Sadie

by Sarah Price

  He glanced around the room. His eyes were close together and his face was as dirty as the kitchen had been. “Where’s Daed?”

  “Hunting.” Sadie gestured toward the set table. “You best get cleaned up and ready for school. Then you can have breakfast. And awaken your bruders and schwesters.”

  The boy’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not the boss of me.”

  So that’s how it’s to be, Sadie thought. She cleared her throat, suddenly realizing how long a week it was going to be. “Mayhaps not. But if you want some pancakes, I reckon you might want to do as I’ve asked.”

  His eyes widened at the word “pancakes” and, without saying another word, he hurried back upstairs. Within minutes, the kitchen was filled with more children than Sadie could count, and she found herself hovering over the stove, making batch after batch of pancakes and scrapple. She wondered when they’d last eaten a proper meal.

  Once their bellies were full, the older children’s attitude immediately shifted from compliance to defiance. With the three oldest being boys, Sadie knew that she had her hands full. It was all she could do to insist that they carry their plates to the sink before going upstairs to make their beds.

  “Aw, that there’s women’s work!” Owen, the twelve-year-old, scowled.

  “Ja, women’s work,” Matthew repeated his older brother’s words.

  Sadie took a deep breath and counted to ten. She knew that she’d get further with sugar than with spice. “All right then,” she said with a sigh. “I can do it, but I just won’t have time to make my special cookies. Such a shame. My oatmeal cookies are so chewy and full of sweet yellow raisins.”

  Owen looked at Matthew and John before shrugging. The three of them carried their plates to the sink, then took the small children by their hands and led them upstairs. Before long, she heard the sounds of busyness and knew that they were, indeed, making their beds as she’d asked.

  By the time she’d made sandwiches and packed their lunch pails, then sent them out the door to walk to school, Sadie was already exhausted. Whatever Rachel thought Sadie had done to deserve such punishment, Sadie knew she had already served her time.

  It was close to eleven o’clock when John returned from hunting. The two youngest children were napping, one on the sofa and the other upstairs in bed. The cookies were made, the kitchen was as clean as Sadie could get it, and a warm dinner rested on the stove.

  He barely noticed the effort as he hung his gun above the door and tossed his hat on the counter.

  Sadie could barely wait to leave.

  She noticed he didn’t even wash his hands before he sat down, waiting for her to serve him his meal.

  She clenched her teeth. “I best get going,” she said as she set the pot of chicken casserole onto a trivet in the center of the table. “Maem will be waiting for me.”

  He grunted and, without even a word of gratitude, dug into the pan.

  Relieved, Sadie slipped out the door, hurrying to the stable where she had left her father’s horse in a vacant stall. As fast as she could, she harnessed the horse and hitched it to the buggy. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and John Rabor’s farm as possible.

  Without doubt, it would be a very long week and, after it was over, she vowed she would never set foot on his property again.

  When she returned home, her father was in the horse stable, mucking the stalls. He stuck the pitchfork into the ground and walked outside to help her unhitch the horse.

  “How was it?”

  Sadie didn’t want to complain to her father. However, she couldn’t find the will to cover up how awful her morning had really been.

  “I’d prefer if Rachel might discuss such arrangements with me in the future, Daed,” she said after telling him about the filthy house, insolent children, and ungrateful man. “I feel uncomfortable in his presence. He’s not a kindly man.”

  Jacob pursed his lips as if considering her request.

  “Why did she offer my help anyway?”

  “Reckon she thought you needed to get out more, Sadie. ’Sides, helping our community is a right gut thing to do. Jesus tells us as much in the Gospel.”

  She wished that she could argue with her father, but she knew she couldn’t. “You’re right,” she admitted. “But I sure will be glad when this week is over.”

  Jacob laughed, then took the horse by the bridle and led it into the stable to be unharnessed before putting it into its stall for the night.

  For the rest of the week, Sadie awoke extra early so she could drive to John Rabor’s farm and take care of his children. Fortunately, she didn’t have to spend too much time with him. Unfortunately, she never once ran into Frederick.

