by Sarah Price
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. But I can see your fears in your eyes.” He gave her a soft smile. “The eye is the lamp of the body.”
“I think Jesus meant that we should keep our eye on God.”
“Good point. But still, our eyes speak volumes about what we are feeling inside. And I know that I feel as if God led me to that stream the day we first met. Had I traveled another route, and if you hadn’t been singing, I never would have known you were there.” He took a deep breath. “God led me to you, Sadie Whitaker,” he repeated. “And I’m glad that he did.”
She bit her lower lip. “Me, too, Frederick.”
“So.”
“So.”
His lips twitched, and she knew that he was trying to hide his smile. “I reckon it’s okay with you if”—he paused for a moment—“well, if I keep calling on you, Sadie?”
She felt goose bumps on her arms. Oh, the irony that on this very day, one of her oldest and dearest friends had married a man she did not know or love while she, Sadie Whitaker, was in the company of a man who had just asked permission to court her, the very final step before a proposal. While her heart broke for Belle, everything in her rejoiced for herself.
“You may keep calling on me,” she whispered, hoping that her voice didn’t give away her true feelings. “Frederick Keim.”
Chapter Eleven
Ever since Belle’s wedding, the days felt extra long to Sadie.
Of course, in reality the days were shortening as the sun rose later in the morning and set earlier in the evening. And yet, Sadie felt as if each one dragged on with a somberness that matched her state of mind.
The only good news was that Rachel’s mood had softened toward her—just enough to be bearable. While their relationship hadn’t returned to the previous level of congeniality, Sadie felt that Rachel was making an attempt to be more pleasant and less demanding.
For that, Sadie was grateful.
Now that it was Sunday, Sadie was anxious to see her friends and was eagerly anticipating the youth gathering. She hadn’t had any contact with Ella or Belle or even Anna Rose since Belle’s wedding. Instead, she had been cooped up in the house helping Rachel with the many chores that needed to be completed before the winter set in. They had spent two whole days canning and sorting the root vegetables in the cellar and another few days washing the heavier winter quilts and blankets. Sadie was going stir crazy and knew that a little socialization with her friends would definitely improve her mood.
Besides, Sadie hoped that Frederick would also attend. He had asked her to go courting, though she still wasn’t exactly sure what that entailed. Certainly, it would mean that he would be taking her home from the singing this Sunday, should he attend, and Sadie was looking forward to the possibility that she might spend some more time with him at the gathering.
But after the noon meal on Sunday, Rachel told Sadie that she wouldn’t be attending the youth gathering that evening.
“Why not?” Sadie asked. It wasn’t too often that Rachel told Sadie she couldn’t visit with her friends. In fact, under normal circumstances, Rachel encouraged her stepdaughter to do more things outside the house. But, clearly, these weren’t normal circumstances, because on this night, Rachel remained adamant.
“If you must know,” she said while peeling potatoes over the counter and letting the scraps fall into a round metal pan that she used for composting, “we’ve a guest coming to supper. And I want you here.”
A guest? In the three years since Rachel had married Jacob, the only guests that had ever come for supper on a Sunday were the bishop and his wife. But Sadie knew that, because it was an off-Sunday, their bishop had traveled to Liberty Falls to preach at another Amish community’s worship service.
“Must I stay?” Sadie looked at her father, who sat in his chair reading the Bible. “Daed?” she pleaded.
“Rachel says so,” was the only comment he made before he turned his attention back to the Bible he was reading.
And that ended any discussion about attending the youth gathering. Her father could have overruled Rachel, but clearly, he didn’t want to tempt fate. His wife’s mood had improved recently, and he wasn’t about to go against her wishes now that things were becoming more bearable at home.
Disappointed, Sadie slumped into a chair and stared out the window. She knew better than to challenge her father; however, whoever was coming for supper was certainly no one of interest to her. Surely it must be one of the elders in the community. From the way Rachel had cleaned the house the previous day, Sadie should have suspected that something was afoot.
