by Beth Wiseman
No response. She looked up at Kade. “What’s his name?”
“Tyler.” Kade tried again to reach out to the boy, who began flailing his arms wildly and continued to bang his head on the pillow in front of him.
“Tyler, do you like pudding? I brought your daed some pudding.” The child stopped screaming, but he continued to bang his head. Sadie looked at Kade, who nodded at her progress, and then she turned her attention back to Tyler. “It is yummy pudding, and I sure would like for you to try some.”
Tyler didn’t look at her, but his destructive behavior began to subside. “Tyler likes pudding,” he mumbled.
She glanced at Kade, who ran his hand through his hair, sighed deeply, and said, “Did you really bring some? Because I’m out of pudding.”
The boy didn’t seem to hear Kade and repeated, “Tyler likes pudding.” He sat straight up, and his eyes began to jet around the room, as if he was searching for something.
“Ya. I made you more pudding,” she told Kade. “It’s outside.” Sadie turned back to Tyler. “Why don’t I go get you some pudding?” She slowly stood up.
“I’ll go get it,” Kade said. He jumped to his feet and moved toward the door. “Where is it?”
Sadie kept her eyes on the boy, who had begun playing with plastic letters on the floor next to him, as if nothing had ever happened. “Near the barn, along with your groceries.”
Kade was out the door before Sadie could say anything else. His son?
She reached over to touch Tyler’s arm. He didn’t look at her, but jerked away and flinched.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Kade returned, dropped the groceries inside the door, and headed toward the small kitchen with the container of pudding. “I’ll put some pudding in a bowl for you, Tyler,” he said.
Tyler lined his letters up in no particular order. He was calm. Sadie saw Kade searching for a spoon, pulling drawers open. She allowed herself a look around the cottage. It was a mess. Dishes were piled in the sink and clothes strewn across the back of the couch. He really should have opted for the housecleaning service she offered with the rental, although she was glad he hadn’t.
“I should go.” She stood up and smoothed the wrinkles in her black apron.
“No. Wait.” Kade slid a spoon into the bowl of pudding and walked toward her and Tyler. He offered Tyler the bowl of pudding, which the boy accepted. A smile swept across Tyler’s face.
“Tyler will be all right, no?” Sadie took a step backward and put some space between her and Kade.
“His mother dropped him off here, so she could run off and get married.” Kade put his hand on her elbow and gently coaxed her away from Tyler and toward the far side of the den. “Tyler’s autistic.”
Sadie didn’t know what that meant, but she edged out of Kade’s grip and turned to face him. “But you said he was your son. How—”
“His mother and I have been separated for three years, and now she wants me to sign the divorce papers so she can remarry.” He pointed to the bound papers on the couch. “She left him here without any warning, and she expects me to keep him until she gets settled.” Kade shook his head, then looked up at her. “I haven’t seen him in six months.” Then, as if trying to hide shame, he added, “But I used to see him once a month . . . when his mother would let me.”
And this is acceptable parenting in the Englisch world? She wanted to ask him why he rarely saw his son, but it was none of her business. “I must go.” She turned and headed toward the door.
“Wait.” He was following her, so Sadie paused at the door. “Tyler lives a long way from me. That’s why I don’t see him much.”
Sadie nodded.
“Thank you for your help,” he said. “Do you want a cup of coffee, or some tea?” His tone was desperate, and Sadie knew he was afraid to be alone with the boy.
“No. Danki.” She reached the door and pulled it open. Then she turned to face him again. “Do you need anything? For the boy?”
“I don’t know.” Kade rubbed his hand against the stubble on his chin. He turned toward Tyler, who was content with his pudding and sighed. “I don’t even know my own son.”
Sadie couldn’t take her eyes from him. Maybe it was the sadness in his voice, but she had a sudden urge to offer him a hug, a thought she quickly squelched, feeling ridiculous. She had no business here. “I’m sorry for the intrusion. I shouldn’t have burst through the door like I did, but—”
“No. Thank goodness you did.” He smiled. “Turns out the kid likes your tapioca pudding as much as I do.”
