Sarah's Orphans (22 page)

“Oh, Mia.” What had she been thinking letting go of the child's hand? If she'd watched her closer, this wouldn't have happened.

“Up! Please, Sarah.”

“No, you don't.” Sarah held her at arm's length, and then she remembered her grandmother was watching.

Unperturbed by the sight of an extra child,
Mammi
said, “Best put that pie on the porch railing to cool, child. All pies go on the porch railing.”

Mia ran up the steps to do as she was told.

When she ran back to them,
Mammi
patted the pocket of her coat, pulled out two pieces of foil-wrapped chocolate, and placed one in each of their hands. Then she adjusted her two bags on her shoulders, grabbed her suitcase by the handle, and thanked the driver. Without asking a single question, she marched up the porch steps and into the house.

Sarah took Mia's hand, holding the forgotten mail in the other, and followed her grandmother into her house.

Mammi
had stopped inside the front door, her eyes taking in the wreck that was once their living room and tilting her head to see into the kitchen. Sarah expected a reprimand, but instead
Mammi
smiled, nodded her head, and proclaimed, “Looks like I was right to come. If you'll put my things in a bedroom, I'll see to cleaning up this little gal.”

Sarah started to say that Mia was shy, that she rarely went to strangers, and that she would do it herself. But the little imp looked up at
Mammi
, smiled broadly, and said, “I'm hungry.”

“Indeed? We'll find something for you to eat as soon as we wipe away the mud.”

The two disappeared through the kitchen doorway and out into the mudroom. Sarah expected to hear cries. The one thing Mia fought was a good scrubbing, but instead she heard her
Mammi
's voice and Mia's giggles. Shaking her head, Sarah carried the suitcase into her mother's room. It was the only place in the house that looked clean and orderly, probably because no one went in there. She had dusted it a couple of times, just in case her mother returned, but generally she kept the door shut—some part of her mind attempting to close off the memories and the questions, no doubt.

Hurrying back to the sitting room, she scooped up her grandmother's two bags, which were surprisingly heavy. Had she brought books with her? How long was she staying? Why was she here? Sarah deposited the bags next to the bed. By the time she reached the mudroom, Mia was nearly clean.

“Do you have another set of clothes for her?”

“
Ya
. Sure.” Actually, she only had two, and she'd been washing one set out each night for the next day. Fortunately, the day before hadn't included a mud bath, so those clothes were reasonably clean—the blue jeans and pink top that she'd been wearing when they'd first seen her in the old trailer.

She scooped up a towel with the clothes and delivered them to
Mammi
.

“I'll dress her if you'll make us some hot tea, and I believe Mia would like a sandwich.”

There wasn't any bread left. She'd intended to make some, but then Mia had dumped the sewing basket, and she'd become distracted cleaning that up. Sarah found some crackers and a jar of homemade peanut butter Mary Beth had sent over. She set the kettle on the stove and carted the breakfast dishes to the sink. Why were they still on the table? She had meant to clean it off when the boys left, but then she'd realized Mia was missing and gone in search of her. Ten minutes later she had found her sitting in the bathtub, blessedly empty of water, playing with her doll. But she'd forgotten the dishes.

Mammi
dressed Mia and set her on one of the chairs. “She's a mite small.”

“Mia's three.”

“She needs a booster seat.”

“Oh. Well, usually she just sits on one of our laps.”

“We'll get Andy started on something this afternoon. Where are the boys?”
Mammi
finished stacking dishes beside the sink, wet a dish towel, and wiped the table clean.

“Andy and Henry go over to help at the neighbor's a couple times a week.”

“Deserted place next door?”

When had
Mammi
seen the Fisher place? Perhaps on the way to the funeral. It was visible from the road, but just barely.

“
Ya
. Paul Byler, the man who bought it, is slowly fixing up the place.”

“Must be a hardworking young man.”

“I'm not sure how young he is.”

“Regardless, he'll make a good neighbor. Industrious people who aren't afraid of a challenge usually do.”

The kettle on the stove whistled, and Sarah jumped up to fill their mugs.

When she placed them on the table,
Mammi
added a scoop of sugar to hers and said, “Now, catch me up on everything, including little Mia.”

CHAPTER 41

P
aul's tractor was finally working well enough to drive it to town.

After Henry and Andy left, he fired it up and headed toward his brother's dry goods store. He still wasn't convinced that tractors were the way to go, but every man in their congregation had assured him he would change his mind in a few weeks when he began planting his first crop.

“Paul! What a nice surprise.” Rebecca rushed out from behind the counter to greet him.

“Needed to pick up more coffee.” He was both pleased and embarrassed by the smile on his sister-in-law's face. In truth he'd been missing them too, but he hadn't realized it until he walked into the store.

“I have a chicken roasting upstairs in the oven. There's more than enough for all three of us.”

He didn't even bother to resist the invitation. He might be good at rebuilding barns and fences, but he was a terrible cook. A man could only eat so many cans of soup.

An hour later, he helped her clean the dishes as his brother pulled out his pipe and studied it.

“Still pretending to smoke that thing?”

“If he ever tries putting tobacco in it, he'll have to fight both me and the doctor.” Rebecca set a coffee cake on the table, causing both Joseph and Paul to perk up. They were plenty full from the meal, but both had grown accustomed to a little dessert after dinner. When Paul had been staying in their apartment, Rebecca had been trying to break her husband of that habit, but he'd fought her all the way.

