by Kelly Long
And to my agent, Julie Gwinn. I know this is just the beginning of many more fabulous projects to come.
Many thanks to my “Carl” for standing beside me and occasionally behind me to give me a nudge whenever I need it. I’m chagrined to say it is more often than I care to admit.
So many thanks go out to my family. You’ll never know exactly how much you mean to me! Love you!
And to the readers. You are the reason I do what I do. Thanks for reading!
Amy
Now hear this, O foolish and senseless people, who have eyes but do not see; who have ears but do not hear.
—Jeremiah 5:21
CHAPTER 1
Snow was a’comin’. Jess Schmucker looked to the clouded sky, then across the pasture where his herd of dairy cows ambled along toward the barn. His girls would be home from school any minute, and together he and his oldest daughter, Constance, would get the animals all hooked up in their milking stalls and milked. But Constance was the only one of his three girls who was old enough to truly help in the barn. At eight she was not as much assistance as he needed, but for the time being she was all he had.
“Dat!” He turned as his youngest daughter raced toward him. She ran from the road as if he would disappear at any minute. They had talked about it time and again, but to Lilly Ruth the problem was simple. She had gone to her grossmammi’s house one morning last fall, and everything had been right in her world. She had returned that afternoon to find her mother dead and her father racked with grief.
He shook the thought away. Looking back to the past never did nobody any good. All he could do was face the future and pray for the best. And that’s what he was doing: the best he could.
“Dat! Dat! Dat!” Lilly Ruth flung herself at him, leaving him no other option than to swing her into his arms. Behind her clear-framed glasses, her eyes were worried and happy all in the same moment. “You’re still here.” It had been almost a year and her fear remained.
“Of course I am, liebschdi.” He planted a quick kiss to her forehead. He wanted to squeeze her tight and not let her go until the clouds left her eyes. But that would only make her clingier. Instead, he inhaled the scent of outdoors that wafted from her clothes and let her slide to the ground.
Constance and Hope had long since given up on their sister staying near. They trudged down the driveway, their lunch coolers swinging in their hands.
“Everyone inside,” Jess instructed. “Let’s get a snack before we start our chores.” The girls didn’t protest, but dragged their feet a little as they plodded to the house.
The girls removed their coats and changed into their chore clothes, then set about getting out paper plates for their quick snack. Constance poured disposable plastic cups full of milk for them all.
He tried not to think about the time long ago when they ate off the good plates and drank from glasses made from . . . well, glass. Of all the things that had changed, their use of throwaway dishes was at the bottom of the list of what he wished was different.
Constance and Hope shared a look as his middle daughter gave everyone three of the store-bought cookies, then sealed the bag shut. She placed it in the cabinet and came back to the table.
For some reason her serious face made the hair on his arms stand on end. Or was that the waft of cold air that had followed them in from outside? No matter. He bowed his head and his daughters did the same. A prayer before they ate, a quick snack, and it was back to the barn for the evening milking.
Jess idly chewed his cookie, the sweet treat tasting more like cardboard than he cared to acknowledge. He looked around the quiet table at each of his girls. Maybe it was just him. But what he wouldn’t give for one of his mamm’s apple pies right about now.
“When’s mammi coming back?” Hope asked, nibbling her cookie with what could only be described as reluctance.
With the holidays fast approaching and weddings to go to every single Tuesday and Thursday, Jess knew his mamm and his only sister were busy. His brudders had their own families and problems. It was time to face it; it was time to move on. Forward. And figure out what to do about store-bought cookies and his daughters. Or rather their everyday care.
“Dat?” Constance turned her blue eyes on him, eyes that were far too filled with pain for any eight-year-old’s to be. “Is she ever coming back?”
Jess swallowed the lump in his throat. “Of course.” Maybe sometime after the first of the year, once Christmas and the New Year had passed. Once wedding season had ended and they didn’t have more of their own issues to take care of. Maybe after all that.
Despite his own doubts, his daughters seemed to accept the answer.
But now more than ever, he could see how hard his family was struggling without the care of a woman about the house. The girls needed someone to help them with their hair and breakfast. Someone to care for them and show them all the things a mamm shows her dochders.
But their mudder had only been gone a year, and the thought of marrying again . . . He shook his head.
“Come on,” he said, motioning his daughters toward the pegs where their heavy coats hung. “Those cows aren’t going to milk themselves.”
Bernice Yoder pulled her buggy down the driveway that led toward the Schmucker house and told herself she was doing this for the girls. Constance, Hope, and Lilly Ruth needed her, and she had to stand up and do the right thing. But she had never in her eight years of teaching had to go to a family’s house for something like this. She’d had to check on sick children and travel with the bishop to talk to the parents of some of the more spirited children. But never for neglect.
There, she let the word loose in her mind, but it was no comfort. She set the brake on her buggy and took a deep breath. It had to be done.
“Just go in there and take a look at the situation,” she told herself. “If things are worse than you thought, just leave and get the bishop’s wife.” Ruth Mullet was always one to lend a hand. Or so Bernice had been told.
