Sarah's Orphans (32 page)

“Why would the color of our skin matter?”

“I don't think it's your color so much as your heritage.” Henry drummed his fingers against the arm of the sofa. “Am I right, Sarah?”

“
Ya
. I haven't read them all, mind you, and we won't even try to answer them, but many of the letters seem to say that what we're doing is wrong because you will never…” She dug in her apron pocket and pulled out a piece of paper to check the wording. “The children will never be able to fully embrace their own culture.”

“We'll call Chloe!” Mateo jumped up, his eyes filled with excitement. “She can interview me, and we'll tell them how much we like it here and how…how you all are learning some Spanish.”

“
Yo quiero dormir
,” Isaac said with a yawn.

“See?” Mateo fell back on the couch. “Isaac totally knows what he just said.”

“I want to go to bed.”

“You want sleep.
Dormir
means to sleep.” Sarah couldn't help smiling at their enthusiasm.

“That's not a bad idea. This all started with Chloe, and perhaps it can be resolved there.” Mia was now snoring softly from her spot on
Mammi
's lap, and
Mammi
bent down to kiss the top of her head. “Although I don't know that I would want you to be the headline of another news story.”

“Plus, some people won't be convinced.” Henry ran his fingers back and forth across his chin. “Some people will find something wrong with anything.”

“True.”
Mammi
resumed her rocking. “But what if Sarah spoke to Chloe and told her about the letters. We hadn't received a single letter until her last article—the one that spoke of your mother taking you to Tulsa.”

“Chloe was only trying to help,” Sarah said.

“And apparently she has. There was that sighting of Elisa in Oklahoma City, and they have a license plate number on the car now. Perhaps the police can find the driver.”

“She probably isn't even with him anymore.” Mateo flicked the couch with his thumb and forefinger. “She does that—moves around a lot.”

“I'm only agreeing with Sarah that Chloe meant well. As a result of her articles, the Bridge program has received a lot of attention, not to mention we know a little more about Elisa's whereabouts.”

They had thought of keeping the most recent information about Elisa from the children, but in the end Sarah agreed with her grandmother. It was best that they know, and that they be assured it wouldn't change anything in their daily life. Not for a long time, if ever, according to Tommy.

“Sarah, perhaps you should call Chloe tomorrow.”
Mammi
repositioned Mia on her lap. “Maybe she will want to set the record straight. It seems to me that any adoption—whether it be temporary, permanent, within races, or between races—is a blessing.”

There was nothing else to say on the subject, so
Mammi
told everyone to go on to bed and to remember to say their prayers. When she'd handed Mia to Sarah, she patted her apron pocket and gave everyone a piece of chocolate.

“Remember to brush your teeth,” Sarah called after them.

The boys nodded that they would and stumbled up the stairs. Sarah carried Mia upstairs and tucked her into bed. But she didn't go to sleep herself, though she was tired enough that her eyes were beginning to droop shut.

Instead, she walked back to the kitchen, heated some of the leftover coffee on the stove, and poured it into a mug. Pulling the bag of letters closer, she began to read.

CHAPTER 59

T
hough the rains had slowed them down, Paul and Andy and Henry managed to finish planting the Yoders' fields by noon on Thursday. Andy was ecstatic.

“It's been years since we did this,” he admitted. “
Dat
would start often enough. He had good intentions, but he rarely managed to finish. Maybe one field out of three would be planted. It was never enough to live on.”

Paul might have guessed that such memories would make a person depressed or angry, but Andy was looking out over the recently planted corn and grinning as if he'd just opened a longed-for Christmas present.

“This is
gut
, Paul. And though I might have attempted to do it myself, it's been much better with you here to guide me.
Danki
.”

“Don't thank me. If anyone deserves thanks, it would be my father. Without him, I wouldn't know a thing about crops or planting or running a farm, for that matter.”

“Then I will thank him if I ever make my way up to Indiana, which I seriously doubt.”

“You never know where life will take you, Andy. I certainly never expected to end up in Oklahoma.” They had laughed about that, and then Andy had walked toward the barn and Paul had walked toward the house.

Sometimes he felt positively drawn there.

He only managed to stay away with a great deal of effort, and he still wasn't sure about why a part of him insisted on avoiding the girl next door.

There was no one or no thing he thought of more.

He wanted to see Sarah.

She was sitting next to their yet-to-be-planted vegetable garden, studying a sheet of paper. Beside her was a basket, filled with seeds and gardening tools.

“Need me to show you how to use those?”

Sarah glanced up, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. “I know how to plant a garden.”

“What's the problem, then?”

“In a moment of weakness, I told Mateo and Isaac I'd use their diagram.”

“Huh.” He dropped to the ground beside her, enjoying the feel of the sun and the fact that the woman who often visited his dreams was within arm's reach.

“I can't tell if this says
carrots
or
chrysanthemums
.” She leaned closer to him, and he caught a whiff of lilac soap.

“Longer word—must be the flowers.”

“According to the boys, the odor from the flowers will help keep away pests.”

“
Ya
? Seems I remember my
mamm
saying the same thing.” He hesitated before asking, “Can I help you with the planting?”

Sarah looked up from the piece of paper, a smile playing across her lips. “Are you telling me you're not tired enough from working our fields the last two days? Now you want to help with our garden?”

