by Jerry Eicher
The sound of buggy wheels driving into the lane came from the other side of the schoolhouse. Mary crossed over for a quick glance out of the window before she went outside. Laura and Beth had their horse out of the shafts by the time she arrived.
“Goot morning, girls,” Mary greeted them cheerfully.
“Goot morning,” they chorused.
“Was that Marcus going across the fields?” Laura teased with a sly smile.
“Yah,” Mary admitted, a rush of heat filling her face.
“He’s a nice man,” Beth said, obviously trying to ease Mary’s discomfort. “Everyone thinks so.”
“That he is,” Mary agreed. “Marcus is planning a wood frolic here at the school on Saturday.”
Beth and Laura exchanged grins, and Mary’s blush grew worse. There was no way she could explain to her students what the conversation between them had been about. That would only make things worse. Beth and Laura would have to go on believing that romance had burned brightly in the schoolhouse.
Mary turned to wave at another buggy coming into the schoolyard, and hurried over to help unhitch. Out of the corner of her eye, Mary noticed that Laura winked at Beth, but that couldn’t be helped. Sometimes a helping hand was misunderstood. If Marcus’s injured heart could be reached, her humiliation was a small price to pay.
Across the fields, Marcus wandered through the Yoders’ barn in a daze. Mose had the team working outside in the fields, otherwise his brother would have a field day teasing him for his confusion. He was smitten, but not in the way Mose would conclude. Mary’s nerve continued to confound him. What gave Mary the right to think she could lecture him and the rest of the community on Dat’s passing? Their hearts had been broken. That much was the truth. But Mary was wrong in so many other ways, yet so bold in presenting her opinions. He would have to stay away from the schoolhouse for a while, which was not a problem. He could arrive early as he had been doing, and leave well before Mary arrived. So no more excuses for unplanned trips to speak with Mary. He shouldn’t have gone over this morning. Why did he keep making mistakes with the woman? His good sense must have left the day Mary arrived.
Marcus focused on his task in the barnyard, but Mary’s face filled his mind. The image was bright as the noonday sun, and wouldn’t fade. He tried anyway, to no avail. In frustration he paced the barnyard. Why did such beauty abide in a dangerous and misguided woman? The Lord never made mistakes, but this time he, Marcus Yoder, was tempted to doubt.
CHAPTER 14
MARY LEFT THE SCHOOLHOUSE EARLY THAT EVENING, WALKING towards the Hochstetlers’ place with her tote bag slung over her shoulders. Usually the weight wasn’t too heavy, but tonight the bag was filled with books she needed to study for tomorrow’s lessons. She had been unable to concentrate at the schoolhouse since classes had been dismissed. The flood of memories from her conversation with Marcus that morning rushed back in to torment her. Perhaps she could concentrate in her bedroom, away from the spot where she had tried to help Marcus, only to have her bold words hurt the man more than they helped.
As she passed, Mary snuck a glance toward the Yoders’ homestead. The cows were gathered in the barnyard, so the evening chores had begun. She should change into an everyday dress and return with an offer to help with the milking. Perhaps a demonstration of her good will would soothe the feelings between them? At the very least, she could try to explain herself further. She only wanted to help, to get Marcus to admit the wound his dat’s passing had left so that he could move on, open his heart to some woman, discover joy again.
Did she dare? She had an hour to spare before Lavina expected her home for supper.
Mary hurried towards the Hochstetlers’ home and entered the front door. Lavina was not in sight, but there were soft puttering noises coming from the basement. She would explain herself later. She went up the stairs and changed into an everyday dress. Lavina was still not up from the basement when she came down. Out the door she went, and up the Yoders’ driveway five minutes later. There was motion in the kitchen window, but no one appeared to question her arrival. Mary slipped through the barn door, which creaked shut behind her. The familiar musty odor of cows and barn stalls rushed over her. She took a moment to draw a deep breath. She missed home more than she had remembered. The pace of the past weeks had left little time to think of her sisters and their families. Their meddling ways seemed distant at the moment, with the sting removed. They had only meant to help her. Somehow, she had always known that deep down.
A form of a man came around the corner, and Mary pasted on a smile. “Hi.”
Mose stopped short. “Oh, it’s you.”
“How are you this evening?” She kept her voice chirpy.
“Okay. And you?”
“Fine. Marcus is planning a wood frolic at the school on Saturday.”
“So he told me.” Mose pointed towards the interior of the barn. “He’s over there, throwing down silage before we milk.”
“Thank you.” Mary moved past him, led by the steady sound of silage coming down the chute, with hollow thumps as each forkful hit the concrete floor. Mary leaned inward between the landings to peer up the silo slide.
“Marcus.”
There was no answer.
She called louder, “Marcus!”
His face appeared far above her in an open silo gate. “Yah.”
“It’s Mary.”
Incredulity filled his face. “Mary! What are you doing here?”
“Can I come up?”
He didn’t answer for a moment. “Can you climb a silo?”
She bit back a sharp retort. She hadn’t come here to argue with him. “I grew up on a farm,” she said, as sweetly as she could.
His head stayed in the silo gate, apparently contemplating her answer.
