“Do you have the seed you wish to plant?”
“In the trunk.”
Timothy pulled out the bags, cut them open and began filling his planter. “How many pounds and what depth do you want?”
He and Brandon discussed the best planting strategies and then Timothy made a single round of the field. Brandon analyzed the planting depth and seed thickness and gave Timothy the thumbs-up sign. After planting half the field, Timothy pulled the team to a stop again when Brandon walked out to meet him. “Can I ride along with you?” he asked.
“Would you like to drive them?” Timothy offered.
“I’d love to.” Brandon climbed into the seat with Timothy’s help. Standing behind him, Timothy showed him how to hold the reins and what commands to give the horse.
Debra rushed up with her cell phone out. “I have to have a picture of this.”
Timothy held a hand in front of his face palm out. “No pictures of me, please.”
She looked mortified. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I’ll delete this one.”
He smiled. “I appreciate that. Let me step away so you can get a good picture of your brother.”
He did and she took a couple of shots before putting her phone away. After that, he made several rounds of the field with Brandon’s help and then let him off. Debra declined to ride. Each time he passed by the school, Timothy’s gaze was drawn to the swing set beside it. He’d never again look at it without remembering that was where he had kissed Lillian. He half hoped she would come by to visit with Debra and Brandon, but she didn’t. Was he the reason? Was she avoiding him now?
A little after noon, his mother and Mary came to the field with a picnic hamper. He stopped and enjoyed a hearty ham sandwich and homemade pickles for lunch. Debra had her first whoopee pie and couldn’t stop raving about it. When lunch was over, she followed the women back to the house to do some shopping in his mother’s gift shop.
It was growing late by the time he finished planting the large field. He stopped the team by the car where Brandon and Debra were waiting for him. “That’s it,” he said.
“Now all we need is a little rain,” Brandon said with a smile.
Timothy wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve. “Did you find something at the gift shop?”
“I did. Two wonderful baby quilts, several jars of homemade jam and two cute gourd birdhouses.”
“I’ll tell my brother Luke that you like them.”
Debra sniffed the air. “Do I smell smoke?”
Timothy scanned the area. “You may be smelling the burned-out trees by the river.”
“No, she’s right. I smell smoke, too,” Brandon said with a frown.
A second later, Timothy’s pager went off. He read the message, raised the planter out of the dirt and sent his team galloping for home.
* * *
In the early-morning hours, the only wall left standing still bore traces of faint blue lettering, but the words were illegible. Lillian knew it once read Bowmans Crossing Amish-Made Gifts and Furniture. Timothy’s mother’s gift shop lay in ruins. Sadly, three other fires had been set in the night. Silas Mast’s dairy barn was gone and thirty head of cattle had perished in the flames. Two other Amish barns had been heavily damaged. It had taken eight fire companies from the surrounding counties to control the blazes.
Emma, Mary and Rebecca were weeping openly. Joshua put his arm around his wife. “I painted that sign when I was a kid and I painted it again after I got out of prison. I reckon I can make another.”
“It was too fancy anyway,” Isaac said, wiping his hand across his sweaty and smoke-stained brow.
“The bishop never objected.” Dry-eyed, Ana stood beside Isaac with her hands on her hips.
Isaac nudged her with his elbow. “Because he has always had a soft spot for you.”
They shared a tender smile.
Lillian saw Timothy among the firemen raking through the debris and dousing embers. She longed to comfort him, but had to wait quietly until his work was done. She noticed Debra and Brandon at the edge of a group of onlookers and went over to them. Debra saw her and came to put her arms around Lillian. “This is terrible. What kind of monster does this to such peaceful people?”
“We must forgive him.” Lillian gave lip service to her belief, but letting go of the anger in her heart was harder.
Brandon patted his sister on the shoulder. “What are these people going to do now?”
“Help each other rebuild,” Lillian said, wondering how that was going to be possible. Everyone in the community had already given what assistance they could afford to the earlier victims.
Debra turned pleading eyes to her brother. “Brandon, we have to do something.”
“We will, sis.”
The fire chief came up to Isaac. “I’m afraid it looks like arson. The burn pattern matches the others. The flames were shooting up the outside of the building. It didn’t start inside. We’ll send pieces of wood to the lab for analysis, but I’m sure they are going to tell us it was soaked with gasoline.”
“Did you find another propane bottle?”
“No, not yet,” the chief admitted. “We’ll do a more thorough search when the debris cools enough to let our arson squad inside. In the meantime, it’s off-limits to everyone.”
He turned and spoke to the crowd of onlookers. “I want everyone to go home now.”
Someone shouted from the back, “Why haven’t you caught this fellow? All our business and homes are at risk.”
Sheriff Bradley moved to stand beside Chief Swanson. “We are working hard to find out who is behind this, but we need everyone’s help. Be aware of what is going on around you. Don’t be afraid to call 9-1-1 if you see something suspicious. We will check it out. If it’s nothing, good. If it helps break this case, better. Now please go home.”
