by Beth Wiseman
Excellent, he thought. Just me, Tyler, and Sadie. The thought brought him a sense of comfort.
Sadie started to help Tyler build his fortress, and Kade sat watching the two of them. Every once in a while, both Sadie and Tyler would laugh out loud, like when the blocks came tumbling down around them. It was a vision, for sure.
Kade realized that Monica had been put to rest by now, and he’d missed it. His heart ached about missing the funeral and about Monica’s death. He was feeling a little guilty that he hadn’t thought more about it during the course of the day. To Kade’s surprise, he hadn’t thought about Alicia in several days either. He wasn’t thinking about much of anything—except Sadie and Tyler.
Sadie was at her most beautiful when she laughed. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of hearing her laughter. When she looked up unexpectedly and found Kade almost drooling over her, she stopped smiling and looked uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, shook his head. “It’s just . . .” He wanted to tell her that she was a beautiful person, inside and out. But he knew he couldn’t. She’d fold up with embarrassment. “Nothing,” he said instead. His thoughts were venturing into a forbidden zone, and he kept forcing himself not to look at her lips. Kade knew he needed to leave.
“Tyler, we’ve outstayed our welcome,” he said in a regretful voice. “I should take him and go home. I mean to the cottage.”
Sadie’s mouth flew open. “The weather is awful outside.” She nodded toward the window.
“I know. But at least it’s daylight. And it might not get any better. Probably best to go now, before it gets dark.” And before I say or do something I shouldn’t.
“It won’t be dark for a bit yet.” Kade was more than a little glad that she didn’t want them to leave, but just the same, he knew he needed to leave.
He bundled up Tyler, and Sadie retrieved an extra blanket for Kade to wrap around Tyler.
“I wish you didn’t have to go out in this, especially with the boy,” she said with concern.
“It wouldn’t be fair to leave Tyler here with you again,” he said. “And actually, I missed the little guy last night.” Kade found this thought somewhat surprising, but true.
“I will miss him too.” She smiled at Tyler.
“Tyler loves Sadie,” Tyler said.
Sadie grabbed her chest, and her eyes lit up. “Tyler, I love you too!”
“Wow. He’s never said that to me,” Kade said, not hiding his disappointment.
“He will.” Sadie smiled.
Before Kade put on his heavy coat, he pulled her into a hug and held her close, begging her with his embrace not to push him away.
And she didn’t. Sadie clung to him as tightly as he was clinging to her. Something was happening. They both knew it.
“Thanks for everything,” he whispered.
“You are welcome.”
But neither of them pulled away. Not until Tyler began to stomp his feet, and Kade forced himself from her arms.
“Bye,” he whispered. And Kade picked up Tyler and headed into the storm, protecting his son the best he could.
It wasn’t until they were settled in for the night that Kade had a thought. An idea that brought a smile to his face.
Sadie Fisher is in for a big surprise.
13
SADIE SAT ON THE EDGE OF HER BED AND YAWNED. There had been no sleep in between the thrashing winds and her all-consuming replays of the hug she had shared with Kade—the feel of his body next to her, the way he clung to her, as if letting her go would sever whatever it was that was happening between them. And Sadie knew that something was happening, a thought that terrified her. But it had been so long—so long since she’d been held by a man.
She shook her head. A grown woman—an Amish woman, at that—should fend off such temptation, no matter the attraction. But Sadie couldn’t deny her attraction to Kade, a man she at first thought to be shallow and arrogant, an Englischer she assumed had no regard for anything except his money. In reality, Kade was a lost man struggling to renew his faith and to find his place in this world, not so unlike Sadie in that regard. And now Kade would face those challenges while raising a special child who he didn’t know very well. She reached down to tie her shoes and noticed that for the first time in two days, the wind wasn’t howling outside.
Maybe the worst of the storm has passed, like the newspapers predicted. She walked to the window and pulled up the blind, and then brought both hands to her mouth and gasped. I don’t believe it.
Her entire body shook as she laughed out loud at the funniest-looking snowman she’d ever seen in her life. Or snowwoman . . . or snow-something.