Mind made up, Bernice slid from her buggy and headed for the porch. The wind whipped through her woolen coat as she made her way up the steps and knocked on the door. She would assess the situation. She had to. The girls deserved more than they were currently getting.
“Help you?”
Bernice whirled around at the sound of the deep male voice behind her. The man was tall, at least taller than anyone else she knew. And she was thankful that she was standing on the porch, three feet above him. Otherwise he would tower over her. Or maybe it was the frown pulling his brows together that made him seem so . . . menacing.
“Can I help you?” he asked again.
“Oh, I—” She cleared her throat, her mouth suddenly dry, her stomach twisting into knots. “I’m here to see Jess Schmucker.”
He propped his hands on his hips. “That’s me.”
Of course it was. Just what she needed: to confront an angry man about the sad state of his daughters.
“Bernice!” Lilly Ruth came running out of the barn, her sisters trailing behind. Her coat flapped open in the wind, just one more thing Bernice needed to talk to the man about. Young girls shouldn’t go around like that; she was liable to catch pneumonia.
Bernice bent down, preparing to be the recipient of one of Lilly Ruth’s full-body hugs, when Jess snaked out one arm and caught his daughter as she passed.
“You know her?” he asked. As if she wasn’t standing right in front of him.
Constance nodded. “She’s our teacher.”
He turned back to look at her, and Bernice couldn’t help but nod as if that would add value to Constance’s statement. Maybe she should have come out here before now and introduced herself. She usually met all the parents before the school year started, but Jess Schmucker had sent his sister in his stead.
“Bernice Yoder.” She stepped off the porch and reached out a hand to shake. She was right. He did seem to tower over her even though he wasn’t that tall. But his frown sent her heart racing in her che
st.
He looked at her hand long enough that she wasn’t sure he was actually going to touch her. Finally his hand came up, but his eyes never left hers. She snatched her hand away as soon as politely possible. “What can I do for you, Bernice Yoder?”
“I would like to speak to you . . . if that’s possible . . . alone.” She pulled on her coat and tried to make her words ring with confidence, but sadly they fell way short of her goal.
“Girls, go on in the house.”
They did as their father asked without question, though each one stopped and gave her a quick hug before scuttling inside.
“What’s on your mind?” Jess asked as the first snowflake started to fall.
For a split second she almost abandoned her resolve, told him everything was fine and hurried over to her buggy. But it would do those sweet little girls no favors for her to chicken out now.
“It’s the girls.”
His frown turned into an all-out scowl. “Jah? Are they misbehaving?”
“Oh no.”
“Having trouble with their studies? Lilly Ruth can be a bit headstrong.”
Bernice smiled. “No, it’s not that, either.”
He waited, watching her as she gathered her thoughts. “Jah?” he said, his voice tinged with impatience. Not a good sign.
“It’s their clothes.” There, she said it. But the constriction in her chest remained.
“Their clothes?”
“They come to school a bit disheveled.”
“Disheveled?” He repeated the word as if he’d never heard it before.
“Dirty.” It was a stronger word than Bernice wanted, and it seemed to be harder than Jess could stand.
His face turned an unlikely shade of red, his freckles standing out stark against the vivid color. “Are you saying my children aren’t clean?”
Bernice shook her head. She was ruining whatever chance she had of reaching him. “That’s not what I mean. It’s just that . . .”
“What?”
She took a steadying breath as the snowflakes continued to fall around them. “The other children are starting to notice.” She dropped her voice in hopes that her softened tone would have a calming effect on him. “The girls . . . they are so sweet and smart. But when they come to school with stains on their clothes, their hair messy, and part of their breakfast on their faces . . .” She trailed off, but she didn’t need to finish; Jess Schmucker knew exactly what she was talking about. She could see it in his eyes.
“Thank you, Bernice Yoder.” His face was still that frightening shade of crimson as he pushed past her and into the house. She turned as the door shut behind him, effectively sealing her off from him and his girls.
Bernice stared at the door for two long heartbeats. “I can help you if you’d like,” she said quietly to no one, but she had a feeling Jess Schmucker didn’t want her help. Not now anyway. Pulling her coat a little tighter around her, she dashed through the falling snow to her waiting horse and buggy. She had done her part. She had met with the girls’ father. But, she thought as she clicked her horse into motion, her meeting with Jess had not gone according to plan. Not even close.
CHAPTER 2
Jess pulled the door shut behind him and was quite satisfied with himself when he didn’t slam it closed with all his strength. Just who did she think she was, coming here and criticizing him and his efforts? He was doing the best he could. But he was both mother and father to his three girls. He had to run the dairy farm, see to the milk truck, get the girls dressed and ready for school, figure out what they were eating for lunch and dinner, and wash the clothes. And that was all before noon.
She had no right, he fumed. No right a’tall to come into his house and start pointing fingers over whose dress was stained and who had forgotten to wipe their mouth before they left the table. Well, he guessed she hadn’t come into the house. Only onto the porch.
He looked around at the clothes that hung on the line stretched between the front door and the back porch. He hated having to duck under it to get anywhere in the house, but it was too cold to go hanging the garments outside. They would freeze solid before they would dry.