Sadie looked down at her shoes and hoped he wouldn’t notice the flush in her cheeks. “I have to go.” She turned around, then walked across the threshold and down the steps, with Kade following her. Thankfully, he stopped at the bottom porch step. Sadie hurried across the snow and didn’t look back.
“Thank you again,” she heard him say.
But she kept focused on the farmhouse ahead of her, mentally calculating how many days Kade had already been here, and how many days until he’d be gone
Kade knew he needed to feed Tyler more than just tapioca pudding. He indulged the boy with two more bowls and used the opportunity to begin scanning through the black binder Monica had left him, fighting the wave of panic that overtook him with each page. Kade had never been around Tyler for more than a few hours at a time. How would he ever maintain Tyler’s schedule? Up at seven. Breakfast at seven thirty. Brush teeth and get dressed at eight o’clock. Then a gap—go to school at eight thirty and return at three thirty.
He glanced at Tyler when he heard the spoon clink against the empty bowl. But Tyler set the bowl aside and began playing with his plastic letters. Kade kept scanning the pages. Four o’clock, reading time. Four thirty, outside playtime. Five o’clock, sing songs. Six o’clock, more reading. Dinnertime was at seven, followed by brushing teeth and a bath. Bedtime, eight. Leave the light on was highlighted in yellow marker.
Kade turned the page to find a list of likes and dislikes. The list of dislikes was far longer than the likes.
Likes to read, sing, play with plastic letters, take his shoes off and on, listen to running water from the tap/tub, carry his Spider-Man lunch box from room to room, and his favorite self-stimulatory behavior is to clap his hands.
Kade took a deep breath and read the column of dislikes.
Does not like to be touched casually—e.g., patted on the head, brushed against, have a haircut, etc. But does like to be hugged tightly and will say the word hug.
Does not socialize well with other children, often becoming agitated. Is afraid of the dark. Doesn’t like to get off schedule, will scream.
Kade was afraid to move, to breathe, to do anything that might draw attention to himself and distract Tyler’s calm mood. He turned the page, still with visions of Tyler’s earlier head banging fresh on his mind. During their few visits to the park, Tyler had never behaved in such a way. Tyler had thrown fits before, but nothing like today. More dislikes on the following page.
Doesn’t like the television on. Not much to watch anyway.
Dislikes any green food—peas, green beans, celery, lettuce . . . Footsteps moving his way sent a rush of adrenaline through Kade. He closed the binder and looked up to find Tyler facing him. Neither said a word, and Kade feared another explosion. Tyler surely wasn’t on his schedule. Kade glanced at his watch. Three o’clock. Tyler would normally be in school. Please don’t scream.
Kade took in the boy’s features, remembering him as a toddler. His blue eyes were still filled with wonder yet seemed to look right through Kade. To Kade’s surprise, Tyler smiled, his face lighting up, and Kade returned the smile. “Hi,” he said with caution.
“Hi.” Tyler kept smiling. Then with his arms at his side, Tyler said simply, “Hug.”
“You want a hug?” Kade recalled the bite he received when he’d tried to touch Tyler earlier, but that was before he’d read Monica’s notes.
“Hug,” Tyler r
epeated.
Kade pulled the boy to him, slowly at first. But Tyler seemed comfortable, and Kade brought him closer and wrapped his arms tightly around his son’s tiny frame. Kade buried his head on Tyler’s small shoulder, and for the first time since Monica left with his son, Kade cried
Sadie wrapped her arms around her knees as she sat on the small stool in the barn, shivering and waiting for Milo’s phone call. She knew it was well past eight o’clock, and she was tired, cold, and growing irritated. Milo knew she had to sit out in the cold barn, and for him to be late calling was disrespectful.
She couldn’t help but wonder how things were going with Kade and Tyler. She assumed Kade’s son must be mentally slow. She recalled Martha and Jacob’s boy, Amos, who was born a few years back, his mind and behavior different from other children’s. A special child of God.