She peered outside for any sign of Kade. The snow had stopped, and the trees gently swayed against the dying winds. Delicate, orange rays pushed through clouds that seemed hesitant to give in to the sun’s full force, revealing a wintry wonderland that glistened with tranquillity for as far as Sadie could see. A welcome sight, indeed. She glanced over her shoulder at her clock. Seven thirty. Granted, she had slept in following her restless night, but Kade must have gotten up early to create the . . . thing in front of her window. She bent over laughing, having never felt more flattered in her life.
Visions of her father came to mind. Sadie could almost see him perfecting a masterpiece, applying the finishing touches—a nose, a mouth, a scarf, a hat . . . Although when she looked at the masterpiece Kade had created, she pictured her father with his hands on his hips, head cocked sideways, saying, “What is this silly Englischer trying to do?”
It was the worst snowman Sadie had ever seen. Three lopsided balls gave the impression that this snowman had partaken in too much of the bubbly, swaying to one side as if being pushed over by the wind. The middle of the creation was larger and rounder than the top and bottom portion, and Sadie wasn’t sure, but it looked like the thing had tiny arms molded out of snow, jetting straight out from each side.
She recognized a green, plastic kitchen glass at the end of one of the limbs. Must be what the snowman drank his bubbly from, she surmised, giggling aloud. Bright-yellow lemons were pushed into hand-molded eye sockets, and Kade had drawn big, black pupils in the middle of each one, giving his snowman a most frightening demeanor. Mr. Scary Snowman had a carrot for a nose—at least Kade had gotten that part right. And there must have been a hundred toothpicks in the shape of a wide grin, making Kade’s handiwork the happiest scary snowman she’d ever laid eyes on.
A blue and red tie wound around Mr. Scary Snowman’s neck and fell the length of the middle clump of snow, and a blue baseball cap finished off his attire. Sadie shook her head, and then hurried down the stairs two at a time with a childish enthusiasm she recalled having each time her pop surprised her with the first snowman of the season. And the fact that Kade had created this ridiculous structure outside her window touched her in a way she knew wasn’t good, a way that made her want to run into his arms and thank him for making her laugh and feel so alive again.
She bundled herself in her heavy coat, gloves, and boots, and she was off. She glided across the icy, slick porch until she reached the steps. Grabbing the rails, she eased down each snow-covered step, and then plowed across the soft snow, periodically sinking to her shins. The wind and snow might have ceased, but it was so cold her teeth were chattering. She didn’t care. She was anxious to have a closer look at what she would now call Scary Drunken Snowman.
Cameras were forbidden by the Old Order, but she’d never wished she had one more than at this moment. She stood face-to-face with it and noticed that several of the toothpicks had fallen out of the happy smile, leaving Scary Drunken Snowman with a rather toothless look. She was laughing when she heard the cottage door open. Kade held Tyler’s hand as they made their way down the front steps.
“Well, what do you think?” Kade yelled across the snow-covered space between them. He heaved Tyler into his arms and picked up the pace.
Sadie knew she was grinning from ear to ear, and she pin
ched her lips together to try to stifle the laughter that threatened to erupt. “Gut,” she said quickly. She pursed her lips together again. Kade was out of breath by the time he and Tyler joined her.
“The baseball cap was Tyler’s idea,” Kade said with pride, panting a bit. “But I think the tie is what topped him off, don’t you?”
“Ya, ya,” Sadie said. She was still trying not to laugh since Kade seemed so proud of his work. Hard to believe, but she figured she’d better go along. “It’s lovely,” she said. Then she couldn’t hold it anymore. She bent over, put her hands on her knees, and laughed in a way that she couldn’t remember ever laughing. It was a gut-wrenching, snorting sort of laugh that she would have been embarrassed about if it didn’t feel so good.
“Are you laughing at my snowman?” Kade asked. He lifted his chin and turned toward Tyler. “Do you think Miss Sadie is laughing at our snowman?”
Tyler started laughing so hard that Sadie only laughed harder. “Miss Sadie funny,” Tyler said.
“I’m sorry,” Sadie managed to say between snorts of laughter. “It’s just that—” She started up again.
