The Amish Teacher's Gift Page 5

  Cows wandered on a nearby hill, nibbling grass, and Josiah alternated between watching them and checking the buggy’s rearview mirror for the pony cart. The sun beat down, heating the buggy interior, and he wiped the sweat from his brow as minute after minute passed and cars zipped by, shaking the buggy. Each time, he held his breath as they passed. He’d almost given up, figuring the girls had gone home a different way, when the cart approached. Josiah pushed aside his disappointment. The children weren’t accompanied by Nathan’s teacher. He berated himself; he had no right to be thinking of things like that when he was still in mourning.

  Hopping out of the buggy, he flagged them down. Sadie pulled behind his buggy. Leaving his door open so his sleeping son would get some air, Josiah tied the horse to a telephone pole. After the runaway cart earlier, he wasn’t about to take any chances. Then he walked back to the pony cart to explain.

  “A truck overturned ahead, so there’s a detour. I can show you a shortcut home.”

  Although the younger sister had her arms crossed and a pout on her face, both she and Sadie listened carefully. “Where do we turn?”

  He was pointing out the left turn they’d take when a tractor trailer rumbled past. The whoosh of wind almost knocked him off his feet. He grabbed for the pony cart to steady it, and Sadie gripped the reins. The roar of the engine and rattling of the truck drowned out all sound.

  David, who was sitting behind his sisters, suddenly banged on the back of their seat and pointed toward the cornfield behind Josiah. He rapidly signed some letters, but Josiah could only make out an N.

  Josiah glanced over his shoulder in the direction David indicated, but saw nothing except for swaying cornstalks. The wind from the truck had most likely rippled them out of place. As the truck noise faded, Josiah faced the girls again to finish his instructions.

  “I’ll wait for a large gap in traffic so we can both turn left.” He waved to the side road several yards away. “Then just follow me to the driveway past Zook’s farm.”

  David pounded on the back of the seat again and stuck his hands in front of Sadie to sign.

  She shook her head. “Not now,” she said, and brushed his hands away.

  “Oh,” Josiah added, “when we turn into the driveway, it’ll look like it ends at a farmhouse, but follow me around the barn. There’s a small dirt path back there that cuts through the cornfields and runs out to the main road.”

  After Sadie nodded and adjusted her grip on the reins, Josiah hurried to his buggy and got in. Amazingly, Nathan remained silent. Josiah waited until three cars had zoomed by, then signaled to Sadie, and pulled out.

  Behind him, David was kneeling in the cart and staring back the way they’d come. When the cart bounced over a bump, David almost flipped over the backseat, but he grabbed the wooden slat with both hands and hung on. Josiah sucked in a breath. After the pony fiasco earlier, he didn’t want to be responsible for another disaster. He should stop and make sure the boy stayed seated.

  The road took a sharp bend, and he spied a safe place up ahead to stop. He was about to signal for them to pull over, when David turned and plopped down on the seat, shaking his head and signing furiously. His sisters paid no attention to him, and Josiah couldn’t figure out any of the signs—especially reflected backward in the rearview mirror. Once they stopped, he’d find out what was bothering David, but right now, he wanted to get them home safely.

  They turned right and jounced down the rutted dirt lane until they reached the main road. Josiah stopped and walked back to the cart.

  “Do you know your way home from here?” he asked Sadie.

  She looked around. “I…think so.”

  “You don’t sound so sure.” He’d better make sure they got home safely. “You live out past the Esh farm, right?” He didn’t want to admit he’d driven past there several times, thinking he’d talk to the teacher about Nathan before the first day of school, but never got up the courage to knock on the door. “You can follow me, then.”

  The relief on Sadie’s face showed he’d made the right decision. Behind her, David, his brow creased in a worried frown, was signing. Josiah wished he knew more sign language, but he’d only started learning it after Ruth returned from her cancer treatments in Mexico. They’d both been hoping the Mexican doctors had misdiagnosed Nathan’s hearing loss after an infection. Josiah turned his attention to the children to keep himself from spiraling into sadness.

