A Springtime Heart

by Marta Perry

  Never again. Still, however much he might tell himself he’d been wrong, he couldn’t really regret having done it. At another time, if things had been different, they might have made a match of it. For just a second he seemed to see a little girl with Dorcas’s beguiling smile and dimples. But it wasn’t to be.

  The schoolhouse came in view ahead of him, reminding Thomas of the job at hand. Whatever happened, he’d finish the work on the stable and shed. He wasn’t in the habit of breaking his word, whatever Daad might think. And he certainly wouldn’t go off with the job not done, leaving Dorcas in the lurch and giving the people who wanted to close the school another reason to get their way.

  He set to work. Usually, once started on a day of work, he concentrated on it to the exclusion of everything else. But not today. Something kept pricking at the back of his mind, making it hard to focus.

  It wasn’t until he’d gotten through about an hour’s work that he knew what troubled him so much. It was the memory of last night, coupled with worrying what Dorcas was thinking right now. Did she imagine that he was gone already? That he’d left without finishing the work he’d promised?

  It became unbearable to think that she might be fretting and unhappy over the work he’d promised to do. He owed it to Dorcas to reassure her about it. Given what he’d blurted out to her last night, she might be thinking the worst. Suddenly he couldn’t bear the idea that she was brooding over the feeling he’d deserted her.

  He knew where she’d be all day—at the Mud Sale. The least he could do when he’d finished work was to drive to the fire hall and tell her himself.

  With that decision made, Thomas turned back to the job with a will. He worked steadily, not stopping for lunch, until he’d completed the job of work he’d set out in his mind for today. Another day’s work should have the stable waterproof, and then he’d be able to focus on the inside work so that Dorcas would have someplace to put her buggy horse. The shed rebuilding could wait until the stable was complete.

  With his tools packed up and everything secure, he set off for the Mud Sale, his thoughts completely occupied with the need to explain to Dorcas. As he neared the fire hall, he passed a fair amount of traffic, both buggies and cars, coming out of the fire hall lane. At this hour people would be heading for home to take care of their animals or start supper.

  He turned into the lane once it was clear, and the area spread out before him. The fire hall sat in the valley with a ridge rising behind it, a squat, cement-block building that served the needs of the whole township. The field around it was trampled and muddy, but a few nice days would dry it out. He pulled into the first available space along the hitching rail and jumped down.

  From what he’d heard the previous night, Dorcas would be helping with the quilt auction, so he wandered in that direction. If she was inside where they’d stacked the auction items, he might steal a few minutes alone with her. It wouldn’t take more than that to say what he had to.

  But as he neared the crowd around the improvised stand, he spotted Dorcas, obviously delivering whatever Ben was going to auction next. Ben was still going strong after all these hours, his voice chanting in the singsong rhythm of the experienced auctioneer, pushing up the price for the quilt displayed beside him, coaxing, teasing, sometimes using Dorcas as a foil for his chatter.

  And Dorcas gave back as good as she got, poised and smiling as if this were an everyday event. If anything about last night troubled her, she wasn’t letting it show.

  Well, why would she? She was in the place where she belonged, where everyone knew and liked her.

  Unlike him. He was the outsider . . . the one who didn’t belong.

  Since it was clear she wouldn’t be available for a private conversation for some time, this wasn’t going to work. No matter how much he wanted to get it over with, he’d have to wait until Monday to have his chance to talk to her.

  He’d nearly reached the rows of metal folding chairs, so he veered and headed back the way he’d come. Thomas hadn’t gotten more than a few feet when Jacob grabbed his arm.

  “Gut,” he exclaimed. “I’d almost given up on you. Where have you been? I’ve seen the rest of your family.”

  He hoped Jacob hadn’t asked them where he was. “I had to finish up some work at the school. Making up for the rain day yesterday. How has it been going?”

