Sarah's Orphans (4 page)

CHAPTER 4

M
ateo Lopez watched the dry goods store from the confines of the abandoned barn across the street.

“Mateo.” Mia tugged on his shirt until he finally turned his attention to her.

He sank onto the floor of the barn and allowed his little sister to crawl into his lap. She was only three, and she had taken to fretting if he stepped out of her sight for even a second. Clingy. That was the word he had learned in school back in Texas, when they had lived behind the diner where his
mamá
worked.

She'd lost that job when she got sick, and now she was looking for another—or that was what she'd said when she left two days ago.

Mia coughed twice before sticking her thumb into her mouth and closing her eyes.

He would wait until she was asleep, until he had tucked her back into the old leaky trailer, and then he would sneak over to the dry goods store. He'd seen what the tall man had thrown in the Dumpster, and he had every intention of going to get it.

CHAPTER 5

S
arah, Andy, and their mother sat across from Bishop Levi. They had been finishing up dinner when Sarah heard the clatter of the bishop's buggy in the drive. He rarely drove a tractor, perhaps thinking that as the leader of their community it was up to him to maintain the old ways. Levi was probably in his fifties—white hair mixing with the gray and brown in his beard. He had a limp and always walked with a cane, and Sarah knew him to be a kind and fair man. When he said he needed to speak with them, she'd sent Henry upstairs with the two younger boys.

“Some in the community are concerned that you're struggling here.”

“We're doing fine,” Andy insisted.

Sarah was thinking that the bishop had seen the leftovers on the table—potato soup without cheese, crusts of bread, and milk. They would never starve living on a farm, but the children weren't exactly eating well, either.

“I know that you are working hard, Andy. I commend you for taking on the role of provider in this family. And Sarah…” The bishop turned toward her, and a wide range of images flashed through Sarah's mind simultaneously.

Bishop Levi, taking her to the hospital in Tulsa.

Bishop Levi, insisting they stay in a neighboring district when her father was having one of his episodes.

Bishop Levi, informing them that their father was dead.

“You're doing a
gut
job, Sarah. It's plain that the children are being taken care of, and Brian Walker told me just the other day that both Luke and Isaac are doing well in school.”

Sarah only nodded, but she appreciated his kind words. She had no idea how to raise a houseful of boys, though some days it seemed as if she'd been doing it since she was a child herself.

The bishop blew a bubble, pulled the gum from his mouth, and wrapped it in a scrap of paper before tucking it into his pocket. They were to the serious portion of the conversation, the real reason for his visit.

“Deborah, my worries are that financially, you don't have the resources to meet your obligations.”

Sarah's mother didn't answer, but she managed a shrug, which was more than she did when Sarah asked her a question.

“Now, I'm aware that Melvin took a loan out on your barn. Has the payment been made?”

“
Nein
, but we mean to. That is to say, we will.” Sarah jumped in with the answer. She'd tried to talk to her mother about the meeting at the bank, but with no luck. Deborah had claimed a headache and retreated to her darkened room.

“I'm sure you will, given time. However, banks rarely have any extra of that to give.” He smiled to show he was attempting to make a joke, and then he again turned serious.

“The insurance?”

Sarah and Andy both shook their heads.

“Taxes?”

Again, no.

“And how much money do you have for food, clothing, and such?”

Andy looked to Sarah. When their father had died, he'd told her that he would happily take care of the farm, the crops, the horse, and the barn if she would handle financial matters. They'd also agreed that Andy would look after Henry, who was closest to him in age. Sarah would look after Isaac, who was youngest. Luke was in the middle, which seemed to mean that he was Sarah's responsibility until he'd finished the school year, at which point he would probably be working on the farm with Andy.

Neither had even pretended that their mother would be of any use, though an unspoken hope had passed between them that someday she might be.

Sarah cleared her throat. “The neighbors are kind enough to provide us with some milk, and we have some things canned, of course—”

“So you have no money.”

“No, but I have been able to mend some of Andy's old clothes for Luke and Henry and Isaac.” She didn't add that she was worried about shoes. She'd noticed holes in the bottom of Isaac's the day before, and Andy's pants had been mended so many times they looked like something one might put on a scarecrow.

Bishop Levi nodded, allowing her words to fade from the room, and then he tapped his cane against the floor. “People want to help. They care about you, and we are a community. We lean on one another when there is a need, as there is here.”

Andy looked as if he were about to argue, but Levi stopped him with an upheld hand. “Humility is an important thing to learn for each of us. There is no shame in accepting the help of others.”

He stared out the window at the darkness. After a moment had passed, he returned his gaze to Sarah's mother. “We cannot help if we do not know. This is your responsibility, Deborah. To come to me, to come to your brothers and sisters in Christ, when you have a need.”

Deborah nodded as if she understood and agreed, but she still didn't speak.

“I'd like to hear you say you understand.” Levi's voice was soft and gentle.

“I do,” she said softly.

“Gut!”
He pulled a fresh stick of gum out of his pocket and popped it in his mouth, offering each of them a piece, but they all declined. “I will go by the bank tomorrow and take care of those obligations.”

“We'll pay it back,” Andy said.

“You already have. Your tithe has gone to help others all these years, and now it is their turn to help you. It's a simple thing when you think about it.” He pulled an envelope out of the pocket of his jacket and handed it to Deborah. She practically threw it into Sarah's hands.

If Levi thought that odd, he didn't comment on it.