“I need to speak with you,” she encouraged him.
“About what?” His answer echoed in the chute.
“Can we speak up there?” she begged.
“Okay.” His head withdrew, as if he didn’t wish to witness her climb.
Mary left her tote bag on the floor and grasped the first rung. She pulled herself upward on the wire steps. When she reached the top, his face betrayed relief and, she couldn’t help but notice, approval.
“Come in.” He stepped closer, looking a bit concerned.
“I don’t bite.” She extended her hand. “Help me.”
His fingers were calloused and strong. They wrapped themselves around hers like a vice, and she was propelled into the main silo hold.
Mary brushed the silage from her dress. “There! I’m here!”
“You are.” He still looked surprised by that fact.
“Shall I help?” She reached for the fork he held in his hand.
He didn’t move. “You came to help me throw down silage?”
“I don’t see another fork.” She smiled her brightest.
“Do you even know how?”
“When are you going to stop doubting me? I grew up on a farm, as I said.”
“Right. Does your dat milk cows?”
“He used to.”
“And you climbed silos?” He studied her intently.
“Why does that surprise you?”
“So you did?”
“We are going in circles.”
“We usually do,” he said, and smiled a bit.
“I am very sorry about this morning. I really am.”
“You are certainly opinionated.”
She kept her mouth shut for a moment. “I am sorry for how I said what I did, not for what I said.”
“What kind of apology is that?”
“A sincere one, and from my heart. I had no right to say those things to you, even if they are true.”
A ghost of a smile flickered on his face. “You climbed a silo to tell me that?”
“And to help you.” She held out her hand. “My way of saying I’m sorry.”
“That’s an interesting way,” he said, but he did let go of the fork.
She grasped the handle and heaved a load of silage towards the gate. A satisfying thump rumbled up from below. Mary heaved again, and again. The work was difficult, but she was accomplishing the task.
“My turn,” he said, and held out his hand.
She stood back while he worked, watching his muscles ripple in his arm. He made it look easy. When he was done, he stood up, leaning on the pitchfork.
“You do know how to throw down silage,” he said, smiling.
“It’s not rocket science. Yet you doubted me.”
“Are you here to quarrel with me again?”
She gave him a sweet smile. “No. Sorry.”
“You first.” He motioned towards the silo gate.
Mary clambered out, and made sure her dress didn’t hang on the sharp metal edges. Marcus waited until she was at the bottom before he began to climb down. Little chips of silage heralded his appearance before his legs came into view. He brushed the debris from his hat and hung the fork on the wall.
“I’d like to help with the milking,” she told him.
“Nah, you don’t have to help us with the chores.”
“But I want to. For tonight.”
“Well, I guess I won’t turn down help,” he said. “Even from the community’s schoolteacher. That is, if she insists.”
“I insist.”
“Then follow me.” He led the way back across the barn. They continued through the barn towards the soft lowing of the cattle. Mose had them in their stanchions, with feed spread in the trough. The cows’ long tongues licked the delicacies greedily.
“I thought you two got lost back there,” Mose commented.
“Mary is helping with the milking tonight,” Marcus told his brother.
“Oh. She can milk?” Mose teased. “I didn’t think pretty girls could do farm work.”
“I am an Amish farm girl,” Mary snapped. “Of course I can milk.”
“Feisty, are we?” Mose chuckled. “We can use some feistiness around here. No question there. Marcus can be dried up like the summer’s hay most of the time.”
“The milk pails are over there, and the stools below them.” Marcus motioned towards the far wall. “And ignore Mose.”
Mose winked at her. “No harm meant. I was teasing.”
“I know that.” She gave him a gentle smile. “I’d best get busy.”
Mary picked up a three-legged stool and sat down beside the nearest cow.
Marcus snuck a quick glance at Mary. Her head was hidden behind the cow’s haunches, but by the motions of her hands he could see she knew what she was doing. When would the woman stop surprising him? Maybe he had been wrong about her, even if she did have a sharp tongue. Mary had stopped in after her day of teaching school to help with their chores. This was clearly more than a peace offering. Mary cared about them, and about him. Why, he wasn’t sure.
He pulled his gaze away and headed into the milk house. He needed a moment to clear his head. Mary’s presence rattled him, as usual, and muddled his thinking. She could be flighty one moment, and a practical Amish farm girl throwing down silage and milking cows the next.
Mose passed him in the aisle with a punch in his ribs, and a loud whisper. “Is that woman something or what? She came to help you chore.”
“So what?” Marcus retorted.
Mose leaned closer. “You should be jumping up and down for joy. You are not even dating Mary, and she comes over to help you. What’s wrong with you?”
“Mary is a wunderbah schoolteacher,” Marcus said, and hurried on, leaving Mose in the aisle staring after him.
He washed his face in the cold water at the milk house tank, and ran his fingers through his hair. The chill took the flush out of his face. He could not remember when a woman had affected him like this.
“Get a grip,” Marcus muttered, and returned to find Mose milking a cow next to Mary and deep in conversation with her.
“I see you playing softball with the children every day,” Mose was saying. “That’s what our teacher used to do, but not every day.”