  “Even better than we thought.” Jacob beamed with satisfaction. “After all that rain, I was sure we wouldn’t get a crowd, but they came. The sun came out, and people showed up from all over the place. The quilt auction is a draw for the Englisch, especially.”

  It seemed logical to say something about Dorcas, didn’t it? “Looks like Dorcas is the auctioneer’s assistant this year.”

  “Best he’s ever had, according to Ben,” Jacob said promptly. “She’s used to being in front of people, I guess, being a schoolteacher. You should hear her sass Ben. She knows how to play up to him. They’ve been terrific together.”

  He didn’t have any right to be upset at the thought of Dorcas getting along so well with someone else, especially Ben, long married and with a passel of grown kids. So why did he feel it?

  Apparently taking his silence for assent, Jacob nudged him. “Glad you’re here now anyway. You’re just the person to help us tear down. Everybody wants to set up, but there are plenty of excuses for not staying to tear down when it’s all over.”

  In the face of Jacob’s words, he could hardly come out with the excuses that leaped to mind at the words.

  “Yah, sure. What comes first?” He glanced around the field, determined not to look back toward Dorcas.

  “Looks like Dinah is finishing up at the popcorn and lemonade stand.” Jacob’s gaze rested on the young widow for a moment. “We can start there.”

  Despite Jacob’s reservations, they had plenty of helpers, and in another hour and a half, everything had been torn down and returned to its proper place.

  Maybe it had been for the best that he hadn’t had a chance to talk with Dorcas today, when he was still roiling inside. By Monday, he’d have a better handle on what to say, and he could easily catch her either before or after school.

  With a farewell wave to Jacob, he headed for the buggy. He rounded the corner of the building, and nearly walked into Dorcas, whose eyes widened in shock.

  * * *

  —

  Dorcas took an involuntary step backward at Thomas’s unexpected appearance when she’d been picturing him far away. Her stomach turned over. “Thomas. But . . . I heard you weren’t coming. I thought you were gone.”

  She had hoped to talk to him again . . . to try to convince him to give it more time. But Esther had mentioned that he wasn’t coming. Now that he was here, all she wanted to do was be alone long enough to get her feelings under control.

  “I wasn’t. I mean, I wanted to get some work done on the stable, since yesterday was a washout.”

  She nodded, wondering what that meant for his plans to leave. And whether she dared to ask.

  “I guess you’ve finished up what you were working on today.”

  “Yah, pretty much.” Thomas frowned at the ground under his feet. “I felt . . . well, I knew I had to talk to you. To let you know that I’ll complete the work at the schoolhouse before I leave. I wouldn’t go back on my word.”

  So that was why he was still here. Not because he’d changed his mind about leaving. Not because of any feelings he had for her, but because he was scrupulous about doing what he’d said he would. Too bad his father couldn’t see that.

  “Denke.” She managed to get the word out. Didn’t he have anything to say about what else had passed between them? Apparently not.

  And she wasn’t sure she could have handled it anyway. “I had better go in and be sure everything is cleared up.” She waved her hand vaguely at the building. Unable to stand facing him any longer, she spun and
hurried to the door. She’d pressed the latch several times before she realized the truth. The fire hall was locked, and most everyone had gone home.

  She pulled uselessly at the door again and realized how foolish she must look. Behind her, Thomas cleared his throat. “Seems like everyone has gone. Do you have a ride home?”

  “Lemuel left the small buggy for me.” She would not call the two-seater the courting buggy, not when she was talking to Thomas.

  Thomas planted his hand against the door, and she stared at it . . . strong, capable, callused with the work he did. “Look, I wanted to say something else.” He took a breath, and she wanted to block her ears to shut out what she knew he was going to say.

  “I don’t know what possessed me last night. I had no right. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry.”

  I’m not. That was what she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. She fought for composure.

  “It’s all right. It was just a flashback to when we were teenagers. I understand.”

  “I didn’t kiss you back then,” he said, and she couldn’t tell whether that was regret in his voice or not.

