by Marta Perry
Now Esther had gone off the rails at school, and Adam . . . Adam, whom he’d trusted . . . had lied and broken his word. That was what hurt the most. He’d had plenty of experience with not being trusted. It had been painful, and so he’d been glad to trust his young brother.
One thing he knew for sure. He had to talk with Adam. Now. But where was he?
He walked toward the empty milking shed, where Adam and Daad had obviously had their set-to. But somehow his steps turned toward the barn, and then he knew why. When he’d been young and in trouble, needing to be alone, he’d found a spot in the farthest corner of the barn loft. Protected by a surrounding wall of hay bales, he’d been free to mull over his troubles.
No way of being sure that Adam had found the small safe spot, but it was worth a try.
He walked into the barn and approached the ladder. Quiet. Not a sound from above. But then he noticed wisps of hay fluttering down to the barn floor from the far corner of the loft. Moving quietly, he climbed the ladder.
Adam must have heard him coming across the loft, but he didn’t move. He sat with his knees drawn up to his chin, his arms around his legs as if he wanted to make himself as small as possible. Thomas felt a pang of sympathy, but he couldn’t allow it to control him. For an instant, he wondered if Daad had felt that with him.
“Got yourself in a mess, haven’t you?” He kept his voice level with an effort.
“You don’t need to start. I already heard it from Daad.” Adam stared at the wide boards of the loft.
“Yah, but I’m the one you promised. I’m the one you lied to.”
Adam slid a sidelong, shamefaced glance at him and then resumed his study of the floor. “Sorry.”
“So, why? Why make a promise if you didn’t mean to keep it?” He didn’t know if he wanted to hug his brother or shake him.
Adam muttered into his knees. So far as Thomas could tell, he was saying that he didn’t mean to.
“What was so important that you had to break your word?”
Adam flared up, glaring at him. “You’re a good one to talk. Look at all the trouble you—” He stopped as fast as he’d started, flushing.
“Yah, I got into trouble.” Thomas’s voice was heavy. Consequences kept coming at him. “But I never broke my word.”
Daad hadn’t believed that, but it happened to be true.
“You did break your word,” Thomas continued. “So I know I can’t trust you.” Swamped by a sense of the futility of it all, he turned away.
Before he reached the ladder, he heard a scramble behind him. Adam rushed across the loft and propelled himself into Thomas’s arms, just as he had done when he was a child who looked up to his big brother.
Thomas held him, the ice inside his heart melting a little. He could cope with the consequences of the past, or he could leave again. Right now, he thought it might be worth the struggle to stay.
* * *
—
By Thursday, Dorcas, with Anna’s help, had prepared the speaking parts for the end-of-school program. This wasn’t a matter of showing off individual talents, but a way of letting parents see the work the scholars had done throughout the year. And incidentally, to have some fun with parents and schoolmates before the summer break.
Not that her scholars wouldn’t be working over the summer. They’d all have chores to do at home, and most of those would be learning experiences as well. She gestured to Anna, who was pitching the ball to some of the younger children during recess.
Turning the job over to one of the older girls, Anna came to join her. “Is it time to go in already?” She looked as if she’d been enjoying the game as much as the young ones did.
“Not quite, but I wanted to talk with you about the spring program. We’ll give out the parts this afternoon, yah?”
Anna nodded. “They’re ready to go. The kinder will be excited to have them.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Dorcas said, smiling to show she wasn’t serious. “We’ll have to be ready for learning to slide as spring fever sets in.”
Anna dimpled. “I remember.”
“Yah, I’m sure you do. We’ll do the best we can. I think we’d best wait until the last half hour of the day for working on it. Otherwise, they’ll never be able to concentrate for the rest of the afternoon.”
They stood together, watching their scholars, and Dorcas thought how much Anna had matured this year. She’d seen it before—those months when a girl turns from being a child to becoming a young woman, but it always surprised her how quickly it could come. In that, boys lagged behind, it seemed, even though many of them were doing men’s work at that age.
“Esther has behaved since you spoke to her on Monday,” Anna said, showing her awareness of any behavior problems. “She’s still showing off a bit about her brother, though.”
“I noticed.” Dorcas glanced at Esther, wondering whether or not Thomas had spoken to her after their talk on Monday. She rather hoped he hadn’t. “I hope he can cope with her hero worship until it wears off.”
Checking the time, she reached for the bell rope. “Time to get back to work.”
With the scholars reassembled, still flushed from running around outside, Dorcas switched to the schedule she’d developed for the last month of school. Reading aloud came after recess, to allow them time to cool off and settle down. Then a session of spelling and writing, another of arithmetic, and last the time devoted to working on the program.
As Anna started passing out the parts for the program, an irresistible wave of chatter swept through the classroom. “Let’s try not to lose your parts this year,” Dorcas reminded them. “Each day, we’ll spend some time in the afternoon working on our posters and displays and practicing the parts and songs.”
A hand began waving among the first graders. “Yah, Matthew.” Inevitably, it was Sarah and Noah’s older twin.
“Our daadi made the props for the Christmas program. I’ll bet he’d make anything we need for this one, too.”
“Matthew has reminded me that I want you to ask your families if they’re willing to help with the picnic or the program.” Several hands went up, and she shook her head. “We don’t volunteer anyone without asking first, ain’t so?” The hands went back down again. “You can tell me next week. Everyone is busy with the Mud Sale right now.”
Heads nodded, and then was a certain amount of wiggling. Everyone liked the Mud Sale, from the youngest children to the great-grandparents. It was fun, but it was also distracting.
She and Anna divided the class into age groups and began working with each of them on what they’d do for the program. The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, with everyone engrossed. From what Dorcas could hear, they were still talking excitedly as they headed off for home. She realized, once they were gone, that she had forgotten to give her usual warning about avoiding the neighbor’s property. But surely by this time they’d become used to staying on the verge of the road.
Dorcas still wasn’t comfortable with that, but there seemed to be no alternative. Their neighbor hadn’t given any sign of relenting, and certainly hadn’t responded to any signs of friendliness. Shrugging it off, she finished her final chores.
When she emerged onto the porch, she could still hear the sounds of hammering coming from the stable. She turned that way, hesitated, and turned back again. Then she told herself that she ought to assure Thomas that his sister was back to her usual good behavior and headed off to the stable.
Dorcas reached the stable and had to lean back in order to see him up in the rafters. He had apparently not heard her come in. He was balancing seemingly effortlessly on a four-by-four rafter, reaching above his head to tap at something in the roof.
A chance to study him without notice didn’t come along all that often. His position frightened her, although he seemed perfectly comfortable on his precarious p
erch. He’d been a tall, gangly teenager when he went away, but he’d filled out to match his height. He moved easily, the muscles of his back flexing as he reached and lowered.
Choosing a moment when he wasn’t reaching up, she spoke. “I don’t want to disturb you when you’re working.”
He looked down, smiling. “But you will.”
When she began to speak, he shook his head. “Just kidding. I’m glad to take a break. What’s up? Don’t tell me my sister is acting up again.”
“No, just the opposite.” She watched him swing down, climb along the top of a stall, and drop to the floor. “I know you were concerned the other day, so I thought I’d assure you that all is well.”
“That’s good to hear.” He took a step closer to her. “We don’t need more of the family finding trouble.”
Dorcas decided to ignore the slight bitterness in his voice. “Did you speak to her about it on Monday?”
“No.” He looked slightly startled, as if he’d forgotten his intention. “Something . . . well, one of the others was in trouble with Mamm and Daad when I got home, and it didn’t seem the time.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t. It’s just as well, since she got over her problem on her own.”
He must, she’d think, have meant Adam, but Thomas apparently didn’t want to talk about it. Happy-go-lucky Adam had been a good student with a flair for mischief, much like Thomas.
“I guess that is better.” He frowned. “But it shouldn’t have happened in the first place. Mamm would be embarrassed if she knew.”
“I’m sure your mamm knows enough about the moods of adolescent girls not to take it seriously. They change by the day . . . sometimes by the minute.”
“Not like us guys,” he teased, his worried look vanishing.
“The boys are just as bad, but it hits them later,” she said, and wished she hadn’t. It might seem a reference to his troubles, and she hadn’t meant it that way.
But he just shrugged. “She does seem to have turned into a chameleon these days. But I’m glad to know she’s behaving.”
“Yah, well, I’ll let you get back to your work. Sorry to interrupt.”
“I’m always glad to see you, Dorcas,” he said lightly, his eyes crinkling as always when he teased. He stepped up on a stall bar and then paused. “By the way, I probably won’t be here tomorrow. It seems Mamm volunteered me to help build the stalls for the Mud Sale.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “I know the feeling. My mother volunteered me to help with the quilts. And I was just telling my scholars that they must not volunteer people to help with the spring program without asking first.”
Thomas grinned in response. “I think maybe mothers are exempt from that rule. I guess I’ll see you down at the fire hall then.”
He turned to look down at her, missed his handhold, and hung by one hand for a perilous second. Dorcas dashed toward him with a confused thought of breaking his fall.
But there was no need. Just as quickly, his feet found a cross rail and he pulled himself up to perch on the timber above him. He smiled down into her face, which was likely the color of a sheet.
“Going to catch me, Dorcas?” His eyes sparkled.
Annoyed to find her hands shaking, Dorcas felt like throwing something at him. “You’d better not get too confident,” she said. “Or next time I’ll let you hit the ground.”
She walked out of the barn with the sound of his laughter in her ears.
* * *
—
By the time she reached home, Dorcas had thought of a number of smart remarks she could have made to Thomas. Unfortunately, that would just have encouraged him. Underneath the grown-up seriousness she’d seen still lurked the boy who’d liked nothing better than teasing. Well, she wasn’t going to play into his hands.
To her surprise, Betsy was busy at the stove when she walked in the house. As far as she could recall, Betsy hadn’t fixed supper since little Will was born.
“It certain sure smells good in here,” she said, hanging up the sweater she’d hardly needed today. “Is everyone all right?” She couldn’t help wondering if Mammi was sick, given that she was always in the kitchen at this time of day.
