by Sarah Price
Sadie knew that Rachel wanted nothing more than to give Jacob a son. After all, who would inherit the farm if Jacob didn’t have a son to pass it down to? It was most likely that Sadie would soon find a man worthy of her love. And, like most young Amish men, he would already have his future planned. It was unlikely that he would be willing to take over Jacob’s farm.
However, God hadn’t seen fit to give Rachel that gift. Not yet, anyway. Now that she was nearing thirty-seven, Rachel was becoming more and more despondent with each passing month.
And that made life all but unbearable for Sadie Whitaker.
“Sadie!”
She looked up when she heard her father calling her name. “Over here, Daed!”
Within a few minutes, her father made his way over the hill and, upon seeing her, smiled. “Why, there you are!” he said with a wink. “I should’ve known you would be here.”
He knelt beside her, his knees cracking as he did so, and shielded his eyes as he stared across the stream. For three years, it had been just the two of them. When Sadie was twelve years old, her mother had died during childbirth. She’d suffered four miscarriages in the years since Sadie’s birth and the midwife had warned Sarah not to try for any more children. But, like her successor, she, too, was determined to give Jacob a healthy son. Her fifth, and final, pregnancy had ended with a stillborn boy, and Sarah passed away early the next morning.
Heartbroken, Jacob and Sadie spent the next three years trying to live as normal a life as possible. They developed a strong bond, perhaps stronger than that of most fathers and daughters. The first year hadn’t been easy. But, with the help of their community, they seemed to get through the worst of it and eventually found a nice rhythm to things. Sadie would take care of the household chores while her father did the majority of the farmwork. The only time he used hired hands was during hay baling, which took place two to three times a year.
“What have you seen today?” her father asked as he glanced across the stream.
Sadie gave him a broad smile and began to count off on her fingers as she listed the creatures she had observed. “Two chipmunks, a field mouse, four sparrows, lots of nuthatches . . .” She paused and pointed to one that was splashing in a shallow eddy of water. “And a wild hare. Came close enough that I could almost have touched it.”
Jacob laughed, his eyes twinkling. “I imagine you could have. Those woodland animals have never shown any fear toward you, my dear child.”
She liked hearing her father laugh. It reminded her of the three years that they’d spent alone together before Rachel entered their lives. It wasn’t that Rachel was an unpleasant woman. No, that wasn’t it at all. But, in Sadie’s opinion, her stepmother was far too needy of Jacob’s time and attention.
And her father was very willing to give it to her, even though it came with a hefty price.
“Were you looking for me for a reason, Daed?” Sadie asked, her large blue eyes staring up at him.
He nodded and reached up, stroking his salt-and-pepper beard. “Ja, your maem needs your help with supper.”
Typical, Sadie thought, her heart feeling heavy for her father. It was always this way. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Jacob had no sons to help with the farmwork, Rachel was forever sending him on silly errands. Rather than ring the large dinner bell outside the back door, she had sent Jacob to fetch her. Sadie often wondered if her stepmother did that just to establish her control over Jacob.
Obediently, Sadie got to her feet and brushed off the front of her dress. “Well then, I reckon I best get going.”
As they walked back across the field toward the farm, Sadie amused her father by telling him about the sparrow’s nest she had stumbled across. Although it was vacant, for the baby birds were long gone now that it was approaching autumn, there remained a bunch of feathers within, which Sadie had gathered together to make into bookmarks. She reached into her apron pocket and handed one to him. A gift.
“I’ll use that to mark my place in the Bible,” he said. And Sadie knew that he meant it.
As they neared the farm, Jacob gave her an encouraging smile before he turned toward the barn and Sadie headed toward the house.
“Maem?” she called out to her stepmother as she entered the kitchen. Before Rachel could respond, Sadie caught sight of her stepmother standing inside the bathroom, peering into the mirror and fixing her hair. “Daed said you needed my help with supper, ja?”
“Just a minute, Sadie.”
Leaning against the counter, Sadie watched Rachel with mild curiosity. It wasn’t the first time she had caught her studying her reflection.
Rachel took more time caring for her appearance than Sadie thought was necessary. Her self-absorption seemed almost too prideful and sometimes made Sadie uncomfortable. Sadie continued to study Rachel, with her fair face and almond-shaped eyes, the color of a summer shadow on an aging tree trunk. She parted her dark hair in the center and pulled it back in the typical Amish fashion, which made her appear more youthful than other women her age, especially since she had never gained weight from birthing many babies.
But yet, as of late, Rachel appeared a bit piqued and thick around the waist. It made Sadie wonder if, finally, her stepmother was pregnant.
“Feeling well today?” Sadie asked when Rachel finally emerged from the bathroom.
Despite her pale cheeks and tired eyes, Rachel managed a smile. “Ja, well enough, I reckon.” She pressed her hand against her stomach. “Bit queasy, though.”
Was that her way of telling Sadie that, indeed, she was expecting? Sadie knew better than to ask outright. Amish women didn’t openly discuss such things, except with their husbands. “Oh. I see.” Sadie searched Rachel’s face for a hint, hoping she might give something away. Perhaps an indication that her queasy stomach might be resolved in a few months rather than a few hours.
But Rachel remained unreadable.
“Mayhaps I can prepare supper then?” Sadie offered. “You could sit and relax a spell since you’re not feeling well.”
The corners of Rachel’s mouth twitched, almost as if she wanted to frown at Sadie’s kind offer. “Nee, I can do it. I’m not that poorly that I can’t fix my family supper.”
Stung by the rejection, Sadie lowered her eyes. It wasn’t the first time Rachel had refused Sadie’s kindness. Whenever Sadie offered to do something extra for Rachel, something to relieve her burdens, her stepmother seemed to take offense. She much preferred being in control and always directed Sadie on how to help. Working alongside each other was one thing, but having Sadie do things her way was quite another.
“But you can go to the cellar and fetch some potatoes.” Always a command and never accompanied by a please or thank you. “You know how your daed loves mashed potatoes for supper.”
Sadie nodded and headed toward the cellar door, where they kept the root vegetables and canning. She felt dismayed, already knowing how the rest of the evening would most likely play out. Rachel would fret over not feeling well, Sadie would do most of the work under the direction of her stepmother—who would take credit for it—and her father would sit at the table, listening intently as Rachel monopolized the conversation.
Oh, how Sadie longed for the morning to arrive. Tomorrow Rachel would be visiting with the bishop’s wife so Sadie would have time to escape the house and explore the forest just beyond her father’s pastures. More time alone spent among nature was what she hoped for most. In the meantime, she remained the dutiful daughter and hurried into the darkness of the cellar to fetch those potatoes. After all, her father loved his mashed potatoes.
Chapter Two
Wednesdays were usually less busy for the Whitaker women. Laundry was always done on Mondays and Fridays, cleaning on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and gardening on Wednesdays and Saturdays.
But with autumn almost upon Echo Creek, the gardens were all but finished producing for the year. With the exception of a few pumpkins and acorn squash, the plants were brown and dry, their le
aves withered already.
After the noon meal, Rachel gathered her shawl and packed up a butter cake to take to the bishop’s wife, who lived in Echo Creek proper. It was a long walk to town, and Sadie was glad for that. Now, she was free to explore without criticism. All too often, Rachel would pass judgment on Sadie when she wandered off to the hayloft to see if the new litter of kittens had been born yet or to check on her favorite cow to see if she was feeling better. Or even worse, Rachel would forbid her to bring an injured wild creature into the house so she could tend to it during the night. Sometimes, she would make Sadie sleep in the barn if she wanted to nurse a baby bird back to health or bottle-feed a kitten whose mother had rejected it at birth.
The Whitakers’ farm was one of the last ones on the southern road leading out of Echo Creek. Just beyond their farm was a forest on one side of the lane and patches of pasture on the other. A few miles farther down, there was another small Amish community with its own bishop, preachers, and deacon. Occasionally, the youth might attend the singings and volleyball games at Echo Creek, but other than that, Sadie hardly knew any of those people.
Her interest wasn’t in the pastureland or the small Amish community to the southwest. Instead, she enjoyed wandering through the forest on the days when she knew she could escape the house for more than an hour at a time. And, with Rachel gone visiting, today was the perfect opportunity to do just that.
Over the years, she had wandered the woods near her father’s farm so frequently, she had worn paths through the small clusters of trees. Sadie knew exactly where the best rocks to sit upon were. The rocks where she could clearly hear the squirrels chatter in the trees overhead and see the bunnies as they poked their heads out of the rabbits’ nests. And she knew the watering hole, fed by the creek on her father’s property, where the deer came to gather and quench their thirst.
On hot days, she would sit on the edge of the small pond and dip her bare feet into the water. Because of the way the creek fed into it, the water was always fresh and crystal clear. Sometimes she, too, would kneel down and drink from it while she kept an eye out for toads among the grassy reeds. Today, however, she simply sat and leaned back, staring up at the treetops. The leaves were just starting to turn, hints of red, yellow, and orange emerging on the summer greenery. She didn’t venture too far from the pond, knowing that the woods were much denser just beyond it. Not being as familiar with that area, she rarely traveled farther than her eyes could see into the forest.
Getting lost in the woods was not something she wanted to chance.
Behind her, she heard a crinkle of leaves and the snap of a twig.
She turned her head and squinted against the bit of sunlight that was filtering through the trees. With a hand lifted to shield her eyes, she could just make out the form of a six-point buck as it made its way to the watering hole.
She sat quietly, mesmerized by the deer. It hesitated for a moment when it sensed her presence, perhaps determining whether she was friend or foe. When it stepped through the brush and approached the water’s edge, Sadie was relieved that the deer sensed she posed no threat. Sadie held her breath, captivated by the magnificence of the creature. From its chocolate brown eyes to its cream-colored fur, the buck was a sight to behold. When it dipped its head to the water, taking long sips, Sadie felt as if she were in the presence of God.
For a few minutes, the deer alternated between drinking and lifting its head to look around. Whenever it looked at Sadie, she felt that same sense of comfort. Her entire body felt warm, delighted in the knowledge that she was witnessing a magical moment that few people, with their hurried lives, would ever experience.
Finally, the deer finished drinking and began to walk away.
When it disappeared down the path from which it had come, Sadie stood up and walked over to the water’s edge and stood at the exact spot it had just left. She knelt there, not bothered that her knees were in the moist dirt. She didn’t care; she could wash her dress on Friday. All that mattered was for her to spend a moment in the same spot where the deer had just stood. She wanted to experience, firsthand, what it had seen and felt. It was almost as if she wanted to prolong the feeling of God’s presence.
Leaning over, she peered at her reflection in the water. Only a few ripples remained, which created a wavy image of herself. She bent over farther and stared harder, trying to see if she could spot a few tadpoles. But the water was deeper at this part of the stream than she had thought and there were none to be seen. She sighed, knowing she needed to head back home soon, then let her fingers graze the surface. The cool water caressed her skin and she shut her eyes, imagining that she, too, was a deer. Oh, she thought, how God takes care of his creatures.
Softly, she began to sing a hymn that her mother had taught her so many years ago:
My God, I thank thee, who hast made
The earth so bright;
So full of splendor and of joy,
Beauty and light;
So many glorious things are here,
Noble and right.
“What’s this? Do I hear a little songbird?”
At the sound of a man’s voice, Sadie startled and jumped up, causing her foot to slip so it slid partially into the water. The only thing that stopped her from falling headfirst into the stream was her quick reflexes. Putting out her hand, she grabbed onto an overhanging branch and steadied herself, trying to regain her balance.
“Are you all right?”
Sadie turned around and found herself face-to-face with a young man. “Oh!” She almost stepped backward again, but this time, he reached out to stop her, gently grabbing her by the elbow.
“Careful now there! You’ll be a wet songbird in a second if you don’t mind your step.”
One look at the man and she knew that he, too, was Amish. His plain dress and the straw hat he wore made that obvious. His thick brown hair, curly at the edges, poked out from beneath the hat’s brim and his big hazel eyes stared down on her.
“You frightened me,” she gasped as she removed her arm from his grasp.
“My apologies,” he said as he moved away from her, allowing her to relax a bit. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” When he smiled, his teeth were white and his face was pleasantly kind. “You can imagine my surprise to stumble upon such a sight. I’ve walked this way many times on my way back from my cousins’ haus to Echo Creek and this is the first time I’ve ever seen another soul out here.” He tilted his head. “And such a pretty one at that, not to mention your beautiful voice.”
Sadie lowered her eyes, feeling a flush of heat cross her cheeks. No one had ever complimented her on her singing before. At least not like that. Sure, she had been told that she had a lovely voice, but only by her father when she would sing hymns on Sunday morning while doing some sewing. Never from a complete stranger.
The man shoved his hands into his front pockets. “Which leads me to ask what you are doing out here? Don’t you know that the forest is thick and dark just that way? And not the safest place for a maedel such as yourself to be wandering alone.” He pointed over his shoulder toward the worn footpath he had traveled on, the same path the deer had used.
Sadie felt foolish, having been caught staring into the water. She needed to explain. “There was a deer. A buck.” Her eyes traveled over his shoulder. “Surely you must have seen him?”
“I did not.”
Sadie frowned. Only a few minutes had passed since the deer had left. How could he not have seen the large buck? “It was so beautiful, standing here, drinking from the stream. I wanted to feel what it felt.”
When the man smiled, she couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. There were tiny laugh lines around his eyes, and his face seemed so warm and welcoming. “So, instead of feeling what the deer felt, you almost experienced how a wet fish feels when it swims downstream.”
Again, she felt a flush caress her cheeks. “And then there was that.”
He laughed at her reply. It was a joyous la
ugh, one that warmed her heart at once. If she’d suspected that the man meant her no harm, she knew it to be true for certain now.
“A songbird. A little fish. You are certainly full of tricks, aren’t you?”
Sadie managed to return his smile.
And then he sobered. “But you should be careful. You could get lost in the woods, or worse yet, it’s hunting season, and someone could mistake you for an animal,” he said as he nodded toward the edge of the dark forest.
“I never go that way,” she answered quickly. “My daed’s farm is just through the woods toward Echo Creek. I like to come here so I can sit and watch the critters.”
“A fine hobby, I must say.” He glanced up at the sky. “The forest is about as close to heaven as I have ever witnessed. God’s hand can be seen in every tree, every plant, and, of course, every animal. Surely the beauty of nature speaks volumes about the majesty and goodness of God.”
Sadie caught her breath. She couldn’t have agreed more.
“Now, if you live toward Echo Creek, mayhaps you might walk with me. I’m headed that way now.” He paused and tilted his head. “And I’d feel much more at ease, escorting you home and knowing you are safe.”
His request caught her off guard. Unable to answer, Sadie merely nodded her head in agreement and walked beside him. It wasn’t until they reached the worn trail that led away from the water that he spoke again.
“I don’t believe I caught your name,” he said.
“Sadie,” she responded.
“From Echo Creek.”
“Ja, that’s right. And you?”
“Frederick.” He glanced at her. “From the small Amish community south of Echo Creek.”
“You mean Bishop Stutzman’s district?”