  Why hadn’t he? She couldn’t ask the question, because she knew the answer. He hadn’t kissed her then because she’d been too wrapped up in thinking about someone who was unattainable. Someone she wouldn’t have wanted if she’d gotten him. Maybe she hadn’t been any more foolish than most girls, but it had had dire consequences.

  She’d spoken more surely than she knew. Last night’s kiss had been a makeup for the kisses they hadn’t shared long ago. If she had seen then what was close at hand, things might have turned out very differently for both of them.

  She forced herself to block out that kiss for the moment. There’d be plenty of time over the coming weeks and years to think about it and to mourn what might have been.

  Concentrate on him. The pain Thomas felt was so obvious to her. It was in every word, every look in his eyes. Didn’t anyone else see it? Thomas wanted to stay, to belong here again, but he was convinced he couldn’t.

  “Please.” The word came from her heart. “Give it a little more time. Maybe your father will come around—”

  “No.” A mixture of anger and pride flared in his face. “He doesn’t believe in me, and nothing will change that.”

  “Something might. If I told him the truth about what happened back then—”

  “I already told you.” Now his anger was aimed at her. “I’m not going to crawl back to my father. I’m not going to have you begging him to understand. Forget it.”

  Did he realize that it was his pride speaking? Probably not.

  Any more than she’d recognized her own cowardice in failing to come forward at the time. She looked at herself and didn’t like what she saw.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Dorcas awoke on Monday morning to the sound of her brothers’ footsteps and the soft closing of the back door in the kitchen below her room. The pale light outside her window warmed as the sun made its way over the ridge.

  She stretched, relishing her warm bed and the luxury of that moment between waking and sleeping. She’d almost closed her eyes again when the tide of memory swept over her, bringing with it a flood of grief and pain.

  Pushing herself upright, Dorcas pressed her palms over her eyes, trying to retreat into darkness, but it was no use. She couldn’t. She had to get up, to go through her morning chores and get off to school, all while putting on a cheerful face that betrayed nothing of her inner pain.

  It seemed all the worse to be unable to share her feelings even with those who were closest to her. But she couldn’t tolerate the thought of people talking about it and feeling sorry for her. She had no choice but to bury what had happened. If only it wouldn’t keep rearing up again, tightening her throat and making tears sting her eyes.

  Throwing back the covers, Dorcas swung herself around and planted her bare feet on the rag rug next to her bed. Get moving. As long as she was moving, she could manage.

  She dressed quickly, alert for any sounds from below. Levi and Lemuel were doing the milking, and she could hear the distant sounds of pails clanking if she tried. They’d be back, hungry for breakfast, before she knew it. In theory, Mamm and Betsy made breakfast, but Mamm had looked so tired last night that she’d urged her to sleep in.

  And Betsy . . . she’d had high hopes after Betsy had reported her talk with her mother, but the fact that she didn’t hear any sounds from the kitchen discouraged her. Hurrying with her hair and her kapp, she went quickly and quietly downstairs, stepping over the third tread from the top, which creaked no matter what was done to it.

  The kitchen was empty, as she’d assumed, and she started oatmeal on the stove and began heating the cast iron skillet for eggs. Before she could do any more, Mamm came in, taking the container of eggs from her hand.

  She shook her head. “I thought you were going to sleep in this morning, Mammi.”

  “I can’t help waking when I hear the boys move.” She elbowed Dorcas away from the stove. “You set the table and start the coffee. Besides, I heard the boppli in the night, so it’s best Betsy sleep while she has a chance.”

  Mammi gave her a look that said plainly she ought not to criticize, so Dorcas held back whatever she might have said. It was just as well—she certainly had enough faults of her own without pointing out other people’s.

  Unfortunately, setting the table didn’t occupy her mind enough to keep it from straying to the day ahead. Thomas would be at the school. She’d hear him working in the stable, even if he didn’t want to talk to her.

  That was probably best, although she doubted she could resist the temptation to have a quick look at him, at least. How many more could she count on?