  By Friday, Sadie was tired, exhausted from the early mornings, long drives, and hard work. Taking care of someone else’s children—and house!—was more difficult than she could have imagined. And the lack of gratitude and appreciation shown to her by the children, especially the oldest boys, made her grateful that, come Saturday morning, she’d be able to sleep until six thirty and not have to deal with nine children anymore!

  “When are you comin’ back?”

  Sadie took a dishrag and wiped the jelly-stained hands of the four-year-old boy, Wilmer, who was sitting on the counter. “Today’s the last day of hunting season.” She tossed the cloth into the sink. “That makes it my last day, too, Wilmer.” She put her hands under his armpits and lifted him, intending to set him back on the floor so he could scamper off to play while she washed the breakfast dishes.

  But Wilmer wrapped his arms around her neck, refusing to let go.

  “Come now,” she said, reaching for his hands and trying to disentangle them. “I need to finish my chores before your daed returns.”

  “But this is your new home.”

  She laughed. Such silliness, she thought. “Nee, Wilmer, it is not. I have my own home in Echo Creek with my own daed.”

  “Do you have a maem?”

  The question caught her off guard. Her irritation at having been tricked into tending to John Rabor’s children and John’s miserable attitude had made her forget that the children were without a mother. With the youngest child only two years old, the wounds of having lost their mother were most certainly still fresh in all their hearts.

  She knelt down and stared directly into Wilmer’s cherubic face. “Nee, Wilmer. My maem’s gone to heaven.”

  He lit up. “Then she must know my maem!”

  The fact that the child found joy in such a notion warmed Sadie’s soul. “Ja, Wilmer, I imagine they are the very best of friends.” Realizing that, in all likelihood, she would not see the boy again, Sadie embraced him.

  He squeezed her as tight as he could.

  “Now,” she said as she extracted herself, “mayhaps you could help me finish my chores. I’m sure your daed will be right pleased to hear what a big helper you’ve been to me.”

  Wilmer gave her a distrustful look. “Daed always says that men don’t do women’s chores.”

  “Oh? Is that so?” She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “And what would your maem have said?”

  Wilmer grinned. “She’d have told me to jump to it and help her, I reckon.”

  Sadie smiled at him. “I reckon so, too. So, let’s make her happy then.”

  He nodded his head and, together, they went outside to take down the laundry, which, by now, was dry and ready to be folded. Sadie felt a tug at her heart, knowing that, like her, little Wilmer had said goodbye to his mother far too early. But perhaps one day he would get a new mother. She only prayed that whoever agreed to marry old John Rabor was kinder and more genuine than her own stepmother.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The weather continued to change, and with it, so did Rachel’s attitude. Surprisingly enough, Sadie found Rachel slowly returning to her old self. Some of the hostility dissipated and what had become a permanent frown disappeared. When Sadie began to do the washing on Monday, not only did Rachel volunteer to he
lp, but she complimented her when she saw that she had gotten the berry stain out of the white tablecloth. And on Tuesday, Sadie came downstairs to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon and eggs.

  By the time Friday rolled around, Rachel greeted Sadie with a cheerful smile and a happy, “Good morning!”

  Things were back to normal indeed.

  “After breakfast, I’ll get started on the laundry,” Sadie said, wondering if Rachel would volunteer to help her again. They always washed sheets and towels on Mondays and clothing on Fridays, and from the looks of it, the weather would cooperate.

  “And I believe your daed wanted some help in the pasture,” Rachel said as she handed Sadie a mug of steaming coffee. “The cows broke some fencing last night.”

  Another good sign. If Rachel knew that Jacob needed help, she must have spoken to him already. Surely that meant Rachel had been outside, probably taking a thermos of coffee to Jacob while he milked the cows. Perhaps there was hope that she had only been temporarily distressed when she realized she wasn’t with child. The explanation did not excuse Rachel’s behavior, but knowing it was caused by Rachel’s disappointment in not being pregnant—and not a deep-rooted resentment toward her stepdaughter—made Sadie feel better about the temporary rancor her stepmother had displayed toward her.

