“I’m Doris Hooley.”
She was so tall her eyes were nearly even with Sawyer’s, and Hannah couldn’t help but notice she batted her lashes repeatedly.
“Guder nammidaag,” he replied courteously.
She tittered. “You remind me of a little boy on his first day of school, so nervous you forget to tell the class your name.”
Apparently unfazed by Doris’s brash remark, Sawyer straightened his shoulders and responded, “I am Sawyer Plank, nephew of John Plank, and I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to ask Hannah something concerning the kinner.”
“Of course,” Hannah agreed. Although she had no idea what he wanted to request of her, she felt strangely smug that Sawyer had sought her out in front of Doris. “What is it?”
“As you may have guessed, my work on the farm makes it inconvenient for me to pick up the kinner after school,” he began. He continued to explain he considered delivering the children to school to be a necessary interruption of his morning farmwork, but that he hoped to hire someone to transport them home and oversee them after school through the evening meal.
“She also would be expected to prepare a meal for all of us, but I would pay more than a fair wage. Of course, she would be invited to eat with us, as well.”
He hardly had spoken his last word when Doris suggested, “I’d be pleased to provide the kinner’s care. I have daily use of a buggy and horse and could readily bring them to the farm when school is over for the day. I think you’ll find I’m a fine cook, too.”
Sawyer opened his mouth and closed it twice before stammering, “I’m sorry, but you’ve misunderstood. I—I—”
“I believe he was offering the opportunity to me, since I’m the kinner’s teacher and they’ll be more familiar with me,” Hannah broke in. Despite her initial misgivings about Sawyer, she was absolutely certain this was the provision she’d been praying to receive. She didn’t give the matter a second thought before adding, “And I agree to do it.”
“I see,” Doris retorted in a frosty tone directed at Hannah. “Well, I’ll leave the two of you alone to discuss your arrangement further.”
“Denki. I will stop by your classroom as soon as I’m ready to leave,” Hannah confirmed.
Before exiting, Doris turned to Sawyer and brazenly hinted, “With Hannah watching the triplets, I hope you find you have time for socializing with your neighbors here in Willow Creek.”
* * *
No sooner had Doris flounced away than Hannah confessed, “I was being hasty. I shouldn’t have accepted your offer. I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t possibly help you.”
“Why not? If it’s a matter of salary, I assure you I’ll pay you plentifully and—”
“Neh, it isn’t that,” Hannah insisted. “It’s...my groossdaadi. I have a responsibility to him. I must keep our house, make our supper... He is old and deaf. He can’t manage on his own. And unlike Doris, I don’t have daily transportation. Our buggy is showing signs of wear and the horse is getting old, so we limit taking them out for essential trips only.”
Sawyer was quiet a moment, his eyes scanning her face. She looked as downcast as he felt.
“Suppose the kinner come home from school with you and stay until after supper? Would your groossdaadi object? I would collect them each evening. They could help you with your household chores and they wouldn’t make any—”
“Jah!” she interrupted, beaming. “I will have to ask Groossdaadi, but I don’t think he’ll object. I’ll need a few days to confirm it with him and make preparations. Perhaps I could begin next Monday?”
“Absolutely.” Sawyer grinned. “Now, would you please permit the kinner and me to give you a ride home? I’ll need to know where you live in order to pick them up on Monday.”
She hesitated before saying, “Denki, but Doris has already offered.”
“Are you certain?” he persisted.
Just then, a flash of lightning brightened the room and Hannah dropped the eraser she was holding, effectively halting their conversation. “I’m certain,” she stated. “You mustn’t keep your kinner waiting any longer. They’ve been so patient already.”
Sawyer was taken aback by the sudden shift in Hannah’s demeanor. As he darted through the spitting rain, he thought that her countenance was like the weather itself; one minute her expression was sunny and clear, but the next it was clouded and dark. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her at all, but at least his worries about the children’s care had subsided for the time being.
Because Doris gave her a ride home from school, Hannah arrived early enough to prepare one of her grandfather’s favorite meals: ground beef and cabbage skillet and apple dumplings. Making supper kept her distracted from the peals of thunder that sounded in the distance, and so did thinking about Sawyer and the children.
She supposed she could have accepted his offer to bring her home, instead of imposing on Doris. But what kind of example would she have been to the children—a grown woman, afraid of a storm? Hadn’t she reminded Sarah several times that day to trust in the Lord when she was worried about her father? Yet there Hannah was, trembling like a leaf because of a little thunder.
She realized there was a second reason she hesitated to ride with Sawyer: she worried what kind of foolish thing she might say. She didn’t know what had caused her to joke about his horse’s speed, but she couldn’t risk offending him, especially as he might be her new employer. Thinking about the slight smile that lit his serious, handsome face made her stomach flutter. She retrieved her satchel from its hook in search of a piece of bread, but then remembered she’d given her last crust to Simon, who gobbled it up in four bites.
When her grandfather entered the kitchen, his first words were not unlike those she had cast at Sawyer, but his tone was much gruffer.
“What is your reason for being so late?” he barked.
Because her grandfather had lost his hearing years ago, he had no sense of the volume of his voice—at least, that was what Hannah chose to believe.
“I’m sorry, Groossdaadi. I was helping my new scholars.” She looked at him directly when she spoke. Although her grandfather was adept at reading lips, she knew from experience a brief answer was the best reply, especially when he seemed agitated.
“Is dinner going to be late again?” he complained, despite the early hour.
Please, Lord, give him patience. And me, too, she prayed.
“Neh. It is almost done.”
“Gut,” he grunted. “You left me here with hardly a morsel of bread.”
Hannah knew the claim was preposterous; she fixed him a sizable lunch before leaving for school, and there was always freshly made bread in the bread box. Thinking about it made her remember Sarah’s desire to