Then Kade started laughing, and it was as if the world stopped spinning for a few seconds, the three of them lost in a perfect moment. A child’s laughter, a glistening snowfall, two grown-ups reveling in silliness. And Sadie planned to enjoy the rarity of such a moment for as long as she could. She gathered herself, leaned down, and rolled the white powder into a perfect round ball.
“I suggest you run!” she said.
Kade looked ridiculous, lifting his legs up to his waist in an effort to step through the snow removing him and Tyler away from her line of fire. “What’s Miss Sadie doing?” Kade yelled. His eyes shone with playful tenderness as he looked at his son. And Tyler laughed so hard, Sadie was sure Kade was going to drop the boy.
She heaved the snowball, making sure to hit Kade in the leg, and not Tyler. Then Tyler wanted in on the game, and he squirmed his way out of Kade’s arms. Tyler sank into the snow, picked himself up, and started rolling the snow into a ball.
“You’re in trouble now!” Kade yelled. “Tyler seems to have easily picked up on this game.” Kade leaned down and helped Tyler squeeze the snow into a tight ball. “You better run, pretty lady!”
Pretty lady? Sadie should have been colder than cold, but she felt warm. She hiked her dress up, her big, black boots sinking into the soft snow. It was not her most ladylike behavior, that was for sure, but she bolted across the snow anyway, laughing the entire time.
“Throw, Tyler!” Kade yelled.
And the boy heaved the snowball and smacked her in the middle of her back.
“Are you okay?” Kade seemed serious all of a sudden as he trudged toward her.
She was fine, though, and wasted no time scooping up her own handful of snow. “You better run, the both of you!”
“Run, Tyler!” Kade yelled. He reached for Tyler’s hand, and the two of them ambled through the snow.
One thing Sadie knew how to do, and that was to make a fine snowball. She added snow, packed it tighter, and then took aim, thrusting her handmade weapon—right into the back of Kade’s head. Over he went.
“Oh no!” she yelled. Kade was facedown in the snow. “Oh no! Oh no!” She fell to her knees and leaned over him. “Kade, are you all right?” Tyler stood at her side, as if he, too, were wondering if his father was going to get up.
Then, without warning, Kade rolled onto his back, grabbed Sadie, and pulled her down beside him, yelling and laughing the whole time. “Gotcha!”
She was completely rattled, yet she couldn’t stop laughing as she lay beside Kade in the freezing snow. He reached for her hand, squeezed it, and didn’t let go. Then the realization of what was happening hit her hard, and she tried to wriggle her hand from his grasp. He tightened his hold and looked over at her. “I don’t remember when I’ve had this much fun. Please, let’s don’t analyze it.”
But despite the merriment, Sadie pried her hand from his and forced herself to stand up. Kade stood up as well. She reckoned his teeth were knocking together about as much as hers, and Tyler looked frozen as well. “Coffee is what we need, and some hot cocoa for Tyler,” she said.
“Yes. Coffee and cocoa,” Kade said.
They cumbersomely made their way to the house. Kade carried Tyler. Once inside, Kade added logs to the fire, as if he lived there. And Sadie prepared coffee, cocoa, and breakfast—as if both Kade and Tyler lived there. It should have been awkward. It seemed anything but.
The day was spent much like the previous day, soaking up the heat from the fireplace, playing games with Tyler, and talking—lots of talking. Sadie knew, with every inch of her being, that she was in a dangerous place, but why would God give her a glimpse of something so magical if it were wrong? So she allowed herself to go with it.
In the evening, she said good-bye to both Kade and Tyler, and another hug followed, this one more tender and longer than the time before.
And that’s how the threesome spent the next three days—sharing breakfast, lunch, supper, and games and conversation in between. And the now-customary hug ended the day, before darkness settled.
But on this Tuesday night, only a while before Milo was scheduled to call, Kade pulled from the hug and gazed into Sadie’s eyes in a way that she knew he was going to kiss her. She’d never wanted anything more in her life, she was quite sure. But she gently nudged him back. He didn’t push, and they stared at each other in a way that seemed not to need any words.
“Good night,” he said softly.
“Good night.” She leaned down. “And good night to you, Tyler.”
