A can is something you store food in,” Sarah corrected him. “I made a new friend, too, Daed. Her name is Abigail, but she said I can call her—I may call her—Abby.”
Distracting the children from their request for a puppy—Gertrude was allergic—Sawyer commented, “It sounds as if you’ve already learned something from your teacher, too?”
“Jah,” Samuel agreed. “We learned how to bat a ball after lunch hour! The teacher can hit it farther than anyone else, even the boys from the upper classes!”
“And she fixed my hair, see?” Sarah twisted in her seat to show him where her hair was neatly tucked into a bun. “It didn’t hurt a bit, even the snarled parts. The teacher said her mamm taught her how to brush them out when she was a girl my age. Her hair is dark like a crow’s and wavy, but mine is light like hay and straight, but she said her secret brushing method works on all colors of hair and all sizes of tangles.”
As minor of a matter as grooming was, even Gertrude complained about how much Sarah always wiggled when she was combing her hair. During Gertrude’s absence, Sawyer often had to refrain from using a harsh tone to make Sarah sit still. The small but important empathy Hannah demonstrated to his daughter by carefully fixing her bun seemed like a promising indicator of the care she’d provide as their nanny.
After they arrived home, the children helped with chores around the farm: Sarah swept the floors and sorted and washed vegetables, and the boys cleaned the chicken coop, stacked firewood and helped in the stable. Their chores in Ohio were similar, but because they lived on a modest plot of land in a neighborhood instead of in a large farmhouse on sizable acreage, their new assignments in Pennsylvania took them much longer to complete. Simon and Samuel usually had boundless energy, but by supper time, they were too weary to lift their chins from their chests at the table.
“Try a second helping of beef stew,” Sawyer urged them.
“I’m too tired to chew,” Samuel protested.
Simon asked, “May we go to bed?”
“Look,” Sawyer pointed out. “Onkel bought special apple fry pies from Yoder’s Bakery in town. You may have one if you eat a little more meat.”
“Denki, Onkel. That was very thoughtful of you,” Sarah said, imitating a phrase Sawyer knew she’d learned from Gertrude. “But I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“No promises the pies will be here tomorrow,” Sawyer’s cousin Phillip warned.
“We survived for five years without our mamm here to cook for us,” Jonas, Sawyer’s other cousin, scoffed. “You shouldn’t coddle them, Sawyer, particularly the boys.”
Sawyer got the feeling Jonas resented the children’s presence, but he couldn’t fault Simon, Samuel and Sarah for being too tired to eat; he, too, was exhausted from the day’s events.
Still, he didn’t believe in wasting food, and when Simon chased a chunk of beef around his bowl with his spoon, Sawyer directed, “Sit up and eat your meal. Waste not, want not, as your mamm always said.”
“I’m not hungry.” The boy sighed.
Sawyer warned, “You need to eat so you can do well in school tomorrow.”
“He’ll just ask the teacher for a piece of sweet bread instead,” Sarah said. “Like she gave him today.”
“Sarah, it’s not kind to tattle,” Samuel reminded her. “Besides, the teacher gave us all a piece of bread.”
“Jah, but she gave Simon an extra piece in the afternoon,” Sarah reported. “The very last piece, smothered in strawberry preserves. Teacher says strawberries taste like pink sunshine.”
“Sweets in the afternoon before supper,” Jonas scoffed. “No wonder they turn up their noses at meat and potatoes. Pass me his serving. My appetite hasn’t been spoiled and neither have I.”
Simon ducked his head as he handed over his bowl. He had a small freckle on the top of his left earlobe, whereas Samuel had none. It was how Sawyer could tell the two boys apart when they were infants. Watching Simon’s ears purpling with shame, Sawyer felt a small qualm about Hannah. Well-intentioned as the gesture may have been, Sawyer wondered if it represented her common practice. He couldn’t allow her to continue to ply the children with sweets instead of wholesome meals if he expected them to grow healthier under her care, and he decided to speak to her about it when he saw her next.
* * *
After supper, Hannah’s grandfather retired to his room to read Scripture as she washed the dishes and swept the floors. She folded the linens she had hung out to dry that morning before leaving for school. As she was putting them away, she passed the room that used to be Eve’s. Spread on the bed was one of the quilts her younger sister had made. Although it was darker and plainer than those she fashioned to sell to tourists, there was no mistaking her meticulous stitching and patterns.
Hannah had never developed the superior sewing abilities Eve possessed. As the eldest, she was tasked with putting supper on the table, gardening, caring for Eve and meeting her grandfather’s needs. Not that she minded; she felt indebted to her grandfather for raising her and Eve, and she knew the Lord provided everyone with different talents. She admired her sister’s handiwork a moment longer before closing the bedroom door with a sigh. How Hannah missed Eve’s chatter ever since she moved to Lancaster to set up house with her husband last year.
But at least now that Hannah would be watching the Plank children and she had lessons to plan and students’ work to review, the evenings wouldn’t seem to last forever, as they did during the summer months.
Kneeling by her bed, she prayed, Denki, Lord, for Your providing for Groossdaadi and me, as You have always done. Please help me to be a gut nanny to Sarah, Simon and Samuel.
She removed her prayer kapp and hung it on her headboard before sliding between the sheets. A loud rumble of thunder caused her nightstand to vibrate, and she closed her eyes before lightning illuminated the room. No matter how hard she tried to push the memory from her mind, the metallic smell in the air always brought her back to the night her mother and father perished when lightning struck the tree under which they’d sought shelter during a rainstorm. She had been such a young girl when it happened that the memory of the storm itself was more vivid than almost any recollection she had of her parents prior to their deaths.
She rolled onto her side and buried her face in the pillow, much like Sarah had buried her face in Hannah’s sleeve when Sawyer failed to show up on time. Hannah wondered if Sarah was insecure because Sawyer was an unreliable parent or merely because she was anxious about being a newcomer. The boys seemed to be more outgoing than their sister was. They adjusted to their lessons magnificently and joined the games during lunch hour. But Sarah seemed uncertain, trying to say and do everything perfectly and in constant need of reassurance from Hannah. She supposed the girl might have been feeling at a loss without any other females on the farm, and she decided to do her best to serve as a role model for her.
Raindrops riveted the windowpane, and although the air was sultry, Hannah pulled the quilt over her head, mussing her hair. She recalled how Sarah’s bun had come undone during lunch hour. Hannah giggled, imagining Sawyer struggling to pin his daughter’s hair in place. Then, as she thought of his large, masculine hands, a shiver tickled her spine. The suddenness of it surprised her, but she attributed it to the change in air temperature.
Before drifting off, she anticipated showing the children the shortcut home from school and studying insects and birds along the way. She imagined teaching Sarah how to make sweet bread and chasing squirrels with Samuel and Simon. They would grow sturdy from her meals and smart from her tutelage. She would sing hymns and read stories to them on rainy afternoons. It would be like teaching, only different: it would be, she supposed, more like being a mother than she’d ever been. Now that she actually had the opportunity, she had to admit, she could hardly wait!
* * *
Sawyer felt as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders.