The Amish Schoolteacher

by Jerry Eicher

  At least the woman was honest about her feelings. He had to grant her that, and deep down, he had to agree that Mary had a point. He could use softening. Life had been a heavy burden of duty he had carried about for many years. But then again, Mary didn’t really know him, so why did she seem to think it was her job to “fix” him?

  “These look like delicious pies.” He managed a crooked smile in Mary’s direction. “I’ve been looking forward to a piece of pecan pie since early this morning. Oh, but there’s cherry too. I’m hungry enough for both!”

  “Take a slice of each,” Mary said.

  “Really?”

  “Yah, you worked hard this morning.”

  “Not more than usual.”

  “You earned two pieces. Give yourself some credit!”

  “Is this the beginning of your lessons?”

  “Maybe? I’m just saying.”

  “I think you’re right.” Marcus helped himself to the largest piece of pecan pie he could find, and then an equal portion of cherry pie, and Mary squeezed his arm gently.

  Marcus didn’t dare look at her. Nothing about Mary made sense right now—her lightheartedness, her kind eyes, her concern for him, her dazzling beauty, and now the touch of her hand. He wanted to stay close to her, and never leave, listening to the sound of her voice when she spoke. He would decide tomorrow if there was anything wrong with that. Right now he was a little overwhelmed, to say the least.

  Mary followed Marcus across the crowded basement with their pie plates in hand and sat down on the bench beside him.

  “Thanks for sitting with me today,” he said.

  She didn’t dare look at him, lest this miracle disappear. Marcus was changing right in front of her eyes.

  “Would you like it if I didn’t light the fires in the morning?” he asked. “I could keep the wood bin filled from now on, and you could take care of things like you used to up north.”

  “You don’t want to come into the schoolhouse anymore, every morning?”

  “Not that,” he said. “I like coming over, but I should have paid more attention to your way of doing things from the get-go. I’m sorry. You’re obviously quite capable.”

  “You think the school will be warm before the children arrive?”

  “You get there early enough, I think.” He made a face. “Sorry also about that misjudgment.”

  “You really mean this?”

  “I do,” he said.

  “You would let me light the stove myself, and bank it at night.”

  “Don’t rub it in,” he said. “I’m trying to make right where I clearly was wrong.”

  “All this because I held your team back from breaking your wagon?”

  “And much worse,” he said. “And not just that. I misjudged you from the beginning, and I apologize.”

  “Wow.” She let out her breath.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “I don’t think you would fake words.”

  “Thank you,” he said, without looking up. He finished his pecan pie. “I do need to change. You are right on that point, among many. Is it a deal with lighting the fires?”

  “Yah, but one step at a time, okay?” Mary touched his arm lightly. “I should go help with the dishes. Shall I take your plate?”

  “I need another piece of pie.”

  “You don’t.” She grabbed the edge playfully.

  He hung on for a moment, his face lifted to hers. The depths of his eyes took her breath away. Mary clutched the dishes to her apron and rushed across the room.

  Marcus watched Mary disappear into the group of women gathered at the basement sink. She made a point to stay out of sight, but that was okay. The day’s events had caught both of them by surprise. He wasn’t sure what had occurred. Talking about his feelings still seemed risky. He needed space to think things through, and obviously Mary felt the same. They were of one mind on that subject.

  Marcus slipped out of the school basement, with one final glance towards the crowd of women gathered at the kitchen sink. Mary’s form was not visible among them. He closed the door and stopped in front of the wood pile to collect his saw and coat. He stood there for a moment. The fresh stack of wood was a joy to behold, having sprung up like corn stalks in the summertime after a warm rain. They had cut more pieces than last year, since the farmers hadn’t been able to work in the fields today, and almost everyone from the community had been here. He would have to remember that next year, and catch a Saturday after a rainy week. That wasn’t always possible, but he could try. The least he could do was remember to plan the frolic, instead of forgetting like he had this year. That was so unlike him.

  Marcus held his saw in one hand, with his coat draped over his shoulder, and headed out of the schoolyard back towards the woods, where his team was tied. The warmth of the afternoon sun crept into him, and a new thought crossed his mind. Maybe Mary was a stepping stone into the next phase of his life. Maybe she was simply a friend who was helping him to become a better person. That made sense, and was a much easier option to accept than if she were . . . He didn’t even want to think the word—girlfriend, and eventually wife. That was a mountain impossible to climb, even with what had happened today. Mary was a teacher. That was easy to accept. She was preparing him to meet a decent community girl sometime in the future.

  Seen from that angle, Mary had already been a great help. At least he was learning how to have a conversation with a pretty—no, beautiful—woman without getting all awkward. He shouldn’t have tempted himself with the intimacies he had exchanged with Mary today. That went beyond friendship. He couldn’t slip into considering their relationship something beyond friendship. Not today, and certainly not tomorrow. Marcus took care to keep his gaze away from the schoolhouse windows as he passed, forcing himself to whistle a nondescript tune. He stopped when he realized the merry sound coming out of his mouth was the jingle he associated with Mary.

