by Marta Perry
“Showing off,” Daad growled, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. Maybe he’d learned to take it a little easier on his sons over the years.
“I just wanted to see how many times I could flip a pancake. I don’t know how the curtains got on fire.”
“You never do know how things go wrong,” Jonah retorted. The bickering between the two was friendly—even Allie seemed to understand that. She just smiled, her eyes going from one to the other of her young onkels.
“Why don’t you two show Allie the swing you put up for her?” Daad asked.
“For me?” Allie’s voice squeaked in surprise.
“For you and Ruthie.” Jonah held out his hand to her. “Komm.”
She skipped out the door, holding hands with the boys.
Daad set a mug of coffee in front of him and poured one for himself. “So what do you think of your little bruders?”
“I’m impressed.” It was the truth. “How did Jonah learn to cook?”
Daad gave a snort that might have covered a laugh. “When he realized his big sister was moving out, he figured he’d best learn if he didn’t want me cooking for them. She taught him a few meals. He’s not bad, ain’t so?”
“I’ll say. He told me he’s an apprentice at the machine shop.”
Daad nodded. “Amos Burkhart seems to think well of him. Says he’ll offer him a partnership when he’s a little older.”
Michael gave a low whistle. “He must be good, if Amos is talking partner. He’s got high standards.”
“I’m wonderful glad to have him settled. He never had the feel for the animals that Adam does. You can’t run a dairy farm without that.”
Michael could only nod. He’d never had it—that was certain. Seemed as though Daad was pleased with the idea that Adam would take over for him one day. Not that he supposed he’d be ready to retire anytime soon. He was as lean and leathery as he’d always been, and he seemed just as strong.
“They’ve turned out well. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to see it happen.” He was surprised to hear himself say the words, even more surprised that they were true. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed until he saw his two little brothers all grown up.
Daad seemed pleased with the response. He didn’t say it—he wouldn’t, that wasn’t his way.
Instead he glanced at the clock. “We’d best not dally too long over the pie. The meeting starts at eight.”
The reminder hit him like a blow to the gut. The meeting—the school board meeting that would decide Cathy’s fate—was tonight. It had been on his mind every second of the day, and now it was almost here. It wasn’t fair—it wasn’t right for Cathy to lose the job she loved because of her kindness to his daughter. And to him.
She loved him. He was still trying to get used to that idea. Despite all the reasons for holding him at arm’s length, she had actually grown to love him. He ought to be dismayed by that, but instead it created a warm glow inside him that persisted despite all reason.
“You’re planning to go to the meeting?” He tried to sound casual, but he didn’t suppose he fooled his father.
“For sure. Anything that affects my granddaughters affects me.” Daad’s stern expression would warn anyone to watch out. “Zeb Stoltzfus ought to be ashamed of himself. Cathy’s a fine teacher—one of the best we’ve had. And that girl of Stoltzfus’s is no more ready to take over than my prize heifer.”
Michael couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter. Daad was right about Mary Alice, from what he’d seen, but Cathy seemed to detect some talent in her.
His father was directing a challenging look in his direction. “And you? Aren’t you going to be there?”
He stared down at his coffee, wishing he could see an answer there. “I’m afraid of making it worse by being there. Reminding people that I’m an outsider now.”
“That’s just plain ferhoodled. You’re the father of one of her scholars. The way I see it, Teacher Cathy needs all the support she can get. Nothing could be worse than staying away and leaving her to face it alone.”
He’d told himself he wasn’t susceptible to Daad’s scolding any longer, but this time it hit close to the heart. This time Daad was right.
“You’re right. We’ll go together.”
That got him one of Daad’s all too rare approving looks. “Yah,” he said. “Together.”
* * *
AN HOUR LATER Daad was driving his buggy into the lane at James Miller’s home. James, one of the numerous members of the Miller family, was president of the three-member school board, and according to Daad the usual meetings were informal affairs held at his house with nothing more important to consider than the schedule for schoolhouse maintenance.
“They’re going to have a lot more than that on their hands tonight,” Michael said as they neared the house. “Look at all the buggies.”
“Looks like a worship Sunday.” Daad pulled into a lineup of buggies, and one of the Miller boys came running to take the horse.
They climbed down and headed for the house, with Michael’s apprehension building every moment. Had he done the right thing in coming? With the weight of the investigation pressing harder on him with every revelation, he’d begun to feel as if every step he took might plunge him into a chasm he’d never climb out of.
They reached the back door to find Emma Miller and her daughters rushing around with coffeepots and trays. Not that any Amish woman would confess to being caught unprepared by visitors, but Emma looked distinctly rattled.
She caught sight of them and waved with a coffeepot at the door to the front of the house. “Go through, go through. We’re setting up more chairs now.”
The Miller house was built along the lines popular in Lancaster County homes, with two large front rooms that could be either separated or opened into one by a partition. That turned it into an ideal space for worship.
The partition was open now, and several people were setting up folding chairs facing the middle, where the three members of the board could be seen in a huddle.
“Not expecting such a turnout,” Daad muttered. “Seems like everyone knew about it except the ones who should have. Lizzie and Zeb have stirred up a hornet’s nest, for sure.”
