Amish Triplets For Christmas

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“Hush,” Sawyer instructed them both. “We disrupted your teacher’s breakfast. Kumme, we’ll wait outside until she is finished.”

“Denki, but I wasn’t really eating,” Hannah protested.

Sawyer noticed a smudge of preserves at the corner of her mouth. She must have sensed him looking at it, because she traced her lips with her finger, her cheeks blotching with color.

“I mean, I wasn’t eating breakfast,” she faltered. “It was only a treat. I have eggs for breakfast. Sometimes ham. That is, despite what you may think, I don’t ordinarily just have treats for breakfast. Or for snacks. Or at any time of the day. Not every day, anyway, or not without eating something else, as well. But I was terribly hungry, you see, because—”

“I am terribly hungry, too,” Sawyer interrupted. His resolve not to apologize suddenly dissipated, and he felt nothing but a desire to ease Hannah’s discomfort, which he knew he had caused with his comments the day before. “The kinner are hungry, as well. Last night, my onkel’s dinner sat like bricks in our bellies, so this morning we were unable to eat breakfast. What we wouldn’t do for a piece of bread and strawberry preserves...”

Cocking her head to one side, Hannah narrowed her eyes at him for what seemed an interminable pause. Rather than speaking, she again removed the jar of preserves from the cooler and pulled the bread apart in chunks. After spooning a dollop onto each piece, she directed the triplets to eat theirs at their desks. She gave the biggest piece to Sawyer, who stood next to her while he devoured it.

When he was finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I must apologize,” he began. “I fear I misjudged you.”

“Say no more. I accept your apology.” She smiled readily. Then she asked, “Are your onkel’s meals really like bricks in your bellies?”

“Unfortunately, they are. In fact, I have a hunch Simon dropped their lunch bag on purpose. I know I would have, if it meant I’d get to eat a piece of your sweet bread instead.”

Hannah’s giggle reminded him of a wind chime. “It tastes alright, then?”

“Better than a dream,” Sawyer replied.

Hannah’s face again flushed. “That’s a kind thing for you to say,” she replied modestly and busied herself putting the lid on the jar before meeting his eyes again.

“I want you to know I do understand and respect your concerns about your kinner’s health,” she said somberly. “I have noticed they are thin, but it’s possible they’re going through a growth spurt, and their width hasn’t caught up with their height yet. In any case, in Willow Creek, we like to think our gut farm air has a way of working up healthy appetites, and I’ll feed those appetites with wholesome, hearty suppers.”

Sawyer blinked and ran his hands over his head, pushing back his curls. Until that instant, he hadn’t realized how much he’d needed reassurance that the children would be alright. He was so often in the position of instructing and comforting his children, encouraging Gertrude and guiding his crew at work that he rarely received a word of consolation himself. Her sentiment was as heartening as something Eliza may have said, and he was touched. His silence allowed Hannah to continue speaking.

“My intention is to help relieve your concerns, Sawyer, not to add to them. I hope you won’t worry about Simon, Sarah and Samuel while they’re under my care. But if you have a concern, please tell me—I promise not to have another tantrum like a kind myself, as I did yesterday.”

Sawyer broke into a huge grin. “Hannah Lantz,” he replied, “you may be slight in stature, but you most certainly are no child!”

When Hannah looked perplexed, he rushed to explain, “I mean that you’re every bit a woman.”

Her forehead and cheeks went pink and her eyes widened. Clearly he was embarrassing her.

“An adult, that is,” Sawyer clarified. “Someone I wholeheartedly trust to mind my kinner.”

As he stood there feeling every bit the fool, two boys shuffled up the stairs into the classroom.

“Guder mariye, Caleb and Eli,” Hannah greeted them. To Sawyer she said, “Those are friends of Samuel and Simon’s.”

“Ah, Caleb, whose bloody mouth you tended to—the kinner told me about it.”

“High drama in the school yard,” Hannah said with a giggle, and Sawyer knew any awkwardness between them had passed. “It’s all in a day’s work.”

“Speaking of work,” Sawyer remembered, “I should be going now.”

“Me, too.” Hannah nodded. “I hope you have a pleasant day.”

The day was already far more pleasant than Sawyer could have hoped for himself.

Chapter Four (#ua39ce7fe-ffce-50cc-93f7-913f688256e0)

“Be careful!” Hannah’s grandfather commanded as she helped him hoist the dollhouse into the buggy Saturday morning. “This could fetch a pretty penny, but not if you crack it.”