  CHAPTER 17

  MARY AWOKE TO THE SOUND OF RAIN LASHING AGAINST THE upstairs bedroom windows of the Hochstetlers’ home. She pulled the covers higher under her chin for a moment. Time to get up, Mary ordered herself. A quick glance at the alarm confirmed that the loud, jangling racket would fill the room any second. Mary forced herself to push aside the covers and reach over to shut off the alarm. She got out of bed to light the kerosene lamp and stare blankly at the wall.

  Leon had been right. “Looks like rain tomorrow,” he had stated absentmindedly at the supper table last night.

  From the sound of the wind this was a full-scale autumn storm. She had a heavy raincoat and hat prepared for the occasion, but regardless, the dash to the schoolhouse would not be pleasant. To make matters worse, when she arrived there would be no fire burning in the stove. That was her fault. Since the Saturday woodcutting, Marcus had kept his word. He no longer arrived at the schoolhouse before she did to light the fire in the stove. She had been allowed to assume her customary duties modeled after the years she had taught school in northern Ohio. In the excitement of the change, she had arrived earlier than usual to make sure the students noticed no difference in the comfort level of the schoolhouse. By the second week though, her euphoria had begun to wane. She missed Marcus’s presence, which was a wasted emotion, since Marcus obviously had no intentions of having a relationship with her. Not that that was her plan, either. But maybe if she had shown him more affection the day of the woodcutting, they wouldn’t have drifted apart? But Marcus hadn’t been the only one overwhelmed with the feelings between them that day.

  Mary sighed and changed out of her night clothes. She had to face things. Marcus was probably right in placing distance in their relationship. The idea that they both must have entertained that day, though briefly, that there could be more was—well, a farfetched idea. They were an impractical couple at best. If they were any kind of couple at all? Which they weren’t.

  She had survived quite well on her own those two years of school teaching at home. Things would soon be back to nor
mal. She would get used to the silences of the schoolhouse in the morning, feeling the place undisturbed since she left the night before. The storm was upsetting her more than necessary at the moment. She had never thought to question the mornings at the old schoolhouse when she arrived to a building that was icy cold, from the night’s dark hours without a fire in the stove. She had lit the kindling without hesitation, and soon had the flame burning brightly. She had stood in front of the stove with no thought of a man on her mind, rubbing her hands and feeling the heat from the wood fire creep through her body.

  That had been before Marcus, of course, and his attentiveness, and his . . . Well, she would get over it. That was just that. She would have to. There was no other way.

  Mary blew out the kerosene lamp and felt her way down the stairs. The soft glow of light from the kitchen soon lit her way.

  “Goot morning,” Lavina greeted her with a smile.

  “It’s raining,” Mary replied.

  Lavina laughed. “More like a washout. Even Leon wasn’t expecting this, and he’s the expert with weather forecasts.”

  Mary busied herself with the breakfast preparations.

  “Do you want Leon to drive you to school?” Lavina asked.

  “Of course not,” she answered quickly. “I can walk.”

  “Just offering. Marcus might come by in his buggy.”

  “He won’t,” Mary replied without thinking.

  Lavina gave her a sharp look and kept working.

  Mary kept her face impassive, stifling the thrill that raced through her at the thought of Marcus pulling into the lane with his buggy. She would race out in the downpour and hop inside for the short whirl down the road to the schoolhouse.

  “How are you two getting along?” Lavina sounded concerned, her head bent over the frying pan. “I don’t see Marcus go up to the schoolhouse in the mornings anymore.”

  “That’s because I asked him not to.”

  “Oh.” Lavina was clearly disapproving.

  Mary searched for words before offering. “I was used to taking care of things myself at my former teaching job.”

  “I see,” Lavina said, although she clearly didn’t.

  Mary tried again. “I know that sounds, I don’t know, independent, but we didn’t have a janitor who showed up each morning back home. I thought I should get back to the way things were.”

  “Marcus wants to help,” Lavina said. “He’s good at that. You should let him.”

  “Did he light the fires for Susie?” Mary asked.

  “I think so.” Lavina appeared puzzled.

  “Well, he has enough responsibility on his shoulders. The least I can do is lighten that load.”

  “I think the man cares about you,” Lavina said. “You should let him show his affection in the only way he knows how.”

  “I thought you said Marcus did the same thing for Susie last year.”

  “He did, but the feeling is different with you. It means more to him.”

  An awkward silence gripped the kitchen, broken a moment later by the basement door bursting open and Leon plunging in from the outside.

  “What is this, Indian monsoons?” he roared in mock anger.

  “Breakfast is ready, dear,” Lavina chirped back. “Get out of your wet clothes before you come into my kitchen.”

  “I’m wearing a full-length raincoat,” Leon muttered, stomping down the stairs.

  He was back in a moment, with his hair combed and in his stocking feet. “What a morning,” he said, sliding into his chair and looking up at Mary. “Are you going to make it to the schoolhouse?”

  “Of course! I’ll be just fine.”

  “If Marcus were on the job, he’d come past,” Lavina said.

  Leon grinned. “That is a thought.”

  “Marcus should do no such thing,” Mary retorted. “I am perfectly capable of walking up to the schoolhouse myself. You expect too much of the man.”

