at the front of the class. Samuel and Simon, you may sit at the empty desks near the window.”
Sawyer thrust a small paper bag that was straining at the seams in Hannah’s direction. “It’s their lunch,” he explained, still speaking in a low tone so as not to be heard by the children.
“My onkel made it because, as you may know, my ant is deceased, so I’m not sure what the lunch consists of. Ordinarily my youngest sister, Gertrude, takes care of such things in Ohio. She would have accompanied us here, too, but shortly before my onkel broke his leg, it was nearing time for my eldest sister, Kathryn, to deliver her bobbel, so Gertrude traveled to Indiana to keep her household running smoothly.”
Although he was usually a private man of few words, Sawyer couldn’t seem to stop himself from rambling to the petite, dark-haired teacher whose eyes were so blue they nearly matched the shade of violet dress she wore beneath her apron.
“I’m not much of a farmer, but as soon as I heard John needed help, I put my foreman in charge of the shop,” he continued, neglecting to add that the timing couldn’t have been worse, since he had just lost one of his carpenters to an Englisch competitor who constantly threatened to put Sawyer out of business. “The kinner and I immediately set out for Pennsylvania. We only arrived on Saturday evening.”
He was quiet as he wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.
“It was gut of you to come help your onkel during harvest season,” Hannah commented. “If there’s nothing else, I will see to it the kinner divide the lunch evenly between them.”
Sawyer sensed he was being dismissed, and he was only too relieved for the opportunity to end the conversation. “I won’t be late picking them up,” he muttered as he turned to leave.
Once he was in his buggy, he flicked the reins with one hand and simultaneously slapped his knee in disgust with the other. What was wrong with him, babbling on about Sarah’s hair and his work as a cabinetmaker? No doubt Hannah Lantz thought he was vain as well as tardy.
He hadn’t meant to sound boastful about dropping everything in Blue Hill in order to help his uncle, either. John was family and family helped each other, no matter what. Just like when John came to Ohio and kept the shop running smoothly after Sawyer’s mother and father died six years earlier, and again when he lost his beloved wife, Eliza, three years later. It was an honor—not a burden—to assist his uncle now. He only wished Gertrude hadn’t gone to Indiana, so the children could have stayed in Ohio with her. Sarah had had nightmares ever since Gertrude left, and the boys had grown so thin without her cooking.
But he knew there was no sense focusing on the way he wished things were. In all these years, no amount of regret had ever brought his Eliza back. He trusted God’s timing and plans were always perfect, even if they were sometimes painful to endure. His duty was to accept the circumstances set before him.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to make a difficult situation better. As the horse clopped down the lane to his uncle’s farm, Sawyer devised a plan so he could spend as many hours as possible in the fields. If the weather and crops cooperated, he’d help finish harvesting in six weeks instead of eight or more, so his family could return to Ohio at the first opportunity.
* * *
As the children barreled outside for lunch hour, the paper bag Simon was carrying split down the middle, spilling the Planks’ unwrapped cheese and meat sandwiches onto the ground, so Hannah invited the children to join her for sweet bread inside the classroom. She marveled at how quickly they devoured the bread and preserves.
“Do you have such appetites in Ohio?” she inquired, aware the children seemed thinner than most.
“Ant Gertrude doesn’t bake bread like this,” Samuel said, his cheeks full. “She says it’s because her mamm died before she could learn her the best way to make it.”
“Before she could teach her,” Sarah corrected.
“Our mamm died, too,” offered Simon seriously. “She’s with the Lord.”
“As is my mamm,” Hannah murmured.
“Did your mamm teach you how to make bread before she died?” asked Samuel.
“Neh, but my groossmammi did. See? Gott always provides.”
“I wish I had a groossmammi to teach me.” Sarah sighed. “Daed said Groossmammi died when we were as little as chicks that didn’t even have their feathers yet.”
“I’m happy to share my bread with you,” Hannah told Sarah. “Eating it is better than baking it anyway. Now that you’re done, why don’t you go outside and play with the other kinner.”
Doris passed them as they exited. “What darling little things,” she remarked to Hannah. “They must be triplets.”
“Jah. Their names are Samuel, Sarah and Simon Plank,” Hannah replied.
“So you’ve met the wealthy widower?”
“He has a name, too. It’s Sawyer. We spoke briefly this morning.”
“What did you think of him?” wheedled Doris. “Give me your honest opinion.”
“Well, I didn’t have my tape measure with me, so I can’t confirm whether he’s over six feet tall,” Hannah answered evasively, although she knew exactly what Doris was getting at.
“Schnickelfritz!” Doris taunted. “I meant, what did you think of him as a potential suitor?”
“I didn’t think of him as a potential suitor,” Hannah emphasized. “I thought of him as the daed of my scholars, a nephew of John Plank and a guest in our district.”
“He’s not to your liking, then?” Doris persisted.
“I didn’t say that!” Hannah was too exasperated to elaborate.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to, as Eli opened the door at that moment, yawping, “Caleb got hit with a ball and it knocked his tooth out.”
Doris covered her mouth with the back of her hand. “You’ll have to handle it,” she directed Hannah. “You know that kind of thing makes me woozy.”
“Of course,” Hannah calmly agreed. “But you’ll need to get used to it soon, since kinner lose their baby teeth all the time. It’s all part of caring for ‘darling little things’ at that age.”
* * *
After they’d eaten lunch, John urged Sawyer to join him on the porch before returning to the fields.
“It’s never too hot or too late for coffee,” he said, hobbling toward him with a crutch under one arm and a mug sloshing precariously in his other hand.
Sawyer accepted the strong, hot drink. Brewing coffee appeared to be his uncle’s only culinary skill; from what Sawyer had tasted so far, the food he prepared was marginally palatable, although there was certainly a lot of it.
“I’ve been thinking,” Sawyer started. “I’d like to hire a young woman to watch the kinner after school. She can transport them home in the afternoon and cook our supper, as well.”