Stirred it up, yes. But would that fact work in Cathy’s favor or not? Michael wasn’t sure. With his eye on an unobtrusive seat in the far corner, he worked his way toward it, only to find himself being greeted by first one person and then another—some of the men from work, others from the group who’d helped after the vandalism at the greenhouse.
Funny, he thought, settling into the corner at last. He hadn’t thought he’d run into that many people since he’d returned. Seemed as though he’d been drawn into the web of community without realizing it.
The school board members were seating themselves at a folding table, looking self-conscious. He didn’t see Cathy—had she decided not to subject herself to an open meeting? The Stoltzfus family had arrived, of course. Lizzie’s color was high, while Zeb preserved a stoic face, and Mary Alice looked as if she wanted nothing so much as to crawl into a hole and pull it in afterward. She squirmed in her chair, seeming miserable.
Before he could consider what that might mean, there was a little stir and Cathy came in, her parents close behind her. Expressionless, she nodded at gestures from those two friends of hers and started toward them.
He’d never seen her look so...remote. That was the only word that seemed to fit. This was hurting her so much, her only defense was to retreat into herself. Like Allie, he realized, only Allie didn’t do that anymore, thanks to Cathy.
Michael hadn’t realized he’d moved until he felt Daad’s hand on his arm, warning. The overpowering need to protect her had nearly made him do the worst possible thing. He had to stay away—to make their relationship nothing beyond teacher and parent. It was what was right, but it went against eve
ry instinct he had.
Cathy had reached her friends by now, and she took the chair between them while her parents sat close behind her. They were surrounding her with their love and support, Michael realized...the thing he couldn’t do.
James Miller cleared his throat, and the murmur of voices ceased. “You’re all most wilkom to join us this evening.” He glanced at his colleagues as if enlisting their support. “Seems like a lot of folks know we’re making a decision about the teaching position at Creekside School tonight, and I guess you’d like to be heard.”
There was a murmur of agreement, and James looked down at what seemed to be a letter under his hand. “I guess it’s no secret that some folks have concerns about how things have gone lately. First off, the fact that the police have been called to the school, something that’s never happened before.”
Lige got to his feet as if propelled by force. “So there was never a reason to do it before—that doesn’t mean anything.” His tone was so passionate and emphatic that Michael had to blink to be sure this was the Lige he knew.
“Everybody knows about the bad things that have happened at schools in recent years. Teacher Cathy saw a stranger watching the scholars and did just what she should have done. Isn’t that what your own guidelines say?” His stare challenged Miller to argue, and Michael could feel the impression Lige had made in the room, maybe because he was normally so slow- and soft-spoken.
Miller cleared his throat again. “Yah, well, yah. That’s true enough. We...we have no fault to find with the way Teacher Cathy carried out our own rules.”
Lizzie Stoltzfus, who had been growing steadily redder, jumped to her feet. “That time, maybe. But what about the other time the police were there? It’s unseemly for an Amish school to have police coming and going like it’s a—a tavern.”
This was news to some of them... Michael could see it. And they didn’t like the comparison to a tavern.
Joanna Kohler rose. “Yah, the police came to the school because they wanted to talk to Michael. But I understand that was a mistake. Chief Jamison has already apologized for that to the bishop and ministers as well as to the school board. How can you hold Teacher Cathy responsible for someone else’s mistake?”
Joanna was composed and articulate. Michael was impressed, and he didn’t doubt others had been. He saw several people nodding in agreement. She’d defended Cathy in a way he wished he could.
This was going far better than he’d feared. True, Joanna was a close friend of Cathy’s and not a parent, but people seemed to admire her as a businesswoman, and that gave added weight to her argument.
If Cathy’s supporters had planned to go immediately on the attack, he had to congratulate them. It was far better than waiting until others had presented the negative.
The Stoltzfus family seemed to sense that the tide was going against them. Zeb sent a lowering look at his wife, and Mary Alice seemed on the verge of tears.
But Lizzie wasn’t going down without a fight. She turned to glare at Michael, as if pointing him out as the guilty party. “None of this would have happened if Cathy hadn’t allowed an Englisch child into our school. We might have known—”
“You are talking about my granddaughter.” Daad was on his feet in an instant, and his voice thundered in a way that forcibly reminded Michael of one of his scoldings. “She has a right to be in the school I support, just like her cousin Ruthie. You can’t keep her out.”
“She was raised Englisch,” Lizzie retorted. “You can’t deny that.”
“I don’t need to deny anything. Bishop Eli, what do you say?”
Michael hadn’t noticed the bishop in his preoccupation with Cathy, but he found him quickly. Eli Fisher’s beard was a little longer and a little whiter, making him look even more like the prophet Michael had once thought him.
The bishop leaned forward, hands on his knees. “This should never be a subject of argument between brothers and sisters in faith.” His expression was more sorrowful than angry. “When one of our families takes in foster children, do we not welcome them into our school? Josiah’s granddaughter has her proper place in our school.”
