The Haven Read Online Free Page B

herself differently. Shoulders back. Why, she was practically perpendicular! A 90 degree angle.
    And wouldn’t Gideon Smucker be proud of M.K. for finding geometry in something as mundane as a person’s posture? Watching Sadie, M.K. straightened her back, hardly aware she was doing it.
    Just as Uncle Hank opened his mouth to jump in on the what-to-do-with-the-baby discussion, Fern lifted her hand to ward him off. “It’s been a long day. And if I know newborn babies—and that baby can’t be much older than a month or so—it’s going to be an even longer night.”
    Sadie looked confused. “Why is it going to be such a long night?”
    Uncle Hank burst out with a snorting laugh. “By tomorrow morning, Sadie girl, you might just be changing your tune about keeping that baby!”
    In that way Fern had of bringing the whole world up short, she pointed to Uncle Hank and said, “Whether that baby is here for a day or a month, he’s going to need some things we don’t have. You need to go to the Bent N’ Dent tonight to buy more supplies.” She pulled a list from her apron pocket and handed it to him. “Lickety-split. Store closes at seven.”
    Hank shoveled one last biscuit into his mouth. “Better hurry up and pray, Amos, since I seem to be Fern’s factotum.” He winked at M.K. “See? I’m using them big words you keep trying to jam into my head.”
    M.K. beamed. She adored her father’s uncle. “I’ll go with you, Uncle Hank.”
    Amos bowed his head and the family followed suit. As soon as he lifted his head, M.K. jumped up, grabbed her black bonnet off the wall peg, and slipped out the door before Fern could call her back to help wash dishes.
    As Uncle Hank went to get the horse to hitch to the buggy, M.K. stayed on the porch, tying the bonnet ribbons under her chin, listening to the conversation continue at the table through an open window. She heard Sadie ask her father, “What exactly did Fern mean about babies and long nights?”
    “Babies need to eat every few hours,” Amos said.
    “What?” Sadie said. “You can’t be serious!”
    M.K. saw Sadie turn to Fern for confirmation. Fern was at the kitchen sink, adding dish soap into the basin.
    “He’s right,” Fern said loudly, over the sound of running water. “Around the clock.”
    Sadie groaned and dropped her forehead on the table with a clunk. Then her head popped up. “Maybe we could all take a shift!”
    M.K. saw Sadie look at her father, who was not uttering a peep behind his nest of beard. He was studying the ceiling with great interest. Then she saw Sadie whip her head over at Fern.
    “Oh no, don’t look to me,” Fern said in her crisp way. “This is your miracle. Besides, I don’t do babies. They’re a heap of trouble.”
    M.K. popped her head in the window and whispered to Sadie, “I know all about babies. It can’t be that hard. I’ll help.” Then she jumped off the porch and ran down to Uncle Hank, waiting for her in the buggy.

3
    T he next morning Sadie woke up with a start, a jittery mess. The morning sun beamed bright through her front window. How could it be morning already? She had been up with the baby four times, maybe five, no signs or stirrings of M.K. or her father or Uncle Hank, until Fern finally came into the kitchen around 4:00 a.m. and told her to go to bed, that she would take a turn.
    That was the way it was with Fern. She complained about having to take care of everybody, but then she took care of everybody.
    Sadie was exhausted. How could such a tiny baby eat so much and cry so much? Downstairs, she heard the sounds of morning going on. Familiar, contented noises. The hinge of the kitchen door squeaked as her father went out to the barn. Bacon hissed and sizzled in a frying pan on the stove. She heard M.K. gallop down the stairs, talk to Fern for a moment, then gallop back up. Sadie’s bedroom door burst open. “Fern says to get up. She said that baby is starting to make noises about breakfast. She