn’t managed to salvage a single egg.

  Hannah was less worried about the pies than she was about the fact she and her grandfather had only two chickens left to see them through the winter.

  “We will borrow some from Grace Zook,” she stated calmly. “Simon and Samuel, please run to their house and tell her I need six more eggs for pie crusts for church dinner tomorrow. Grace will be happy to share.”

  “But what if that fisher cat is lurking?” Simon asked.

  “It isn’t. Groossdaadi scared it off.”

  “What...what if it’s hiding?” he persisted.

  “It’s not. Her groossdaadi killed it,” Samuel answered knowledgeably. “With the ax he uses for chopping wood.”

  “Your groossdaadi killed a cat?” Sarah wailed, and a torrent of tears streamed from her eyes.

  “Hush!” Hannah raised her voice and clapped her hands. “It was a weasel, not a cat, and Groossdaadi didn’t kill it with an ax—he chased it away with a shovel. It’s gone now, but if it makes you feel better, I will walk with you.”

  “Can we carry the shovel?” Simon inquired.

  “It’s ‘may we carry the shovel,’” Sarah corrected.

  “Hush!” Samuel ordered her. “You’re always doing that. You’re not our teacher.”

  “Kinner!” Hannah exclaimed, exasperated. “I am going to the Zook house myself. Sarah, you are going to finish sweeping up the flour in the kitchen. Samuel and Simon, you are going to scrub the broken eggs from the porch and parlor. When I return, each of you is getting a bath.”

  Lord, give me patience, she prayed as she trudged through the field. Inhaling deeply, she mused that she suddenly had a new appreciation for her grandfather’s mandate that “children should be seen, not heard.” Her frustration was short-lived, however; when she spotted a hawk circling above, she wished the children were there to witness it with her, and she hurried home to tell them about it.

  “Did her hinkel lay enough eggs?” Sarah asked anxiously.

  “I don’t know. She wasn’t home,” Hannah replied. “But don’t worry—there’s still plenty of time. We’ll check back in a little while. Kumme, get the boys. You all may wash off in the stream. That’s more fun than taking a bath any day. I’ll carry a large walking stick so Simon doesn’t fret about the fisher cat.”

  The air was so saturated with humidity that Hannah allowed the children to lollygag longer than usual in the water, so by the time they returned to the house, her grandfather was knocking around, grousing about how hungry he was.

  She quickly browned half a dozen pork chops, placed them into a glass dish, covered them with onion, Worcestershire sauce and homemade cream of mushroom soup, and then slid them into the oven for baking. After eating, she and Sarah washed, wiped and put away the dishes while the boys helped her grandfather clean his workshop and stack the firewood he split for the autumn.

  The third time they journeyed to the Zooks’ farm and found no one there, they sat on the grass in the shade before making the trek back home.

  Samuel suggested, “Couldn’t we take the eggs from the coop and leave a note?”

  “Of course not!” scolded Sarah. “That’s stealing!”

  “It is not!” Simon contradicted. “We’d leave a note. Besides, Hannah said Grace Zook would be happy to share. What do you think, Hannah?”

  “I think the three of you have been clucking more than the hinkel today!” Hannah laughed. “Come close, so I can give you a big hug beneath my wings.”

  She lifted her arms and they moved closer to snuggle, despite the heat. She squeezed them so awkwardly that they toppled over into a pile on the grass, laughing like mad. They lay there a long time, their heads touching, telling each other stories about the clouds, until Hannah abruptly sat up.

  “Listen,” she said. “Doesn’t that sound like the Zooks’ buggy coming down the lane?”

  * * *

  As drained as he was from laboring in the heat, Sawyer had a hunch Hannah was even more depleted. When he approached their home, he spotted the boys throwing a ball to each other on the grass. Sarah was slumped forlornly on the swing.

  “Difficult day?” he questioned Hannah.

  “Oh, she’s upset because there was a mishap with the eggs,” she explained. “We had to borrow from the neighbor, and by the time we had them in hand, it was too late to make the pies for church dinner tomorrow.”

  “Neh,” Sawyer said. “I meant did you have a difficult day?”

  “Me? Why do you ask?”

  “For one thing, I could see from a mile away that Sarah was pouting, which is enough to try even the most patient person’s nerves. And for another...” He hesitated. “Either you’ve gone gray in the past few hours or there was an explosion in your kitchen.”

  “Ach!” Hannah exclaimed, reaching to touch her hair. “It’s flour. I called on Grace Zook looking like this, as well. She never mentioned it.”

  “She was probably too distracted by the grass,” Sawyer joked, pulling a few blades from Hannah’s tendrils.

