The Widower’s Christmas Gift

Widowed father of triplets Sawyer Plank knows he has his hands full. After arriving in the Amish community of Willow Creek to help with the fall harvest, Sawyer asks schoolteacher Hannah Lantz to be his nanny. With a deaf grandfather to care for, the offer is more than just a job for Hannah—it’s a chance to fulfill her all-but-forgotten dream of being a mother. The children soon flourish under Hannah’s watch, and though Sawyer never dreamed he’d find happiness again, he can’t pretend he’s not falling for her, too. But with the holiday season heralding Sawyer’s return to Ohio, can he make his Christmas wish to stay a family come true?

“Teacher!” Sarah gushed. “How we missed you yesterday!”

“Guder mariye,” Hannah greeted them. “I am very glad to see you, too. You may put your books at your desks and go play outside before the bell is rung.”

“Guder mariye, Hannah,” Sawyer said as the children cantered out the door. “How are you?”

“I am glad to be back at school,” she admitted. Then, with a faraway note in her voice, she said, “I’m glad the kinner are coming home with me today. I truly missed their presence yesterday. Without them, I felt... I don’t know. I guess I might say I was at a loss.”

Sawyer was flooded with a sense of warmth. “I was concerned your groossdaadi might not have wanted you to care for the kinner any longer,” he ventured. “I didn’t know what I would have done without you.”

Hannah scrunched her eyebrows together. “Didn’t Doris take gut care of them?”

“Jah, she did,” Sawyer replied. “It’s just that she’s not...”

When he didn’t finish his sentence, Hannah inclined her head to meet his eyes. “She’s not what?” she asked.

He leaned forward, so as not to be overheard. “She’s not you.”

CARRIE LIGHTE lives in Massachusetts, where her neighbors include several Mennonite farming families. She loves traveling and first learned about Amish culture when she visited Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, as a young girl. When she isn’t writing or reading, she enjoys baking bread, playing word games and hiking, but her all-time favorite activity is bodyboarding with her loved ones when the surf’s up at Coast Guard Beach on Cape Cod.

Amish Triplets for Christmas

Carrie Lighte

www.millsandboon.co.uk

And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.

—Philippians 4:19

To my family,

who always supports my creative endeavors,

with thanks also to the Love Inspired team, especially Shana Asaro,

for helping this dream become a reality.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Hannah Lantz rose from her desk, smoothed her skirt and forced her pale, delicate features into a smile. She didn’t want the little ones to know how distraught she was that she would no longer be their teacher once harvest season ended. Positioning herself in the doorway, she waited to greet the scholars, as school-aged children were known, when they climbed the stairs of the two-room schoolhouse where she herself had been taught as a child.

Doris Hooley, the statuesque redheaded teacher who taught the upper-grade classes, stood on the landing, fanning herself with her hand. “It’s so hot today, you probably wish Bishop Amos and the school board decided to combine your class with mine immediately instead of waiting until late October.”

“Neh,” Hannah replied, thinking about how desperately she and her grandfather needed the income she earned as a teacher. “I’m grateful they extended my position a little longer. It’s been a blessing to teach for the past eleven years, and I’m truly going to miss the scholars.”

“Jah,” Doris agreed. “Such a shame so many young women from Willow Creek left when they married men from bigger towns in Lancaster County. Otherwise, enrollment wouldn’t have dwindled. Not that I blame them. Willow Creek isn’t exactly overflowing with suitable bachelors. That’s why I’m so eager to meet John Plank’s nephew from Ohio. Not only is he a wealthy widower, but I’ve heard he’s over six feet tall!”

Hannah cringed at her remarks. Thirty-six-year-old Doris never exercised much discretion about her desire to be married, a trait that eventually earned her the nickname of “Desperate Doris” within their small Pennsylvania district. As an unmarried woman of twenty-nine years herself, Hannah thought the term was mean-spirited, although if pressed, she had to admit it was fitting in Doris’s case.

“I believe John’s nephew is coming here to help with the harvest—not to meet a bride,” Hannah contradicted as a cluster of children trod barefoot across the yard, swinging small coolers in their hands.

“That kind of pessimistic attitude is why you’re still unmarried,” Doris retorted, craning her neck to spy the first buggies rolling down the lane. “It isn’t every day the Lord brings an eligible man to Willow Creek, and I, for one, intend to show him how wilkom he is here.”

Hannah gave her slender shoulders a little shrug. “I intend to show his kinner how wilkom they are,” she emphasized. “It can be difficult for young ones to start school in a new place. Besides, if it weren’t for their increasing the size of my class, there would have been no need for the school board to keep me on. You could have managed the rest of my scholars yourself.”

As the children approached, Hannah considered whether Doris was right. Was she being pessimistic about the prospect of marriage? Or was she merely accepting God’s provision for her life? After all, she’d scarcely had any suitors when she was a teenager; her grandfather had seen to that. So what was the likelihood she’d find love in their diminishing district now, at this age?

Even if she did meet someone she wished to marry, her grandfather was incapable of living alone and too stubborn to move out of his house. She couldn’t leave him, nor could she imagine any man being willing to live as her husband under her grandfather’s roof and rule.

To her, it seemed only realistic to accept that no matter how much she may have yearned for it, her life wasn’t meant to include the love of a husband. And she had come to believe God wanted her to be content with teaching other people’s children rather than to be bitter about not having children of her own.

In any case, she figured she had more urgent priorities than pursuing a stranger who was only visiting their community—like figuring out what she’d do to support her grandfather and herself once her teaching position ended.

She shook her head to rid her mind of worrisome thoughts. The Lord will provide, she reminded herself. When Eli and Caleb Lapp said good-morning, a genuine smile replaced Hannah’s forced one.

“Guder mariye,” she returned their greeting enthusiastically as they clambered up the steps.

After all the older students were accounted for, Doris sighed. “I guess the wealthy widower isn’t showing up today after all. Perhaps tomorrow.”

She ducked into the building while Hannah waited for the final student to disembark her buggy. It was Abigail Stolzfus, daughter of Jacob Stolzfus, one of the few men Hannah had briefly walked out with when they were younger. But when he proposed to her almost nine years ago, she’d refused his offer.

“One day, your pretty face will turn to stone,” he had taunted. “You’ll end up a desperate spinster schoolmarm like Doris Hooley.”

