She needn’t have worried about her grandfather’s reaction to receiving the groceries, since he was still in his workshop when they arrived home and Sawyer left promptly after carrying the items to the pantry. She shelved them quickly and then devoted her attention to showing the children around the house and small yard.
“After your chores, you may climb the trees, pick the fruit and play games on the lawn,” she said, sweeping her hand expansively. “But,” she cautioned seriously, waving one finger, “you mustn’t disturb my groossdaadi or go near his workshop in the backyard.”
“Jah.” Samuel nodded seriously. “We must mind our manners and obey whatever you tell us, just as we would at school. Daed said so.”
“Did he?” Hannah asked. While she appreciated Sawyer’s instructions, she wanted the children to feel at home. “Well, your daed is right. We should always mind our manners. But that’s not exactly why you can’t go back to the workshop.”
“Then why can’t we?” Simon asked.
“Because my groossdaadi is working very hard and needs to concentrate. If he is distracted, his hands could slip. He could cut himself or ruin what he is making.”
“Did he make the big dollhouse?” Sarah asked.
“Jah, he did,” Hannah admitted. “He makes toys of all sorts.”
“But you’re too old for toys!” Samuel exclaimed.
“She is not!” Sarah argued, holding her hands on her hips. “Remember when she batted the ball at school? It went farther than anyone’s, even the oldest boys.”
“You aren’t minding your manners, Sarah,” Samuel corrected her. “You’re raising your voice. You’ll disturb the groossdaadi.”
“There, there,” Hannah said, clapping her hands together twice to break up their argument. “It’s true—the toys aren’t for me, as much as I sometimes like to bat a ball. My groossdaadi sells the toys to Englischers in town. And while we shouldn’t raise our voices in anger, my groossdaadi couldn’t hear us if we did. You see, he is deaf.”
All three children looked at her, their eyes as big as coins. Their bewilderment was so innocent, she had the urge to pull them onto her lap and give them the tightest squeeze. Instead, she said, “So it is especially important we don’t make sudden movements around him, because he can’t hear us approaching. It might frighten him.”
“Like sneaking up on a wild animal in the woods,” Simon said knowingly.
“Jah, a little like that.” Hannah nodded, amazed by how accurate the boy’s metaphor was. “Yet, although my groossdaadi can’t hear, he can read lips. If you look at him when you are speaking, he can usually tell what you are saying. He can talk back to you, although sometimes he’ll use a loud voice. It might sound as if he’s yelling or as if he’s angry, but he’s not. He just can’t hear how loud his own voice is.”
“Daed uses his big voice sometimes,” Sarah confided. “But he says he doesn’t mean to. He just forgets. Your groossdaadi probably just forgets, too.”
“Jah, he probably does,” Hannah agreed, so grateful for the girl’s compassion that this time she did sweep the children into a tight squeeze.
* * *
Hannah was in a rocker on the porch, reading to the children, when Sawyer pulled up that evening. Their hands and faces were scrubbed, Sarah’s hair was neatly combed, and they seemed content, if not sleepy. On the way home, they highlighted the afternoon’s adventures for him.
“We climbed to the top of the apple tree to pick the five biggest apples we could find,” Samuel reported.
“Hannah showed me how to bake them,” Sarah said, glowing. “We added a pinch of sugar and a dusting of cinnamon to the top. Those are measurements every baker must know, she told me.”
After tucking them into bed, Sawyer retreated early to his own room. His back was aching and he was exhausted, but he grinned from ear to ear; he’d never heard his children as excited about doing chores like baking or picking apples as they’d been when they were doing them for Hannah.
Denki, Lord, for how well the kinner are adjusting to another change in their lives, he prayed before easing into bed. And please keep Sarah from upsetting dreams. The girl slept soundly through the night without any disturbances, even though a thunderstorm rattled the windows shortly after midnight, and another one blew through right before the break of day.