  “The cows broke through again?” Sadie took the mug and inhaled the nutty scent of coffee that arose from it.

  “Ja, that back field near the forest.” Rachel started dishing the eggs into a large white bowl with a chip on the edge. “Something about that forest seems to draw those cows.” She gave a little laugh. “With the leaves starting to fall, they should know the grass isn’t greener on that side, for sure and certain.”

  Sadie smiled at the joke.

  Rachel finished dishing the eggs and, with steam rising from the bowl, she handed it to Sadie. “And, after that’s done, it’s nice enough outside that mayhaps we should rake the garden soil and spread some manure. It’s a gut time to fertilize for next year.”

  Another surprise. Rachel was already thinking ahead to next spring. That was a good sign. “Did you ask Daed for manure, then?” Sadie took the bowl from Rachel and placed it on the table.

  “Nee, I haven’t. But I’m sure he hasn’t mucked the dairy yet.”

  As if on command, Jacob entered the room, stomping his feet on the front step before he removed his hat and coat.

  “Feeling brisk out there today,” he said as he hung up his jacket on the wooden hook behind the door. Rubbing his hands along his arms to warm up, he glanced at the table and smiled. “Scrambled eggs and scrapple? Well, that looks right gut, Rachel.”

  Sadie knew that her father loved scrapple in the mornings.

  Wiping her hands on a dish towel, Rachel graced him with a smile. The compliment clearly sat well with her. “Thought I owed you a nice breakfast.”

  It was the closest she had come to apologizing for her moodiness, and Sadie suspected it was enough to satisfy her father.

  “Well, danke, Rachel. That’s right thoughtful of you.” Jacob’s words caught in his throat and, as if to avoid facing either one of them, he turned to wash his hands. It wasn’t usual for her father to show such emotion, and Sadie knew that he felt a sense of relief at Rachel’s kind gesture. His reaction warmed her heart and helped Sadie find it within herself to forgive her stepmother, too.

  Rachel grabbed a plate of sliced bread and set it down on the table. For a moment, she stood there, her hands on her hips as she assessed the spread of food. Then, as if as an afterthought, she hurried over to the refrigerator, opened the door, and withdrew a small plate of jam. “There!” she said as she placed it on the table next to the bread. “I reckon that’s enough food to refuel our bodies for the day, don’t you think?”

  Drying his hands on the dish towel, Jacob glanced at the table. Sadie followed his gaze. With eggs, scrapple, bread, and even a bowl of peaches, canned just a few weeks ago, no one was apt to go hungry.

  “Looks right gut.” Jacob moved away from the seat toward the head of the table. He sat down and waited for his wife and daughter to join him before he bent his head to silently pray.

  Only after he took his first bite did Rachel follow suit. “We’ll be spreading manure on the garden today, Jacob. I hadn’t mentioned that before. I reckon you haven’t done the dairy yet?”

  He shook his head. “Nee. I’ll bring over the wheelbarrow when I’m finished mucking it.” He winked at Sadie. “If there’s one thing that’s abundant on a farm, it’s natural fertilizer, ja?”

  No matter how many times he told it, Sadie always smiled at his joke. It was true. Life as a farmer did come with its ups and downs. Weather dictated the success of the crops. Even though an experienced farmer could make decisions to aid his success, such as watching the weather before cutting hay so that it had time to properly dry before baling, there was little that could be done about droughts or a profusion of rain that often ruined crops. But manure was always available in plenty.

  “Speaking of it being chilly out,” Jacob said, turning toward Sadie, “I’m afraid it looks like it will be cold for your youth gathering tomorrow.”

  Suddenly, Rachel stiffened, a tightness returning to the edges of her mouth. “What youth gathering?”

  Wondering at the reason behind the terseness of her stepmother’s tone, Sadie tried to avoid looking at her. “The large autumn picnic where the Liberty Falls youths join us. We always have a volleyball game.” She used her fork and cut her scrapple before dipping it into maple syrup. “They beat us last year. Echo Creek hopes to win this time around.”