Hannah dismissed his harsh admonishment as concern about their income. The dollhouse was larger and more detailed than any he’d ever made before—clearly he had designed it to appeal to Englisch tourists—so it was no wonder he wanted to be certain it arrived without a nick. She mopped her brow and took her place beside him in the buggy, uttering a silent prayer for travel mercies.

As they sped past the fields and into town, Hannah let her mind wander to her conversation with Sawyer, as it had often done in the past hours, making light work of wringing and hanging the clothes and scrubbing the floors. Better than a dream, he had said about her sweet bread. She knew pride was a sin, but being given a compliment was such a rare occurrence she couldn’t help but treasure his words. They weren’t merely flattery, either—his bright green eyes had shone with genuine earnestness as he’d spoken the phrase.

A driver honked his horn, jarring Hannah from her thoughts. She touched her grandfather’s sleeve to warn him of the approaching vehicle so he could move to the shoulder of the road, but he jerked his arm away. She was relieved when they finally pulled into the lane behind the mercantile. So many tourists’ cars filled the lot that Hannah and her grandfather had to tie their horse at the designated horse and buggy plot nearly a quarter of a mile away.

They purchased their groceries and returned to the buggy to secure them there before heading to Schrock’s Shop, which was located three doors down from the mercantile. Hannah helped her grandfather unload the dollhouse first; they’d come back to retrieve the other toys later. She was aware of but not bothered by the curious stares of the Englischers as they trudged down the long street toward the shop.

Hannah’s grandfather had been apprenticed as a carpenter—he once owned a small furniture shop that eventually closed for lack of business. After that, he reluctantly went to work in the Englisch-run factory on the edge of town. Ever since the company retired him some eight years ago, he had been consigning wooden toys at Schrock’s, where his work was highly prized among tourists. Eve’s quilts were equally appreciated. However, sometimes it seemed the Englisch were willing to praise more than they were willing to pay, so the income generated from the sales was nominal at best.

Still, the sales had been a provision from the Lord, and Hannah thought about how thankful she was for that as she pulled open the door to the back entrance.

“Guder nammidaag,” she said, wishing a good afternoon to Joseph Schrock, Daniel Schrock’s son, who was in charge of making consignment arrangements for new merchandise.

He looked up from where he was sitting at his desk, a pinched expression on his face. “Good afternoon, Hannah, Albert,” he greeted them in Englisch.

As they placed the dollhouse carefully on the floor, Hannah expected Joseph to fuss over it more than he usually did, since the dollhouse was especially handsome. Instead, Joseph slid his pencil behind his ear and offered them a chair.

Her grandfather refused. “I am not so old I need to sit after a stroll down the lane.”

Hannah’s cheeks grew hot, but out of respect for her grandfather, she remained standing, too. Joseph excused himself to close the door leading to the main gallery where the customers browsed.

“The news isn’t good, Albert,” Joseph acknowledged. He mouthed the words toward Hannah’s grandfather, but his eyes shifted to Hannah. He held up two fingers. “Only two of your items sold since you were last here. The Englisch are less inclined to buy wooden toys any longer. They spend their money on electronic devices, I am told.”

Hannah chewed her lip, nodding.

“I’m afraid we have to limit the amount of shelf space we can devote to your items, Albert. Until what you have here already sells, we cannot accept more toys. Especially not something as large as that dollhouse.”

Hannah’s grandfather pounded his fist against the desktop, causing Hannah and Joseph both to jump.

“I made the cradle you slept in, Joseph Schrock!” he shouted. “Your own sons have slept in it, as well. Now, are you to tell me you’re turning away my goods?”

“My father made the decision, and it is final,” Joseph stated, nervously pushing his glasses from where they’d slid down the bridge of his nose.

“What is final,” Hannah’s grandfather thundered, “is that we will never darken your doorstep again!”

He grunted as he bent to heave the dollhouse from the floor, and Hannah leaped to his aid.

“I’m sorry,” Joseph apologized to her. “I hope you understand.”

Hannah felt pulled between being loyal to her grandfather and being polite to Joseph. She dipped her head so her grandfather wouldn’t see her lips move but replied in their German dialect so Joseph would remember whom he was dealing with. “Mach’s gut, Joseph.”