Free The Haven by Suzanne Woods Fisher

ears.”
    Fern always had a thing about M.K. not listening. She scrunched around in her seat, pretending to listen to her, but her mind was a million miles away, working out a plan.
    “You’d better be home right after school today,” Fern said. “No dillydallying.”
    M.K. lifted her chin. “I don’t dilly and I don’t dally.”
    After breakfast, M.K. and Sadie worked in silence as they cleaned up dishes. Finally, she tapped Sadie’s shoulder. “Are you going to stay mad at me forever?”
    With a sigh, Sadie turned from the sink. M.K. tried to make her face look as contrite as possible. “I’m not angry, M.K., I just don’t think you realize the kind of trouble you stirred up when you told people I brought back a baby from Ohio. It’s just . . .” But once again, she fell silent.
    When Sadie wouldn’t talk, M.K. knew it was best to just try to change the subject. “If you’re not angry, then let’s go find out who might be missing a baby.”
    Sadie turned to face her.
    “I’ve been doing some thinking by using my crackerjack detective skills. I know the baby was wearing a Onesie—something that any baby might wear. No clue in that. No clue with the brand of diapers. Just regular old Pampers. But the basket the baby was left in . . . I think that basket might hold a clue.”
    “How’s that?”
    “I was examining it earlier. It’s handmade. And it’s pretty new. There’s a tag on the bottom. I’m thinking we should take it to a basket shop and see if they might know who made it, or who it was sold to.”
    Now Sadie looked at her with interest. “You might be on to something, M.K.”
    M.K. nodded, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s called connecting the dots. I’m particularly good at it.”
    Then Sadie’s face clouded over. “Maybe . . . we don’t want to know.”
    “What do you mean? Dad said that the baby should be with his mother.”
    “What kind of mother would abandon a baby? Maybe the baby is better off with us.”
    M.K. wrinkled her forehead. “Sadie, maybe you shouldn’t be getting too attached to that baby.”
    “I can’t help it. There’s something about him. I just feel he is meant for me. For us. I can’t explain it. It’s like a deep-down knowing. This baby is for us.”
    M.K. shrugged her small shoulders. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe Dad’s right. But I’m going to take a trip to that basketmaker as soon as I can slip out this afternoon without Fern catching me. Are you coming with me?”
    Sadie hesitated. She looked at the sleeping baby. “We’ll go. But I’m driving.” She gave M.K. a look as if she was bracing herself for a challenge.
    Would M.K. dare to miss a ride with Sadie as pilot? It could be more exciting than sledding down Flying Saucer Hill on an icy day.

6
    A t five foot three inches, Sadie had to sit on a telephone book to see over the dashboard of the buggy. Her buggy driving skills were not exactly her strongest suit. She had always avoided driving the buggy. One sibling or another usually wanted to be in the driver’s seat and she happily acquiesced. But last night Fern had reminded her that she was nearly a grown woman and Sadie hadn’t stopped thinking about that comment. If she was going to start her life as an adult, she was going to have to be brave.
    Then she couldn’t find M.K. Nothing unusual there; M.K. never came when she was called. M.K. said it was because her mind was always on other things. Sadie finally found her up in the hayloft, reading.
    “Let’s go,” Sadie called up to her. “The baby is asleep on Fern’s bed and she has a long list of things she wants me to get at the store.” She held up the baby’s basket. “A golden opportunity!”
    M.K. flew down the hayloft ladder and beat Sadie to the buggy, hopping in on the passenger side.
    Sadie banged her door shut, and the horse startled and reared a few feet. Sadie screamed and dropped the reins. Her high-pitched scream made the horse startle even more,