  David made a sign he recognized: corn, Nathan’s favorite vegetable. And one for cart. The rest were a blur.

  “I think your brother is trying to tell us something,” Josiah said to Sadie.

  She smiled. “He’s excited about the surprise we’re planning for Ada.”

  “She worked hard today.” And his son was the cause of most of her work. “She deserves a surprise.”

  Sadie simply nodded.

  “We’ll turn right onto the main road then.” Perhaps getting Ada’s siblings home was one way he could make up for all the trouble he’d caused her today.

  When they reached the Rupps’ house, Sadie called out a thank-you. Josiah waved and turned the buggy around to head back to his road. All the way home, he relaxed and enjoyed the scenery, but as they approached the barn, his stomach knotted. He dreaded waking Nathan. He delayed the inevitable by unhooking Silver and rubbing her down. Then he walked her to the stall, where a sheet of paper hung on a hook nearby.

  After he closed the stall door, he pulled down Mamm’s hastily scribbled note:

  I have to wait tables at Linda’s restaurant tonight. Heat the chicken corn soup for dinner.

  Not only did Mamm bake desserts for his oldest sister’s restaurant, she also helped out whenever one of the waitresses didn’t show up. That meant he and Nathan would be alone tonight. The prospect filled him with dread. Mamm usually managed to coax Nathan into his bath and then bed. On nights when she was gone, Nathan often fell asleep on the floor, still dressed in his clothes, worn out after one of his tantrums.

  Taking a deep breath, Josiah dragged his feet as he headed to the buggy, preparing himself for an afternoon and evening filled with nonstop screaming. He slid open the buggy door as quietly as he could so he wouldn’t wake Nathan suddenly. If he was lucky, he could carry Nathan upstairs to bed, where he’d nap for a while. Josiah pulled his seat forward, bent down, and reached inside to pick up his sleeping son.

  The buggy was empty.

  * * *

  After Miriam and Will left in their buggy, Ada returned to the schoolroom to hear what Rebecca had to say. She bit back the sigh trying to escape. Today had been trying enough. She really didn’t need one more burden.

  Rebecca was still sitting in the scholar’s chair. Instead of sitting beside her, Ada picked up the windmill and replaced it on the shelf, delaying the inevitable. She was already failing as a teacher. Hearing Rebecca’s words would add to her sense of inadequacy. Slowly she headed to the chair in front of Will’s desk and turned it to face Rebecca.

  Her friend cleared her throat. “I don’t want to upset you after you’ve struggled all day with your own scholars. And you had other problems as well with the pony cart.”

  Ada had to admit, now that all the children were gone, it was a little less stressful. “I guess you didn’t have an easy day either. Sadie told me Mary Elizabeth cried today.”

  “That’s true,” Rebecca said. “Scholars sometimes cry the first few days of school, so I’m used to it. But…”

  Ada tensed, waiting for her friend to put her concerns into words, but Rebecca remained mute. As the silence stretched between them, Ada tried to find a way to make things easier for her. “You can tell me the truth.”

  A small sigh hissed through Rebecca’s teeth. “In truth, it was all morning. And…it wasn’t crying. It was wailing. Wailing so loud, I couldn’t teach. We didn’t have a chance to do any classwork. No one could concentrate.”

  Ada slumped at her desk. She’d been expecting Mary Elizabeth to act gretzy, but she had
n’t expected nonstop crying. “What do you think I should do?”

  Rebecca glanced out the window. “I really don’t know what to suggest. If you weren’t teaching, I’d suggest you come in with her for a little while, but you need to be here in the morning, so that won’t work.”

  “I’ll talk to her tonight,” Ada promised, although she wasn’t sure how much good it would do.

  “Usually when scholars are disruptive, we can send them home. But with your Mamm…”

  Ada bit down on her lower lip and blinked to clear the mistiness in her eyes. If only Mamm were still alive, none of this would be happening. Mary Elizabeth wouldn’t be clinging to her older sister.