  Jacob laughed. “Is that competition still going on? Why, that dates back to when I was a boy!”

  “And who won back then?” Sadie asked before taking a bite of her eggs.

  “Usually Liberty Falls.”

  She sighed. For the past few years running, Liberty Falls had always won the annual volleyball game.

  But her father merely shrugged. “They’ve a larger community there, so I reckon that’s to be expected. More players to choose from. And it’s not as rural there, so the boys have more free time on their hands. Not like Echo Creek, where most of the families farm.”

  It was true. Living on a farm meant that there was always work to be done. Unlike having a regular job in a town such as Liberty Falls where Amish youth might work in stores or doing trade jobs, the Echo Creek young men tended to livestock and crops. Their slow time was during the winter months, and by then, it was too cold to want to play volleyball. It made sense that the Liberty Creek team usually won.

  For a few minutes, silence befell the table as everyone ate. Or, as Sadie noticed, she and her father ate. Rachel, however, sat rigidly, a scowl etched on her face.

  “Is something amiss, Rachel?” Jacob asked at last.

  “Ja, something is amiss.” She lifted her eyes and stared at him, and Sadie noticed a strange harshness about her expression. “There seems to be an awful lot of mingling going on with these young people.”

  Jacob reached out his fork and speared another slab of scrapple. “And what’s wrong with that?” he asked as he dropped it onto his plate.

  Rachel grimaced. “Well, I’ll tell you what’s wrong with that!” Her eyes flickered in Sadie’s direction. “There’s work to be done around here. We need to prepare for winter. Why, we haven’t even canned any beef or soup. Besides, there’s been enough gallivanting, I should think!”

  Once again, Jacob laughed, and that clearly did not sit well with Rachel, either. Her face contorted at the sound of her husband making fun of her complaint. “‘Gallivanting’? Rachel, that’s what a rumschpringe is all about, ja?” He turned and winked at Sadie. “And let’s hope that Echo Creek breaks Liberty Falls’ winning streak in that volleyball game this year.”

  Sadie smiled. “That would be nice, but as long as everyone has fun—”

  But Rachel wasn’t finished and interrupted her. “So you sanction this, Jacob? This
commingling of young men from other towns with your dochder?”

  This time, Sadie cringed. Rachel never had called her his daughter. She always referred to Sadie as their daughter.

  Jacob set down his fork and leaned his arm on the table. He wore a stern expression on his face. “Might I remind you, Rachel,” he said firmly, “that I met you at an annual charity auction where there was a ‘commingling’ of young women from other towns.”

  Her lips pressed together at the rebuke from her husband.

  “And the bishop arranged for us to meet again at a community bake sale. That, too, had ‘commingling,’ as you call it.” Jacob tilted his head and leveled his gaze at her. “Surely you remember that, ja?”

  Rachel turned her head and looked away.

  “Youth gatherings are chaperoned, Rachel. And sanctioned by the church leaders. Surely you find no fault in their judgment, even though you clearly question Sadie’s.”

  Sadie hadn’t thought of that. How on earth could her stepmother have questioned her judgment? Not once had Sadie given her reason to think that she behaved in any other way than the most righteous and godly.

  “Besides,” her father continued, “how else is Sadie to meet other people?” His frown deepened. “She’s of the age to find a nice young Amish man to marry.”

  Sadie wished that she could shrink in her seat. Her shoulders hunched over and she slid down, just a little. Just as she had never witnessed her stepmother behave so irrationally, she had never heard her father speak in such a way to his wife.

  “A nice young Amish man?” The way Rachel stressed the word “young” made it sound as if Jacob had used a bad word. “Why not just meet a nice Amish man who can provide for her?”

  Jacob raised an eyebrow.

  “And ja, I do agree that it’s high time for Sadie to find such a gut Amish man,” Rachel continued, a tilt to her chin in defiance of her husband’s words. “Soon she’ll be a maedel and living here forever.”

  “Rachel!”

  “I can assure you that it would be a burden, at least on me.”

  Jacob glowered. “I suggest you think carefully about your next words. This conversation is not fit to have in front of Sadie.”