“You know how Amish farmers are—always happier with our hands in the dirt.”

“The piglets don't need you at home?”

“The boys are doing most of what needs to be done there.”

“What about work on the house?”

“I don't plan to start that right away. There's, uh, no hurry.”

Sarah glanced down and away, and he thought she would politely refuse his help. But instead, she handed him a package of flower seeds and pointed to the far end of a row. “You can start there.”

Planting the family vegetable garden was a simple thing he'd done for his mother each year. As he used the hand trowel to break the earth, Paul felt some restless thing inside of him relax. It should have frightened him, but it didn't. This was where he wanted to be, helping Sarah.

No doubt Andy or Henry would have been happy to have done the same thing, but Paul happened to know they both were busy. Andy was taking the horse to get reshod, and Henry had hurried to town to make his shift at the Dutch kitchen.

The afternoon was peaceful with only the two of them there working, and the next hour passed quickly. Suddenly he realized that perhaps it was too quiet.

“Where's Mia? Where's
Mammi
?”

Sarah was now kneeling in front of the adjacent row, facing him, her eyes focused on her work. “
Mammi
is sewing, and Mia is determined to help her.”

“More clothes?”

“Table runners. She says we can sell them at our produce stand in the summer. Always planning ahead,
Mammi
is.”

“I'd think helping to raise the Yoder family would keep her busy enough without taking on extra sewing projects.”

“Yes, I would think so too. She has an amazing amount of energy for a woman her age, or a woman my age, for that matter.”

At that moment the front screen door slammed shut. They both turned to see Mia tottering down the front steps carrying a glass of lemonade. “For you, Sarah.”

Half of it was spilled down the front of her dress by the time she reached them. Sarah took a big sip and said, “Delicious. What about Paul, though?”

“I'll get it!” She was running toward the front porch before Paul could call her back.

“You did that on purpose,” he said.

“Indeed. The more errands I think up, the longer her afternoon nap lasts.”

Mia returned with another half-filled glass for Paul. She seemed to suddenly notice that her apron and dress were a wet, sticky mess. She pushed her fingers into the fabric and then pulled them away, tentatively licking them.

“Would you like some of my drink?” Sarah asked.

“No.”

“Your dress is rather sticky.”

“I know.”

“Best get
Mammi
to change that before your nap.”

“I'm not tired!” Mia turned around and backed up into Sarah's lap, landing with a plop and a smile.

“Not tired at all?”

“No!” Mia stuck her right thumb in her mouth and closed her eyes.

“Didn't know she was still doing that.” Paul mimicked a thumb-in-the-mouth gesture.

“It comes and goes.
Mammi
says not to worry. She'll stop soon enough if we don't call attention to it.”

Now Mia was rubbing her eyes with her left fist. “Sarah, I'm sleepy.”

“Are you now?”

“Not tired, though.”

She snuggled closer to Sarah, her thumb in her mouth and a blissful look on her face. Sarah kissed the top of her head and then continued planting, though it was an awkward reach with the child in her lap. Paul had never owned a camera, never even wanted one. But it occurred to him that if he did own one, he would take a picture of those two at that moment.

Sarah had dirt smeared across one cheek, and her blond hair had largely escaped from her prayer
kapp
. Mia was sticky, dirty, and obviously content. Together they were a beautiful sight.

Paul was so busy trying not to stare that he jumped when Sarah said his name.

“Paul, could you carry her inside?”

“Of course.”

He gathered Mia up into his arms, trying to ignore the closeness and scent of Sarah. Mia woke enough to clasp her sticky arms around his neck. He carried her up the porch steps and
Mammi
met him at the door.

“She naps in my room.”
Mammi
nodded toward the room at the front of the house.

“She's sticky and dirty.”

“It's all right. I always lay an old sheet over my quilt before her nap.”

When he stepped back outside,
Mammi
followed him.

“Are you going to tell her?”
Mammi
asked.

“Tell who?”

“Sarah.”

“Tell her…”

“How you feel.”

“Oh. I don't…that is to say, I'm not sure…”

Mammi
smiled and patted him on his arm. “We all need something to do, someone to love, and something to hope for.”

“My
mamm
used to quote that one.”

“The proverbs are
gut
for guiding us.”

“It's only that I don't know what I feel. I certainly don't know how she feels.”

“Tell her, Paul. Never assume you'll have tomorrow.”

CHAPTER 60

T
hat evening Paul walked to the phone shack to call his parents. His mom filled him in on family news, they talked about the weather, and she asked after Joseph and Rebecca. His parents had a phone in their barn owing to the fact that his mother had been a midwife for the last twenty years. The bishop had decided if ever someone needed a phone, they did. It could be dangerous for the laboring mothers to wait while someone drove a buggy over to the Byler home.

He'd been calling them on Thursday evenings for years, but usually their conversations were fairly short. This time, Paul wasn't ready to hang up. He asked more questions about the farm, told his mother inconsequential things that had happened, and even returned to the subject of the weather a second time.

His mother finally asked, “What is it? What aren't you telling me, son?”

“I met a girl.”

“Did you now? Well, I'm glad to hear it. We've been praying for many years that
Gotte
would place the right woman in your life.”