Amish Triplets For Christmas. Carrie Lighte
Chuckling self-consciously, Sawyer confessed, “After a dozen attempts, the matchmaker declared me a useless cause, much to Gertrude’s dismay.”
He’d found his lifetime match when he’d met Eliza, the love of his life and mother of his children. But rather than try to explain, he offered John the excuse he’d made so frequently he half believed it himself. “I can’t be distracted by a woman. I have a cabinetry shop to run, employees to oversee. Their livelihood depends on me, and business is tough. But Gertrude is at that age where her mind is filled with romantic notions about love and courting, probably more for herself than for me.”
“My sons are at that age, too,” John said. “It’s only natural.”
“Perhaps,” Sawyer agreed. But he wanted to protect his sister from the risk that came with loving someone so much that losing the person caused unimaginable grief. She was too young to experience that kind of pain.
Besides, as long as Gertrude lived with them, he didn’t have to worry about the children being raised without a female presence in the house. His sister tended to their every need, as much like their older sibling as their aunt.
Aloud he said, “I’ll arrange to hire someone as soon as possible. Do you have any recommendations?”
“Most of the women in Willow Creek are married with kinner and farms of their own, and they live too far from here to make transporting your kinner worth anyone’s while. Either that, or the younger meed need to watch their siblings,” John replied. “But Hannah Lantz, the schoolteacher, lives nearby and she’s unmarried. She’s very capable to boot.”
Sawyer suppressed the urge to balk. There was something about the winsome teacher that unsettled him, although perhaps it was only that he hadn’t gotten off on the right foot with her by showing up late to school.
“Are you sure she’s the only one?”
“Not unless you want Doris Hooley fawning over you.”
“Who’s she?”
“She’s the upper-grade schoolteacher. You haven’t met her yet?”
“Neh,” Sawyer answered. “Not yet.”
“Consider yourself fortunate.” John grinned. “I don’t know her well, but it’s rumored she can be very...attentive. Especially toward unmarried men.”
A woman’s amorous attention was the last thing Sawyer wanted. Deciding he’d present his employment proposition to Hannah that afternoon, he downed the last of his drink.
“If only I were half as strong as your coffee,” he joked, “the fields would be harvested in no time.”
But the work was so grueling that Sawyer lost track of time and returned to the schoolhouse nearly an hour after the rest of the students had departed. The boys were tossing a ball between them and Sarah was sitting on the steps, her head nestled against Hannah’s arm as Hannah read a book aloud to her.
When he hopped down from his buggy and started across the lawn, Hannah rose and the children raced in his direction.
“I told Sarah not to worry—there was a gut reason you were late,” Hannah said.
Her statement sounded more like a question, and whatever vulnerable quality he noticed in her face earlier was replaced by a different emotion. Anger, perhaps? Or was it merely annoyance? Whatever it was, Sawyer once again felt disarmed by the look in her eyes—which were rimmed with long, thick lashes—as if she could see right through him.
“Forgive my tardiness,” he apologized, without offering an explanation. He didn’t have a valid excuse, nor did he want to start rambling again. He needed to make a good impression if he wanted her to consider becoming a nanny to his children.
“I notice there’s another buggy in the yard,” he observed. “Is it yours?”
“It’s Doris Hooley’s,” she responded curtly. “She’s the upper-grade teacher.”
“In that case, may I offer you a ride home?”
* * *
“Denki, but neh. I have tasks to finish inside. Besides, it seems as if your horse trots slower than I can walk,” Hannah answered in a tone that was neither playful nor entirely serious. “Samuel, Simon and Sarah, I will see you in the morning, Gott willing.”
She turned on her heel, gathered her skirt and scurried back up the steps into the schoolhouse. Inside the classroom, she quickly gathered a sheaf of papers and stuffed them into her satchel.
She knew she hadn’t acted very charitably, but Sawyer Plank seemed an unreliable man, turning up late, twice in one day, without so much as an explanation or excuse for his second offense. Did he think because he was a wealthy business owner, common courtesies didn’t apply to him? Or perhaps in Ohio, folks didn’t honor their word, but in Willow Creek, people did what they said they were going to do. Not to mention, Sarah was fretting miserably that something terrible had happened to detain her father. It was very inconsiderate of him to keep them all waiting like that.
As Hannah picked up an eraser to clean the chalkboard, Doris sashayed into the room. Although she lived in the opposite direction, she had volunteered to bring Hannah home. Hannah suspected Doris wanted an excuse to dillydally until Sawyer arrived so she could size him up. But whatever the reason behind Doris’s gesture, Hannah was grateful for the transportation home on such a muggy afternoon.
“Where have the triplets gone?” Doris inquired. “I thought they were with you.”
“They just left with their daed.”
“Ach! I must have been in the washroom when he came to retrieve them,” Doris whined.
They were interrupted by a hesitant rapping at the door—Sawyer hadn’t left after all. He removed his hat and waited to be invited in. Hannah hoped he hadn’t heard their discussion.
“You may enter. I won’t bite.” Doris tee-heed. “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