Amish Triplets For Christmas. Carrie Lighte
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him.”
Samuel and Sarah circled Simon to get another look.
“Not too tight, Simon. You’re squeezing him,” Sawyer cautioned. “You must be careful not to harm it.”
As he spoke, Hannah felt his warm breath on the nape of her neck as she bent over the amphibian. She hadn’t realized Sawyer was standing in such close proximity, and she was overcome with a peculiar sensation of dizziness.
She stepped backward and announced, “You ought to release him now, Simon. Be sure to wipe your hands, please.”
With that, she darted up the steps and into the classroom. “Mach’s gut,” she said, bidding Sawyer goodbye over her shoulder.
* * *
As the horse made its way back to the farm, Sawyer rubbed his forehead. Hannah had ended the conversation so abruptly he didn’t have a chance to speak to her about not giving the children treats. He had no idea what caused her brusque departure, although he noticed she visibly recoiled when he scolded Simon; had she thought him too strict?
Eliza at times had grimaced when he’d corrected the children as youngsters. They had spoken about it once toward the end of her illness, after the triplets were asleep and Eliza herself was lying in bed.
“Of course, kinner must be disciplined to obey their parents,” she said when he asked for her opinion. “It is our greatest responsibility to train them in what is right and to keep them safe.”
“But?” he questioned.
“But, my dear Sawyer.” Eliza sighed. “You are so tall and the kinner so small—sometimes it seems you don’t realize the strength of your own voice. I know how gentle you are, but to kinner or to strangers, a single loud word may be perceived as threatening as the growl of a bear.”
She had been right: Sawyer admitted he hadn’t realized the intimidating effect of his size and volume. He’d raised his hands like two giant paws and let out a roar to make Eliza laugh, which she did, as weak as she was. After that, he made a concentrated effort to speak in a low but firm voice, but perhaps this morning his volume had been too loud?
Then he asked himself why he should be bothered about what Hannah Lantz thought of him. She was a virtual stranger. Besides, Gott knew the intention of his heart, just as Eliza had always known.
Troubled he’d found himself comparing Eliza and Hannah, Sawyer was glad for the heavy field work that lay before him, which allowed him to pour all of his energy into the physical labor and sufficiently rid his mind of memories of Eliza and notions about Hannah.
By late afternoon, the air was oppressive with humidity, and as Sawyer rode toward the schoolhouse, a line of clouds billowed across the horizon. He was neither early nor late for dismissal; as he approached, several children scampered across the yard and climbed into buggies parked beneath the willow. After waiting a few minutes without seeing Sarah, Samuel and Simon, he jumped down and strode toward the building. A few hot raindrops splashed against his skin before he tentatively pushed the door open.
Inside, the children were paying rapt attention as Hannah read aloud to them from a book opened in her lap. He had never seen the boys sit so still. When Sawyer cleared his throat, she glanced up in his direction, her eyes dancing.
“Here is your daed now, Sarah,” she said. “Didn’t I tell you he’d arrive on time?”
“I was waiting outside,” he explained, removing his hat. “You told me earlier I wasn’t to come indoors.”
She tilted her head and pursed her lips in the curious manner she had a way of doing, and then recognition swept over her expression. “Not during lessons, neh, but you are allowed—indeed, you are wilkom—to come in after school. It’s no intrusion.”
Her repetition of the same phrases he’d used earlier that morning gave him pause. Did he dare to think she was deliberately being facetious? If so, it was difficult to tell; her quips were far subtler and more amusing than Doris’s overt coquetry.
His mouth was so dry, all he could muster was “Denki,” and this time he was the one who departed abruptly without saying another word.
The warm weather caused the yeast to rise quickly. As Hannah kneaded the dough the following morning, she racked her mind for recipes she could make once Simon, Samuel and Sarah arrived. She had been so thrilled that she’d convinced her grandfather to allow her to watch the Plank children that she’d neglected the practical details involved in the arrangement. Every month, she budgeted their meal allowance down to the penny; she didn’t know where the money would come from to feed her grandfather and herself as well as the children. As it was, she wouldn’t receive the next installment of her teacher’s salary until the first of October.
“I should bring your toys to the shop on Saturday,” Hannah mouthed to her grandfather when he looked up from his plate of eggs and potatoes at breakfast.
It wasn’t too early for tourists to begin shopping for Christmas during their excursions through the countryside. The sooner Hannah’s grandfather put the wooden trains, tractors and dollhouses on consignment, the better. She also hoped one of the toys her groossdaadi put on consignment last month sold, which would help supplement the cost of groceries for the upcoming week.
“I’ll take you,” he shouted, wiping his face with a napkin.
She had hoped to go alone; his handling of the buggy made her nervous. He couldn’t hear passing traffic and many a car had to swerve to avoid hitting him when he should have yielded. Also, he bellowed so loudly to the shopkeeper, the poor man cringed and shrugged, which frustrated her grandfather. Hannah inevitably had to translate.
“Are you certain? I expect it will be a very hot and busy day.”
“Am I certain?” he repeated. “I am certain of this—my toys put food on the table. If I am to get the best price, I must accompany you. Unless you wish us to starve as I nearly did yesterday?”
Even if her grandfather had been able to hear, she wouldn’t have pointed out that her teaching salary—and soon, her temporary income from watching the Plank children—also helped put food on the table. Compared with his provisions over the years, she felt her contribution was meager at best.
“Of course not, Groossdaadi,” Hannah replied. “I’m sorry you were hungry yesterday. I sliced extra bologna for you today.”
Please, Lord, continue to provide my groossdaadi and me our daily bread, she prayed as she wrapped a few bread crusts to take to school for lunch. And allow the loaf to rise big enough to feed Samuel, Sarah and Simon, as well.
* * *
Come sunrise, Sawyer woke the children to get dressed for school. As the boys pulled their shirts over their heads, he noticed how prominent their ribs and shoulder blades were becoming. How had this happened during the few weeks Gertrude was away? It emphasized the need for them to return home and establish their normal routine as soon as possible.
He was grateful his uncle prepared a substantial breakfast of ham and eggs, but it was so early the children hadn’t any appetites, especially not for a meal fit for grown men. Sawyer bundled fruit and bread with slices of meat into separate sacks for each of them for lunch. After instructing them to complete their morning chores, he strode to the barn with his cousins.
His body ached as he walked. Farming required him to use a different set of muscles from those he exercised at his cabinetry shop. The leftover stew they’d eaten for dinner the night before sat like a rock in his gut. No wonder the children were unable to finish their portions. As he groaned from the effects of nausea and the stifling morning air, he remembered he needed to discuss the children’s dietary needs with Hannah. Yet he couldn’t imagine how he might broach the subject or what her reaction would be.
There was something—not