Mail Order Mommy. Christine Johnson
after their parents’ deaths. She went to their grandmother, while he was sent to their uncle’s farm. For reasons unknown, Jacob ran away and was never found. Someday she would find him. She must find him. No tragedy could break family bonds. That applied in her case and for Isaac and Sadie. “Your papa loves you both dearly. I know he does.”
“Then why doesn’t he listen to us?” Isaac demanded.
“I’m sure he does,” Amanda said.
“If he listened to us, he’d at least try to get married again.”
Oh, dear. Amanda had no idea how to answer that statement, especially since Sadie had named her as the preferred new mama.
She began carefully. “Marriage isn’t something to be rushed into.”
Isaac’s eyes widened, and his lips formed an O.
Amanda frowned. Her statement wasn’t that difficult to understand. “Your papa wants to find the right woman to, uh, be your mother.” Surely her cheeks were bright red.
Instead of agreeing or disagreeing, Isaac pointed toward the kitchen.
Amanda turned to see smoke pouring from the skillet.
Oh no! She scrambled to her feet, grabbed a towel and quickly pulled the skillet from the stove before the whole thing started on fire. She carried the smoking pan to the worktable and poked at the potatoes. Burned. And stuck to the pan.
Oh, dear. Her first attempt at cooking had come to ruin. She swallowed hard, trying to think of what to do. Did she have enough time to start over?
The door flew open.
“I’m home!” Garrett stepped inside and sniffed. “What’s on fire?”
Oh, dear. There was no hiding this fiasco.
“Supper,” Isaac declared in answer to Garrett’s question.
It didn’t take long for him to confirm his son’s explanation. Amanda stood at the worktable with a smoking skillet of something burned. The contents were too charred to identify.
“Supper?” he echoed. “You mean the food you just...”
Amanda cringed, and he let the thought trail off. He had vowed earlier this afternoon to give her the benefit of doubt.
“Is it salvageable?” he asked instead.
She poked a wooden spoon at the incinerated contents. “I don’t think so.” She looked stricken yet determined. “I’m sorry, Mr. Decker. You can deduct the cost of the potatoes from my wages.”
“Potatoes.” He breathed out in relief. It was only potatoes, one of the least expensive items she could have burned.
“Is there a fire, Miss Mana?” Poor Sadie looked terrified.
The lady dropped to her knees, the burned potatoes forgotten. “No, there isn’t. I just scorched the potatoes, like holding an iron too long on a piece of fabric.”
Garrett wouldn’t call those quite the same, but his daughter accepted the explanation.
“You can hold Baby.” Sadie offered Amanda the doll.
“Thank you, Sadie, but she needs you more than I need her. A little hug will take care of everything.”
His daughter obliged, hugging Amanda an extra long time.
Amanda finally patted her back. “You did such a lovely job setting the table. Why don’t you tell your father what you learned in school while I take care of the mess and cook up some supper?”
Garrett had to admire the way Amanda directed Sadie’s attention away from the smoke and onto other topics. Nevertheless, while Sadie described her school day in minute detail, he watched Amanda carry the skillet outdoors to dump the ashes and then return and set the pan on the hot stove. She hesitated over two piles of chopped food. One looked like bacon or salt pork. The other appeared to be onions. She finally put one bit of onion in the skillet. It popped and hopped out.
The fire must have disconcerted her. He was about to suggest cooking the pork first when she began to add it to the skillet. While it cooked, she chopped a couple more potatoes and added them to the pork, finishing off with the onions.
Other than the smoke, which hadn’t yet cleared the room, it smelled good. When she placed the hot skillet on the table without a trivet or rag underneath, he grabbed a towel from the cupboard.
“Let’s put this under the pan,” he suggested. “To protect the tabletop.” He could imagine what a mark that pan had put in the varnish.
She blinked and then blushed while lifting the skillet. “I’m sorry. I got a bit discombobulated.”
“A little smoke can do that.” He glanced in the skillet and his stomach stopped rumbling. She hadn’t gotten all the burned potatoes out of the pan.
He took a deep breath. Give her a chance. Give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, Amanda was the only woman in town both available and willing to take the job, and she was good with the children.
“Shall we say grace?” He bowed his head.
Isaac followed, but Sadie stared at Amanda. “Aren’t you going to eat, too?”
Garrett didn’t realize she was still standing halfway between the kitchen and the table. He hadn’t considered how awkward it might be to have her watch them eat just so she could clean up afterward.
“Yes, please join us.” It was the least he could do after making her go hungry the night before.
She hesitated. “Are you certain?”
“Yes.” He had to speak firmly so she wouldn’t back out of this. “Please sit before the food gets cold.”
She dropped into the fourth chair. “Let’s hold hands while praying.”
“Hold hands?” Garrett didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all. “We’re asking blessing on the food, not playing a child’s game.”
Her color heightened. “I, well, it’s something Pearl and I liked to do back in the...” Her voice trailed off.
“Back where?” Isaac demanded.
Judging from the way she’d blanched, Garrett suspected she’d been about to say the orphanage. Roland had told him about Pearl, how she’d been raised in an orphanage. It made sense that her childhood friend had also grown up there.
“Back when we were your age,” she said.
Before his son could point out that she hadn’t exactly answered the question, Garrett told them to fold their hands and bow their heads for the blessing. By the time he finished the overly long list of things for which they were grateful, Isaac had forgotten to point out Amanda’s misdirected answer.
Amanda stood. “Allow me to dish up the food.”
“No, I can do it.” Garrett’s hand met hers on the spoon, and a peculiar sensation made him look up at her. The jolt reminded him of the stingers he sometimes got from the machinery. Except this wasn’t unpleasant. Judging from the way her eyes widened, she’d felt it, too.
She yanked back her hand. “Thank you.” It came out in a whisper.
Garrett cleared his throat. “Hand me your plate, Sadie. Ladies first.”
Sadie giggled. “I’m a girl, not a lady.”
“Of course you are,” Amanda said. “You don’t have to be as old as me to be a lady. Ladyship is more about one’s manners and grace.”
She proceeded to explain table manners to Sadie, though Garrett noticed that his son was listening, too. “Hold your fork