by Marta Perry
Catching movement from the corner of his eye, Thomas turned to look and spotted Sarah and Dorcas admiring an enormous clump of daffodils banked against the brick of an old, disused well by the side of the barn. He hesitated, not sure whether they’d seen him or not. Then Sarah met his glance, she smiled and gestured a welcome, so he went to them.
“I’m wonderful glad to see you, Thomas. I haven’t had a minute to talk to you since you returned. It must be going well, because you look fine.”
Sarah, he remembered, always had a motherly attitude toward anyone younger, even if it was only by less than a year.
“Yah, I’m happy to be here. Noah and those two boys are certain sure keeping you busy, ain’t so?”
Her face glowed as if lit from within at the mention of her family. “They are that, and I’d best go and check on them. You’ll keep Dorcas company, yah?”
Before either of them could respond, she’d whisked away.
Thomas stared after her for a moment and then turned back to Dorcas. “What was that all about?”
Dorcas’s lips twitched. “That was Sarah being subtle. I asked her to help me find a chance to speak to you alone.”
He leaned against the weathered barn siding, studying her face. It was turned downward, as if she looked for something on the ground, and every trace of that momentary smile had disappeared.
“I’m here, and for the moment, nobody else is around. What’s troubling you?”
It was obvious that something was, since she’d lost the spark of laughter that was so much a part of her.
She took a deep breath, as if preparing for something huge. “Just . . . I’m sorry. And thank you.”
* * *
—
Now that she’d said the words, Dorcas knew that they were not enough. He didn’t understand. Apparently, what had been haunting her wasn’t even in his thoughts. She’d have to go into the whole story she’d thought buried seven years ago.
“If you’re talking about your attitude yesterday, maybe we’d best let it drop.” His expression had firmed. “You didn’t like my interference. No reason why you should, that I can see.”
She struggled to find the right words. “It wasn’t that. You said what I hoped someone would say, so I wouldn’t have to disagree with the parents of my students.” A tiny smile hovered and was gone at the thought of Lydia Gaus. “You know very well I’ve owed you my thanks for over seven years. You never wanted to go to that foolish party to begin with.”
Thomas’s expression relaxed. “You were too stubborn for me.”
“You should have refused to go at all.” Suddenly they were talking like the friends they’d been then.
“And let you go off by yourself chasing that Englisch boy you were so sweet on?”
“I always thought you didn’t know about him.” She looked back, wondering, at the girl who’d thought she was so grown up.
“Troy Evans.” He supplied the name. “How could I help noticing you looking at him as if he were a hero whenever you saw him?”
“He was about as far from that as he could be.” She should be embarrassed, except that she knew she didn’t have to be with Thomas. “He’s the one who wanted me to come, and then when we heard the sirens, he just left me there and ran off.”
His expression showed clearly what he’d thought of Troy. “I had a feeling the whole time that those parties were ripe to be raided. That was the summer the police said they were going to crack down on them, remember?”
“I don’t think I ever heard that.” She sent her mind back to that far-off summer. “I just knew that siren was the worst thing I ever heard.” She seemed to feel like the scared girl again and rubbed her arms, chilled. “I started to run and then you grabbed me.”
He’d caught her wrist, and somehow in all the confusion, she’d known it was him. And known, too, that Thomas would keep her safe.
“You were a pretty fast runner for a girl, as I remember.” His face had eased into a smile, as if the memory that had haunted her actually amused him. “If we’d had another minute’s start, we’d have gotten away.”
She wasn’t sure about that. It had seemed so impossible to be running through the thick grass with Thomas, thinking if only they could make it to the woods, they’d be okay. But they couldn’t. She’d tripped, nearly fallen, and they’d both tumbled to the ground behind a downed tree.
They might still have made it, but the beam of a heavy-duty flashlight came piercing through the field, making it nearly as bright as day. “I know you’re in there. Come on out now.” The voice had been loud, but not unkind.
She’d been frozen. Thomas had pulled her close and whispered in her ear. “I’ll distract them. Once they put the light on me, you run toward the woods and keep on going. You’ll hit Kriner’s lane and you can walk home from there.”
When she didn’t respond, he’d shaken her. “Understand?”
She forced herself to nod. “Yah.”
“Do like I told you. Don’t look back.”
She’d felt his breath on her cheek, and then in an instant he was running the opposite way, shouting something. The light swung round and focused on him, away from her.
A frozen second later, she was doing as he’d said, running, choking back sobs, afraid to look and afraid not to. When she’d reached cover, she’d finally looked back, but it was too late to see anything but Thomas’s back as an officer took him toward the waiting police car.
Without her realizing it, Thomas had come closer. “Stop it,” he muttered. “No sense in reliving it. It’s over and gone, and we never have to go through it again.”
“I know.” She tried to smile, but it was a poor effort. “I should have gone back. I let you go through it alone.”
“Crazy.” The word exploded out of him, and she realized he was actually angry at the suggestion. “What would have been the use of doing that? I wanted you to get away, and you did. End of story.”
Her gaze searched his face. “Really? You weren’t angry with me for running?”
