The Lesson

by Suzanne Woods Fisher

  He was practically to the door when she called out, “How did you know that I didn’t have any idea how to work the heater?”

  He shrugged. “Wasn’t hard to figure out.” He rolled that over in his mind as he walked down the lane to turn onto Windmill Farm’s drive. It occurred to him that he was starting to understand the illogical logic of Mary Kate Lapp. The first few times he met her, he tried to follow her line of thinking and was often left pawing the air. Why was she starting to make sense to him?

  Lately, thoughts of Mary Kate Lapp rose up time and again. He tried to kick her image aside the way he might scoot a cat out from underfoot, but back it came, silently slinking in. All he could think of were those eyes. Those deep, brown, lovely eyes.

  Whenever his thoughts drifted toward Mary Kate, a sense of well-being sneaked up on Chris, which he normally only experienced after a hard day’s work, when he was too tired to think straight.

  Such a feeling worried him. And pleased him too. Both.

  16

  That first snowfall was just a tease of winter’s coming, but Chris stopped by the schoolhouse every single morning to help M.K. start the heater. She thought she had a pretty good handle on it after watching him work that first morning, but she decided not to share that particular revelation with him. She liked having him there. Each morning, they would talk a little. He loved hearing stories about the scholars. A few times, he even laughed out loud.

  Little by little, M.K. was discovering more about Chris Yoder. He fascinated her. Ever since that first predawn conference when he helped her start the coal heater, several days ago now, it seemed natural to be together. They met early on the way to the schoolhouse, talking as they walked, their breath puffs of fog. It intrigued her that as Chris went about the business of firing up the heater, his experiences seeped from him, episode by episode, as if they wanted out. But if she asked anything, he clammed up. Door shut. Conversation over.

  So she was learning to be patient. Wouldn’t Rome be proud of her? Wouldn’t he be amazed? Mary Kate Lapp, starting to be patient. Learning to wait for a person to choose to share his past, in his time, rather than going after that information with reckless abandon, like she usually did. She was very pleased with herself. And those early morning moments with Chris were becoming her favorite of the day.

  Late on Friday afternoon, she was wiping down the chalkboard. She heard her name. She turned and there he was. Chris, alone, standing by the door in front of the cloakroom. He had a smile that hitched up on one side. That smile of his, especially when it reached his eyes and made them crinkle in that way, it made her stomach do a flip-flop.

  “Jenny left her lunch Igloo.” He lifted it up. “Didn’t want to leave it here over the weekend.”

  M.K. tossed the chalk rag on her desk and walked to him. “I was just finishing for the day.” She grabbed her coat and bonnet off the wall peg in case he was in a hurry to leave, as he often was. But he wasn’t. He held the door for her and stayed on the school porch, waiting for her to lock up. Something was on his mind. By now, she knew not to press him.

  “I wondered if . . . maybe . . . next time there’s a decent snowfall, maybe you’d like to go on a sled ride with Samson. I’d need to borrow your dad’s sled, though.” His cheeks flamed and he looked down at his feet, kicking a loose board with his boot top.

  “Yes!” It burst out of her.

  Chris’s head snapped up. “Really? I mean, uh, good.” His eyes crinkled into a smile.

  Oh, there was that smile again. She thought for sure her knees were going to go right out from under her. A quiet spun out between them.

  The most wonderful surprise happened next. Don’t breathe, she thought. Don’t move. Chris bent down to lightly graze her lips with his. Just a featherlight kiss. Her first.

  Amos Lapp had gone to the schoolhouse phone shanty to see if there were any messages, and to place a call to his eldest daughter, Julia, who lived in Berlin, Ohio. Communication required patience—he would leave a message for her, and when she had time to check messages, she would return the call by leaving a message back for him. They were planning to head out to Ohio for Christmas to visit Julia and Rome and their four boys.

  While they were there, they would take some time to visit little Joe-Jo, the child of his now-in-heaven son, Menno. Joe-Jo lived with his mother, Annie, in a Swartzentruber colony not too far from Berlin. Imagine that, Amos thought, pleased. Counting Sadie’s two little ones, he had six grandsons and one granddaughter. Could a man ask for any greater gift? And he had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn’t be long before M.K. and Jimmy Fisher married. Seemed like that boy was at Windmill Farm on a daily basis. Perhaps Amos would have a dozen grandchildren before long. An even dozen!