She knew Jacob’s feelings had been hurt when he’d made those remarks, and she had long since forgiven his momentary cruelty. But this morning, she was surprised by how clearly his words rang fresh in her mind. Watching Jacob’s daughter, Abigail, skip along the path to the schoolhouse, Hannah couldn’t help but imagine what her life might have been like if she—instead of Miriam Troyer—had married him.

Granted, she never felt anything other than a sisterly fondness for Jacob, so a marriage to him would have been one of convenience only, which was unacceptable to her, even if her grandfather had permitted it. But might it have been preferable to being on the brink of poverty, as she was now? Thinking about it, she could feel the muscles in her neck tighten and her pulse race.

She chided herself to guard her thoughts against discontentment; otherwise, it would be her heart, not her face, that turned to stone. God had brought her through greater trials than losing her classroom. She trusted He must have something else in store for her now, too.

She reached out and patted Abigail on the shoulder, smiling reflexively when the child grinned up at her and presented a jar of strawberry preserves.

“Denki, Abigail. You know I have a weakness for strawberries!” she exclaimed, bending toward the girl. “Did you help your mamm make this?”

“Jah,” Abigail replied. “I picked the berries, too.”

“I will savor it with my sweet bread.”

As the girl continued toward her desk, Hannah reached to shut the door behind her.

“Don’t!” a deep voice commanded.

Startled, Hannah whirled around to find a tall sandy-haired man holding the door ajar with his boot. His broad shoulders seemed to fill the door frame, and she immediately released the handle as if she’d touched a hot stove.

* * *

“Excuse us,” Sawyer Plank apologized in a softer tone. He stepped aside, revealing three towheaded children who each looked to be about seven years old. “Sarah, Samuel and Simon are to begin school today.”

He watched the fear melt from the woman’s expression as she surveyed the triplets. “Wilkom. I’m Hannah Lantz,” she said, as much to them as to him.

“Guder mariye,” the three children chorused.

“I’m Sawyer Plank,” he explained. “Nephew of John Plank.”

“Of course.” She nodded, tipping her chin upward to look at him. He couldn’t help but notice something sorrowful about her intensely blue eyes, despite her cheerful tone. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“I apologize for being late,” Sawyer said. Then, so quietly as to be a whisper, he confided, “I had to fix Sarah’s hair myself, and it took longer than I expected.”

Hannah narrowed her eyes quizzically.

“I’m afraid my hands are better suited for making cabinets than for arranging a young girl’s hair.” He held out his rough, square hands, palms up, as if to present proof.

Hannah’s eyes darted from them to Sarah’s crooked part. “You’ve done well,” she commented graciously, although he noticed she was biting her lip. “Sarah, please take a seat next to Abigail Stolzfus, at the front of the class. Samuel and Simon, you may sit at the empty desks near the window.”

Sawyer thrust a small paper bag that was straining at the seams in Hannah’s direction. “It’s their lunch,” he explained, still speaking in a low tone so as not to be heard by the children.

“My onkel made it because, as you may know, my ant is deceased, so I’m not sure what the lunch consists of. Ordinarily my youngest sister, Gertrude, takes care of such things in Ohio. She would have accompanied us here, too, but shortly before my onkel broke his leg, it was nearing time for my eldest sister, Kathryn, to deliver her bobbel, so Gertrude traveled to Indiana to keep her household running smoothly.”

Although he was usually a private man of few words, Sawyer couldn’t seem to stop himself from rambling to the petite, dark-haired teacher whose eyes were so blue they nearly matched the shade of violet dress she wore beneath her apron.

“I’m not much of a farmer, but as soon as I heard John needed help, I put my foreman in charge of the shop,” he continued, neglecting to add that the timing couldn’t have been worse, since he had just lost one of his carpenters to an Englisch competitor who constantly threatened to put Sawyer out of business. “The kinner and I immediately set out for Pennsylvania. We only arrived on Saturday evening.”

He was quiet as he wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

“It was gut of you to come help your onkel during harvest season,” Hannah commented. “If there’s nothing else, I will see to it the kinner divide the lunch evenly between them.”

Sawyer sensed he was being dismissed, and he was only too relieved for the opportunity to end the conversation. “I won’t be late picking them up,” he muttered as he turned to leave.

Once he was in his buggy, he flicked the reins with one hand and simultaneously slapped his knee in disgust with the other. What was wrong with him, babbling on about Sarah’s hair and his work as a cabinetmaker? No doubt Hannah Lantz thought he was vain as well as tardy.

He hadn’t meant to sound boastful about dropping everything in Blue Hill in order to help his uncle, either. John was family and family helped each other, no matter what. Just like when John came to Ohio and kept the shop running smoothly after Sawyer’s mother and father died six years earlier, and again when he lost his beloved wife, Eliza, three years later. It was an honor—not a burden—to assist his uncle now. He only wished Gertrude hadn’t gone to Indiana, so the children could have stayed in Ohio with her. Sarah had had nightmares ever since Gertrude left, and the boys had grown so thin without her cooking.

But he knew there was no sense focusing on the way he wished things were. In all these years, no amount of regret had ever brought his Eliza back. He trusted God’s timing and plans were always perfect, even if they were sometimes painful to endure. His duty was to accept the circumstances set before him.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to make a difficult situation better. As the horse clopped down the lane to his uncle’s farm, Sawyer devised a plan so he could spend as many hours as possible in the fields. If the weather and crops cooperated, he’d help finish harvesting in six weeks instead of eight or more, so his family could return to Ohio at the first opportunity.

* * *

As the children barreled outside for lunch hour, the paper bag Simon was carrying split down the middle, spilling the Planks’ unwrapped cheese and meat sandwiches onto the ground, so Hannah invited the children to join her for sweet bread inside the classroom. She marveled at how quickly they devoured the bread and preserves.

“Do you have such appetites in Ohio?” she inquired, aware the children seemed thinner than most.

“Ant Gertrude doesn’t bake bread like this,” Samuel said, his cheeks full. “She says it’s because her mamm died before she could learn her the best way to make it.”

“Before she could teach her,” Sarah corrected.

“Our mamm died, too,” offered Simon seriously. “She’s with the Lord.”

“As is my mamm,” Hannah murmured.

“Did your mamm teach you how to make bread before she died?” asked Samuel.

“Neh, but my groossmammi did. See? Gott always provides.”

“I wish I had a groossmammi to teach me.” Sarah sighed. “Daed said Groossmammi died when we were as little as chicks that didn’t even have their feathers yet.”

“I’m happy to share my bread with you,” Hannah told Sarah. “Eating it is better than baking it anyway. Now that you’re done, why don’t you go outside and play with the other kinner.”

Doris passed them as they exited. “What darling little things,” she remarked to Hannah. “They must be triplets.”

“Jah. Their names are Samuel, Sarah and Simon Plank,” Hannah replied.

“So you’ve met the wealthy widower?”

“He has a name, too. It’s Sawyer. We spoke briefly this morning.”

“What did you think of him?” wheedled Doris. “Give me your honest opinion.”

“Well, I didn’t have my tape measure with me, so I can’t confirm whether he’s over six feet tall,” Hannah answered evasively, although she knew exactly what Doris was getting at.

“Schnickelfritz!” Doris taunted. “I meant, what did you think of him as a potential suitor?”

“I didn’t think of him as a potential suitor,” Hannah emphasized. “I thought of him as the daed of my scholars, a nephew of John Plank and a guest in our district.”

“He’s not to your liking, then?” Doris persisted.

“I didn’t say that!” Hannah was too exasperated to elaborate.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to, as Eli opened the door at that moment, yawping, “Caleb got hit with a ball and it knocked his tooth out.”

Doris covered her mouth with the back of her hand. “You’ll have to handle it,” she directed Hannah. “You know that kind of thing makes me woozy.”

“Of course,” Hannah calmly agreed. “But you’ll need to get used to it soon, since kinner lose their baby teeth all the time. It’s all part of caring for ‘darling little things’ at that age.”

* * *

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 heard 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.

“They’d better not make too much noise,” he warned crossly before retiring for the evening.

Hannah had to bite her tongue to keep from retorting, “But, Groossdaadi, how would you know if they did?” Having grown up under his thumb, she understood what he’d meant: he wouldn’t permit them to make nuisances of themselves.

She threw her arms around his neck and looked him in the eye. “I will see to it they don’t,” she promised.

“Bah,” he muttered, but he didn’t pull away from her embrace until she let him go.

* * *

On the way home, when Sawyer asked the children how their first day at school was, they all spoke at once.

“We made friends with some other boys,” Samuel said.

“Eli and Caleb. They said they have a German shepherd, and it had six puppies,” Simon announced. “Can we have a puppy, Daed?”

“It’s ‘may we.’ Teacher says we’re supposed to say ‘may I,’ not ‘can I.’ A can is something you store food in,” Sarah corrected him. “I made a new friend, too, Daed. Her name is Abigail, but she said I can call her—I may call her—Abby.”

Distracting the children from their request for a puppy—Gertrude was allergic—Sawyer commented, “It sounds as if you’ve already learned something from your teacher, too?”

“Jah,” Samuel agreed. “We learned how to bat a ball after lunch hour! The teacher can hit it farther than anyone else, even the boys from the upper classes!”

“And she fixed my hair, see?” Sarah twisted in her seat to show him where her hair was neatly tucked into a bun. “It didn’t hurt a bit, even the snarled parts. The teacher said her mamm taught her how to brush them out when she was a girl my age. Her hair is dark like a crow’s and wavy, but mine is light like hay and straight, but she said her secret brushing method works on all colors of hair and all sizes of tangles.”

As minor of a matter as grooming was, even Gertrude complained about how much Sarah always wiggled when she was combing her hair. During Gertrude’s absence, Sawyer often had to refrain from using a harsh tone to make Sarah sit still. The small but important empathy Hannah demonstrated to his daughter by carefully fixing her bun seemed like a promising indicator of the care she’d provide as their nanny.

After they arrived home, the children helped with chores around the farm: Sarah swept the floors and sorted and washed vegetables, and the boys cleaned the chicken coop, stacked firewood and helped in the stable. Their chores in Ohio were similar, but because they lived on a modest plot of land in a neighborhood instead of in a large farmhouse on sizable acreage, their new assignments in Pennsylvania took them much longer to complete. Simon and Samuel usually had boundless energy, but by supper time, they were too weary to lift their chins from their chests at the table.

“Try a second helping of beef stew,” Sawyer urged them.

“I’m too tired to chew,” Samuel protested.

Simon asked, “May we go to bed?”

“Look,” Sawyer pointed out. “Onkel bought special apple fry pies from Yoder’s Bakery in town. You may have one if you eat a little more meat.”

“Denki, Onkel. That was very thoughtful of you,” Sarah said, imitating a phrase Sawyer knew she’d learned from Gertrude. “But I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“No promises the pies will be here tomorrow,” Sawyer’s cousin Phillip warned.

“We survived for five years without our mamm here to cook for us,” Jonas, Sawyer’s other cousin, scoffed. “You shouldn’t coddle them, Sawyer, particularly the boys.”

Sawyer got the feeling Jonas resented the children’s presence, but he couldn’t fault Simon, Samuel and Sarah for being too tired to eat; he, too, was exhausted from the day’s events.

Still, he didn’t believe in wasting food, and when Simon chased a chunk of beef around his bowl with his spoon, Sawyer directed, “Sit up and eat your meal. Waste not, want not, as your mamm always said.”

“I’m not hungry.” The boy sighed.

Sawyer warned, “You need to eat so you can do well in school tomorrow.”

“He’ll just ask the teacher for a piece of sweet bread instead,” Sarah said. “Like she gave him today.”

“Sarah, it’s not kind to tattle,” Samuel reminded her. “Besides, the teacher gave us all a piece of bread.”

“Jah, but she gave Simon an extra piece in the afternoon,” Sarah reported. “The very last piece, smothered in strawberry preserves. Teacher says strawberries taste like pink sunshine.”

“Sweets in the afternoon before supper,” Jonas scoffed. “No wonder they turn up their noses at meat and potatoes. Pass me his serving. My appetite hasn’t been spoiled and neither have I.”

Simon ducked his head as he handed over his bowl. He had a small freckle on the top of his left earlobe, whereas Samuel had none. It was how Sawyer could tell the two boys apart when they were infants. Watching Simon’s ears purpling with shame, Sawyer felt a small qualm about Hannah. Well-intentioned as the gesture may have been, Sawyer wondered if it represented her common practice. He couldn’t allow her to continue to ply the children with sweets instead of wholesome meals if he expected them to grow healthier under her care, and he decided to speak to her about it when he saw her next.

* * *

After supper, Hannah’s grandfather retired to his room to read Scripture as she washed the dishes and swept the floors. She folded the linens she had hung out to dry that morning before leaving for school. As she was putting them away, she passed the room that used to be Eve’s. Spread on the bed was one of the quilts her younger sister had made. Although it was darker and plainer than those she fashioned to sell to tourists, there was no mistaking her meticulous stitching and patterns.

Hannah had never developed the superior sewing abilities Eve possessed. As the eldest, she was tasked with putting supper on the table, gardening, caring for Eve and meeting her grandfather’s needs. Not that she minded; she felt indebted to her grandfather for raising her and Eve, and she knew the Lord provided everyone with different talents. She admired her sister’s handiwork a moment longer before closing the bedroom door with a sigh. How Hannah missed Eve’s chatter ever since she moved to Lancaster to set up house with her husband last year.

But at least now that Hannah would be watching the Plank children and she had lessons to plan and students’ work to review, the evenings wouldn’t seem to last forever, as they did during the summer months.

Kneeling by her bed, she prayed, Denki, Lord, for Your providing for Groossdaadi and me, as You have always done. Please help me to be a gut nanny to Sarah, Simon and Samuel.

She removed her prayer kapp and hung it on her headboard before sliding between the sheets. A loud rumble of thunder caused her nightstand to vibrate, and she closed her eyes before lightning illuminated the room. No matter how hard she tried to push the memory from her mind, the metallic smell in the air always brought her back to the night her mother and father perished when lightning struck the tree under which they’d sought shelter during a rainstorm. She had been such a young girl when it happened that the memory of the storm itself was more vivid than almost any recollection she had of her parents prior to their deaths.

She rolled onto her side and buried her face in the pillow, much like Sarah had buried her face in Hannah’s sleeve when Sawyer failed to show up on time. Hannah wondered if Sarah was insecure because Sawyer was an unreliable parent or merely because she was anxious about being a newcomer. The boys seemed to be more outgoing than their sister was. They adjusted to their lessons magnificently and joined the games during lunch hour. But Sarah seemed uncertain, trying to say and do everything perfectly and in constant need of reassurance from Hannah. She supposed the girl might have been feeling at a loss without any other females on the farm, and she decided to do her best to serve as a role model for her.

Raindrops riveted the windowpane, and although the air was sultry, Hannah pulled the quilt over her head, mussing her hair. She recalled how Sarah’s bun had come undone during lunch hour. Hannah giggled, imagining Sawyer struggling to pin his daughter’s hair in place. Then, as she thought of his large, masculine hands, a shiver tickled her spine. The suddenness of it surprised her, but she attributed it to the change in air temperature.

Before drifting off, she anticipated showing the children the shortcut home from school and studying insects and birds along the way. She imagined teaching Sarah how to make sweet bread and chasing squirrels with Samuel and Simon. They would grow sturdy from her meals and smart from her tutelage. She would sing hymns and read stories to them on rainy afternoons. It would be like teaching, only different: it would be, she supposed, more like being a mother than she’d ever been. Now that she actually had the opportunity, she had to admit, she could hardly wait!

* * *

Sawyer felt as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders. As he knelt beside his bed, he prayed, Thank You, Lord, for Hannah’s willingness to care for the kinner. Please work in her groossdaadi’s heart to agree to it, as well. Bless Kathryn and her family, especially the baby, and keep watch over Gertrude. Please keep the crew safe and productive in Ohio.

Praying about his employees, Sawyer exhaled loudly. Upon returning to the farm that afternoon, he had discovered a soggy express-mail letter in the box from his foreman reporting that one of his crew members severed his finger the day Sawyer left for Pennsylvania. Due to being short staffed already, we are falling even further behind on orders, the note said. It was another urgent reminder to Sawyer that he needed to hasten his work with his cousins so he could return home as soon as possible. At least being able to work longer days without interruptions would help with that.

He was relieved that Hannah, in particular, possibly would be watching the children. He owed her a debt of gratitude for rescuing him from Doris’s clutches. He had known women like Doris in Ohio, who seemed to use the children’s welfare as an excuse to call on him and Gertrude. At least, that was what Gertrude had claimed on a few occasions.

“I thought you wanted me to marry again,” he teased one afternoon after Gertrude was irked by a female visitor who stopped by with a heaping tray of oatmeal whoopee pie cookies and an entire “sawdust pie.” (When the woman found out Sawyer wasn’t present, she took the sweets home without allowing the children or Gertrude to sample so much as a bite.)

“I do want you to marry again,” Gertrude insisted. “But I want you to marry someone genuine, like Eliza.”

There will never be anyone as genuine as Eliza, he thought.

Take Hannah, for instance. Whereas Eliza was soft-spoken and reserved, Hannah seemed a bit cheeky, which made it difficult to discern how sincere she was. Sawyer supposed Hannah was used to teasing men for sport; someone as becoming as she was no doubt found favor with the opposite gender, especially because she appeared competent and helpful, as well. Yet, surprisingly, she was unmarried—Sawyer ruefully imagined her suitors probably were tardy arriving to court her, so she turned them away.

Lightning reflected off the white sheets on Sawyer’s bed and thunder shook the walls. He stretched his neck, listening for Sarah’s cries, but there were none. He figured she was too exhausted to stir.

Sawyer’s thoughts drifted to the dark tendrils framing Hannah’s face that afternoon. They had probably come loose when she was playing ball with her students. He supposed someone who earned the affection of his daughter and the admiration of his sons in one day deserved his high regard, too. It wasn’t her fault she was so pretty; he recognized he shouldn’t judge her for that.

He remembered how Hannah suddenly hurried him out the door that afternoon. Despite her authority in the classroom and her outspoken joshing, there was something unmistakably vulnerable in her eyes. But he had no doubt she’d take excellent care of Simon, Samuel and Sarah—especially once he restricted the amount of treats she served them—for the short time they were visiting Pennsylvania.

As the sky released its torrents, Sawyer’s contented sigh turned into a yawn and he rolled onto his side. He slumbered through the night, waking only once when he had a dream of bread smothered in strawberry jam that was so real, he almost thought he could taste its sweetness on his lips.

* * *

The next morning, Hannah rose early to prepare a hearty breakfast for her grandfather, and she set aside an ample lunch, too. If Sawyer Plank was tardy again after school, she didn’t want her grandfather to accuse her of neglecting his appetite. She ate only a small portion herself in order to stretch their food budget, but she took the bread crusts with her. At lunch, she’d spread them with the preserves Abigail had given her, an indulgent treat these days.

She scuttled the mile and a half to the school yard from her home. Built on the corner of the Zook farm, the tiny house and plot of land were all her grandfather had ever been able to afford. But Jeremiah Zook had always granted Hannah and Eve access to the rolling meadow, thriving stream and dense copse of trees on the south side of the property. The setting provided the young sisters a serene and spacious haven from their grandfather’s unrelenting demands.

As an adult, Hannah still chose to zigzag across the acreage on her way to and from school instead of taking the main roads. She always felt she could breathe deeper and think more clearly after strolling the grassy and wooded paths she knew by heart.

The weather was still unseasonably warm, and her upper lip beaded with perspiration as she picked her way across the final damp field. From a distance, she could see a single buggy in the lane by the school, which was strange since Doris was usually the last to arrive and the first to leave. As she drew nearer, she spotted three familiar blond heads, bobbing in and out from behind the trees during a game of tag. Sawyer was perched on the steps.

“Guder mariye,” she greeted him, before adding, “Your horse’s legs must have healed. You’re early.”

A peculiar look passed across Sawyer’s face, and Hannah immediately regretted her comment. She had meant it to be playful, not vexing. There was something so solemn about his demeanor she couldn’t help but try to elicit a little levity.

“If we’re too early, I will wait with the kinner until you’re ready for them to come inside,” he replied seriously.

“Neh, you mustn’t do that,” she said by way of apology, but then recognized it seemed as if she were dismissing him from the yard. She quickly explained, “You are free to leave the kinner or to stay with them as long as you wish. You’re free to stay with them outside, that is—not in the classroom. Unless you also need help with your spelling or mathematics.”

There she went again! Insulting him when she only meant to break the ice. This time, however, a smile played at the corner of his lips.

“My spelling and mathematics are strong,” he said. “It’s only my time-telling that suffers.”

“Your time-telling is already improving,” Hannah said generously. “I notice you’re working on your daughter’s grooming skills, as well. I don’t mean to intrude on your efforts, but if Sarah’s hair should need additional straightening, would you allow me to complete the task?”

“Allow you? I would wilkom you,” he insisted. “It’s no intrusion. Especially if you are to become the kinner’s nanny.”

His enthusiasm delighted Hannah, who tipped her head upward to meet his eyes. “I’m glad you mentioned that,” she trilled. “Because my groossdaadi has agreed that I may watch the kinner after school, beginning Monday.”

“That’s wunderbaar!” Sawyer boomed, and again Hannah was warmed by his unbridled earnestness.

Just then, Simon skidded to a stop in between them and thrust his fist up toward his father.

“Look! Have you ever seen such a big toad?”

“It is huge,” Hannah acknowledged, studying the boy’s catch. “It’s the same color as the dirt. You must have keen eyesight to be able to spot him.”

The little boy modestly replied, “I didn’t know he was there at first, but then I saw something hopping and that’s when I grabbed 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.

Chapter Three

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 necessarily mysterious, nor distrustful, but definitely skittish—about Hannah that caused him to want to measure his words with her. Or at least, that caused him not to want to offend her. Yet he seemed to do exactly that.

The dilemma occupied his mind as he performed the morning chores, and he tried to recall how he and Eliza settled their differences concerning the children. Funny, but he couldn’t remember having many. Without speaking about it, they tended to naturally agree on what was best for Simon, Samuel and Sarah. Their mutually shared perspective about raising the children was a strength he missed terribly. Even when they disagreed about some small aspect of the children’s care, Eliza’s opinion was invaluable to Sawyer and they always reached a reasonable compromise. He wished she were there to guide him about what to do now.

By the time he had hitched up the horse to take the children to school, he concluded being forthright about the sweets was the best approach. Hannah undoubtedly would understand and honor his requests concerning the children, but unless he made them clear, how would she know what they were? After all, she was no Eliza.

* * *

Hannah was still so excited about the prospect of becoming a nanny that she hadn’t been able to eat when she sat down with her grandfather for breakfast. So when she arrived half an hour early to school, she settled behind her desk and peeled the shell from a hard-boiled egg.

Still trying to come up with inexpensive meals she could make for the children, she realized as long as the chickens were laying, eggs were plentiful, a good source of protein and cost nothing. Likewise, the garden was still going strong with tomatoes and corn, but she brooded about their limited dairy supply, knowing how important milk was for growing children.

When she finished her egg, she smeared a dab of preserves over a crust of bread. She was wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin when the heavy door inched open.

“Guder mariye, Teacher,” the triplets said in unison. With their pink cheeks and blond hair backlit by the sun streaming in behind them, they looked positively adorable, and Hannah couldn’t help but smile at their appearance.

“Guder mariye,” she replied. “Is it just the three of you today, or have you brought your friend, the toad, inside?”

She was referring to the toad they’d caught the previous morning, but as soon as she finished her sentence, Sawyer crossed the threshold.

“Guder mariye,” he stated apprehensively. “Might I have a word with you outside?”

She followed him to the landing and squinted up at him. Against the sunshine, he appeared aglow, with the light rimming his strapping shoulders in golden hues and bouncing off his blond curls. But when she noticed his austere expression, she worried he might have thought she was referencing him when she’d asked the children about the toad.

“Is something wrong?” she questioned.

“Neh...” Sawyer objected slowly. “But there’s something I’d like to bring to your attention.”

Hannah thought whatever it was he wanted to discuss, it must have been a grave matter—he could hardly look at her.

“How may I be of assistance?” she asked, hoping to put him at ease.

“You are already of assistance. Perhaps too much so,” he began hesitantly. He glanced away and back at her. “It is my understanding that you gave sweet bread and preserves to Simon the other afternoon?”

Oh, then, it wasn’t a serious matter at all. He simply wanted to thank her; how kind.

“It was a trifling. I’m happy to share with any child who may be hungry.”

“But it wasn’t a trifling,” Sawyer countered. “It ruined Simon’s appetite for more substantial food. I recognize many Amish families consider pastries and other treats to be part of their daily bread—especially in Willow Creek. But, as you probably noticed, my kinner are a bit thin and it is important for their physical health that they receive adequate sustenance. I trust the meals you will prepare as part of the kinner’s daily care will be nutritious and substantial, with limited sweets?”

Hannah felt as if the air had been squeezed from her lungs. Here she had sacrificed her entire noonday meal and Sawyer was acting as if she’d tried to poison the boy. She felt at once both foolish and angry, and her face blazed as she struggled to keep her composure.

“Of course,” she agreed. “Kinner—all kinner, whether they are from Pennsylvania or Ohio—do need sustenance, which is why I often bring extra eggs or a slice of meat to school. Two days ago, I had only brought bread enough for me. Your Simon upended the lunch sack into the dirt, so I gave bread and jam to him as well as to Sarah and Samuel. But Simon later complained of a headache and I thought it was because he was still hungry, so I permitted him another piece. But I apologize for ruining his appetite for adequate sustenance. I assure you it won’t happen again, and I most definitely will prepare healthy recipes while they are under my care.”

She stomped up the stairs and into the classroom, leaving Sawyer alone on the stoop.

* * *

Sawyer was so abashed, he didn’t know whether to follow Hannah and apologize or flee as quickly as he could. As he was hesitating, an approaching buggy caught his eye and he decided to leave.

He tried to shrug off his interaction with her as being an unfortunate misunderstanding, but despite his efforts, throughout the morning he couldn’t shake her expression from his mind. She looked as if she’d been stung. And no wonder—he’d been such an oaf, criticizing her when she was only looking after Simon’s welfare.

“Are you watching the clouds or napping with your eyes open?” Jonas ribbed him when he drifted into thought.

He wiped his hands on his trousers without saying a word and continued to work. He decided there was only one thing he could do—apologize to Hannah. He needed to be as forthright now as he’d tried to be this morning. He completed his tasks with a new vigor, motivated by his resolve to set things right.

But when he arrived at the schoolhouse, Samuel, Sarah and Simon were playing tag with a girl Sawyer recognized from the first day of school.

“Where is your teacher?” he called to them.

“She’s inside, speaking to my wife, Miriam,” a voice from behind him answered. The dark-haired man was short and stout. “I’m Jacob Stolzfus and that girl your son is chasing around the willow is my daughter, Abigail. You must be Sawyer Plank, John’s nephew.”

“I am,” Sawyer responded. “Those are my kinner, Sarah, Simon and Samuel, the one who just tagged your daughter.”

“Abigail has told us about your Sarah,” Jacob commented. “She already is very fond of her.”

“Sarah is pleased to have a girl her age for a friend, as well,” Sawyer acknowledged. “Usually her brothers are her primary playmates. She’s happy not to be outnumbered.”

As they spoke, the door to the schoolhouse swung open and Miriam and Hannah emerged. Miriam was stroking her swollen belly and chatting animatedly. A breeze played with the strings of Hannah’s prayer kapp, and Sawyer was distracted by the sight of her lifting a slender hand to cover her bright pink lips, as if to contain a mirthful gasp.

“How about you?” Jacob was saying.

“Pardon?”

“How do you find Willow Creek so far?”

“It’s to my liking,” he answered absentmindedly, still watching as Miriam and Hannah descended the staircase. “It is unique, to say the least.”

“You might consider staying beyond the harvest, since you wouldn’t be leaving behind a farm of your own in Ohio,” suggested Jacob. “Our district is shrinking. Any relative of John Plank’s would be wilkom to take up residence here permanently. We could use a young family like yours in our district.”

At the bottom step, Hannah glanced up and Sawyer caught her eye. He noticed a slight dimming of her countenance before she continued to amble with Miriam toward their buggy.

“Neh,” Sawyer replied definitively. “I am only here for a short while to help my onkel, as you apparently have heard. Everything I have is in Ohio—my business, my home, my family. People there depend on me and I on them. It’s true I don’t own a farm, but the Lord gave me responsibilities there I wouldn’t soon abandon.”

He sharply called to the triplets, who sprinted across the lawn and piled into the buggy. The children waved to Abigail, her family and Hannah as they rode away, but Sawyer kept his eyes locked on the road ahead of him.

That night when supper was served and they each asked for second helpings—Simon even requested a third—he decided no matter Hannah’s reason for feeding his children, he had been right to prohibit her from giving them sweets before supper as a general rule. An apology to her wasn’t necessary after all.

* * *

Hannah wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She hoped the hot spell would break, but it still seemed more like the dog days of summer than nearly autumn. She was grateful Jacob and Miriam had given her a ride home from school on their way back from town, but standing over the gas stove cooking supper in the tiny kitchen caused her to sweat almost as much as if she’d walked home.

“It’s dry,” her grandfather said disgustedly about the chicken she’d prepared. “Bring me a different piece.”

Since she had served the only meat they had, Hannah took both of their plates to the stove and covertly switched her piece with his, slicing off the ends so he wouldn’t notice. While her back was still turned toward him, she practiced an old trick she and Eve sometimes used to communicate with each other.

“Just once I wish I had someone to talk to in the evening who had something pleasant to say.” She spoke aloud, knowing he couldn’t see to read her lips. “Either that, or I wish I were the one who was deaf, so I couldn’t hear your surly remarks.”

Without Eve’s sympathetic ear, expressing herself in such a manner did little to defuse Hannah’s frustration, and she remained feisty until bedtime, rushing through her evening prayers before crawling into bed. She kicked off her sheets as a drop of perspiration trickled down the side of her cheek and into her ear. Or perhaps it was a tear. Despite her best efforts to please everyone, the day had been plagued with upsetting events.

First, Sawyer had shamed her for sharing her bread with Simon. Then Miriam had shown up at the schoolhouse at the end of the day and her effervescent glee emphasized how bereft Hannah felt.

Although Amish women were reluctant to discuss such matters—sometimes not even mentioning they were carrying a child until the baby was born—Miriam confided that earlier in the morning, she had consulted a midwife.

“I’ll soon give birth to a healthy bobbel, Gott willing,” Miriam tearfully divulged. “After losing three unborn bobblin, I can’t tell you how joyful we are.”

“I am very joyful for you,” Hannah said, squeezing Miriam’s arm. “I will keep you in my prayers.”

“Denki. The midwife warned me that meanwhile I must limit my physical activities. Abigail is a help, but with her at school, it’s difficult for me to keep up the house and garden.”

Judging from how full-figured Miriam had become, Hannah guessed she had merely a month or two before she delivered, but that was an unspoken subject, something only God knew for certain.

She was truly glad for Miriam and Jacob, and she wouldn’t have dreamed of begrudging them such fulfillment. Nor did she envy Miriam’s marriage: she’d always known Jacob wasn’t the Lord’s intended for her. But Miriam’s news made her all the more aware that soon she’d have to bid her students goodbye—and teaching them was the closest she’d ever come to having kinner herself. What was she going to do without their daily presence in her life?

It didn’t help that just as Miriam was telling her about the bobbel, Hannah glimpsed Sawyer conversing with Jacob, and his chastisement burned afresh in her mind. It almost seemed as if neither man nor God believed she was fit to care for children!

Her hurt was further magnified by the letter she had received upon arriving home.

Dearest Hannah, her sister’s familiar penmanship said. I am so ecstatic I will burst if I have to keep it to myself any longer: I am with child!

Of course, Hannah was elated that God had provided such a blessing for Eve, and she was exuberant she would soon be an aunt. But her joy was tinged with envy. Not only had her sister managed—at twenty-four years of age, which was considered late in life by their district’s standards—to meet and marry a good man who thoroughly loved her, but soon she’d experience motherhood, too.

Every time Hannah thought she’d finally accepted that her prime responsibility was to care for her grandfather and her life wouldn’t include marriage or children, the desire for both manifested itself again, like symptoms of a virus she couldn’t shake. Would she ever be cured of the longing to have what it seemed she wasn’t meant to? And why can’t I have it? she lamented. It wasn’t as if she longed for something sinful: the Bible described children and married life as being gifts from God.

She eased out of bed, donned her prayer kapp and knelt in the darkness. Please, Lord, show me Your provision for my life, especially once my teaching job ends, she beseeched. And help me to be content with it, whatever it may be.

When she awoke the next morning, her pillow was still damp and her eyes were swollen, but her spirit was inexplicably peaceful. She didn’t know how it would happen, but she did know one way or another, God would provide for all of her physical, emotional and spiritual needs. She donned her kapp and knelt again.

Lord, please forgive my envy and lack of faith. Help me to spend this day in glad service to You, she prayed.

Despite the heat, she felt refreshed as she hiked through the fields toward the schoolhouse, listening to the birds and inhaling the scent of wildflowers. After Sawyer’s visit the previous morning, she had distanced herself from Sarah, Simon and Samuel for the rest of the day, fearing their father might interpret any kind attention she paid to them as spoiling them.

But this morning, she realized she hadn’t responded maturely to Sawyer’s misunderstanding or given him a chance to acknowledge his mistake. She saw why he was concerned about his children’s health, and she’d certainly respect his wishes regarding their diet. As long as she didn’t give them treats, she didn’t believe he’d fault her for being nurturing and warm.

The thought of a treat caused her mouth to water. Yesterday she was so out of sorts that she barely swallowed five bites of supper, and suddenly she felt ravenous. When she reached the classroom, she unwrapped a piece of sweet bread from her bag and pulled the preserves from the cooler. She bit into a thick slice, closing her eyes to enjoy the flavor in quiet solitude.

“Guder mariye, Teacher,” several small voices squeaked merrily, interrupting her thoughts.

Her mouth was too full to reply, but she reflexively stashed the remaining food into her bag, embarrassed to be caught eating at her desk again.

* * *

“Guder mariye,” Sawyer echoed his children.

Hannah chewed quickly and then swallowed before replying. “Guder mariye.”

“Is that the bread your groossmammi learned you how to make?” Samuel pointed.

“Teached you,” Sarah corrected. “And it’s not polite to point.”

“Hush,” Sawyer instructed them both. “We disrupted your teacher’s breakfast. Kumme, we’ll wait outside until she is finished.”

“Denki, but I wasn’t really eating,” Hannah protested.

Sawyer noticed a smudge of preserves at the corner of her mouth. She must have sensed him looking at it, because she traced her lips with her finger, her cheeks blotching with color.

“I mean, I wasn’t eating breakfast,” she faltered. “It was only a treat. I have eggs for breakfast. Sometimes ham. That is, despite what you may think, I don’t ordinarily just have treats for breakfast. Or for snacks. Or at any time of the day. Not every day, anyway, or not without eating something else, as well. But I was terribly hungry, you see, because—”

“I am terribly hungry, too,” Sawyer interrupted. His resolve not to apologize suddenly dissipated, and he felt nothing but a desire to ease Hannah’s discomfort, which he knew he had caused with his comments the day before. “The kinner are hungry, as well. Last night, my onkel’s dinner sat like bricks in our bellies, so this morning we were unable to eat breakfast. What we wouldn’t do for a piece of bread and strawberry preserves...”

Cocking her head to one side, Hannah narrowed her eyes at him for what seemed an interminable pause. Rather than speaking, she again removed the jar of preserves from the cooler and pulled the bread apart in chunks. After spooning a dollop onto each piece, she directed the triplets to eat theirs at their desks. She gave the biggest piece to Sawyer, who stood next to her while he devoured it.

When he was finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I must apologize,” he began. “I fear I misjudged you.”

“Say no more. I accept your apology.” She smiled readily. Then she asked, “Are your onkel’s meals really like bricks in your bellies?”

“Unfortunately, they are. In fact, I have a hunch Simon dropped their lunch bag on purpose. I know I would have, if it meant I’d get to eat a piece of your sweet bread instead.”

Hannah’s giggle reminded him of a wind chime. “It tastes alright, then?”

“Better than a dream,” Sawyer replied.

Hannah’s face again flushed. “That’s a kind thing for you to say,” she replied modestly and busied herself putting the lid on the jar before meeting his eyes again.

“I want you to know I do understand and respect your concerns about your kinner’s health,” she said somberly. “I have noticed they are thin, but it’s possible they’re going through a growth spurt, and their width hasn’t caught up with their height yet. In any case, in Willow Creek, we like to think our gut farm air has a way of working up healthy appetites, and I’ll feed those appetites with wholesome, hearty suppers.”

Sawyer blinked and ran his hands over his head, pushing back his curls. Until that instant, he hadn’t realized how much he’d needed reassurance that the children would be alright. He was so often in the position of instructing and comforting his children, encouraging Gertrude and guiding his crew at work that he rarely received a word of consolation himself. Her sentiment was as heartening as something Eliza may have said, and he was touched. His silence allowed Hannah to continue speaking.

“My intention is to help relieve your concerns, Sawyer, not to add to them. I hope you won’t worry about Simon, Sarah and Samuel while they’re under my care. But if you have a concern, please tell me—I promise not to have another tantrum like a kind myself, as I did yesterday.”

Sawyer broke into a huge grin. “Hannah Lantz,” he replied, “you may be slight in stature, but you most certainly are no child!”

When Hannah looked perplexed, he rushed to explain, “I mean that you’re every bit a woman.”

Her forehead and cheeks went pink and her eyes widened. Clearly he was embarrassing her.

“An adult, that is,” Sawyer clarified. “Someone I wholeheartedly trust to mind my kinner.”

As he stood there feeling every bit the fool, two boys shuffled up the stairs into the classroom.

“Guder mariye, Caleb and Eli,” Hannah greeted them. To Sawyer she said, “Those are friends of Samuel and Simon’s.”

“Ah, Caleb, whose bloody mouth you tended to—the kinner told me about it.”

“High drama in the school yard,” Hannah said with a giggle, and Sawyer knew any awkwardness between them had passed. “It’s all in a day’s work.”

“Speaking of work,” Sawyer remembered, “I should be going now.”

“Me, too.” Hannah nodded. “I hope you have a pleasant day.”

The day was already far more pleasant than Sawyer could have hoped for himself.

Chapter Four

“Be careful!” Hannah’s grandfather commanded as she helped him hoist the dollhouse into the buggy Saturday morning. “This could fetch a pretty penny, but not if you crack it.”

Hannah dismissed his harsh admonishment as concern about their income. The dollhouse was larger and more detailed than any he’d ever made before—clearly he had designed it to appeal to Englisch tourists—so it was no wonder he wanted to be certain it arrived without a nick. She mopped her brow and took her place beside him in the buggy, uttering a silent prayer for travel mercies.

As they sped past the fields and into town, Hannah let her mind wander to her conversation with Sawyer, as it had often done in the past hours, making light work of wringing and hanging the clothes and scrubbing the floors. Better than a dream, he had said about her sweet bread. She knew pride was a sin, but being given a compliment was such a rare occurrence she couldn’t help but treasure his words. They weren’t merely flattery, either—his bright green eyes had shone with genuine earnestness as he’d spoken the phrase.

A driver honked his horn, jarring Hannah from her thoughts. She touched her grandfather’s sleeve to warn him of the approaching vehicle so he could move to the shoulder of the road, but he jerked his arm away. She was relieved when they finally pulled into the lane behind the mercantile. So many tourists’ cars filled the lot that Hannah and her grandfather had to tie their horse at the designated horse and buggy plot nearly a quarter of a mile away.

They purchased their groceries and returned to the buggy to secure them there before heading to Schrock’s Shop, which was located three doors down from the mercantile. Hannah helped her grandfather unload the dollhouse first; they’d come back to retrieve the other toys later. She was aware of but not bothered by the curious stares of the Englischers as they trudged down the long street toward the shop.

Hannah’s grandfather had been apprenticed as a carpenter—he once owned a small furniture shop that eventually closed for lack of business. After that, he reluctantly went to work in the Englisch-run factory on the edge of town. Ever since the company retired him some eight years ago, he had been consigning wooden toys at Schrock’s, where his work was highly prized among tourists. Eve’s quilts were equally appreciated. However, sometimes it seemed the Englisch were willing to praise more than they were willing to pay, so the income generated from the sales was nominal at best.

Still, the sales had been a provision from the Lord, and Hannah thought about how thankful she was for that as she pulled open the door to the back entrance.

“Guder nammidaag,” she said, wishing a good afternoon to Joseph Schrock, Daniel Schrock’s son, who was in charge of making consignment arrangements for new merchandise.

He looked up from where he was sitting at his desk, a pinched expression on his face. “Good afternoon, Hannah, Albert,” he greeted them in Englisch.

As they placed the dollhouse carefully on the floor, Hannah expected Joseph to fuss over it more than he usually did, since the dollhouse was especially handsome. Instead, Joseph slid his pencil behind his ear and offered them a chair.

Her grandfather refused. “I am not so old I need to sit after a stroll down the lane.”

Hannah’s cheeks grew hot, but out of respect for her grandfather, she remained standing, too. Joseph excused himself to close the door leading to the main gallery where the customers browsed.

“The news isn’t good, Albert,” Joseph acknowledged. He mouthed the words toward Hannah’s grandfather, but his eyes shifted to Hannah. He held up two fingers. “Only two of your items sold since you were last here. The Englisch are less inclined to buy wooden toys any longer. They spend their money on electronic devices, I am told.”

Hannah chewed her lip, nodding.

“I’m afraid we have to limit the amount of shelf space we can devote to your items, Albert. Until what you have here already sells, we cannot accept more toys. Especially not something as large as that dollhouse.”

Hannah’s grandfather pounded his fist against the desktop, causing Hannah and Joseph both to jump.

“I made the cradle you slept in, Joseph Schrock!” he shouted. “Your own sons have slept in it, as well. Now, are you to tell me you’re turning away my goods?”

“My father made the decision, and it is final,” Joseph stated, nervously pushing his glasses from where they’d slid down the bridge of his nose.

“What is final,” Hannah’s grandfather thundered, “is that we will never darken your doorstep again!”

He grunted as he bent to heave the dollhouse from the floor, and Hannah leaped to his aid.

“I’m sorry,” Joseph apologized to her. “I hope you understand.”

Hannah felt pulled between being loyal to her grandfather and being polite to Joseph. She dipped her head so her grandfather wouldn’t see her lips move but replied in their German dialect so Joseph would remember whom he was dealing with. “Mach’s gut, Joseph.”

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