  Rebecca’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry. I know it hasn’t been easy for you this past year.” She cleared her throat. “I suppose it hasn’t been easy for you while your Mamm was ill either, was it?”

  Ada’s throat closed up. Only a few of her friends realized she’d been caring for her siblings ever since Sadie was born. Most people knew only about the past few years when Mamm was bedridden after David was born. And few knew about Daed. She hid as much of that as she could, so people wouldn’t pity her. Though the previous bishop had counseled her on the final decision, most people were shocked to find out what she’d done. Since then, the gossip had died down, but the disapproval hadn’t.

  “I didn’t mean to bring up sad memories.” Rebecca reached across the desk and patted Ada’s hand. “Why don’t you talk to Mary Elizabeth tonight, and we’ll see how she does tomorrow?” She rose. “I think she’s jealous David stays with you.”

  “She could come here if she gets to be too much of a problem, but even if I could handle another scholar, I don’t want to reward Mary Elizabeth’s crying by giving her what she wants.” All the teacher psychology books she’d been reading agreed on that. “But you need to be able to teach.”

  “Jah, it’s a hard choice,” Rebecca agreed. “Let’s see what happens tomorrow. After all, it was her first day.”

  That was true. And it was Ada’s first day too. Maybe tomorrow would be better for all of them.

  Chapter Seven

  Josiah stared at the empty buggy. Where was Nathan? Had his son climbed out while he was taking care of Silver? At least he’d closed the barn door, so Nathan couldn’t have gone far. To get out the regular door, Nathan had to pass Silver’s stall, so he was in here somewhere. Searching the barn didn’t take long; it normally held only two horses and two vehicles, and Mamm had taken one horse and the wagon. Josiah lifted each hay bale and opened equipment and tool closets. Ten minutes later, he’d found no sign of Nathan.

  He bellowed his son’s name several times, although Nathan couldn’t hear. Desperate, he checked inside and underneath the buggy again. But finally he faced the truth.

  Nathan was missing.

  He couldn’t bear even the thought of losing his son so soon after losing Ruth. Dear God, please help me find…He stopped abruptly. Did he have any right to ask a favor of the God he’d rejected?

  No, he was on his own in this. There had to be a logical explanation. How could Nathan have gotten out of the buggy? The doors were too heavy for him to slide open, and Josiah would have heard the sound of them sliding. So where could he have climbed out? The school yard? Maybe Nathan had slipped out during the pony chase. But why hadn’t anyone seen him? Josiah hadn’t spotted Nathan on the playground, and when he peeked into the classroom, it appeared almost empty. He had to admit, though, that his attention had been so focused on Nathan’s teacher, he’d barely noticed the rest of the room. He struggled to recall the details. Another schoolteacher, one Mamm had introduced him to last week, had been there, sitting near Ada. And a small boy. Other than that, he was pretty sure the room was empty, but with all his attention concentrated on Ada, twenty children could have been playing in the room, and he’d have missed them.

  While he was thinking, his hands were frantically harnessing Silver. “I’m sorry for taking you out again so soon,” he said to the horse as he fumbled with the bridle. “But it’s an emergency.”

  If Mamm were here, she’d insist on praying, but he was relieved not to face the disappointment in her eyes when she discovered he’d lost his son—and his faith.

  * * *

  After her discussion with Rebecca, Ada climbed into her buggy, and weariness overtook her. She hadn’t realized teaching would be so draining. And they’d only had a half day today. How would she endure the full days that started next week? She had her siblings to care for after she arrived home, and she wanted to read more on techniques to help her students. The tomatoes needed canning, and she’d promised to finish a quilt for the school benefit next month, but when would she find the time?

  It seemed her worries piled up faster than dirty dishes in her kitchen, and with seven siblings, she had plenty of those. Mamm always said worrying meant lack of faith. Forgive me, Lord. I know You’re bigger than any problem I face. I’m turning them over to You.