By the time the children piled into the buggy, the sun had burned off the haze and the day promised to be another scorcher. Still, he was surprised by how withered Hannah looked when he accompanied the children to the classroom door. The dark circles under her eyes intensified their hue, but she appeared heavy-lidded.
“Are you feeling ill?” he inquired.
She looked at him askance, in the familiar manner he’d come to recognize meant she was about to jest. “Do you think I look ill?”
He hadn’t meant it like that. “Not at all,” he explained. “Just a little tired. I’m afraid one afternoon and evening with my kinner may have worn you out completely.”
“On the contrary,” she protested. “They are one of the most refreshing parts of my day! The thunderstorms kept me awake, which is probably why I’m bleary-eyed. But I am perfectly healthy and my sleepiness will pass. In a few minutes, I’ll be as gut as new.”
“You already are as gut as new,” Sawyer said without thinking. Then he clarified, “I mean, you needn’t apologize for your appearance. That is, your appearance is fine, just fine. Not just fine. Very fine, I mean. Your appearance is nice. And healthy. Your appearance is healthy.”
The more he spoke, the more his ears burned and the more perplexed Hannah’s expression grew. He had the sensation of sprinting down a hill; the momentum of his own words was causing him to trip all over himself. He wondered what Eliza might have thought if she had been there to hear his gibberish.
Fortunately, at that moment, Jacob Stolzfus ascended the stairs. “Guder mariye, Sawyer,” he said. “Hannah, might I have a word with you?”
“Absolutely,” Hannah agreed, relief filling her voice. “I’ll see you this evening, Sawyer.”
Sawyer couldn’t get away from the schoolhouse fast enough. What had come over him? He worked the horse into a galloping clip, as if he were trying to outpace his own embarrassment.
* * *
“Did I interrupt an argument? Was Sawyer Plank being rude to you?” Jacob Stolzfus asked protectively.
Hannah quickly denied it. “Sawyer has never been anything but polite and kind to me.”
“You were both red in the face,” Jacob persisted.
“This weather could make anyone’s skin flush,” Hannah countered. “What can I do for you? Is Abigail alright? Is Miriam doing well?”
“Abigail is over there, speaking to Sarah beneath the willow,” Jacob said, pointing. He puffed his chest ever so slightly when he said, “Miriam is very well. I will tell her you asked after her. But I have come to see you about a business matter.”
“A business matter?” Hannah echoed.
“Concerning your groossdaadi. I understand Miriam has shared her condition with you, and I would like your groossdaadi to craft a cradle for the bobbel, a rocker for Miriam and perhaps a chest of drawers, as well.”
“Of course,” Hannah agreed, although she was surprised by the request. She wondered if Jacob was being charitable because he knew her income would soon cease. He needn’t have made such a gesture—she’d have enough money from watching the Plank children to tide them over until she found another way to make ends meet. “But isn’t the cradle my groossdaadi made before Abigail was born in gut condition still?”
“It is. At least I think it is,” Jacob replied, a shadow crossing his brow. “After Miriam lost the second bobbel, it was too painful of a reminder to keep around. We gave it to her sister-in-law, and as you know, she and her husband and kinner have long since moved
to Indiana.”
“Of course. I will speak to Groossdaadi tonight about making the cradle. I know he’ll get started right away,” Hannah said, sorry she had pressed Jacob about the old cradle. There was a reason topics like this were rarely mentioned, even between long-standing friends. “He will make it nice and sturdy, to hold your bouncing boy, Gott willing.”
Miriam had confessed to Hannah that Jacob hoped to be blessed with the birth of a boy, so her remark caused a grin to spread across his face. “Denki, Hannah.”
After he left, it was Hannah who was thanking the Lord for His provision once again. With her income as a nanny and the project for her grandfather, they’d have enough to see them into the winter. Surely Gott will continue to provide, she thought, and the tiredness she had experienced moments earlier was quickly replaced with such lighthearted energy it carried her through the day.