When the clock on the wall chimed four times, two hours had passed since Rachel had told Sadie she was to stay home. During that time, Sadie had helped set the table, then retreated to a chair by the fire to read a devotional. While Jacob napped in his recliner in the sitting area of the kitchen, Rachel bustled about, preparing side dishes for the late afternoon meal: chow chow, pickled beets, and, of course, the potato salad that she had made just an hour or so earlier. For once, Rachel hadn’t asked Sadie to help with the cooking. Instead, she seemed eager to do everything herself. That, too, was unusual.
It was almost ten after four when the sound of a horse and buggy could be heard coming down the lane toward the house. Rachel made a noise of delight and took off her apron, hanging it up on the hook on the back of the kitchen door. Sadie put down the devotional and stood up to look out the window. She was anxious to see what mystery guest was so important that she had to miss the youth gathering. But all she could make out was the horse and buggy, still too far down the driveway to discern who was at the reins.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sadie could see her stepmother as she slipped into the first-floor bathroom and checked her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Only when she was satisfied did she emerge and walk toward her husband, who had nodded off in his recliner.
“Jacob.”
That was all Rachel needed to say to rouse him from his catnap. He jumped up from the chair and stretched his legs, then made his way to the front door.
Sadie, more curious than ever, peeked out into the foyer. But before her eyes could focus in the dim lighting, she heard a gruff voice greet Rachel and knew exactly who had come to visit: John Rabor.
Sadie shut her eyes and cringed. Why on earth would that man be having supper at their house?
Sadie could hardly think straight. Rachel had insisted that she stay home from the youth gathering because he was their guest for supper? She felt something akin to anger at her stepmother but did her best to swallow it. The last thing she wanted was to cause a scene. But she was still livid. How terribly selfish and unfair of Rachel to make Sadie miss out on the gathering to spend time with old man Rabor.
“Sadie,” Rachel called out. The sugary tone of her voice made Sadie hesitate. Why was her stepmother being so nice and why was she trying to impress this man? “Come greet John Rabor.”
Confused, Sadie did as she was told. Why on earth would Rachel have felt compelled to invite this man to their home? It wasn’t as though he was a neighbor or distant relative! Or even a member of their small congregation. Try as she might, Sadie couldn’t think of any reason that made sense at all.
John leered at Sadie as she approached. It was so uncomfortable, the way he made her feel; she imagined she was hunted prey. The thought chilled her, and she could barely respond when he greeted her. His face, so weathered and ancient-looking, showed little emotion. Even his eyes, dull and dark, appeared devoid of emotion.
But she managed to find the wherewithal to speak. “Good day to you, too, John.”
He grunted in response. “Brought you that venison from the buck,” he told her before dropping a package wrapped in newspaper on the counter. It landed with a sickening thud and Sadie shivered, her stomach feeling queasy at the thought that her buck could have been killed and butchered by this callous old man.
“Reckon you can’t cook it today anyhow,
being Sunday.” With that, he turned his attention to Jacob.
Sadie frowned, wondering at his comment. She knew that some of the strictest Amish communities forbade cooking on Sundays. Was John Rabor one of those Amish? If so, she wondered what he had thought when he’d entered the Whitakers’ kitchen and smelled meatloaf cooking in the oven.
Rachel nudged her. “While the men talk, come help me with dishing out the food, Sadie.”
Miserable, Sadie followed Rachel into the kitchen and did as her stepmother instructed.
She was still baffled by this turn of events. Even when they sat down for the meal, and John was seated beside her—not Jacob—she still didn’t have a clue as to why he’d been invited to their home to share in the midday meal. From what little she knew about the man, he wasn’t a frequent visitor to the Echo Creek community.
Somehow, he had connected with Rachel, possibly at Belle and Adam’s wedding, and had made quite an impression on her. Sadie couldn’t read her father to see what, if anything, he thought of this John Rabor.