Not a murmur broke the silence for a long moment. Daad sank back in his seat. Had he been so sure what the bishop would say? Michael couldn’t help but wonder if he’d spoken to him before. But at least—
There was a rustle of noise at the kitchen door. Michael turned to see a group of what were surely the older scholars at Cathy’s school filing in. James Miller looked as surprised as Cathy did at the sight of them.
Boys and girls both, they stood quietly in a row.
“John?” James Miller’s expression actually held more than surprise as he looked at the tallest boy. By his reaction, this was his son.
“We would like to speak to the school board.” John seemed to be the spokesperson. A girl next to him nudged him, and with a look at her, he added, “Please.”
Miller looked questioningly at his fellow board members and then nodded.
“We wanted to say that we heard you might not bring Teacher Cathy back next year. We think...all of us...that she’s the best teacher we ever had. We don’t want to lose her.” He seemed to falter for an instant. At another nudge from the girl he continued. “It’s nothing against Mary Alice,” he added quickly. “We just...just...”
“I’m not ready.” Mary Alice had suddenly found her voice. She clasped her hands together in front of her as if needing support and carefully didn’t look toward her mother. “Not now. If I could spend a year or two helping Teacher Cathy, maybe she could teach me to be like her...at least a little bit.” Tears started to spill over, but then she saw Cathy smiling at her. She sniffled a little, smiled and sat down.
So. Michael struggled to hold on to a stoic expression. The children had pointed out the obvious—the reason why the Stoltzfus family brought their complaint in the first place. And Mary Alice was declaring herself at last.
Miller looked as if he’d give anything to have this whole thing over with. There was no doubt now about the mood of the room—or the mood of the other board members.
“Does anyone have anything to add?” he asked, looking around as if daring anyone to speak.
Lizzie Stoltzfus started to rise, but her husband caught her arm and sat her back down with a firm hand. Everyone heard his murmured, “No.”
Miller had a brief, whispered consultation with the other board members and then straightened. “The board offers Teacher Cathy a teaching contract for the Creekside School, renewable each year. This meeting is closed.” He sank down and mopped his brow.
The danger was over. Cathy’s job was safe, no thanks to him. She was surrounded by friends and well-wishers. There was nothing he wanted more right now than to join them, but he wouldn’t go anywhere near her. He’d hurt her enough already.
If loving someone meant putting her happiness above his own, then he must surely love her.
* * *
BY THE TIME Daad turned into the drive to drop him off, Michael had managed to convince himself that his every glance didn’t give his feelings away to anyone who was watching. He was pleased and relieved about Teacher Cathy for her sake and Allie’s sake, and that was what he would say to anyone who mentioned it.
He suddenly realized that all of the downstairs lights were on, including the gaslight outside the back door.
“Why’s Verna got the house all lit up?” Daad asked, coming to a stop by the porch.
“Something’s wrong.” Michael fairly flew off the buggy seat and took the porch steps in a leap. When he reached the kitchen, Verna came hurrying in, and he realized Daad was right behind him.
“What’s happened? Allie?” He seized Verna’s arm.
“Allie’s fine,” she said. “Hush, don’t you go waking her again.”
“What do you mean again? Was she up?”
Verna patte
d his shoulder. “It’s nothing, just a nightmare. She woke up yelling out, but it was only a bad dream. I got her soothed down and gave her some milk, and she settled back to sleep again.”
“That doesn’t tell us why you’ve got every light in the place on,” Daad observed. “Komm, Verna. Something scared you, and it wasn’t a nightmare.”
Aunt Verna glared at Daad for a moment, but then she nodded. “All right, then. I’ll tell you, even if it makes me look foolish.” She turned to Michael. “I was sitting in the front room sewing, and I thought I heard someone walking around the house...bushes moving, brushing against the house even though the wind wasn’t blowing. Bunch of nonsense. I’ve never been afraid to be alone in this house, and I’m not going to start now.”
Something cold seemed to grab Michael’s heart. “What did you do? Are you sure Allie’s okay?” He was torn between hearing what happened and running up to check that she was all right.
“She’s fine. Maybe she heard me going around trying to see what it was, and that started her bad dream.” Verna shrugged. “Could be, I guess. Truth was, I thought it might be vandals back again for another try.”
“You didn’t go out to confront them, did you?” His blood ran cold at the thought of a woman in her eighties confronting a bunch of vandals.
“I did have that much sense,” Verna said tartly. “I lit all the lamps, thinking to scare them off, and I made sure the doors were locked.”
“Didn’t you think to call for help?” There’d been trouble, and he hadn’t been here to deal with it. Could it be someone who’d guess he’d be out at the school board meeting? Or just chance?
Aunt Verna looked embarrassed. “Didn’t think I wanted to go out to the phone shanty in the dark if someone was out there. And I for sure didn’t want to leave Allie alone in the house.”
Of course. He’d forgotten that. “You did the right thing, staying safe.”
He put his arm around her in a quick squeeze. She should have a phone in the house. At her age, it wouldn’t be safe, her being alone here, even if it weren’t for the trouble with vandals. After all, she could easily have an accident. A business phone in the house was acceptable in the community, he knew, and he’d see to that before she was much older.