  After she’d prayed over each concern, her spirit lightened. She decided to put them out of her mind and enjoy the scenery. Her heart always lifted when she traveled the back roads past the farms. Variegated rows of greens and yellows made the fields look like patchwork quilts spread across the ground.

  Ada slowed as she neared the accident site Miriam had mentioned. When she rounded the bend, lights revolved up ahead, throwing off red, yellow, and blue beams and striping the face of a small boy who stood mesmerized at the edge of the road, his eyes and mouth wide as he stared at the fire engines, police cars, and tow trucks. With his straw hat tilted back, he reminded her of Nathan. He was even clutching a small green rabbit.

  It was Nathan!

  She jerked the reins to stop her horse. What was he doing here? And where was his daed? He shouldn’t be so close to the road without a safety vest. She pulled the buggy to the side of the road and jumped out. Scanning the crowds for Josiah, she sprinted toward Nathan.

  When he saw her, his mouth opened even wider. He backed up a bit, and she slowed. She didn’t want to scare him.

  Stopping a short distance away, she moved her hands in the sign for Come. Nathan studied her warily as she repeated the sign. Then he stared at her hands as she did it again.

  She had no idea how much sign language, if any, he understood. She’d have to ask his daed as soon as she found him. No, better yet, she should schedule a conference with his mamm. She needed to stay as far away from Josiah as she could.

  Ada had just concluded Nathan hadn’t learned any sign language when he took one step toward her. And then another. She smiled to encourage him to continue. When he reached her, he surprised her by slipping his hand in hers and leaning his head against her apron. She stood still a few minutes, while he popped a rabbit ear in his mouth and sucked on it. How different he was from the kicking, screaming child at school that morning. She marveled at his calmness. He didn’t seem at all concerned about being separated from his daed.

  But she needed to get home to her siblings. She didn’t like to leave them alone too long. Sadie did her best, but the others often didn’t listen when she told them to do their chores. Plus, without supervision, the tomatoes wouldn’t get canned before dinner. She inspected the crowds standing on the nearby hillside and gathered along the road watching the cleanup. Only two straw hats in either crowd, and neither one was Josiah.

  She hated to disturb Nathan, but she needed to know. Keeping her fingers wrapped around his, she moved so she was facing him and squatted down. He looked a little downcast. Perhaps he was missing his daed.

  Ada didn’t want to free her hand from his, but she needed to sign. He knew the sign for come, so she hoped he’d understand her new message. She set her free hand on his shoulder before letting go of his hand. He shoved more of the rabbit ear in his mouth.

  Where Daed? she signed.

  Nathan shrank back and glanced over his shoulder nervously. He sucked harder on the rabbit ear, but didn’t respond.


  Had he disobeyed and slipped away from his daed? With his lower lip caught between his teeth, he had that same guilty expression her siblings had when they’d done something wrong. But was that a glint of fear in his eyes? His daed seemed gentle with him, but maybe he was different when they were alone.

  Ada signed her question a second time. Last time it had taken three tries before he responded, but this time, he answered.

  Gone.

  Ada wasn’t sure what he meant. Surely Josiah hadn’t left him here alongside the road. But what could she sign to get an answer?

  Nathan reached out and touched the frown lines between her eyes. He must think she was upset with him. She smoothed out her forehead, smiled, and traced a question mark in the air, hoping he’d figure out she was puzzled, not annoyed.

  He studied her as if deciding whether or not he could trust her. Then with the rabbit dangling from his mouth, he signed Daed. He followed up by pantomiming holding the reins and pointed to her buggy.

  If she was interpreting correctly, he was telling her his daed drove the buggy. She nodded to show she understood.

  He continued by signing gone.

  Ada shook her head. That didn’t make sense. Josiah wouldn’t leave Nathan here and drive away.

  A hurt look in his eyes, Nathan nodded.

  Poor kid. He must think she didn’t believe him. She’d have to be more careful with her expressions when she worked with him. Her brother David was used to her, but Nathan took each thing she did seriously. To show she believed him, she repeated his signs.