After prayer, John didn’t utter another word to her. In fact, he completely ignored her, his attention and focus directed on Jacob alone. Rachel seemed to be hanging on every word he said, but she did not interrupt him. Not even to ask if he would like seconds.
Quietly, Sadie stewed. She could have been at the youth gathering, not here with John Rabor, who, clearly, had no interest in her presence whatsoever. She had nothing in common with this stranger who had no respect for God’s creatures.
She remained completely silent until dessert was served.
“So, Sadie, John needs some help with his kinner during the last week of hunting season,” Rachel announced after she set down a freshly baked pumpkin pie in the center of the table. “I told him that you would be willing to help.”
Sadie’s eyes shot to her father, but he avoided her pleading look. Kinner? Why on earth would Rachel have made such a commitment without discussing it with her first? “I . . . I thought John lives toward Blue Springs. Surely that is too far—”
Rachel interrupted her. “Three miles isn’t too far. You’ll take your daed’s buggy. You start tomorrow.”
Sadie had suddenly lost her appetite for dessert.
John, however, reached over and grabbed the largest piece of pie. “In the mornings,” he said as he shoveled a forkful into his mouth, “you’ll feed the kinner and get the older ones to school. And I’ll be expecting a meal when I return from the morning hunt.”
His gruff manner and complete lack of gratitude made Sadie feel invisible. Surely his children couldn’t be as ill-mannered. In fact, she wasn’t certain anyone could be as rude as this man seated beside her.
So, this was what Rachel had had up her sleeve. No wonder she had been so perky of late. She had found a way to punish Sadie, after all. She had found a way to get rid of her, at least for the next week.
“I see.” She took a deep breath. “How many are there?”
John barely looked up. “How many what?”
“Kinner.”
“Nine.”
Sadie felt ill.
“Oldest one’s twelve. Youngest is two.”
Sadie couldn’t help but to feel sorry for his deceased wife. Surely, she had been pregnant every year of their marriage!
Rachel smiled across the table at Sadie. “And, of course, I told him that you’ll shop for him when you return to Echo Creek. Such a shame that your church district is so far away, with no stores nearby.”
With his mouth full of pie, John motioned at Rachel with his fork. “So I said to the church leaders. It’s high time someone opened a store in our district, but the leaders are adamant that merchants bring tourists and outsiders, and with that, worldliness.”
Rachel clucked her tongue. “Whoever heard of such nonsense?”
He scoffed, and a piece of pumpkin pie dropped from his mouth onto the tablecloth. He brushed it aside and it fell to the floor. “They’d rather we live off the land, and for the things we cannot grow, we are forced to drive to Blue Springs or Echo Creek once a month or so. It’s an inconvenience, to say the least.”
Sadie grimaced at the noise John made as he chewed, his mouth open and his beard full of graham cracker crumbs. “It’s a wonder you don’t move,” Sadie mumbled.
“Move?” John dropped his fork and faced her. “Oh, the simplistic world of the young!” he stated, mocking her. “Just pick up and move, ja? It’s that easy?” He shook his head, laughing at her in a way that made her skin crawl. “Don’t be fillin’ my young ones’ heads with such ridiculous thoughts.”
Sadie pressed her lips together. She wasn’t used to being spoken to with such disrespect. “If you don’t like living there, I fail to see why the idea of moving is ridiculous. Surely some families enjoy the quaintness and seclusion in your community and others do not. In fact, I understand there is much land to be had for new farms for those who seek seclusion.”
But John merely shook his head, dismissing her comments as he returned his attention to Jacob and his pie.
Stewing, Sadie leaned back in her chair. She knew this kind of man. Pompous and arrogant. A firm believer that women were there to serve them and had nothing to offer beyond a hot meal and a clean house full of bopplin.
The only good thing, she thought, about traveling to John Rabor’s farm was that she might run into Frederick along the way. That idea warmed her and occupied her thoughts for the duration of John’s unexpected visit. His departure, which came shortly after the meal ended, could not come soon enough to suit her. Only then did Sadie excuse herself, leaving the kitchen for her stepmother to clean.