  If only his father could see his oldest son for the person he was now. If only Thomas would try again to make peace with him.

  If only. Her lips twisted. How sad that phrase was. And how useless.

  The boys came clattering in just as Mamm was forking sausage onto a plate, and Dorcas poured coffee.

  “Denke.” Lemuel drained half the mug in a single steaming gulp. “I needed that.”

  “It’s a wonder you don’t scald your insides,” Mammi scolded.

  “He’s already turned them to iron,” Dorcas teased, refilling his mug.

  “They’re insulated,” he said smugly. He glanced around the kitchen. “Betsy not down yet?”

  “She was up with the baby in the night,” Levi said, making it sound as if no one had ever done that before.

  Before Lemuel could make the retort that Dorcas saw hovering on his tongue, Betsy’s footsteps sounded on the stairs, and she hurried in.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she murmured. She clasped the wooden spoon with which Mamm was stirring oatmeal. “I’ll do that. You sit down and eat.”

  Levi started to get up. “I’ll help you.”

  Dorcas and Lemuel exchanged glances. “That’s a first,” he murmured.

  “Shh.” She tried to stop a smile and saw her mother doing the same. Levi’s new father glow had certainly had an effect on his behavior. The fact that he was dripping oatmeal all over the stove was a minor annoyance in the scheme of things, she guessed.

  Her amusement carried her along to school, where a room full of scholars should certain sure keep her from brooding.

  She and Anna had barely finished talking over the day’s plans when the children came trooping in, hanging up jackets and clattering lunch pails. The ones who walked along the road rushed in, talking excitedly, and she eyed them sharply.

  “All right. Someone tell me what’s wrong.”

  The older scholars exchanged looks, and then Esther seemed to appoint herself to speak for them.

  “It was the neighbor, Teacher Dorcas. He came out and yelled at us again. Honest, we weren’t doing anything,” she added before Dorcas could ask the obvi
ous question.

  Joseph looked at Esther and then stared intently at his shoes. Clearly there was more to be said.

  “Joseph?” she asked.

  He tried not to meet her gaze. “Well, I . . . I . . . I guess maybe some of us ran across the edge of his lawn. We didn’t mean any harm, but Mr. Haggerty saw us.”

  She could fill in the blanks without any difficulty. “Somebody dared somebody else to do it, ain’t so?” She looked from one face to the other. Most of them didn’t meet her eyes.

  “All of you will stay in for recess.” As a punishment, it was far harder on her than on the scholars, but of course they wouldn’t see it that way. “That will help you remember how to behave another time.”

  She thought there might be a protest from those who weren’t guilty, but they accepted it. Except for Esther, whose face flared with temper. Before she could say anything, Dorcas fixed her with the stern look that had wilted hardier souls than she was. Esther didn’t speak, but there was a slight pout on her face as she went to her seat.

  Dorcas gave an inward sigh. Sometimes she thought the pouting was even worse than sassing, but the only effective thing was to ignore it.

  Anna joined her. “I wish they hadn’t.” She shook her head. “I’d hate to have a stranger yell at me.”

  “It’s too bad the kinder didn’t think of that before they got so silly. I’ll have to speak to Mr. Haggerty after school and apologize. Again.”

  Anna’s eyes widened. Clearly that was an aspect of teaching that hadn’t occurred to her. “Do you . . . do you want me to go with you?”

  The offer touched Dorcas, and she clasped Anna’s hand for a moment. “Denke, Anna. I’d best go alone, but it’s gut of you to offer.”

  Anna, clearly relieved, nodded, and Dorcas had a fleeting wish that she had a way out for herself.

  Once lessons were underway, the classroom settled down to normal. Esther’s pout disappeared fairly quickly, for which Dorcas could only be thankful. Girls that age sometimes carried on for days over something so small you’d need a magnifying glass to see it. She hoped she hadn’t been like that but feared she probably had been.