On the way home, she led the children through the wooded area bordering the fields. Although the jaunt took longer than usual, she figured it didn’t matter if she was later returning home, since she had three more pairs of hands helping with the evening chores. Besides, the trees provided shade from the relentless sun, and the stream was a refreshing resting place. As soon as they arrived, the boys capered from rock to rock.
“Samuel, you’re splashing Teacher!” Sarah scolded after the boy lifted a large stone and let it drop again.
“He is splashing me,” Hannah said. “And it’s nice and icy cold. Here, feel—”
She dipped her fingers in the water and flicked them at Sarah, who screwed up her face as if she couldn’t believe Hannah would do such a thing.
“Be careful—she will tattle on you to Daed,” Simon accused. “Sarah always tattles.”
“Does she really?” Hannah kidded him. “Because to my ears right now it sounds a bit as if you are tattling on her.” With a wink at Sarah, Hannah cupped her hands, lifted a scoop of water and flung it in Simon’s direction, dousing him.
Soon, the four of them had squealed, splashed and laughed the afternoon away. Hannah couldn’t remember having such fun since she and her sister were children frolicking there themselves.
* * *
Sweat soaked Sawyer’s shirt and he briefly considered changing it, but his others were just as dirty. The four men tried to keep up with the laundry and housework, and Sarah participated in chores beyond her years, but with three of the men in the fields all day and John doddering on crutches, certain tasks took less priority than others.
As he headed toward Hannah’s house, he consoled himself with the thought that they’d only be there for a short season. He was much more effective at hewing wood than at harvesting fields, and he’d be glad to get back to Ohio and his business. He’d be gladder still for Gertrude’s return, so their lives could resume as usual. His young sister was not yet the accomplished cook their mother or Eliza had been, but she was certainly more skilled than his uncle.
As the buggy bounced over a dip in the road, Sawyer’s stomach lurched. Whatever else had been in the chicken casserole John had served for dinner, it was making Sawyer queasy now. But as he pulled into the lane where Hannah lived, his nausea was replaced by a burst of cheer at seeing Simon and Sarah each holding a handle of a wheelbarrow as they gave Samuel a ride across the yard. Hannah was settled in a rocking chair on the porch, leafing through Blackboard Bulletin, a magazine for teachers.
“Hello, Hannah,” he said from a distance, removing his hat as the children bounded across the yard to put away the wheelbarrow and then gather their schoolbooks from inside the house.
“Hello, Sawyer,” Hannah replied. “Please, kumme sit. The kinner will be a few moments.”
“I shouldn’t.” He hesitated. “I’m afraid I smell like I live in a sty.”
“Not at all,” she countered. “You’re fine. Just fine.”
There it was again, that lilt in her voice and the repetition of the very phrase he had used earlier that caused him to wonder if she was making light or if he’d seriously offended her with his previous comments about her appearance. In either case, it caught him off guard and he didn’t know how to interpret it, so he changed the subject to a blander topic.
“I hear we’re in for some more big storms, which should break the heat. It sure feels more like July than September.”
“It does,” she agreed amicably. “But don’t be fooled. The days are definitely getting shorter. It won’t be long until it’s dark by this time of evening.”
“Aw, will we still be able to play outside?” Simon asked from the doorway. “It’s my turn in the wheelbarrow tomorrow.”
“You shouldn’t interrupt adult conversation,” Sawyer reprimanded. “But jah, there’s still plenty of time for each of you to have several turns in the wheelbarrow.”
“Gut,” said Simon. “Because we don’t have a wheelbarrow in Ohio.”
Sawyer contradicted him. “Actually, Simon, we have two wheelbarrows.”
“But it’s not the same. It’s funner here,” Simon argued.
“Funnier,” Sarah corrected him.
“More funny,” Samuel chimed in.