  She giggled so hard she started to cough. “I have to admit, we’ve had our challenges today.”

  “Did the kinner misbehave? I will speak to them if—”

  “Neh, they were fine. It’s nothing I couldn’t handle. I think this opp
ressive humidity wears on us all, don’t you?”

  Sawyer wasn’t convinced the weather was to blame for his children’s behavior, but he had every confidence that if Hannah said she handled it, the issue was resolved.

  “There is one thing I’d like your permission to do, however,” she requested. “You know how eager Sarah was to help me bake pies for tomorrow’s dinner, and you can see by how readily she just relinquished the swing to her brothers that she’s thoroughly disappointed.”

  Sawyer glanced in the direction of the willow and nodded.

  “Would you allow her to stay overnight with me? As soon as you boys skedaddle, she and I will get to work on the crusts. I won’t let her stay up too late—I’ll just let her complete the first few pies with me. She’ll be a big help, and we’ll bring her to the service with us in the morning.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Sawyer acknowledged. “But we both know she’ll be more of a hindrance than a help. And I don’t want your groossdaadi’s rest disturbed.”

  “My groossdaadi is a sound sleeper—he’s deaf, remember?”

  “You have so much baking to do before dawn. Sarah is the last person you need distracting you.”

  “On the contrary, teaching her will help me stay focused on what I’m doing. Please, Sawyer, for me?” she entreated, batting her eyelashes and clasping her hands in exaggerated petition. “Please?”

  “How can I say neh?” he replied, reveling in their chitchat. “But remember, if you wind up wearing apple slices in your hair to church services tomorrow, I tried to warn you I thought Sarah would get in the way!”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sarah was so euphoric about being able to spend the evening helping Hannah and then sleeping at her home overnight that she chattered nonstop the entire time they were baking. Hannah didn’t mind; it truly did keep her awake, and once they got a rhythm down of measuring, mashing and mixing, they turned into a two-maedel pie-making factory. Before long, the aroma of the first pies was emanating from the oven.

  “With that fragrant smell in the house, we’re all bound to have sweet dreams,” Hannah punned as she tucked Sarah into bed in Eve’s old room.

  “The whole day was like a sweet dream,” Sarah murmured, settling into her pillow and closing her eyes. “Especially this part, when I got to stay with you.”

  Hannah was tickled. Only a child who had gotten what she wanted most could ever call this day sweet! But Hannah felt the same way herself—for all of its chaos, she’d prefer this day of “nanny-hood” to the most serene day of solitude. Sarah’s remark was so dear it kept Hannah energized as she continued to slide pies into and out of the oven until midnight, when the last one was completed.

  In the morning, her grandfather didn’t seem surprised to see Sarah at the breakfast table. “You two kept me awake last night with all that baking,” he complained.

  Hannah wondered how in the world he could make that claim, but Sarah nodded her head knowingly and enunciated in her grandfather’s direction. “Next time, we will make something that doesn’t smell so loud.”

  To Hannah’s surprise, her grandfather threw back his head and laughed. “Denki,” he said. “I’d appreciate that.”

  Because she would be helping Doris clean up and host until the last person left, Hannah had warned her grandfather she might not return home until evening. So, after preparing and setting aside his supper, she saw to Sarah’s grooming. Then the three of them loaded the pies onto large pieces of wood and carried them like trays to the lane, where they waited for Doris to transport them to the Plank farm.

  “Guder mariye, Daed,” Sarah shouted happily when they arrived and she spied Sawyer hustling with his cousins in their direction. Doris disembarked, taking a board of pies from Hannah’s grandfather, who agreed to hitch the buggy in the designated area once they’d unloaded it.

  Sarah climbed down next, warning, “Jonas and Phillip, you may carry these but you can’t taste them. Don’t worry—Hannah and I made a secret extra pie for us to have after everyone else has gone.”

  “I think you just told the secret, Sarah,” Sawyer chided as he helped Hannah with the last of the cargo. “But it looks like you and Hannah made plenty for everyone anyway. You must have been up half the night.”

  “Not at all,” Hannah said as she handed him a pie. “We had a very sound sleep.”

  “You wouldn’t tell me if you didn’t, would you?” he teased.

  “Are you saying I don’t look rested?” she jested back.

  “Neh, I’ve learned better than to suggest that!” Sawyer protested, adding, “Even if your hair is still coated in flour.”

  “It is not!” Hannah squealed.

