Chapter Twelve
As far as Sadie was concerned, John Rabor’s house was nothing more than a shack. She arrived at his farm long before the sun rose, but was greeted with anger nonetheless. John flung open the door before she even walked up the front steps.
“The deer will be long gone!” he snapped. “Why didn’t you come earlier?”
Taken aback by his harsh welcome, Sadie stammered, trying to find the words to quell his temper. “It’s not even six o’clock yet and I had a long ride in the buggy.”
“Six o’clock!” He made a noise and waved his hand at her in a dismissive manner. “I should’ve been out there an hour ago!” He turned his back to her and stomped into the kitchen. “What do you expect me to feed my family if I don’t get enough meat for the winter?”
Some hunter, she thought bitterly. His welcome left her with a sour taste in her mouth. After all, she hadn’t wanted to come at all. She was doing him a favor, and his lack of gratitude irritated her. Before she could stop herself, she muttered under her breath, “Mayhaps the deer can’t tell time.”
He stopped walking, frozen in place as he contemplated her words. She hadn’t meant for him to hear her, but clearly, he had. Embarrassed, she started to apologize. However, to his credit, he didn’t reply to her brazen comment.
I’m sorry, God, she prayed, even though a part of her thought God might have understood why she’d made the comment in the first place, forgive me my impudence.
“The kinner will awaken soon. Feed them, pack their lunches, and get them off to school.”
His orders lacked any attempt at demonstrating gratefulness.
“And then?” she asked.
John looked over his shoulder at her, his eyebrows furrowed together in a scowl. “And then what?”
“What would you like me to do after they’ve gone to school?”
“Goodness, girl. You do know how to manage a household, ja?” He gestured toward the kitchen. “Do whatever it is you women are trained to do!” And then, still grumbling under his breath, he grabbed his coat and hat before storming out the door.
While she was thankful he was gone—for she had never met such a miserable sort of man!—she wasn’t certain what to tackle first.
The kitchen, so dark and dreary, needed a good cleaning. Sadie stood in the center of the cold room—he hadn’t even started a fire to warm it for her!—and slowly turned, staring at the dusty shelves that lined the back wall. They were filled with a mismatched set of pots and pans, chipped plates, and different-sized cups. The old cast-iron wood-burning stove was dirty, and the wall behind it was covered in a layer of grease.
“I’m not cleaning this,” she mumbled to herself, then, upon hearing her words, felt guilty for her uncharitable remark.
Sadie knew better. She also knew that she could no sooner not clean the kitchen than she could turn and walk out of the house, leaving John Rabor’s children unattended. She sighed, remembering her friend Belle’s words: a promise is a promise. At least Sadie only had to deal with John and his nine kinner for five days, not a lifetime.
Sighing, she walked over to the counters. She began to open the crooked cabinet doors, searching for cleaning supplies.
There were none to be found.
Settling on a bucket of hot water with a bit of rough hand soap, Sadie took a rag and started cleaning the back wall behind the stove. Dark greasy soot slowly melted away. She had to change the water five times before she managed to get it clean.
And then she began to scrub the kitchen counter and cabinets. While they were not nearly as bad as the stove wall, she still went through four buckets of hot, soapy water.
By the time the sun started to lighten the sky, the kitchen was mostly clean, except for the brown linoleum floor. Progress, she thought as she stared at the fruits of her labor. Even John Rabor would notice that his kitchen was no longer akin to a pigsty.
“Who are you?”
A sleepy voice from the staircase startled her. She spun around and saw a young boy, no more than twelve, staring up at her.
“Sadie Whitaker.”
He glanced around the room. His eyes were close together and his face was as dirty as the kitchen had been. “Where’s Daed?”
“Hunting.” Sadie gestured toward the set table. “You best get cleaned up and ready for school. Then you can have breakfast. And awaken your bruders and schwesters.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not the boss of me.”
So that’s how it’s to be, Sadie thought. She cleared her throat, suddenly realizing how long a week it was going to be. “Mayhaps not. But if you want some pancakes, I reckon you might want to do as I’ve asked.”
His eyes widened at the word “pancakes” and, without saying another word, he hurried back upstairs. Within minutes, the kitchen was filled with more children than Sadie could count, and she found herself hovering over the stove, making batch after batch of pancakes and scrapple. She wondered when they’d last eaten a proper meal.
Once their bellies were full, the older children’s attitude immediately shifted from compliance to defiance. With the three oldest being boys, Sadie knew that she had her hands full. It was all she could do to insist that they carry their plates to the sink before going upstairs to make their beds.
“Aw, that there’s women’s work!” Owen, the twelve-year-old, scowled.
“Ja, women’s work,” Matthew repeated his older brother’s words.
Sadie took a deep breath and counted to ten. She knew that she’d get further with sugar than with spice. “All right then,” she said with a sigh. “I can do it, but I just won’t have time to make my special cookies. Such a shame. My oatmeal cookies are so chewy and full of sweet yellow raisins.”