“Everything is more fun when you’re playing in a wheelbarrow instead of working with it,” Hannah agreed. “Especially if you’re playing with people you like. And if you’ve had a gut night’s sleep, which is what you need. So, I will see you tomorrow, Gott willing, when it will be Simon’s turn in the wheelbarrow.”
Even in the dusky light, Hannah’s infectious smile caused Sawyer to grin back at her, certain now that nothing he said that morning had caused her any offense. In fact, it was likely the opposite was true, and any lingering embarrassment he felt was replaced by a sense of delight.
* * *
“My brother and sister-in-law will be going to visit John Plank on Sunday,” Doris told Hannah on Friday morning before school began.
Services were held every other Sunday, and this was an “off Sunday,” when most families would hold their own worship time together in the morning and then visit other people in the district in the afternoon.
“Our visit is long overdue. We should have gone round when John was first injured. But better late than never,” Doris explained. “Besides, with four men fending for themselves during harvest, I suppose they’d wilkom receiving an apple crisp no matter when it arrives.”
“That’s very hospitable of you,” Hannah replied, not rising to the bait.
She suspected Doris was more interested in cozying up to Sawyer than she was in the general welfare of John Plank’s household, but she quickly dismissed the thought as judgmental. Besides, she felt a bit peaked from the heat. She ducked off the front steps and into the classroom, leaving Doris alone to usher the children into the building.
By the end of the day, she felt no better and the children seemed to be sagging on the way home, as well. They crossed over the stream without stopping to look under stones or attempting to get each other wet. After the boys finished their chore of picking up stray sticks and pulling weeds from the garden and Sarah had swept the porch and kitchen, Hannah suggested they let the chickens out to roam, which was usually a source of great amusement.
“Can we read instead?” Samuel asked, an uncharacteristic whine in his voice, his eyes a paler shade of green than usual.
Hannah deduced Sarah must have been ailing, too, because she didn’t tell Samuel to say may instead of can.
“Jah,” Hannah answered, wiping her hand along the back of her neck. “I will bring you a cool drink. I am hot and thirsty myself.”
She had just finished slicing a lemon when she heard a gagging cough she instinctively recognized that meant a child was on the brink of getting sick, and she raced into the parlor and shoved a bin under Samuel’s mouth. In rapid succession, Simon and Sarah were sick, as well, and although Hannah felt her stomach constrict, she manag
ed to press on, giving each child a tepid bath, fitting them with nightshirts and tucking them into bed. She put Simon and Samuel in the double bed in Eve’s old room, and Sarah into her own double bed. Hannah made several trips between the two rooms, wringing cool compresses and arranging pillows before the children were soothed enough to sleep.
Waves of nausea washed over her as she prepared her grandfather’s supper, and a wet V formed on the back of her dress, but she served the meal on time. She could hardly stand the aroma of food, but she took a seat opposite her grandfather to keep him company.
“The kinner didn’t come today?” he asked loudly as he eyed the empty spots around the table.
“Jah, they are here. They got sick,” she mouthed. “They’re in bed upstairs.”
Her grandfather jabbed his fork into a slice of meat and said, “They cannot stay.”
Hannah leaned toward him so he would know she was speaking. “Neh, they cannot leave. They are ill.”
The force of her own determination surprised her. Her entire life, Hannah had never spoken back to her grandfather and she wouldn’t have contradicted him now if the children weren’t sick, but their vulnerable condition ignited a maternal protectiveness she didn’t know she possessed. Whether she was running a fever or it was from the strength of her convictions, her face felt fiery and she began to shake so noticeably that she rose, turning her back on her grandfather to rinse the dirty pans until her hands were steady again. By that time, he had vacated the room.
* * *
As soon as Hannah opened the door, Sawyer knew something was wrong.
“The kinner are fine,” she immediately told him, quelling the pounding in his ears. “But they had upset stomachs. I have put them to bed.”
“But they are all okay?” Sawyer asked.
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