  “Neh, it’s not, but even if it were, it wouldn’t matter. Gott looks at the heart, not at outward appearances. And so do I,” Sawyer said. Turning red, he stammered, “Which isn’t to say you’re not beautiful on the outside, because of course you are, with or without flour in your hair. What I mean is, it was a beautiful thing you did for Sarah. It meant so much to her. Denki.”

  “It meant so much to me, too,” Hannah replied, and although Sawyer used his free arm to assist her down from the buggy, it felt as if her feet never touched the ground.

  * * *

  “Daed,” Sarah whispered after the lunch dishes had been washed and put away and most of the leit had departed. “Hannah said I mustn’t fish for compliments, but did you try the pie?”

  “I thought it was so gut the first time, I tried it twice to make sure I wasn’t mistaken,” he replied, winking at her before she skipped away to find Abigail.

  “What are you doing?” Jonas asked from behind. Phillip was with him.

  “Setting up the volleyball net, in case the young people want to play.”

  “The young people,” Jonas emphasized, “are leaving to socialize in another district. I’m letting Phillip tag along. We’ve finished the afternoon milking, so we’ll see you later.”

  Jacob Stolzfus was twisting the other pole into the ground. “Aw, c’mon, almost everyone’s gone home. You and Phillip can’t leave now! Sawyer and I need at least two more players.”

  “I’ll play,” Doris announced from the porch.

  “So will I,” echoed Hannah.

  “I don’t suppose anyone would choose either of us to be on their team, would they, Miriam?” John joked in reference to their physical conditions.

  “I’m comfortable right here in this rocking chair,” she claimed. “I’ll keep score.”

  “Can we play?” Simon asked.

  “Jah, can we? Can we?” begged Sarah, Samuel and Abigail.

  “Sure,” Sawyer agreed. “Kinner against adults.”

  “Daed!” they moaned, and Sawyer laughed. “Okay, okay, I pick Hannah for my team. And Abigail and Simon. Jacob, you get Doris, Sarah and Samuel.”

  “You had the opportunity to pick me and you passed it by?” Doris whined, insulted. “Except for you, I’m the tallest person here.”

  “Hannah may be tiny, but she’s mighty,” Sawyer replied with a laugh. “I’d choose her every time.”

  “Let’s see what size of a portion you get the next time I make dinner here—it might be tiny, too!” Doris shot back, and everyone cracked up.

  After an hour or so of a friendly tournament, Doris and Hannah served leftovers on the picnic table, and then Miriam, Jacob and Abigail said their goodbyes.

  “It’s almost dusk,” Hannah said as she sipped a glass of water. “We should be going, too, Doris, shouldn’t we? My groossdaadi might be wondering what’s become of me.”

  “I thought you mentioned to him you’d be late?” Doris objected. “I promised the kinner we’d watch for shooting stars tonight, and it’s not nearly dark enough yet.”

  Sawyer sensed that Doris’s main objective was to st
argaze with John, not with the kinner, but he decided to take her up on the offer.

  “The kinner will appreciate that,” he said. “Since Hannah is concerned about her groossdaadi, I will take her home now and return in time to put Sarah, Samuel and Simon to bed. Denki, Doris and John.”

  Hannah leaped to her feet. “I’ll accompany you to hitch up the horses,” she volunteered, and the two of them left before Doris could change her mind.

  Dusk blended into night as they drove toward Hannah’s house, and the darkness created a sense of cozy togetherness. Sawyer didn’t speak until the horse stopped in Hannah’s yard. There were no lamps glowing from the house.

  “It looks like your groossdaadi is asleep.”

  “I think I worry about him worrying about me more than he actually worries,” she said and gave a little giggle. “If that makes sense.”

  “Somehow, it does,” Sawyer admitted, reluctant to move. He wanted to delay their parting for as long as he could.

  “I should step down,” she said.

  “Please don’t.” The words were out of his mouth before he had time to temper the urgency with which he spoke them. “I mean, the boys told me about the fisher cat. Aren’t they nocturnal?”

  “Primarily, jah. Yet remember—I’m small but I’m mighty,” she taunted. “You said so yourself.”

  “Actually, Simon and Samuel said so. They told me all about your ax-wielding abilities.”

  Hannah laughed. “Their stories are greatly exaggerated, I’m sure. What else did they say about me?”

  “What don’t they say? It’s ‘Hannah this’ and ‘Hannah that’ all day long. I worry that when we return to Ohio, my poor sister Gertrude will feel put out by their praise of you.”

  “Neh, I hear plenty of wunderbaar stories about her, too,” Hannah assured him. “Besides, it’s not a competition. People care about one another in unique ways and there’s room enough for all, especially when love is involved.”