  Fern had a long list of things she had started for the trip and more than a few questions for Julia. He grinned—he never knew anyone who liked to make plans like his list-making wife. Except for Julia. She was like Fern in that way, wanting everything to be orderly.

  He left Fern’s questions for Julia on the message machine and closed the shanty door. It was getting dark—that gloaming hour of the day. As he turned the corner and came around the front of the schoolhouse, he stopped abruptly. There, on the school porch, was an Amish couple, kissing. He turned like a top and hurried back to the shanty to think things over.

  He was uncertain of what he was supposed to do—he needed to pass in front of the schoolhouse to get home. He wished Fern were with him. What would she do? She would probably think it was appalling—to think of a young couple kissing out in public like that, though he had to admit he had done plenty of public kissing when he was a teenager.

  But that was different. That was long before he had daughters. He had a different perspective on affection after he became a father of teenaged daughters. He knew what was on the mind of a boy. It occurred to him that he would be doing that girl’s father a favor if he interrupted the couple right now. Better if he was the one to interrupt them than the bishop or ministers. Or imagine if Edith Fisher happened along! He was going to have to tap the boy on his shoulder and send him on his way.

  Wait a moment. He suddenly realized something. The girl on that porch wasn’t just any girl. He recognized that turquoise blue dress. Mary Kate had one just like it. She had worn it this very day. That girl was Mary Kate! A sick feeling came over Amos. That wasn’t Jimmy Fisher she was kissing. This boy was too tall to be Jimmy Fisher. If he wasn’t mistaken, that boy’s thatch of blond hair belonged to . . . Chris Yoder.

  Shocked and distressed, Amos had to sit down on the little stool. When had this romance begun? How could this have happened? This was terrible, terrible news. Of all the boys in Stoney Ridge, how could his little girl be involved with Chris Yoder? Should he fire Chris on the spot? Definitely. He definitely was going to fire him.

  He took a deep breath, opened the shanty door, gathered every indignant bone in his body, and marched to the front of the schoolhouse to confront them.

  But there was no one there.

  HI JENNY GIRL!

  Your momma is sure proud of you for getting so much money to me. You must be working really hard. What are you doing to get so much dough? Baking a lot of pies, huh? Ha!

  I’ve got some AWESOME news! But, ssshhhh! baby, you got to keep this secret from Chris. I want to surprise him. They’re letting me out of this crummy joint early cuz I’m clean! Clean as a whistle.

  I want you to be here when I get out. You could take the bus, meet me, and we could surprise Chris together back in Stoney Ridge! It’ll be the three of us, together again, for Christmas. This time it’ll be different, Jenny. I promise. I’ll stay clean. You know your momma is the only one you can depend on. Promise me you’ll come, okay? Tuesday, December 23rd, 11:30 a.m. SHARP. DON’T LET ME DOWN! And remember: this is top secret! I’m counting on you!

  For a long time, Jenny sat right there without moving, feeling a weird hollowness in her chest, like all her air had been sucked out. When she took a
breath, it didn’t go away. She didn’t want to go to Marysville all by herself. She didn’t think Chris would be at all happy to have his mother arrive in Stoney Ridge as a Christmas surprise. But how sad for her mother—to not have anyone waiting for her when she got out of rehab. To not have anywhere to go for Christmas.

  Jenny’s hands were shaking as she read through the note a second time. And then she began to make a plan.

  M.K. heard someone call her name and looked up to locate the voice.

  “Mary Kate!” Chris Yoder stood at a distance and waved to her. “I’m not coming any closer to those bees.”

  Her heart lifted like a balloon. She was repairing a loose piece of tarpaper that the wind in yesterday’s storm had ripped off. The bees needed her, but this could wait. For Chris, they could wait. She put the staple gun down and set the smoker aimed at the beehives before she walked over to him. She hadn’t seen Chris since that kiss at the schoolhouse last Friday and she felt giddy with anticipation. It was never far from her mind, that kiss. That sweet, tender, wonderful kiss.

