The Bridge of Peace

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Through the frosted windows she saw the hazy shape of a buggy, and a man got out. Her heart thumped a few extra beats as hopes of seeing Grey became her first thought. The front door opened, and she stood. Aaron Blank removed his black felt hat, revealing hair the same color. Concern ran through her. He was a disheveled mess. His hands shook. Dark puffy circles ran under his eyes. And even at a distance he smelled of stale alcohol.

  “I … I was talking to Dwayne a few weeks ago. He was griping about what Peter had told him, that you’d brought some psychologist woman in to talk to the scholars. Is that true?”

  “Ya, I thought the children needed someone who knew a lot more about grief and trauma than I do. She’s a counselor at the school I attended during my rumschpringe.”

  Aaron’s dark brown eyes studied her before he tossed his hat on a desk and walked to the blackboard. “What kind of a person uses their running-around years to attend school?”

  “Well, those Englischer kids would say a really dorky one.”

  Aaron turned to face her, a gentle smile on his lips. “It doesn’t bother you what others think, does it?”

  This unusual visit worried her. He seemed to be looking for answers, and she prayed for the right words. “Sure it bothers me. I just do my best to not let it rule me. It still hurts, every time. In my younger years, it’d sting so much I would cry myself to sleep. I find humor helps a lot and doing things I enjoy, like teaching.”

  He ran his hands across the dusty chalkboard and then rubbed his thumb over his fingertips. “You studied during your rumschpringe. Wanna guess what I did during mine?”

  She didn’t have to guess. His rumschpringe hadn’t ended yet, because he hadn’t joined the faith. Based on his age, he should have. His running-around years began either before or around the time he and his family moved here from Ohio, almost seven years ago. And based on glimpses she’d caught of his life, he’d gone from being an occasional-weekend teenage drinker to a twenty-four-year-old man who stayed half drunk most of the time.

  He moved within inches of her. “I need help, Lena, and I don’t know who else to ask.”

  “You came to the right place. The counselor Dwayne told you about is a school psychologist. She can’t help you, but she brought me a list of other counselors in case any of the adults in Dry Lake wanted to talk to someone.” Lena sat in her chair and began looking through the drawers in her desk. “There’s a place called the Better Path, I think.” She found the paper. “Ya, that’s the name. It’s about forty miles from here. I’m not sure who runs it, but she said there’s a Plain Mennonite counselor who’s a young man like yourself, and he comes highly recommended in his field.”

  Aaron sat on her desk. “I’ve got to stop drinking, but I can’t imagine how to do that. Daed and Mamm know I drink, but they don’t have any clue how much or how often.”

  “I wish I knew what to say. All I know is you need to take care of you. It will hurt when they are forced to accept it, but at least you’re also offering them hope by looking for help.”

  “They don’t even know I’d been told about that fence or that Elsie’s death is my fault. If I’d fixed it right when I had the chance …”

  His heaviness wrapped around her, but she couldn’t think of anything to say about the bull breaking through. “Aaron, if you can tune out what everyone thinks and feels toward you, can you see your way to finding answers?”

  He moved to a window and stared at the back pasture where his sister had died three months ago. “Ya, I … I think I can … with the right help.”

  “Then for now, do what you need to for you. When you’re well, you can make it up to them.”

  “Well.” He let out a slow, heavy breath. “I haven’t felt well in a really long time.” When he turned to face her, his dark brown eyes were filled with tears. “I’m scared that I’ll never get free.”

  “You can’t erase how you’ve spent your rumschpringe or the day Elsie died. But if you win against this need to drink, you can change your future. I know you can.” She wrote down the information about the Better Path and held it out to him.

  He took it. “Dwayne said that my Daed came by here this morning before school started. What’d he want?”

  She wondered how Dwayne knew about Michael coming here. “He came to let me know that there’s a school board meeting next Monday.”

  “Can you imagine how my Daed will feel when he finds out I’d been warned about that bull?”

  “Aaron, you thought you’d fixed the fence.”

  “Ya, while in some half-drunken state.”

  “He doesn’t need to know that. It won’t help anything. Just take care of yourself. I’ll deal with the school board. But if I were you, I’d avoid Dwayne.”

  “Dwayne isn’t so bad. He’s a better man than I am. He’s always in control, even when he drinks. He never overdoes it, never gets clobbered.”

  She feared his judgment concerning Dwayne would come back to haunt him, but she didn’t think she could convince him. “You have a good heart, Aaron. And if you get sober, I’ll bet you’ll even find it.”

  He went to the desk where he’d dropped his hat. “Denki, Lena. You … you’ve always been nice to me. I appreciate that a lot.” Without another word he left.

  As Aaron pulled away in his buggy, she hoped he’d do whatever it took to get free of past mistakes.