“Dat?” Hope stood in the entryway to the kitchen, a small frown on her smooth forehead. She was the image of her mother, light brown hair and pale gray eyes like the sky before the snow started. “What did Bernice want?”
He cleared his throat, unwilling to tell his middle daughter the truth. “She, uh, wanted to remind me about the Christmas program.” Lord, forgive me my lies. But he would do everything in his control to keep them from knowing the truth.
Constance picked that moment to peek around her sister. Other than her blond hair, his oldest looked like her mother, as well. Two walking reminders of the past. “Really? You can come, right?”
Lilly Ruth bounced on her toes, excitement lighting her blue eyes. Of all of his girls she was the most like him in appearance. Red hair, freckles, blue eyes. “Please, please, please!”
“Of course.” Jess let out a small cough. He would have to be at the program. Somehow, some way. He was struggling without his mother or his sister there to help. Yet tomorrow things would be different. He’d see to it. And the day after that and the day after that. He would get it all together. Surely that would put a stop to the pitying light he’d seen in the young teacher’s green eyes.
“Constance!” Jess stood at the door to the house and hollered for his girls. “Hope! Lilly Ruth!” The milking had been done, breakfast had been eaten, and it was time for the girls to head to school.
After he’d gone to bed last night, he’d replayed the conversation between him and the teacher. He’d mulled over every word. Not that he actually said that many. He’d been too shocked. But he had realized one thing. He had to do something different. And he was starting today.
“Con—stance.” His voice started out loud, then dropped to a normal tone as his daughters started down the stairs. He wasn’t sure what they had been doing upstairs when they were supposed to be finishing up chores so they could go to school.
He needed to have them inside working on the dishes. The way they were piling up, it was going to take a week to get them all clean and put away. Jah, they had been using disposable plates and cups for nigh on a week, yet somehow the dishes seemed to pile up on their own. A cup here and there, a plastic container, a saucer, miscellaneous items that seemed to appear out of nowhere.
He said a small prayer of thanks that Bernice Yoder had stayed on the porch. The thought of her coming into the house and passing more judgments against him . . .
“Here.” He stopped his girls one by one and gave their faces another swipe with a wet rag. He had done his best with their hair, but it still looked as if they had been caught in a strong wind. He used the rag to smooth down some of the worst of the flyaways, handed them their lunch coolers, then sent them on their way. He’d picked out the best of their dresses, ones without stains and tears. Thankfully, the snow had held off to a light dusting. Still they wore their warmest boots, coats, and knit scarves, ready for a blizzard if one decided to arrive that afternoon.
Let Bernice Yoder find fault with that, he thought as he watched his children traipse toward the road.
He gave the dishes one last look, then headed for the barn. The house needed his attention, but the north fence needed it more. Maybe this afternoon he’d have enough time to get started on the house, but until then . . . he grabbed the new fence post he’d gotten in town the day before and started across his pasture.
“Good morning.” Bernice smiled to each of her students as they ambled into the one-room schoolhouse where she taught. Despite the fact the snow barely covered the ground, some of the more rambunctious buwe still scraped up enough to make snowballs to pelt each other as they raced toward the entrance.
“Johnny Lapp, get down from there,” she called as the boy started to climb onto the outhouse to gather more snow. Heaven help them all when a big snow hit. She had a hard enough tim
e keeping the boys busy when the weather was fine. But they would all get snow fever for sure when they got more than a dusting. And she had heard the talk at the mercantile. The elders had said this could be the snowiest winter on record.
Well, she would hoe that row when she came to it. For now, she waved the children inside and looked to see if she had forgotten any.
The playground was clear, but in the distance she could see three small figures heading for the school. They were a little late this morning, but of all her students, the Schmucker girls had to walk the farthest to attend. Sometimes Bernice wondered if it might not be closer for them to go to a different school, but since she had failed in her talk with their father, she thought it best that she have them remain in her school. At least that way she could keep an eye on them.
She was new to the area and hadn’t met a good many people since she had been there. And she certainly hadn’t heard what had happened to Jess Schmucker’s wife. That was something she needed to find out. Perhaps the frowning Jess was still grieving for a love who had passed. Or maybe she had left him alone and bitter to care for their children while she enjoyed the pleasures the Englisch world had to offer.
Or perhaps she, Bernice Yoder, needed to quit reading those Englisch novels about Plain people.
But her buoyant mood fizzled as the Schmucker girls drew closer. Then it completely died as they came near enough for her to see every detail of their appearance. All three girls had mud caked to their boots, surely a result of yesterday’s snow. But not the dark streaks on their hems and coats. Lilly Ruth’s head scarf was even soiled with what could only be mud. Their faces were marked with smudges of peanut butter and jam, and their hair. Goodness! Their hair looked as if they had slept in the hayloft. And despite the fact that she didn’t want to admit it even to herself, they smelled like they slept there, as well.
She cleared her throat and pushed her irritation with their father down deep inside and focused on what she could do now. Later she could examine why he had seen fit to send them to school in worse condition than ever before. And after she had gone to his house to help him.