“Silly.” His flare of anger was gone as fast as it had come, and now his eyes held their familiar teasing look. “You let me think of myself as a hero. And going away was the best thing that could have happened to me. Honest.”
“I was so sorry, and I never told you. And then when you came back, I was afraid . . .”
Thomas’s face tightened. “Afraid of what? Did you think I’d tell on you now?”
“No, no, not exactly.” But she had feared that, just for a moment. “But when you teased me, I thought maybe you didn’t realize how important it was now.”
“Teacher Dorcas,” he said, with an inflection in his voice that made it mocking. “I know. You don’t need to be afraid. I’m not going to say anything. To anyone.”
Now she’d hurt him. Was everything she said to him destined to be wrong? He started to turn away and she grasped his wrist, as he’d grabbed hers that night.
“Wait. I know. I knew all along that I could trust you, but I let doubt creep in. Forgive me.”
He shrugged. “Nothing to forgive. You took care of yourself . . .” He stopped abruptly, and they both heard Sarah’s voice, pitched a little louder than normal, coming from around the barn with someone else.
Before she could speak, Thomas was gone, slipping out of sight behind the barn and leaving her standing there by the daffodils. Saving her again, she thought wryly.
She’d said what she needed to say, but it didn’t seem to have helped much. She’d managed to hurt him by her lack of trust, and she suddenly felt like that immature girl she’d been instead of the grown-up teacher she thought she was.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dorcas turned toward the front of the barn, only to see Sarah and Lydia Gaus walking toward her. Of all the people to show up now—the woman seemed to be everywhere. Well, at least
she understood why Sarah had spoken so loudly. She’d been trying to warn them. Dorcas could only hope they’d reacted in time. Given Lydia’s attitude toward both Dorcas and her school, she’d probably put the worst possible interpretation on finding them alone together.
Trying to look as if she hadn’t a care in the world, Dorcas went to meet them. “Here you are, Sarah.” Not having any idea what Sarah had been saying, it seemed best not to make any definite statements.
“I’m sorry I was so long,” Sarah said promptly. “I know I said I’d be right back, but I got talking to Lydia.”
“That’s fine. How are you, Lydia?” She started slowly toward the house, ensuring that they came with her.
“Fine, fine.” Lydia looked as if she couldn’t decide whether she was suspicious or ill at ease. Maybe both. “I . . . I didn’t realize you were waiting back here all alone, or I wouldn’t have delayed Sarah.”
“That’s fine. I was just admiring the daffodils. They seem to like that spot by the old well. Ours aren’t nearly as far along.”
Had it seemed strange that she was standing here alone after lunch? She wouldn’t think so, but she couldn’t tell what Lydia was thinking. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, to have the mother of two of her scholars being so antagonistic to her.
Or was she exaggerating? Maybe Lydia was just overly involved in her children’s education, wanting to control it. It wasn’t necessarily personal.
“Well . . . well, I won’t keep you standing here talking, but I did want to speak to you about the meeting yesterday.”
“Yah?” Dorcas decided her smile must look frozen, because it certain sure felt that way.
Lydia’s pale cheeks took on an unbecoming flush. “We . . . Zeb and me . . . we just thought that the fire company was a . . . had a . . . well, maybe needed the money more than the school right now.”
“I see.” She would not start an argument, right here in front of everyone, but she wasn’t going to agree, either. Maybe the best thing wasn’t to speak at all.
She saw Sarah draw in her breath, probably prepared to take issue with the idea that the fire company should take priority over the school. She caught Sarah’s eye and shook her head very slightly. Sarah subsided, but she still looked annoyed.
Finding them nonresponsive, Lydia sniffed a little. “Next time we’ll have to get started earlier. Maybe for the Harvest Festival.”
If Dorcas ground her teeth any harder, her jaw would break. Before she could say something she’d regret, Esther came scurrying up to her.
“Teacher Dorcas, have you seen my bruder? Thomas, I mean? I want him to let me drive on the way home. He promised he’d show me about driving the family buggy.”
“Did he?” It seemed a little odd that Thomas would be doing it instead of her daad, and even odder that they’d do it on the way home from worship.
“Well, almost.” She took on the look of discontent that seemed second nature to adolescent girls. “I thought he might be with you.”
Dorcas saw Lydia’s attention sharpen at that, and she could cheerfully have muffled Esther. Lydia didn’t need any more ammunition for her battle.
“I’m afraid not.” Not now anyway.
“You’d best hurry and find him,” Sarah suggested. “People will be leaving soon.”
“Yah, right. See you tomorrow.” Esther hurried off at something just short of a run.
“I see Hallie looking for me, so I’ll be going.” Lydia gave them a meaningless smile and turned on her heel.
Dorcas let out a breath, grateful for the respite, but Sarah grimaced.
“That woman. I don’t know why she has such a bee in her bonnet over the school. It’s not as if anyone else wants to move the school. Well, except for one or two cross-grained people who don’t have kin there and think they can save some money.”
“Let it go,” Dorcas said. “I have.” Although she couldn’t help a passing thought about the reaction if Lydia really was as determined as she seemed.
“You must be more forgiving than I am.” Sarah squeezed her hand briefly. “But we want you to teach our kinder, right there where we went to school.”
She couldn’t help but feel better at her friend’s swift defense of her. “I don’t think that will change, not if I have anything to say about it.” She hoped.
“We won’t let it,” Sarah said. She glanced at Dorcas’s face. “Did you get to say what you wanted to Thomas? I mean . . . I’m not asking what it was,” she added quickly.
Dorcas grinned. “Yah, you are. It’s all right. I just felt that I ought to thank him.”
“For speaking up at the meeting? Yah, that was gut.”
“For that, and . . .”
She hesitated. She’d never told Sarah the whole of what happened that night, and she should have. She’d told herself it wasn’t fair to burden her friend with the knowledge, but was it that? Or was it her own shame?
Sarah was still looking at her.
“He helped me with something a long time ago, and I never really thanked him.” She hesitated, thinking she should tell her the whole thing.
But they’d walked far enough to be enveloped in a crowd of people starting to gather their families to leave, and it clearly wasn’t the time.
Lemuel elbowed his way through a clump of boys headed in the opposite direction, probably to set up for tonight’s singing. He reached Dorcas and grasped her arm, nodding to Sarah.
“We’d better leave. Mamm says Betsy doesn’t feel so well and wants to go home.”
“I’m ready.” She turned to Sarah. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
Sarah smiled, but she was already turning to search the crowd for her own family. And Lemuel was pulling on her arm, hurrying her toward the buggy.
At least that gave her time to think before she saw Sarah again.
Betsy was already in the buggy when they reached it, with Mamm beside her holding Will and Levi pacing back and forth. When he spotted them, he climbed in.
“It’s about time,” he snapped.
“Take it easy, Levi.” Lemuel gave her a hand up. “Dorcas didn’t know you wanted to leave already.”
“All right. Sorry,” he added as an afterthought. “Let’s just get going.”
Lemuel clicked to the horse, and the buggy jolted into motion. Betsy gasped and put her hand over her mouth.
“Are you all right?” Levi leaned over her, but she pushed him away, and he looked hurt. “Don’t you want me to . . .”
“For goodness’ sake,” Dorcas said. “Can’t you see she’s nauseated? Give her a little air.” She’d think anyone but apparently a doting husband could have seen the greenish tinge to poor Betsy’s face.
“Here, you trade places with me. If she’s going to be sick, she’d rather you were in the front.”
Lemuel pulled to the side while they changed, and Betsy slid into the place nearest the side. Mamm reached under the seat with one hand to pull out the thermos of water kept there.
“Dampen your handkerchief so Betsy can bathe her face. That’ll make her feel better.”
Dorcas did as she was told, but several years’ experience with small children having upset stomachs in school had taught her that nothing would make Betsy feel better at the moment. She pressed the cloth against Betsy’s forehead and hoped for the best.
At least she could be sure she’d be busy enough not to spend the rest of the day fretting about Thomas, and that was just as well. Especially when she couldn’t ever seem to find the right thing to say to him.
But she had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to stop trying.
* * *
—
Thomas had seen Dorcas and her family leaving for home shortly after they’d talked, and he’d been relieved. If she wasn’t there, then he didn’t have to keep thinking about her.
Unfortunately, out of sight wasn’t exactly out of mind. He’d continued to mull it over all the way home, and even now, while he was removing the harness and brushing down the buggy horse, Dorcas refused to be chased out of his thoughts.
He understood that the grown-up Dorcas was now ashamed of her part in the events that had led to his arrest. What he couldn’t take was her actually thinking that he might tell on her now. Just the notion had him fuming.
How long he’d have gone on, he didn’t know, but he was yanked out of his thoughts by a loud quarrel between Jonas and Adam. Since Daad had already gone in the house, he wasn’t here to put an end to it.
“It’s not fair,” Adam shouted, sounding the favorite refrain of little brothers everywhere. “I’ll bet you didn’t have to stay home from a singing just to help with the milking.”
Jonas looked exasperated. “You don’t have to stay home. But you also don’t have to run off way early. After the milking there’s plenty of time to get back to the singing.”
“There’s a volleyball game first,” Adam snapped back. “I don’t see why I should miss it. Nobody else has to.”
“You don’t know that!” Jonas raised his voice, whatever patience he had, and it wasn’t much, running out. “You’re needed here, and—”
“Wait a second.” Thomas had told himself he wouldn’t interfere between them, but this was foolish. “I’ll be here, and by now I’m as fast as Adam is. I’ll take his place for the milking. How about it?”
Adam looked as if he’d burst out, but Thomas frowned him to silence. “Okay, Jonas?”
Jonas didn’t speak for a moment. Then he jerked a nod. “Yah, all right,” he muttered, and walked off toward the house.
Adam looked at him and grinned. “He couldn’t say no, but he wanted to.”
“Don’t talk like that about your bruder.” Thomas added a frown for emphasis. He might think Adam was right about Jonas, but he wasn’t going to take sides.