  Lena knocked on Crist and Mollie’s door, wondering why the school board had chosen to meet here. They were Peter and Dwayne’s parents, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was entering the lions’ den. She doubted Grey would come, but she hated the idea of facing opposition without his voice of reason.

  Mollie let her in. “Lena.” Mollie managed a short nod and motioned to the kitchen table.

  Elsie’s Mamm looked pale and almost as sad as the day her daughter was killed. All the school board members and their wives were here, except Grey. Dwayne was here too. She guessed it was futile to hope he might not be at a meeting being held in his own home. Sylvan and Lillian Detweiler were here too, which meant old criticisms were coming her way again.

  Lena went to a chair and took a seat.

  The Detweilers’ complaints against her stemmed from the incident last year, the one that caused the board to put her on probation. It’d been such a foolish mistake on her part, but her alternative was to let four children go hungry.

  Michael looked up from the papers in his hand. “Ah, Lena, you’ve arrived.”

  She’d arrived ten minutes before it was time for the meeting to begin and had managed to be the last one to get here, so she wondered if they’d had a meeting beforehand too.

  He called the gathering to order, and Dwayne took a seat at the table. She was in his home, but she’d hoped he wouldn’t stay for this part.

  They bowed their heads in silent prayer.

  Michael interlaced his fingers and placed his hands on the papers spread out in front of him. “Several parents have a lot of questions, but rather than having everyone come, Mollie and Crist will be their spokesmen. They’ve been gathering questions from parents, and we’d like you to respond to those questions. Since Grey isn’t here to take notes, Jake will. It won’t take long. Are you ready?”

  “Ya.”

  Crist placed a piece of notebook paper on the table. Only half of it was filled. That gave Lena a little hope. “The first item the parents would like to know is about Elmer. He was on a swing when the chain broke, and he ended up in a cast. Why weren’t you aware that the chains needed to be replaced?”

  Michael shook his head. “She’s not responsible for playground equipment. That’s the board’s job.”

  “I disagree,” Crist said. “It’s the board’s job to replace the items. It’s hers to inform you.”

  Michael shook his head and started to say something.

  “I can answer his question,” Lena offered.

  “Okay, Lena, go ahead,” Michael said.

  “Those chains were only two years
old. Not a one of them should have broken, but Daed and I changed them all out after Elmer’s accident and before anyone else used a swing.”

  “Gut. Denki, Lena.” Michael made a note.

  Crist read the next item. “You buried one of your scholars’ cats while the child begged you not to? Is that true?”

  Michael lifted his hand. “Who wrote these questions? Lena deals with a large classroom of children, and we can’t second-guess her every decision.”

  “I’d like to at least know where she found the cat,” Crist said.

  Lena glanced at Dwayne. “The cat’s throat had been slit, and it was left in my chair. We all know that mean pranks are pulled on teachers from time to time. I tried to bury it before the children arrived. I guess I could have hidden it in the lean-to and buried it later, but I didn’t.”

  “And you didn’t bother to tell the school board that someone left a dead cat in the room? Shouldn’t they have been informed?”

  “I mentioned it to Grey within a few days of it happening.”

  Michael tapped his hand against the table. “That answers plenty. She did her job, and I’m sure Grey would have told us if … if … Elsie hadn’t.” The sting of Michael losing his daughter had stolen the words from him.

  Crist nodded. “Yes, you’re right.” He looked at Lena. “Were you aware that the bull had gotten into the pasture near the school before the day … of the incident?”

  Lena cringed. “Ya.”

  Michael shifted. “I won’t sit here and let anyone blame Lena. It’s my field, and my son’s bull. We’re responsible. End of it. I’ve told the board for months there’s nothing to talk to Lena about.”

  She ached for Michael. Like Aaron, he blamed himself.

  Crist took a sip of water. “The parents would like to know if the school board approved Lena bringing a counselor, a psychologist of some sort, into the school to talk to the children after the incident.”

  Michael looked surprised. He angled his head toward her. “You brought in an outsider to talk to the scholars without permission?”

  “I … I guess I did.”

  “You guess?” Dwayne scoffed. “You don’t know?”

  Lena straightened in her chair. “The children were traumatized, and I have a friend who is a school counselor. She only came in to help them sort through their feelings and to offer advice on dealing with trauma and shock. I never left the room while she talked. We did some exercises she suggested—drawing, talking, acting out how we feel. She said and did nothing against our beliefs. Nothing.”

  Michael breathed deeply. “That wasn’t wise, Lena. An outsider we don’t know, a psychologist no less, brought in to talk to our children? You had to know this was unacceptable.”

  Lena steadied her pounding heart. “The day of the incident I saw the trauma that took place in each child’s heart and mind. I know Samantha Rogers from my days of attending public school, and I knew she’d have the expertise to help them.”