“I love softball,” Mary said. “I’m not that good at it, but it’s fun.”
“I think you’re great at the game, from what I can see.” Mose chuckled. “Maybe not as good as you are at volleyball, but still good.”
“Volleyball is fun.” Mary ducked her head lower. She had noticed Marcus listening. Marcus grabbed a stool and moved to the far end of the line of cows. He could still hear Mose and Mary’s chatter, but he didn’t join in. Mary had made a heartfelt gesture with her apology, and was now helping with the chores. Still, the woman was dangerous. He simply knew she was. There was no changing that. With his janitorial duties and the woodcutting coming at the schoolhouse on Saturday, he would have to maintain a professional relationship with Mary, but nothing more. Absolutely nothing more!
CHAPTER 15
A BRIEF RAIN SQUALL HAD MOVED THROUGH THE COMMUNITY EARLY that Saturday morning, leaving a slight wetness on the ground and water clinging to the branches of the bare trees, but nothing to call off the community’s planned woodcutting for the school. Mary adjusted her woolen coat and scarf before she filled her arms again with pieces of split firewood. She stood and dumped the load into the wagon. The team of horses belonged to Marcus, a pair of massive Belgians, their coats shiny even in the cloudy weather. They were standing patiently at the moment, waiting for a signal to pull the wagon back to the schoolhouse. She had purposefully chosen to work at Marcus’s wagon, waiting for her own moment to speak with him, but so far Marcus had been busy elsewhere. At least he pretended he was. Likely he wanted to avoid her entirely today. Well, the man wouldn’t be able to dodge her the whole morning.
Mary filled her arms with wood again. Two more wagon teams worked in the woods, surrounded by men with chainsaws, who were cutting up the fallen timber that the young men had dragged into handy straight lines earlier. The men also had the use of two unattached teams, which could be tied to the tangled logs and hauled apart with shouted commands raised above the roar of the saws.
“Quite a damp morning for this,” the girl working beside Mary commented.
“But a perfect day nonetheless. At least we’re not sweating.”
The girl smiled, agreeing. “We should have quite a stack done by lunchtime.”
“This is so wunderbah. The community doing this for me.”
The girl looked at her strangely. “This is a community event each fall. I’m surprised Marcus didn’t schedule the event earlier. I noticed your wood pile behind the barn was almost gone.”
“That it was,” Mary agreed. “Likely Marcus just was busy.”
“Mmhmm.” The girl smiled knowingly and filled her arms with wood pieces.
Mary continued to make trips between the cut wood and the wagon. She wanted to protest that she was not a distraction to Marcus, even if the evidence pointed in that direction. Marcus scorned her most of the time, which was about as far as one could get from being in love. Men in love fawned over the objects of their affection, while Marcus couldn’t stay far enough away from her. She had hoped the tensions between them would ease after her overture with the Yoders’ chores, but Marcus hadn’t made an appearance at the schoolhouse for the rest of the week. She would have to keep trying. Her plan was to get him to open up and deal with his pain, and then she would look for a suitable young woman to match him up with. There was no sense playing matchmaker yet, before he was ready to love someone. But how surprised the community would be when Marcus finally asked the right girl for a date, and Mary would have the sweet satisfaction of knowing she’d helped him get to that point!
Mary threw on another armful of wood.
“We about got it loaded,” the girl said. “Want to drive Marcus’s team up to the schoolhouse?”
Mary caught her breath. “I don’t know about that.”
“He shouldn’t object, and you do know how to drive?”
“Of course.”
“You definitely are a m
atch for him.” The girl’s smile grew. “Shall we go?”
Mary hesitated until one of the men shouted, “Come on! One of you girls take this team. We have our hands full splitting the wood.”
“See! Let’s go!” the girl whispered.
She was trapped. Mary forced herself to hop up on the wagon bed and grab the reins. The girl followed her, standing by her side, obviously enjoying the moment.
The team perked up their ears at the tension on the reins. “Getup!” Mary hollered in her best teacher’s voice.
They lurched forward, and the wagon headed towards the schoolhouse.
“There’s a deep ditch going out on the left,” the girl warned.
Mary hauled the reins to the right as the team stomped through the fallen branches.
“You’re doing fine,” the girl encouraged her.
Mary glanced over her shoulder. Was Marcus watching?
“Take it slow now,” the girl warned. “We don’t want to overturn this load.”
Across the section of fallen trees, Marcus wiped the sweat from his brow and set down his saw. Working in the woods was always strenuous, but fun at the same time as the community came together for a common cause. Come lunchtime, there would be a delicious meal served by the older women in the schoolhouse basement. He could already taste the meatloaf casseroles and tossed salads. There would also be pies served by the dozen—cherry, apple, and pecan. No one would go home hungry.
Marcus’s pleased smile froze on his face. Who was driving his team towards the schoolhouse? The load of wood bounced in the wagon as the wheels went over fallen branches and the bed tilted sideways.
Two girls were driving, which was not unusual. Everyone helped out where needed on days like this, so he shouldn’t be alarmed. The community girls were raised on farms, so they knew how to handle horses, of which his team was among the best behaved. Still, traversing the wood on a day like today was a challenging task.