“I’ve to awaken early, it appears,” she said drily. Without waiting for a response, she retreated to the comfort and seclusion of her bedroom.
Wrapping herself in the blue blanket that Frederick had given her, she fell asleep with thoughts of him dancing in her head.
Chapter Twelve
As far as Sadie was concerned, John Rabor’s house was nothing more than a shack. She arrived at his farm long before the sun rose, but was greeted with anger nonetheless. John flung open the door before she even walked up the front steps.
“The deer will be long gone!” he snapped. “Why didn’t you come earlier?”
Taken aback by his harsh welcome, Sadie stammered, trying to find the words to quell his temper. “It’s not even six o’clock yet and I had a long ride in the buggy.”
“Six o’clock!” He made a noise and waved his hand at her in a dismissive manner. “I should’ve been out there an hour ago!” He turned his back to her and stomped into the kitchen. “What do you expect me to feed my family if I don’t get enough meat for the winter?”
Some hunter, she thought bitterly. His welcome left her with a sour taste in her mouth. After all, she hadn’t wanted to come at all. She was doing him a favor, and his lack of gratitude irritated her. Before she could stop herself, she muttered under her breath, “Mayhaps the deer can’t tell time.”
He stopped walking, frozen in place as he contemplated her words. She hadn’t meant for him to hear her, but clearly, he had. Embarrassed, she started to apologize. However, to his credit, he didn’t reply to her brazen comment.
I’m sorry, God, she prayed, even though a part of her thought God might have understood why she’d made the comment in the first place, forgive me my impudence.
“The kinner will awaken soon. Feed them, pack their lunches, and get them off to school.”
His orders lacked any attempt at demonstrating gratefulness.
“And then?” she asked.
John looked over his shoulder at her, his eyebrows furrowed together in a scowl. “And then what?”
“What would you like me to do after they’ve gone to school?”
“Goodness, girl. You do know how to manage a household, ja?” He gestured toward the kitchen. “Do whatever it is you women are trained to do!” And then, still grumbling under his breath, he grabbed his coat and hat before s
torming out the door.
While she was thankful he was gone—for she had never met such a miserable sort of man!—she wasn’t certain what to tackle first.
The kitchen, so dark and dreary, needed a good cleaning. Sadie stood in the center of the cold room—he hadn’t even started a fire to warm it for her!—and slowly turned, staring at the dusty shelves that lined the back wall. They were filled with a mismatched set of pots and pans, chipped plates, and different-sized cups. The old cast-iron wood-burning stove was dirty, and the wall behind it was covered in a layer of grease.
“I’m not cleaning this,” she mumbled to herself, then, upon hearing her words, felt guilty for her uncharitable remark.
Sadie knew better. She also knew that she could no sooner not clean the kitchen than she could turn and walk out of the house, leaving John Rabor’s children unattended. She sighed, remembering her friend Belle’s words: a promise is a promise. At least Sadie only had to deal with John and his nine kinner for five days, not a lifetime.
Sighing, she walked over to the counters. She began to open the crooked cabinet doors, searching for cleaning supplies.
There were none to be found.
Settling on a bucket of hot water with a bit of rough hand soap, Sadie took a rag and started cleaning the back wall behind the stove. Dark greasy soot slowly melted away. She had to change the water five times before she managed to get it clean.
And then she began to scrub the kitchen counter and cabinets. While they were not nearly as bad as the stove wall, she still went through four buckets of hot, soapy water.
By the time the sun started to lighten the sky, the kitchen was mostly clean, except for the brown linoleum floor. Progress, she thought as she stared at the fruits of her labor. Even John Rabor would notice that his kitchen was no longer akin to a pigsty.
“Who are you?”
A sleepy voice from the staircase startled her. She spun around and saw a young boy, no more than twelve, staring up at her.
“Sadie Whitaker.”