She squeezed her arms around her knees even tighter, the bitter cold a harsh contrast from the more pleasant temperatures earlier in the day. Maybe something had happened to Milo, a situation that prevented him from calling. Worry replaced her irritation as her mind speculated about what could be keeping him from phoning. He never missed a Tuesday call.
Wild dogs howled in the distance, interrupting the eerie quiet that surrounded her. Again, her thoughts turned to her renter and his son. Kade had looked so lost, so unprepared to care for the boy. Divorce. Such a tragedy, a circumstance unheard-of in her community, where marriage was a sacrament, never to be severed. She wondered what could have happened between the two of them. Sadie remembered what a hard time Martha and Jacob had when Amos was born, the difficulties with a special child. All the more reason for young Tyler to have two parents. Perhaps Kade and his wife would not go through with the divorce.
None of her business, Sadie reminded herself. She lifted herself off the stool and picked up the lantern from the small table where the phone rested. She walked toward Kade’s sleek, black car and peeked inside, recalling their trip in search of Jonas. Why did anyone need all those gadgets? She shook her head and walked slowly out of the barn, taking careful steps into the snowy yard now icing over as the night temperatures dropped.
The familiar loneliness was her only company. She fought the knot in her throat and picked up her pace, wanting to get inside—secure in her bed, where she could have a proper cry while tucked beneath the thick counterpanes. Milo’s Tuesday calls sustained her from week to week.
She heard the cottage door open and briefly spun around to see Kade loading a piece of firewood into his arms, but then quickly turned back toward the farmhouse.
“Hey!”
She wasn’t in the mood to make polite conversation, but she stopped and turned around. “Ya?”
“Are you all right?” The door to the cottage was wide-open, and Kade had taken a couple of steps further onto the porch, still toting the firewood.
“Ya. I’m gut. Danki.” She waved, turned around, and quickened her steps. She’d almost made it safely to the farmhouse when she heard him call her name. She sighed, turned around. “Ya?”
“Do you want to come have a cup of coffee with me?”
“No. Danki.” She turned and walked faster, nearly slipping on the icy snow.
“Please?”
Sadie stopped but didn’t turn around. Maybe it was the pleading tone in his voice. Maybe it was her own desperate loneliness, her need to be in the presence of another human being. But suddenly, she found herself considering Kade’s offer.
6
SADIE OPENED HER EYES THE NEXT MORNING AT DAY-break, eyes swollen from crying herself to sleep the night before. She’d overslept, but who would notice anyway? She rolled onto her side, tucked the quilt around her chin, and warmed herself against the chill in the room. Loneliness tore at her heart as she reached over and draped an arm across Ben’s side of the bed. She closed her eyes and pretended he was lying beside her.
Spending time with the Englischer would have been unsuitable at best, no matter how much she longed for companionship. Thankfully she’d had the strength to give him a big hearty no before bolting up the stairs and into the farmhouse. She’d barely made it into the den when the tears began to spill. God, please don’t let me be alone the rest of my life, she prayed.
Today was her day to work at the shop with Lillian, so she reluctantly pushed back the covers and stepped out of bed. She was usually a woman of vigor, but now, the hole in her heart seemed to be dragging her to a place she didn’t want to be.
She said her regular morning devotions, praying hard that God would send Milo to her, that they would fall in love and live the rest of their lives the way He intended for them, and that they might be blessed with lots of little ones to fill their hearts with joy. She knew that to ask for such things was not in line with her upbringing. It would have been better to ask for God’s guidance and accept that His will would be done.
Sadie bundled up and headed toward the shop after a few bites of toast with apple butter. She’d already heard Lillian pull up in her buggy twenty minutes earlier. She glanced across the yard at the cottage. All was quiet. She wondered how the boy was doing and how Kade was faring.
When Sadie walked in, the heaters were already lit, and Lillian was opening the blinds. “Sleeping in this morning?” Lillian winked.
“Ya. I reckon so.” Sadie opened the last blind, flooding the room with sunlight.
“We better enjoy all this sun while we can,” Lillian said. She wrapped the cord from the blind around a nail on the wall. “Friday we’re in for another hard freeze, and the newspaper said blizzard conditions.”