The group reluctantly began to disperse. Timothy along with Luke came to stand beside their parents. They looked bone-tired. Lillian resisted the urge to put her arm around Timothy and offer him support. He caught sight of her, nodded and walked over. Her heart did a funny little flip as their eyes met. She was well and truly smitten.
He wiped his brow with his shirtsleeve. “I’m off duty now. I’d like to talk to you if you have some time.”
“Wouldn’t you like to get some rest first?”
“Nee, I’ll wash off the grime and meet you out back of the house in Mamm’s garden if you can stay awhile longer.”
“Are you sure it can’t wait?”
“Please, humor me.”
“Okay.” She wasn’t sure which she wanted more. A repeat of yesterday’s kisses or for him to tell her they would simply be friends again.
* * *
Timothy prayed he was doing the right thing as he left the house, his hair still wet from his shower. Lillian was seated on a lattice bench beside his mother’s rosebush. He took a seat beside her and took one of her hands between his own. “I have something important to say to you.”
“You look so serious. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. I hope what I have to say will make you happy. I spoke with the bishop yesterday. I wanted to speak to him before I spoke with you. I know you believe you will have to give up teaching if you marry, but that isn’t the case. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.”
“No, Timothy. Don’t.” She turned her face away from him.
He cupped her cheek. “Don’t what? Don’t tell you how much you mean to me? Don’t tell you how happy I am when I am near you? I can’t keep these things a secret any longer. I love you, Lillian. As a friend, yes, but also as the woman who holds my heart in the palm of her hand. I want you to be my wife. I want the right to hold you in my arms. I want to grow old beside you. Tell me that you love me, too. I long to hear thos
e words from your lips.”
She closed her eyes and he knew a moment of gut-wrenching fear. What if she didn’t love him? How could he go on?
She pressed her hand over his where it rested on her cheek. “You don’t know how hard this is.”
He steeled himself to hear her rejection. “If you don’t feel as I do, I understand.”
Please, God, let her love me.
“Before you answer me, Lillian, let me tell you what the bishop said. I asked him if we could go on teaching together as husband and wife. He said that it would be acceptable if the school board agrees. Do you understand what I’m saying? You don’t have to give up teaching. Not for a while anyway. Not until the Lord blesses us with children of our own. I can endure a long engagement if it means you will be mine in the end. Will you marry me? I love you more than life itself.”
* * *
Lillian could barely see his face through her tears. She moved her hand to cup his cheek. “I know how important having children is to you, Timothy. I know you have dreams of a big family.”
“I do want a big family, but more than that, I want you to be the mother of my children.”
“And for that reason, I must tell you that I can’t marry you.” Her voice cracked as did her heart. She hated hurting him this way.
Disbelief filled his eyes. “You care for me. I know you do. I feel it in your touch. I see it when you look at me. I hear it in your laughter. You love me. I know you do.”
“I do love you, Timothy.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
“It is because I love you that I will never marry you. This is my burden, and I must carry it alone. I’m barren, Timothy. I can never have children.”
He frowned. “How can you know this?”
“Shortly after my family moved to Wisconsin, I became ill. I had developed a rare form of cancer. The surgery to remove it saved my life, but it left me unable to have children. I’m sorry, Timothy. I won’t marry you or anyone.”
It was a shock to him. Lillian saw it on his face and wished she could have spared him this pain. She couldn’t bear his look of sorrow a moment longer. “I have to go now.”
She rose to her feet, and he didn’t try to stop her. She was thankful for that. She didn’t want him to see her heart was breaking, too.
* * *
Timothy remained on the bench in the garden at the back of the house overlooking the river. The morning air held the scents of his mother’s roses and the sweet autumn clematis that climbed the trellis against the wall. The river was a wide swath of dark water traveling endlessly along. The surface looked calm, but he knew there were eddies and currents that swirled beneath the surface much like the turbulent emotions that ran ceaselessly through his brain.
“What is troubling you, my son?”
Timothy looked up to find his father standing beside him. He hadn’t heard his approach. For a second, Timothy was tempted to deny he was troubled, but the words stuck in his throat. His father sat down. “This is a good thinking spot. I have always liked watching the river, don’t you?”
“I do, too.”
“I often sit here when I need to pray about something. I like to think I’m talking to the good Lord as a friend when I sit here in your mother’s garden. Am I interrupting your prayers?”
“Nee, I wasn’t praying.”
“Should you be?”
“I would if I knew what to pray for.” He met his father’s gaze. “I asked Lillian to marry me.”
“Did you, now? Not much of a surprise in that. The two of you seem made for each other.”
Timothy leaned forward with his elbows propped on his knees. “I thought so, too. She turned me down.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It may not be any of my business, but did she give you a reason?”
“She said it would be unfair to me.”