  “If you say so,” Leon said. “Can we eat?”

  Lavina looked very disapproving as they bowed their heads for the prayer of thanks. After the amen, nothing more was said about Marcus, or walking in the rain to the schoolhouse. Mary gathered her things together after the breakfast dishes were washed and brought her heavy raincoat up from the basement. Lavina helped her into the outfit.

  “Be nice to Marcus if you see him,” Lavina told her.

  Mary nodded, and with her satchel under her arm plunged out into the storm.

  Marcus paced the floor of the Yoders’ barn. The morning chores were completed, and the storm still raged outside. Mose and he had made a mad dash into the house for a hasty breakfast and then returned to the barn, but there was little that could be done on a day like this. Mose was throwing down hay from the loft at the moment. There were still the horse stalls that should be mucked out, but the task could be completed by noon. The thought returned with urgency. He could easily drive Mary up to the schoolhouse. He knew her schedule well. She would be on the way soon.

  Mary shouldn’t be out alone in this storm, much as she loved her independence. He had chafed these past weeks, forcing himself to walk straight out to the barn after he awoke, instead of his customary trip up to the schoolhouse. This morning was too much though. Mary might already be at the schoolhouse, but he doubted if she was. The least he could do was walk with her, hold an umbrella over her head. He wanted to see her again. That was the truth. He couldn’t help himself.

  Marcus grabbed his heavy raincoat from the nail on the barn wall and slipped into the garment. He unhooked an old umbrella from the wall and rushed out into the storm. The wind had worsened since they made the dash to the house for breakfast, great squalls of water sweeping sideways through the air. He reached the main road and peered towards the Hochstetlers’ place. There was no sign of Mary, but she could be hidden in the lash of the rain.

  He headed towards the schoolhouse and had broken into a run when a faint form appeared in front of him. Mary. He overtook her a moment later. She was struggling with the wind, leaning sideways against the driving rain.

  “Mary!” he hollered.

  She whirled about, her face drenched, eyelashes dripping.

  “Mary,” he said again, and grabbed her arm with one hand and brought her under the shelter.

  She didn’t resist, and they ran side by side, stumbling towards the schoolhouse. Once inside, Mary huddled against the wall breathing hard while the rain ran down on the concrete floor from her wet raincoat.

  “Thank you for that,” she gasped.

  “We should go into the basement,” he said.

  She nodded, leading the way.

  “I’m sorry for scaring you out there,” he said.

  Her smile was crooked. “That’s okay. I’m glad you came to help.”

  “I thought about the buggy,” he said.

  She waved her hand dismissively. “No, this is great.”

  “I’ll light the fire.”

  “Yah.” She slipped out of her raincoat. “I’ll be up. Give me a moment to wipe my face dry in the bathroom.”

  He left his own raincoat in the foyer and had the fire burning brightly when her footsteps came up behind him.

  He didn’t look up. “I’ve missed this. You know that?”

  “What? Lighting the fire?”

  “Lighting the fire for you.” He didn’t face her. Was he saying too much? The words seemed to spill out with their own force.

  “I can’t say I didn’t miss you,” she said, “or rather, the knowledge that you had been here.”

  A strained silence followed. Marcus stirred the fire, with the heat rising to his face. The warmth justified the redness which he was sure darkened his features.

  Mary shivered. “What a morning.”

  “The children will need help with their horses,” he said.

  “The storm might quit by then.”

  He laughed. “You’re dreaming.”

  She nodded. “I suppose so. But don’t you have chores?”
>
  “Nothing pressing on a day like this. I’ll wait,” he said.

  Mary couldn’t believe she was standing in front of the warm stove with Marcus by her side. Marcus had the oven door open and the flickering flames danced before them in the cold schoolhouse. They stared into the fire in silence while the wind lashed the rain against the glass windowpanes. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel him draw her close again with the strength of his arms enveloping her this time. She wanted to say his name, and hear him whisper hers back.

  A warmth that was more than the heat from the fire crept through Mary. She had to control these emotions. Marcus was just being nice this morning. It was nothing more.

  She clasped her hands to keep them from reaching out on their own. “I’m glad you showed up though.”

  From the look on his face, Marcus appeared under the same spell from their bewitching circumstance, so she was not losing her mind.

  “Maybe we can both help the children unhitch,” she suggested.

  He glanced over at her. “That would be great.”

  She kept her voice to a whisper. “You can light the fire again each morning, if you wish. I would like that.”

  “You sure?” He was staring at her.

  “Yah. Unless you don’t want to.”

  “I would love to come up each morning. It’s really no trouble. Maybe I could even . . .” He paused, gathering his courage. “Maybe spend a few minutes with you.”

  Mary didn’t look at him. What did that mean? She forced a laugh.

  “I won’t make a nuisance of myself,” he said. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “You’re not a nuisance. I like having you around.”

  He shifted on his feet. “I try to make myself useful wherever I am.”

  She opened and closed her mouth several times. His closeness with the fire burning in front of them was becoming too much. “I should look at my lesson plan for the day.”