“Denke, Dorcas. I’m making a pot roast.” She raised the lid of the Dutch oven to peer at the contents. “Everyone’s fine. Your mother is sewing, and she’s listening for Will in case he wakes.”
It probably wouldn’t be tactful to express surprise, so she contented herself with a nod. “Sorry I’m a little late.” She paused to wash her hands at the sink. “Tell me what I can do to help.”
Betsy glanced around the kitchen as if assessing her progress. “I guess just set the table. It’s almost ready.” She hesitated. “Denke.”
Dorcas began pulling out plates and silverware. Whatever had brought about this change in Betsy, she was all for it, but she couldn’t ask.
“I hope Mammi’s not working on something else for the Mud Sale. We’re supposed to sort everything tomorrow and set up for Saturday, and I hear there’s plenty. There’s no need to rush anything else.”
“I know. My mamm stopped by today to insist that I bake something for the baked goods stand.” Betsy hesitated a minute, not meeting her gaze. “She said it’s time I started doing my share, now that Will is a bit bigger.”
So that was it. Betsy’s mother was noted for organizing everyone and everything she could. It sounded as if Betsy had been on her list. What was the right thing to say? If she agreed with Betsy’s mamm, Betsy would probably be upset.
“You know Mamm and I are always ready to help.” Dorcas put napkins at all the places, hoping Betsy hadn’t noticed her hesitation. “I do hope we can get Mamm to come and help with the Mud Sale. Don’t you think it would be gut for her to get out more?”
Betsy looked surprised for a moment, as if she’d gotten used to having Mamm at home all the time. “Yah, I guess it would. I’ll try to get her to go.”
Levi came in the back door, wiping his shoes on the mat. “Get who to go where?” he asked, giving his wife a squeeze.
“We’re hoping to get Mammi to go in and help set up for the Mud Sale.”
Levi shrugged. “Going to rain, I’m afraid.”
“What? No, you must be wrong. Not another muddy Mud Sale.”
Her brother grinned. “I don’t control the weather, but it looks like rain coming tomorrow for sure.”
Dorcas threw his napkin at him. “Don’t say things like that.”
He fielded the napkin easily. “Okay. But don’t you say I didn’t warn you.”
Unfortunately, Levi turned out to be right. Dorcas woke in the morning to the sound of rain drumming on the roof and pouring down the windowpanes. Groaning, she pulled the quilt over her face. A rainy Friday. The children would be difficult, the playground soaked, and the field around the fire hall a sea of mud.
Rain or not, school must go on. Since the stable at school was unusable while Thomas was working on it, Lemuel drove her to school and agreed to pick her up afterward and take her to the fire hall. Goodness knew how they would all manage to get things ready inside.
She gave a passing thought to Thomas. At least she wouldn’t run into him during setup. The men would probably have done what little they could during the day. Everyone would have to be there very early on Saturday to finish getting ready before the first customers came flooding in.
Thomas intruded into her thoughts again, and she pushed him out irritably. Given how she always came off the loser during their encounters, the less she saw of him the better.
CHAPTER NINE
Thomas dashed through showers from the house to the barn Friday afternoon. He’d said he’d help with the booths for the Mud Sale, and that would go on whether it was raining or not. Ducking into the barn was like entering a warm cave, and it seemed cozy with the rain drumming on the roof a
nd the familiar smells of hay, straw, and animals.
Despite the dimness, he could see the buggy horses peering over their stall rails at him. No doubt each was hoping he wasn’t picked to go out in the rain. They’d much rather stay in the warmth. Well, so would he, but it couldn’t be helped.
“Sorry, but I’ve got to leave.” He swung open the nearest stall door and patted the bay gelding. “You’re not afraid of a little rain, are you?”
He heard movement above him, and Adam’s face looked down at him much as the horses had. “Don’t you know enough to stay out of the rain?” He smiled a little uncertainly, as if unsure whether Thomas would recognize it as a joke.
“Can’t be helped. The Mud Sale goes on rain or shine, ain’t so? I said I’d help set up today, not that we’ll be able to put anything outside if this keeps on going. But I suppose we can put the stalls together and have them ready to move outside when the rain finally stops. If it does.”
As Thomas spoke, Adam was sliding down the ladder, not bothering with the steps. “It doesn’t look like it’ll stop anytime soon.”
They stood together looking out the open barn door at the sheets of rain pouring down, turning everything misty gray. It was the kind of rain that went on all day, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Adam.
“Ach, it won’t keep up this hard much longer. I’ll get the harness on Jake and by then it’ll slack off.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” Adam offered. He lifted the harness from its hook while Thomas brought Jake out, the gelding stepping neatly and reluctantly from the stall. Adam hesitated, looking sidelong at Thomas. “I could come along and help with the setup. Okay?”
Thomas shrugged. “Fine by me, but you’ll have to ask Daad.” He knew better than to take anything for granted where Daad was concerned. Especially when it involved Adam.
“Thing is, Daad’s not too happy with me right now.” He reddened. “Guess that’s fair. You probably aren’t, either.”