“Because her heart lies elsewhere?”
“Nee, she says she loves me, but won’t wed me because she can’t have children. She doesn’t want to bind me to a barren wife for all my life.”
His father stroked his long beard. “I see. She is certain of her condition?”
“She is. The doctors she saw in Wisconsin told her she would never have a child.”
His father was silent for a long time. Then he said, “Children are among God’s greatest gift to us. Knowing that I have sons to carry on after me gives me great comfort. I know your mother will never be alone or in need should something happen to me.”
Timothy looked at his father. “My whole life I wanted to be as good a father as you have been to me.”
“That is fine praise, but being a father has not always been easy. My sons are so different from each other that I sometimes used to wonder if the midwife slipped me a cowbird egg or two. Happily, I have come to see your mother and me in all of you. You take after your mother the most. You are tenderhearted and yet sensible. You care for the land and the business I have built, but you care more for the people around you. Do you love Lillian?”
“With all my heart.”
“I thought as much. Do you believe she is the woman chosen by God to be your life mate?”
“I did. I don’t know what to believe now. How can I see Lillian every day and know she will never be mine? I’m not strong enough, Daed. I had such dreams for us. I don’t know how to let those go.”
“Do you wish to marry her in spite of what she has told you?”
“That’s just it. I’m not sure. I love her, but I want a family.”
“And what is a family?”
His father’s question puzzled Timothy. “Children and a wife.”
“Your children?”
“Ja.”
“Do you love Hannah?”
Timothy frowned at the sudden change of topic. “Of course I do.”
“Joshua loves Hannah with all his heart. I love her, too, as does your mother. We all love that child, but she is no blood relation to us. Yet our family would be incomplete without her.”
Hannah had been four years old when Joshua met Mary. Joshua often said he fell in love with Hannah first and had to marry Mary in order to keep the child.
Timothy gazed out at the river again. If only the Lord would send him a sign. Something to help him know what to do. “Would you have married Mother had you known she couldn’t give you sons?”
“I married your mother because God chose her to be my better half, for now and forever. There was no guarantee of children in that bargain.”
“Yet you both hoped and prayed for children.”
“We did pray for strong sons, and the Lord heard us. Telling a man to give up his hopes and dreams of having a family one day is a difficult thing. I cannot tell you what to do. You must decide.”
The problem was, he couldn’t decide. Which did he want more? Lillian or his dreams of a large and loving family?
Chapter Eighteen
On Sunday, the bishop and minister preached about Moses and the troubles he and his people endured before they reached the Promised Land. Some lost their faith, others faltered and recovered, but God was with them all along. Lillian knew it was an attempt to raise the spirits of the community, but it did nothing to raise hers.
A collection was taken for the victims of the fires, but the amount raised didn’t come close to covering the losses. The bishop assured people he would make appeals to other churches and they had to be content with that. The community had been pushed into poverty in a matter of days. It would take them years to recover.
Lillian avoided seeing Timothy after the service by leaving early. Amanda was upset that she couldn’t stay and play with her friends, but Lillian promised she could have a friend come for a sleepover later in the week and that mollified her.
Lillian
spent the day writing a long letter to her parents explaining about the fires and the law’s inability to find those responsible. She thought of the box in her desk and wondered what she should say to Jeremiah. He hadn’t mentioned missing the canisters, and there had been fires set without them. He had to be innocent. She believed that in her soul.
As much as she dreaded facing Timothy on Monday, she was still happy to see his dear face when he walked into the schoolhouse before classes. He didn’t mention their last meeting and neither did she. They were polite and kind to each other. It was as if a large and invisible glass wall had been erected between them. She had no idea how to break through without cutting her heart to shreds.
How long could they go on this way?
The children were all quiet and studious. Everyone had been affected by the senseless violence against them. Lillian realized that the joy she felt when she was teaching had vanished, but she owed it to the children to give her best.
On Wednesday night, she was surprised to see Silas Mast at her door. She bade him come in. He stood in her kitchen with his hat in his hands, turning it round and round as he stared at the floor. Unease crept up her spine. “What’s wrong, Silas?”
He looked at her then. “You know that our community has been hard hit by these fires. Everyone has emptied their pockets to help one other, and still there are those who will bear a hard financial burden from these events.”
“I know that you more than anyone have suffered a great loss,” she said kindly.
“The Lord does not give us more than we can bear. However, I must think about the needs of others as well as my own needs. I have met with the school board earlier tonight. We have decided that this district can no longer afford to pay two teachers.”
“I see. Have you told Timothy?”
“I came to speak with you first and offer you the job, but I know your family is moving back to Wisconsin and you may wish to go with them.”
She had prayed for a sign, and the Lord was showing her a clear path, although not one she expected. But this way she wouldn’t have to face Timothy every day and endure the pain of knowing he loved her and she loved him in vain.
His Amish Teacher Page 16