  She had woken in the night and relived it, over and over again. His lips had touched hers, as softly as a butterfly landing, and rested there for a moment before he moved closer and his mouth seemed to melt into hers. His arms slid around her waist and she felt the stubble of his chin as his face brushed against hers. The sensation was the most amazing, terrifying, wonderful, frightening one she had ever felt. All of it—the feel of his strong arms around her, his sturdy body next to hers, the way he breathed, the way he smelled. As his warm lips brushed against hers, she decided that a kiss was the most wonderful sensation in the world. It started where his tender lips joined hers and traveled slowly through her like a wave of warm water. That kiss was a moment in her memory that went on forever and ended too soon. M.K. finally understood why her friend Ruthie liked to kiss so much. Now M.K. got it.

  She thought a lightning bolt had struck her, and she thought it was love.

  She was glad she had the netting over her face as she walked toward Chris. M.K. was beaming. Beaming!

  But something was wrong. Chris looked upset. “Do you know of any reason why your dad would fire me?”

  “Fire you? What did he say?”

  Chris looked past her to the hives. “He said there wasn’t any more work to do at Windmill Farm for the winter.” He looked back at her. “It wasn’t long ago that he talked about all kinds of things he wanted me to do for him this winter. He even talked about expanding the Salad Stall with some winter crops—kale and cabbage. Did something happen? Could he be worried about paying me?”

  “Not that I know of.” Her father didn’t share any financial problems with her. That never stopped M.K. from eavesdropping, but she hadn’t overheard her dad and Fern talking about money lately. In fact, if anything, her father seemed awfully quiet lately. Quieter than usual.

  Chris frowned. “You didn’t say anything about . . . what happened between us at the schoolhouse, did you?”

  “Of course not!” Did he think she was crazy?

  He turned to leave, then turned back. He gave her a long, lingering look, like he was memorizing her face. “Look, about that. I apologize. It should never have happened. It won’t happen again.”

  Why won’t it happen again? M.K. thought, watching him stride down the hill. Why not?

  Maybe getting fired was a blessing in disguise. Chris had been letting his guard down. He should stick to the plan—fix up the house, start looking for the right mares to breed with Samson. That’s what brought him here—that was his grandfather’s gift to him. A fresh beginning.

  He would be twenty-one in six weeks. Then, he would feel safe. He would have kept his unspoken promise to his grandfather. He would have provided for his and Jenny’s future.

  It was the Lapp family that was starting to get to him—each one of them. Fern and Jenny were thick as thieves. Jenny was acting more and more like Fern. Baking bread, fussing over a clean kitchen, ironing his shirts with so much starch that they could stand up by themselves. It was preposterous.

  And Amos? Over the months of working for Amos Lapp, Chris had developed a great admiration for the man. Amos had always been fair with him. He possessed a natural business sense that Chris respected. More than a few times, Chris had thought that Amos was the kind of father he wished he’d had. Caring, calm, kind, wise. There had been a subtle change in the way Amos treated Chris. He used to work beside Chris. For the last few weeks, he would start Chris on a task and leave him to complete it. Or he would send him off to work for Hank in the buggy shop. Chris thought Amos might not be feeling well, that maybe his heart was acting up. He didn’t know much about Amos’s heart problem, but he did see all those pills he took at meals.

  At least, that was what Chris had assumed about Amos’s cool treatment—up until thirty minutes ago, when he had been abruptly and inexplicably dismissed. For no apparent reason.

  Chris felt like he’d had the wind kicked out of him. He racked his brain and couldn’t think of anything he might have done wrong. He had no idea what had gotten into Amos. The only thing he could come up with was that kiss. Maybe Mary Kate had told him. But she looked stunned when he mentioned it, and she wore her thoughts on her face. If she were lying, he would have known.