“It's reduced sugar, and I even tried some of those healthy egg substitutes.” She set about slicing the cake. “It was futile trying to convince Joseph to give up his evening dessert. This is made with applesauce to sweeten it, so surely it can't hurt him. Let me get the coffee.”

Paul had eaten one piece and was contemplating a second when he got around to the real reason for his visit.

“I'm thinking that Sarah is short on supplies for the young ones—clothes, shoes, stuff like that. For Mateo she's been able to scrounge up a few things that were Isaac's, but I don't believe he had that much extra. For Mia, it seems she has nothing.”

“I should have thought of that.” Rebecca hopped up from the table, found a pad of paper and a pen, and began making a list. “What else?”

“Jackets for the children. They probably don't need coats now that the weather is turning.”

“They had coats. Didn't they?” Rebecca's pen hovered over the sheet of paper.

“
Ya
, but somewhat threadbare.”

“What else?”

“Two more mattresses and bedding to go with them. Apparently, there wasn't much extra in the house to begin with, and now…”

“Sarah told you this?” Joseph clamped the pipe between his teeth.

“
Nein
. I spoke with her on Sunday, but she didn't mention needing anything.”

“Sarah is a fairly private girl.” Rebecca added two more items to the list, and then she set down the pen and studied Paul. “How well have you gotten to know them?”

“Not that well. Both Andy and Henry are hard workers. Andy has his hands full keeping their place running, but he still comes over to help me as much as he can. Henry is working for me two days a week, and I'm going to pay him by giving him a portion of the seed I'll buy for my fields.”

“That's
gut
of you, Paul.” Joseph smiled and tapped his pipe against the table. “Those children need someone in their life. It's a real shame what they have been through.”

“The reason I'm telling you all this is because Henry let a few things slip. Sarah has to do laundry every night because the children only have two sets of clothes—the ones they were found in, and the set Mary Beth gave them.”

Rebecca refilled their coffee cups. “Mary Beth has been distracted with the birth of another
grandkinner
, or she would have been out to check on them by now.”

“It's only been a week,” Joseph pointed out.

“True, but a week can seem like a long time when you are dealing with small children. We were all so excited that Mateo and Mia were placed with Sarah. We didn't stop to think that she might not be prepared for them.”

Paul cleared his throat and stared down into Rebecca's strong coffee. He used to worry it would keep him awake, but somehow, when he had lived here, he always passed out soon after dinner.

“Out with it, Paul Byler.” Rebecca leaned forward. “I can tell something else is bothering you.”

“It would seem that Sarah is a bit overwhelmed—between the cleaning and cooking and sewing.”

“It hasn't been that long since her mother left, leaving her in charge of the house and the boys. And after that, Sarah took on the care of two more.” Now Rebecca sat back, studying the ceiling as if she might find answers there. “Sarah has a big heart, but no experience with little girls or foster children.”

“Couldn't you ladies do a pounding?” Joseph returned the unused pipe to his shirt pocket.

“That's a
wunderbaar
idea. I'll go downstairs and call the phone shacks and leave a message at each one.”

“Word will get around quickly.” Joseph stood and stretched. “It's a
gut
thing you brought this to our attention, Paul.”

“Wasn't sure I should, but I hate to see her struggling.”

Rebecca and Joseph shared a smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Joseph walked over to the sitting area and picked up a well-worn copy of the
Budget
.

“Now he's ignoring me.”

“
Nein
. Joseph doesn't like to stick his nose into other people's business.”

“Sarah's?”

“Yours.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

It sounded like Joseph laughed at that, but Paul couldn't be sure.

“Walk downstairs with me,” Rebecca said.

It was when they were standing at the back door, looking out at the moonlit yard, that Rebecca broached the subject of Sarah.

“It's only that she's a very sweet girl, and we both were thinking that perhaps you cared for her.”

“For Sarah?”

“
Ya
. Why not?”

“Well, of course I care for her, but…”

Rebecca waited, expectantly, patiently.

“She's very young.”

“Only seven years younger than you are, which is nothing.”

Paul squirmed under her scrutiny. He thought of when he'd taken Sarah for a walk in Joshua's barn, of telling her she was beautiful. Had he misled her in some way? He'd only meant to cheer her a little. He certainly wasn't interested in courting the woman. The last thing he needed was an instant family.

“I'm a bachelor, Rebecca. Haven't even had a serious girlfriend in the last five years.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Maybe it's mine, or maybe I prefer things that way.”

“Do you?”

“I don't know. Sometimes I do. Other times…” He let the thought fade away, and suddenly his mind flashed back on something else entirely—Tylenol missing from the shelf, stubbing his toes on a chair in the middle of the workroom, small footprints in the snow.

“It was Mateo who broke into the store that night.”

“Probably.”

“They were living across the street, and we never even noticed.”

“It's easy not to see something.”

“But Sarah saw.”

“She did, and not only did she see, but she did something about it. She's a special woman, Paul, and don't be worrying about her lack of things for the children. Our community pulls together in times like these. By Saturday, she'll have everything she needs.”

Paul nodded, thanked his sister-in-law, and walked across to his tractor. As he drove home, past Sarah's place, he thought about what Rebecca had said. Was it his fault that he was still a bachelor? Had he chosen this solitary life? And did he still enjoy it, or was he ready for things to change?