Owen looked at Matthew and John before shrugging. The three of them carried their plates to the sink, then took the small children by their hands and led them upstairs. Before long, she heard the sounds of busyness and knew that they were, indeed, making their beds as she’d asked.
By the time she’d made sandwiches and packed their lunch pails, then sent them out the door to walk to school, Sadie was already exhausted. Whatever Rachel thought Sadie had done to deserve such punishment, Sadie knew she had already served her time.
It was close to eleven o’clock when John returned from hunting. The two youngest children were napping, one on the sofa and the other upstairs in bed. The cookies were made, the kitchen was as clean as Sadie could get it, and a warm dinner rested on the stove.
He barely noticed the effort as he hung his gun above the door and tossed his hat on the counter.
Sadie could barely wait to leave.
She noticed he didn’t even wash his hands before he sat down, waiting for her to serve him his meal.
She clenched her teeth. “I best get going,” she said as she set the pot of chicken casserole onto a trivet in the center of the table. “Maem will be waiting for me.”
He grunted and, without even a word of gratitude, dug into the pan.
Relieved, Sadie slipped out the door, hurrying to the stable where she had left her father’s horse in a vacant stall. As fast as she could, she harnessed the horse and hitched it to the buggy. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and John Rabor’s farm as possible.
Without doubt, it would be a very long week and, after it was over, she vowed she would never set foot on his property again.
When she returned home, her father was in the horse stable, mucking the stalls. He stuck the pitchfork into the ground and walked outside to help her unhitch the horse.
“How was it?”
Sadie didn’t want to complain to her father. However, she couldn’t find the will to cover up how awful her morning had really been.
“I’d prefer if Rachel might discuss such arrangements with me in the future, Daed,” she said after telling him about the filthy house, insolent children, and ungrateful man. “I feel uncomfortable in his presence. He’s not a kindly man.”
Jacob pursed his lips as if considering her request.
“Why did she offer my help anyway?”
“Reckon she thought you needed to get out more, Sadie. ’Sides, helping our community is a right gut thing to do. Jesus tells us as much in the Gospel.”
She wished that she could argue with her father, but she knew she couldn’t. “You’re right,” she admitted. “But I sure will be glad when this week is over.”
Jacob laughed, then took the horse by the bridle and led it into the stable to be unharnessed before putting it into its stall for the night.
For the rest of the week, Sadie awoke extra early so she could drive to John Rabor’s farm and take care of his children. Fortunately, she didn’t have to spend too much time with him. Unfortunately, she never once ran into Frederick.
By Friday, Sadie was tired, exhausted from the early mornings, long drives, and hard work. Taking care of someone else’s children—and house!—was more difficult than she could have imagined. And the lack of gratitude and appreciation shown to her by the children, especially the oldest boys, made her grateful that, come Saturday morning, she’d be able to sleep until six thirty and not have to deal with nine children anymore!
“When are you comin’ back?”
Sadie took a dishrag and wiped the jelly-stained hands of the four-year-old boy, Wilmer, who was sitting on the counter. “Today’s the last day of hunting season.” She tossed the cloth into the sink. “That makes it my last day, too, Wilmer.” She put her hands under his armpits and lifted him, intending to set him back on the floor so he could scamper off to play while she washed the breakfast dishes.
But Wilmer wrapped his arms around her neck, refusing to let go.
“Come now,” she said, reaching for his hands and trying to disentangle them. “I need to finish my chores before your daed returns.”
“But this is your new home.”
She laughed. Such silliness, she thought. “Nee, Wilmer, it is not. I have my own home in Echo Creek with my own daed.”
“Do you have a maem?”
The question caught her off guard. Her irritation at having been tricked into tending to John Rabor’s children and John’s miserable attitude had made her forget that the children were without a mother. With the youngest child only two years old, the wounds of having lost their mother were most certainly still fresh in all their hearts.
She knelt down and stared directly into Wilmer’s cherubic face. “Nee, Wilmer. My maem’s gone to heaven.”
He lit up. “Then she must know my maem!”
The fact that the child found joy in such a notion warmed Sadie’s soul. “Ja, Wilmer, I imagine they are the very best of friends.” Realizing that, in all likelihood, she would not see the boy again, Sadie embraced him.
He squeezed her as tight as he could.
“Now,” she said as she extracted herself, “mayhaps you could help me finish my chores. I’m sure your daed will be right pleased to hear what a big helper you’ve been to me.”
Wilmer gave her a distrustful look. “Daed always says that men don’t do women’s chores.”
“Oh? Is that so?” She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “And what would your maem have said?”
Wilmer grinned. “She’d have told me to jump to it and help her, I reckon.”
Sadie smiled at him. “I reckon so, too. So, let’s make her happy then.”
He nodded his head and, together, they went outside to take down the laundry, which, by now, was dry and ready to be folded. Sadie felt a tug at her heart, knowing that, like her, little Wilmer had said goodbye to his mother far too early. But perhaps one day he would get a new mother. She only prayed that whoever agreed to marry old John Rabor was kinder and more genuine than her own stepmother.