“Ya, I heard.” Sadie tied off her cord and headed toward the sales counter on the right side of the room.
Lillian marched over to the counter and gazed up at Sadie. “Have you been crying?”
Sadie took a deep breath. “Milo didn’t call last night.”
“Hmm. Maybe something came up. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
“He’s never missed a Tuesday call.” Sadie began to total up receipts from yesterday’s sales.
“Maybe he will call tonight, no?”
Sadie shrugged. “Maybe. But he’ll have to leave a message. It’s a mite too cold for me to sit in the barn and wait for him to call.”
Lillian didn’t say anything for a few minutes, but fumbled nervously with papers on the counter. “Mary Ellen said that she and Rebecca saw you go running into the cottage yesterday. She said that you dropped the Englisher’s groceries on the ground and burst in the front door.”
“Were they spying on me?” Sadie didn’t look up at Lillian, but kept pushing numbers on the small calculator.
“They said they thought they heard screams coming from the cottage. When they looked out the window, you were running inside. Mary Ellen said they were worried about you, so they watched out the window until they saw you heading back to the farmhouse. They weren’t sure how involved they should get.”
“As it turns out, Mr. Saunders has a son.” She glanced up to see Lillian waiting for more. “He has a wife who he’s been apart from for three years. She wants to remarry, so she brought him some divorce papers to sign and dropped the boy off with him. And . . .”
“What?” Lillian’s eyes were wide.
“He hasn’t seen the boy, Tyler, in six months, and Tyler’s mother wouldn’t let him see Tyler much before that. Tyler is like Martha and Jacob’s boy, I think, screaming and banging his head on the floor when I walked in. I can’t help but worry about . . .” She caught herself, looked down, and returned to totaling receipts.
“Worry is a sin,” Lillian said. Then she patted Sadie’s hand. “God will guide their way. I will pray for them.”
Sadie merely nodded. She had included Kade and Tyler in her prayers last night, thinking she’d never seen such a lost man as Kade. Hopefully, she thought, Kade has a good relationship with the Lord.
Lillian began to sweep the wooden floor, and Sadie silently questioned her own relationship with God. Thoughts had been sur
facing that she would never share with anyone, notions that continued to creep into her head, as if put there by the devil himself.
She gave her head a few quick shakes from side to side, as if that would clear the sinful thoughts from her mind. There was no questioning God’s will. To do so went against everything Sadie believed in. But she couldn’t understand His will for her these days, as her loneliness burrowed deep inside her. Perhaps she just needed to be patient, until the spring, when Milo would be here.
“How’s Jonas?” she asked Lillian in an attempt to stem the confusion in her head.
Lillian stopped sweeping. “Mamm said it depends on the day. Some days he is perfectly fine. Other days are baremlich. He gets confused, wanders off, and tries to take the buggy if it’s left hitched up, without letting Mamm know where he’s going. Things like that. I know it’s hard for Mamm sometimes, taking care of him on her own. She worries about him a lot.”
“Jonas has no business doing such things. Just like the other night—”
“Sadie, I’m sorry I asked you to go into that place to get Grandpa. I should have gone. After all, I’ve been in those type places before. Before I was Amish.”
“You shouldn’t be in a place like that while you’re pregnant.” Sadie recalled the smoke-filled room, the patrons’ questioning eyes, and the way Kade had handled Jonas. “You know, it was Kade who convinced Jonas to come with us.” She paused. “He seemed to know exactly how to handle him.”
“Hmm,” Lillian said. “Well, it’s a gut thing he did.” She pointed toward the window. “There’s Carley and Jenna.”
The bell on the door chimed when Jenna burst into the room. “Hi!” She ran into her Aunt Lillian’s arms.
“Guder mariye, Jenna.”
“Good morning to you too,” the six-year-old answered.
Carley closed the door behind her. “She does pretty well with her Pennsylvania Deitsch, huh? With so many relatives speaking the language, Noah has taught her quite a bit. He still remembers much of what he learned before he left.”