“There's enough there to see you through until spring. And if there is anything else you need, please do not hesitate to speak to me.”

Once Levi's horse was again clip-clopping down the lane, Andy declared that work remained to be done in the barn. Henry and Luke and Isaac tumbled down the stairs and dashed out after their brother. Sarah thought her mother would mention the bishop's visit, or the unpaid bills, or the money in the envelope. Instead, she pulled a piece of folded paper from her pocket, the letter that Sarah had brought in from the mailbox. She stood there for a moment, staring at it, and then she turned, walked to her room, and quietly and gently shut the door.

CHAPTER 6

S
arah was quite busy the next two days, perhaps too busy to notice what her mother was preoccupied with.

The morning after the bishop's visit, Sarah went back to the dry goods store. This time she bought more than flour and oats. Paul insisted on helping her load her purchases into the buggy, and he seemed worried that she wouldn't be able to unload all of the items once she got home. Sarah assured him that Andy and Henry were there to help her. The man appeared a smidgen less sour than he had when she'd seen him on Monday, but still he frowned and remained unusually quiet—even for an Amish man.

She decided not to let it bother her.

Had Rebecca told the bishop about their situation? Sarah didn't know and decided she didn't care. The important thing was that she now had food to put in the kitchen cabinets, and more than oatmeal and potato soup to feed the boys. She'd also purchased new fabric for clothes, although she was careful to buy only what was on the sale bolts.

Her happy feelings fled when Luke came home with a note from the teacher. “Could you stop by for a meeting?” was all it said. She assumed the note was for her, though it could have been for her mother. When she attempted to speak to her mother about it, Deborah had said, “I can't deal with that right now” and hurried toward her bedroom.

“What's up with her?” Andy had asked.

“I don't know. She barely speaks.”

“And she spends an inordinate amount of time alone in that room.”

Their mother had never been a typical Amish woman. Perhaps all the years enduring their father's spells had worn her down. Though Melvin's death was tragic, everyone had hoped Deborah would pop back now that she had the chance to live a normal life. But something deep within her mother was broken, and Sarah didn't know how to fix it. So she prayed for patience and wisdom, and she focused on stepping into the gap left by her parents.

Both she and Andy asked their brother what the note from his teacher was about, but Luke claimed he had no idea.

“I'll drive them in tomorrow and speak with Brian.” Andy pulled out a copy of
Successful Farming
magazine and settled into the recliner.

The librarian in town had explained that she recycled any issues over a year old. Andy had told her that farming didn't change much over the course of a year, and he would be happy to take the old copies off her hands. Sarah had seen the way the librarian had looked at her brother, and she'd wondered if there might be some romantic interest between the two. So far nothing had come of that, which was probably a good thing as the woman was
Englisch
.

“Can you spare the time?” Sarah asked.

“More snow is forecast, and I'm nearly out of projects in the barn.”

“The tractor's fixed?”

“Still waiting on a part.”

It was settled. Andy would go into town for the teacher meeting, and Sarah could focus on her sewing. She was nearly finished with a pair of pants for Isaac and would like to complete a pair for Andy before Sunday. She'd also splurged on fabric for a new dress for her and her mother—more salvage fabric, but it would sew up nicely. She hoped she would be able to get to those the following week.

They settled into a quiet evening, but it wasn't destined to last. Twenty minutes later, Luke came tumbling down the stairs.

“He's brought a snake into our bedroom.”

“It won't hurt you!” Isaac shouted from upstairs.

“I'm trying to sleep here!” yelled Henry, who shared a room with Andy and often went to bed as soon as it was dark.

The thought had crossed Sarah's mind that Henry was having another growth spurt, or perhaps he was upset about something. Surely he was only tired. He'd been hired on at the Dutch Pantry in town two days a week. No doubt he was resting up for that.

Andy sent Sarah a desperate look, but she shook her head. “Snakes fall squarely under your responsibility, not mine.”

“But I'm more tired than you are.”

“That's doubtful.”

“No doubt it's a grass snake.”

“Didn't look like a grass snake,” Luke said. “Looked like a rat snake to me, and a large one at that.”

“Why would he bring it into the house?” Andy muttered.

“Because he has no common sense.” Luke was sitting on the couch, bouncing the heel of his foot against the floor.

Was that why he was in trouble at school? Because he never seemed to sit still? Andy put aside his magazine and headed upstairs to deal with the wildlife situation. Sarah couldn't imagine where her little brother would have found a snake in the middle of winter. No matter. Andy would deal with it. She decided to take the opportunity of their being alone to speak privately with Luke.

“So you really have no idea why Brian would want to speak with us?”

Luke shrugged his shoulders.

“You remind me of
Mamm
when you do that.” She'd meant it as a tease, but somehow those nine words ignited a bitter fuse Luke had been harboring.

“I'm nothing like her at all! She's barely even here.”

“Lower your voice.”

“Why? You think she'll hear? You think she even cares?”

“I think you need to watch your words, Luke. What's said cannot be unsaid.”

“What difference does it make, Sarah? You're always making excuses for her. She doesn't even care about us.” He scrubbed a hand across his face, as if to remove tears before they even fell, and then he hurried out of the room, claiming he'd forgotten something in the barn.

Sarah's heart ached for her brother. Was this the trouble at school? Luke's bitterness? They had been through so much, enduring their father's spells and then his death. Now their mother seemed unable or unwilling to care for them.