“Tyler loves Sadie.” Sadie pulled Tyler into a hug, and he fell into her arms.
“I love you, too, Tyler.”
“He still hasn’t said that to me,” Kade said. He dipped his head slightly as his eyes darkened with emotion.
“He will.” Sadie smiled up at Kade, Tyler still holding tight. “Come on, Tyler,” Kade said. “We better let Sadie get some rest.”
Sadie waved to them from the porch as they made their way back to the cottage. She checked the clock on the wall. For the first time, she considered not going to the barn to wait for Milo’s call at eight o’clock. He had already failed to call her the week before, and it was dreadfully cold. And if she was honest with herself, she’d admit her head was filled with thoughts of Kade and Tyler these days. She hadn’t thought much about Milo, nor had she reread any of his letters. But Sadie watched the clock until time for him to call, and then she headed to the barn.
At ten after eight, she left the barn with a new emotion that Milo didn’t call: relief
The next morning, Sadie heard the snowplows on Black Horse Road. Life would resume to normal. She’d no longer be hidden away with Kade and Tyler. Today, she’d open the shop with Lillian, and yes, things would return to normal.
Then why did she feel that something inside her would never feel normal again? Something had changed. Her spirit had changed, her willingness and ability to feel happiness. She’d been happier than she had been since Ben died.
She recalled her many prayers for God to grant her happiness. And He had. But why this way? It was a reality she couldn’t have, a happiness that had no place in her world. She was instantly back where she started, questioning God’s will for her.
“I am so glad to be out of the haus,” Lillian exclaimed when she met Sadie at the shop that morning. “You know how much I love my Samuel, David, and baby Anna, but they were about to make me bonkers.” Lillian laughed. “I think we all got a touch of cabin fever.” She cut her eyes in Sadie’s direction. “Oh, Sadie. I can’t imagine how it must have been for you, all these days alone out here. That must have been equally dreadful.” Lillian shook her head, frowning.
“Ya,” Sadie said. “Dreadful.” She pulled her eyes from Lillian’s, afraid Lillian would pick up on Sadie’s variation of the truth.
But her friend went on to ready the shop for bu
siness. And without much traffic, since the weather was still uncomfortably cold, Lillian spent most of the morning telling Sadie about her confinement indoors with Samuel and David. “They are so used to being outdoors, it’s hard to keep them entertained,” she said.
Sadie listened and chose not to share her adventures with Lillian, even though Lillian was her best friend and the one person who would most understand how Sadie had allowed herself to slip into a situation that was unacceptable at best. She’d no sooner had the thought when the bell on the front door of the shop rang. And in walked Kade and Tyler.
“I thought it was time we checked out Treasures of the Heart,” he said with a smile.
Sadie jumped up. “Kade, what are you doing here?” She knew her tone revealed the alarm she felt at being around Kade with Lillian in the room.
Kade smiled and seemed to pick up on Sadie’s unease. He walked to where Lillian was sitting on a stool by the counter. “Nice to see you again, Lillian.” He extended his hand to Lillian.
“Nice to see you as well,” she said. “And who is this young fellow?” Lillian leaned down toward Tyler.
“This is Tyler,” Sadie interjected. “Isn’t he a handsome little man?” Sadie was beaming with the pride of a mother, she knew, but Tyler had stolen her heart, and it was hard to hide.
“Sadie and I were just talking about how miserable we were during the storm. Confined, bored.” Lillian shook her head. “We’re both glad it’s all over.”
“I didn’t say I was bored, though,” Sadie rushed to say. She looked back and forth between Kade and Lillian. Kade smiled. Lillian looked confused. But Lillian was quick, and she didn’t stay confused for long.
“No, Sadie didn’t say she was bored,” Lillian said. Then she grinned. “I did all the talking. Sadie didn’t say much at all.”
“I was by myself, in the house . . . in the night hours. Ya, in the house by myself most of the time.” Sadie took a deep breath. “Except for playtime. I mean, card time. Or talking time. And we played in the snow once, and . . .” She couldn’t seem to stop herself. She took another deep breath, and then glanced back and forth between Lillian and Kade. Lillian was grinning from ear to ear. Kade was a gentleman.