  Then there was Mary Kate. He had to get that girl off his mind. Kissing her like he did the other night—it shocked him. Where did that kiss come from? One minute they were talking, the next . . . he had leaned over to kiss her. He had always prided himself on his self-control with girls. He noticed women on occasion. What fellow didn’t? But with discipline, he always guided his focus away. Something not as easily done with Mary Kate Lapp.

  He wasn’t like some of his friends from Ohio, who talked about girls constantly and, given the opportunity, could barely keep their hands off them. What was happening to him?

  But he knew. He knew. He really was totally and hopelessly smitten with this girl. This had to stop. This wouldn’t last. He had to keep remembering that. This. Will. Not. Last.

  Maybe all this was a good reminder. Chris’s only true family was with Jenny. That was the one person—the only person—he needed to take care of.

  Chris passed by Hank’s buggy shop to walk down the driveway. As soon as he realized Bishop Elmo was involved in a deep conversation with Hank over the state of his buggy, he veered away from the shop.

  Normally a lighthearted, softspoken man, Elmo sounded exasperated. “You haven’t made a lick of progress on fixing this buggy, Hank Lapp!”

  Hank was shocked. “I’ve been utterly swamped!”

  “Swamped, eh?” Elmo’s hands were on his hips.

  Chris tried to make himself invisible, but those yellow puppies spotted him and charged happily toward him, barking and yipping. Elmo turned to see what the commotion was all about.

  Too late.

  “Chris Yoder! Come over here.”

  Chris crossed over to the bishop, puppies tangled at his feet.

  “Hank said you’ve been giving him a lot of help around here. Seems like Stoney Ridge could use another buggy shop. Hank is going to volunteer to teach you everything he knows about buggy repair.”

  “I am?” Hank asked.

  “And when he’s done sharing all of that vast knowledge, you are going to open up a buggy shop.”

  “I am?” Chris asked. He felt a shiver of dread run down his spine.

  “You are.” Bishop Elmo popped his black felt hat back on his bald head. He pointed to his buggy, up on blocks. “Starting with that one. I need that before Christmas. My wife’s entire family is coming to visit.” Then he marched across the driveway to his waiting horse and buggy. “Before Christmas!” he called out, as he slapped the reins on the horse and it lunged forward. “You have one week!”

  Chris looked at Hank, shocked. “What in the world just happened?”

  Hank was at an unusual loss for words. Hands hooked on his hips, he crinkled his wide forehead in confusion as he watched the b
ishop drive away. “There is one thing I have learned in my life. Don’t waste your time arguing with a bishop.” He tossed a wrench to Chris. “So, boy, let’s get to work.”

  After supper, Amos went out to his favorite spot on a hill, overlooking the orchards, to watch the sun set. It was a habit he had when he needed reminding that God was sovereign, that he held the world in his hands. Amos stood watching, arms crossed against his chest, as the sun dipped below the horizon. How many times had he stood in this same spot when the sorrows of life overwhelmed him?

  As his gaze shifted from the sun to the first sign of the North Star, he realized Fern had followed him and stood beside him. “That might have been the quietest meal we’ve ever had. Hank is bothered with Elmo for making Chris his apprentice. Mary Kate is bothered with you for letting Chris go. I’m bothered with all of you. Mind telling me why you told Chris you didn’t need his help anymore?”

  Amos glanced at her. His dilemma bounced back and forth across his brain like a volleyball in a match. Tell her. Don’t tell her. Tell her. Don’t tell her.

  “Something’s eating at you,” she said. “It has been for a while now. Weeks.”

  He kept his eyes on the star.

  “Is your heart giving you any trouble? Did the doctor tell you something at your last checkup that you didn’t tell me—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “My heart’s not the problem. Not in the way that you mean.”

  A long silence spun out between them. Finally, Fern sighed. “I can’t read your mind, Amos.”

  He turned and gave her a sad smile. “Sometimes, I think you can.”

  17

  Jenny jerked awake from a dreamless sleep and sat straight up, blinking, trying to gather information as fast as possible. Where was she? Was she late for school?

  No. She was on a bus to Columbus, Ohio. Once there, she would catch another bus to get to Marysville, and then a city bus to meet her mother. She had sneaked out of the house before dawn and left a note for Chris: