Sarah's Orphans

by Vannetta Chapman

  Two hours later, they had caught six nice-sized catfish from the creek that flowed across the northwestern corner of his property. He had placed them in the now empty cooler, ice packs once again on top, which the boys insisted on carrying. They stopped outside the barn while he returned the poles and tackle.

  “Tractor or walk?” Paul asked.

  “Walk,” they said simultaneously.

  “Works for me.”

  “Mammi is going to be shocked,” Mateo said.

  “Ya. We brought home the bacon, only it’s fish!” Isaac laughed at his joke, and then he covered his mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh.”

  “It’s okay to be happy, you know.” They were walking down Paul’s lane. They could have cut across the fields, but he’d heard about Isaac’s pants getting caught on the fence the last time. He didn’t want to add any additional work to Sarah’s afternoon.

  “I don’t know about that. Seems like we should be sad. I mean, we are sad.” Isaac frowned and squashed his hat more firmly on his head.

  “Being sad is normal. Someone we love is hurting.”

  Both of the boys nodded fiercely.

  “But at the same time, Brian wouldn’t want you to go around looking like the world had stopped turning. There’s still work to be done and fish to be caught.”

  “Sometimes I forget,” Mateo admitted. “You know, I forget for a minute that he’s been hurt. Then I remember, and I feel terrible all over again.”

  “Yup. That’s your mind and heart coming to terms with what has happened.”

  They had reached the end of the lane and were now walking down the side of the road.

  “Why did it have to happen?” Isaac asked. “Brian’s a gut person. He didn’t do anything wrong or anything to deserve this.”

  Paul didn’t answer immediately.

  Mateo said, “I’ve wondered that before. Like, why do I have a terrible mom? I’m grateful for you all—for my new family—but why did I get stuck with such a bad one to begin with?”

  “Let’s not be judging your mother. We don’t know the details of her situation.”

  “I know she’s not here, and she’s a drunk! What else do I need to know?”

  Isaac nodded in agreement. “My mom isn’t any better. She’s not a drunk, and she still left.”

  Paul stopped walking, scratched at his right eyebrow, and said a quick prayer for wisdom. They had reached the lane leading to the Yoder house. He motioned over to the vegetable stand that was currently closed.

  He sat on the lone chair inside. Mateo and Isaac both sat on the cooler. Each tugged on their straw hat at the same moment. It was almost funny, the way the two mirrored one another, and that they weren’t even aware of it.

  This time, instead of staring at the ground, they watched him expectantly.

  Paul sighed and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I don’t know the answers to your questions.”

  “That’s not much help,” Isaac said.

  “So you’re as confused as we are?” Mateo pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “But you’re grown up.”

  “Ya, I am. No one handed me all the answers when I turned sixteen or eighteen or even twenty. I’m still figuring stuff out. I guess we all are.”

  “Not any help at all.” Isaac nudged Mateo, and they both grinned. “Maybe we should ask Mammi.”

  “That’s a gut idea. Mammi is a wise woman, and we’re lucky she’s here.”

  “Sure are,” the boys said simultaneously.

  Paul leaned back in his chair. “Though, if your mom hadn’t left home, Isaac, Mammi wouldn’t have come to stay here.”

  “I traded one mother for another?”

  “I don’t know about that. I only know that I’m glad Mammi came.”

  “I am too,” Isaac admitted.

  “So something gut came out of your mother’s leaving, just like Gotte promised He would bring gut out of the things men intend for evil.”

  “That’s in the Bible?” Mateo asked.

  “Sure is.” Paul allowed his words to sink in, and then he reminded them, “And if Mateo’s mom hadn’t left, then you two would have never met each other. Sarah wouldn’t have Mateo and Mia to take care of.”

  “Sarah loves us,” Mateo said.

  Isaac nodded in agreement. “She loves all of us.”

  “But what about Brian? How can something gut come of that?”

  “I don’t know, but Gotte will find a way. You can always trust that Gotte will find a way to bless us in spite of the bad stuff in life. And you know what?” He stood and indicated they should pick up the cooler and continue walking. “If Mateo hadn’t come, and you two hadn’t pestered me about piglets—”

  Isaac gave him a sideways look. “Hey. Wasn’t that your idea?”

  “Maybe it was, but I might not have actually purchased them without you two around. Now those piglets have the best home this side of the Mississippi.”

  Both boys started giggling, and this time they didn’t cover their mouths.

  CHAPTER 68

  Mateo didn’t know what to expect on Monday morning. He vaguely remembered having substitute teachers when he was in school in Texas. It had never gone well. The teachers seemed a bit lost, and the kids acted terrible.

  He nearly fell out of his seat when he saw that Becca’s mother was their substitute teacher. She was a nice enough woman. She’d brought them clothes and toys for his sister. And she was expecting her first grandbaby soon. That was pretty much all he knew about her.

  “How’s she going to do this when the baby comes?” he asked Isaac.

  “She’s only here this morning. They switch off.”

  When they returned from lunch, it was to find that Bishop Levi was their teacher for the afternoon.

  And the next morning it was Sarah, and Paul’s brother Joseph covered the afternoon class.

  The best part was that the week kind of went on as normal. The people filling in didn’t teach the way Brian did, but the students went about their work as usual. They still had math in the morning, a story after lunch, and history and reading in the afternoon. The older boys still tried to chase the girls around the playground, and the girls still squealed as if they didn’t love it. But Mateo could tell they did. They always smiled and giggled as they ran.

  “Why would anyone want to chase a girl?” he asked Isaac.

  “Beats me. Let’s check the creek for frogs.” Isaac was still feeding his owl, though Mammi thought it might be ready to release in another week.

  So life proceeded pretty much as it had before. They didn’t forget about Brian. Each morning, after they had the singing, whoever was teaching would update them on his condition. Always it was the same. Never better and never worse. But at least they were being told something. No one was trying to keep them in the dark.

  It was Luke’s idea that they create a banner of handprints to send to the hospital. Each student traced his or her hand on construction paper, cut it out, and added a get-well note on the palm. They fastened them together with yarn and staples. By the time they were done, the hand banner reached from one end of the chalkboard to the other.

  Mateo thought it looked better than any card he’d ever seen. Surely, when Brian woke up and saw it, he would feel better.

  Mateo wasn’t real good at praying yet, but the teacher always set aside a few minutes at the end of the day for them to pray for Brian. Mostly, Mateo bowed his head and said, “Please, God” over and over in his mind. After a few days, he remembered to pray for Brian’s wife and their kids and the doctors and the bishop, who was still making trips back and forth to the hospital.

  The week passed with no real news, and then at church on Sunday, Mateo noticed a lot of adults smiling and slapping each other on the back. They were saying things like, “I knew it” and “Gotte is gut” and “Praise the Lord.” Mateo didn’t have to wonder too long.

  Bishop Levi stood up after the first two songs, thanked them for coming, and then del
ivered the news. “Katie called the store this morning. She spoke with Joseph, so I’ll let him share with you what she said.”

  Paul’s brother stood in front of the group, a smile stretching across his face. “Brian woke up last night.”

  There were more amens and shouts of joy.

  “He remembers nothing of the accident, but he knows his name, his family, and that he’s supposed to be teaching.”

  Laughter spread across the congregation. Mateo turned to high-five Isaac. The guilt he’d been carrying vanished. Why had he felt guilty? It was the Englischer who had run into him, a man who was now in jail from what Andy said. Yet in the back of his mind, he’d felt a little as if it were his fault. If he hadn’t stopped with Isaac to look in the creek, if they hadn’t stayed late, maybe Brian would have left earlier. Maybe he wouldn’t have been hit.

  He had shared that with Mammi one night. She said, “A person can spend their whole life worrying about what might happen, or they can live the life they’re given. I’d suggest the latter.”

  Joseph was still updating the congregation. “He has a long recovery ahead of him, but the doctors say that he’ll be home within the next month, and he’ll be able to teach again by next year.”

  Mateo couldn’t have told anyone a thing about the rest of the service. He was so relieved. He had spent many nights awake in his bed, worrying about his teacher, but now he could finally relax. When Andy woke him up, they were singing the final hymn. This one Mateo knew. They’d sung it lots of times since he had moved in with Sarah. And the words seemed to fit.

  Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…

  CHAPTER 69

  The next few weeks crept by for Sarah. She felt a despondency that she hadn’t known since her first few weeks struggling with her eating disorder. She felt lost, adrift on a sea of terrible possibilities.

  What if the children were hit by a car as they were walking home?

  What if Brian didn’t get well?

  What if one of the boys were hurt on the farm? There were always farming accidents, and she couldn’t think how to watch over everyone all the time.

  Then her mind would return to Mia, who was still occasionally hiding in bizarre places. Once, they had found her in the hayloft of the barn. Sarah shuddered to think of her climbing up the rickety ladder.

  Another time, she hid in the bushes and came in smelling of skunk. What if it had bitten her? What if it had been rabid?

  She didn’t share her fears with Mammi. She knew well enough how Mammi would counsel her.

  Pray. Trust Gotte. Read the Bible.

  Whenever she tried to do any of those things, her mind would wander until eventually she’d give up and take up another chore to try to distract herself. She had trouble sleeping, and though she forced herself to eat, she knew from the way that her clothes fit that she was once again losing weight.

  Becca attempted to get her to laugh about it. “Look at me. I’m as big as one of Joshua’s cows.”

  In truth her friend looked beautiful and happy and well rested. Pregnancy agreed with her, and Sarah had no doubt that motherhood would as well.

  One afternoon she was at Becca’s house, helping her to sort the infant clothes she’d received and place them in the baby’s dresser. They folded and exclaimed over each item.

  “Some are used, but they’re all in gut shape.”

  “You certainly have plenty whether you have a girl or boy.”

  “My mamm says girl, because I’m carrying her low like she carried me. The midwife says it’s a boy because of the heart rate.” Becca shrugged. “I’ll be happy no matter what it is.”

  “Do you…” Sarah lowered her voice. Mia was playing on the floor in the living room. She’d taken to listening closely and asking lots of questions, but she couldn’t hear them from the next room. “Do you worry about the birth or the baby being sick or…”

  “Nein.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even said that.”

  “It’s okay, Sarah. You know, you can say anything to me. Our friendship goes way back, all the way to Texas.”

  “Some days I feel like a completely different person from the girl who rode away on that bus. Hard to believe I left home and actually went on a mission trip.”

  “But you did. We both did.”

  “And you ended up marrying Joshua.” Sarah smiled in spite of the constant ache in her heart. “Gotte has been gut to you.”

  “He has, and He’s been gut to you as well.” Becca reached forward and clasped her hands. “That little girl in the other room adores you. And if I’m not mistaken, a certain neighbor of yours is quite interested too.”

  Sarah shook her head. “I can’t—”

  “Can’t what?”

  Instead of answering, Sarah pulled her hands away and busied herself folding cloth diapers. They also had a stack of disposables for church and such. Becca didn’t push. Instead, she waited—in Sarah’s mind that was certainly one of the marks of a good friend.

  “I can’t see the future. You know?” She folded a yellow onesie and sighed. “I can’t see past today. There’s enough to worry over without thinking about a husband. More change—”

  She shook her head, causing her kapp strings to fall forward. “There are so many things that could go wrong.”

  To her surprise, Becca stood and left the room.

  Had she finally offended her friend? Perhaps Becca could no longer tolerate her morose mood. She wouldn’t blame her.

  But Becca had only gone to fetch something. She thrust it into Sarah’s hands. “Alice sent me this.”

  “Alice?”

  “Our friend Alice, in Texas. She still writes. Alice knows about suffering, ya? She lost her entire home in that terrible hurricane and feared she would lose her grandchildren, but she didn’t. She says that sometimes we experience a crisis of faith.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It’s sort of like an earthquake. Did you feel the one we had last week?”

  “Barely a tremor. They say it’s from all the oil drilling in the area.”

  “Well, Alice said that most people have a crisis of faith at one time or another. She sent me these prayer cards when I was worrying over not getting pregnant.”

  “I didn’t know you worried about that.”

  Becca shrugged. “When it didn’t happen right away, I was afraid something was wrong with me. I mentioned it in one of my letters to her, and she sent me this box.”

  Sarah pulled the lid off the box. Inside was what looked like a small deck of cards, only when she pulled one out she saw it had a Scripture from the Psalms printed on each side.

  “I want you to have it. Promise me you will pull out a new card each day, read it, and allow it to minister to your heart.”

  “Okay, only…” She’d gone this far, she might as well spill it all. “Only when I read my Bible now, it doesn’t seem to mean anything. It’s like they are just words printed in a book.”

  Instead of judging her, Becca enfolded her in a hug. “Gotte is doing great things with you, Sarah. It doesn’t have to make sense, and it doesn’t have to feel right. Sort of like when I felt nauseated with the baby those first few months. Or now, when I can barely roll over. None of that feels right, but Mamm says it’s a part of the wonders of childbearing.”

  Sarah laughed through her tears. “I wouldn’t know about that.”

  “Try not to rush what Gotte is doing. Read a card each day, and I will pray that He will use them to restore your faith.”

  CHAPTER 70

  Paul knew that Sarah was struggling.

  Mammi said to give her time.

  Andy said he didn’t understand girls at all. Apparently, he’d had a falling out with Emma. He was determined to make up, but so far she’d refused to speak with him.

  “What did you do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “No idea? Seriously?”

  Paul squinted in the morning sunshine. The c
rops they had planted looked good. He might even be able to afford to purchase a horse and buggy before fall arrived.

  At the moment they were repairing pens on the Yoder place. Paul had managed to trade two of his piglets, which were hardly piglets anymore, for four goats that he gave to Sarah. Unfortunately, she hadn’t seemed nearly as happy as he’d hoped. She’d smiled and thanked him politely, but there’d been no real joy in her words or her expression.

  “Could be I forgot about promising Emma I’d take her to town for dinner,” Andy admitted.

  “Huh.”

  “It’s our three-month anniversary. Whoever heard of such a thing?”

  “Three months—”

  “Since we started formally courting. I’m not sure how formal it is, but neither of us is seeing anyone else. When she told me, I laughed and said we should celebrate, but then our neighbor’s cows knocked down the fence on the other side of our place. I was afraid they would get in the corn, so after Henry moved them back, we set to fixing the fence.”

  “You could have asked me to help.”

  “You were working at the store that day.”

  “Oh, yeah. The day Joseph had to go back to the doctor’s, so I watched the store.”

  Andy sighed, hammered the last of the gate crossbars, and closed it. Giving it a good shake, he said, “Looks like it will hold.”

  “I don’t know.” Paul studied the work they had done. “You know what they say about goat fences.”

  “Can’t say I do.”

  “If water can get through it, so can a goat.”

  Andy laughed.

  Paul said, “Maybe we should go to town and get some fencing to put along the bottom, over there, on the west side.”

  “Gut idea. But only if you let me buy. You already gave us the goats.”

  “Deal.”

  An hour later they were in town at the feed store. It was cheaper to buy a large roll of the fencing. Andy relented and allowed Paul to pay for half. “My pigs are so big, I think they could lean against our fencing and knock it over. This will work to slow them down a little.”

  As they were leaving, Paul spied potted flowers outside the front door of the feed store.