  “Peter is worse, not better,” Mollie snapped.

  Lena tried to find the right words. “That’s not Samantha’s fault. She did nothing that would make anyone worse. I … I think he’s probably better than he would have been without the insights Samantha had to offer.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Mollie said.

  Lena cleared her throat, trying to guard her tone. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” Mollie scoffed. “You think what you’ve done is okay?”

  “I’m sorry it upset you, but I think it’s been helpful for all the children.”

  “You’re not even a little sorry.” The oldest board member, Jake Fisher, scooted his chair forward, making an awful sound as he did. “We don’t want some stranger who may not even be a believer offering the children of Dry Lake hope. Why would you step outside of our ways to do this your way?”

  Lena steadied her tone, trying to remain respectful. “We allow firemen to come to the school and share their wisdom. They put on their full gear and teach the children how to respond to a fire. I thought Samantha could help in her own area, like they do.”

  Jake frowned. “So you didn’t ask because we allow firemen to come into the school?”

  “A problem came up, and then an opportunity for finding some relief surfaced, so I went for it.”

  “Went for it?” Dwayne’s smug smile made her feel sick. “She talks more like a public school girl than an Amish one.”

  A wave of nods circled the room.

  Michael took notes. “Lena, do not allow any outsider to come into the classroom without permission. Clear?”

  “Ya.”

  He gathered his papers. “We can’t decide a discipline tonight. I’m dealing with all I can right now. I might as well let you all know about Aaron. You’ll hear about it elsewhere if I don’t. He’s … entered a rehabilitation center somewhere outside of Owl’s Perch. I … I don’t know what made him think he needed that kind of help, but he didn’t ask my opinion. I can’t see us trying to make a fair discipline call on this tonight.” He grew still as he studied Lena. “I’m afraid you’ve crossed a line.”

  Dwayne scoffed, and all eyes moved to him. “I think you should ask Lena who suggested Aaron leave Dry Lake and see a shrink.”

  Aaron’s mother straightened, looking more alert than she had since Lena arrived. Dora ran her fingers over her cheek. “What did you say to our son that made him leave his family when we needed him most?”

  Lena’s heart jumped, and she knew her face radiated guilt. “I … I know how this looks, but he came to me, and … I … I gave him some information.”

  “What kind of information?” Dora asked.

  She wouldn’t tell because Aaron might not want her to. “It was a private conversation. I … I was only trying to help.”

  Murmuring continued, and several board members asked her questions at the same time.

  Michael’s hand shook when he raised it to silence everyone. “Whatever conversation took place between Aaron and Lena isn’t a school matter. Aaron may have chosen badly when deciding who to talk to, but no part of that can affect our decision concerning Lena as a teacher. And we’re all too upset to have any sense of fairness in our decision of what discipline to hand down. I say we table this matter for at least a week. All in favor say aye.”

  A chorus of dull ayes echoed. “Any nays?”

  No one said anything.

  With his elbow on the table, Michael held his head in one hand. “You will remain under probation, and you are not to allow any Englischer inside the school without the board’s permission. Is that clear?”

  “Ya.”

  “We’ll take all this under advisement and either let you know of another meeting or send you a letter with our decision. Your actions between now and then will be carefully scrutinized. I’m very concerned, Lena. Do you understand?” He spoke gently, but she saw hurt and anger in his countenance.

  “Ya.” Lena said her good-byes, grabbed her coat, and left. Cold wind slapped her in the face when she stepped outside. Her heart ached over the board’s view of her, and she fought tears while making her way along the narrow path of cleared snow toward the barn. At least Michael refused to make a decision until he and the others calmed down, but the idea of losing her school stung. Her scholars needed that time with Samantha. But if she lost her school because of overreaching her authority, she’d never get another teaching position at any Amish school.

  Twenty-Three

  Wonderful smells of baked goods drifted throughout Ada’s House, constantly reminding Deborah of all she had to be thankful for. She sat at the kitchen table, counting the money they’d made this week. Ada and Jonathan chatted quietly while Cara and Lori sat at the sewing machine making cloth dolls.

  Deborah stacked the cash and checks together. “I just can’t believe how well our business continues to do, and it’s almost six weeks past Christmas.”

  Jonathan turned a chair around backward and straddled it. “Most of the snows have been perfec
t for sleigh rides this year. I think that’s helped keep things really hopping around here.”

  “Ya, everything is just working so much better than I figured. But the truth is, we couldn’t have done it without your constant help, Jon.”

  Cara laughed. “And some nights his big reward is getting to sleep in that awful room above the carriage house.”

  “Well, the upside is I’ve had a chance to expand the blacksmith business to places the horse and wagon can’t reach from Dry Lake in one day.”

  Lori stayed focused as Ada and Cara helped her sew another faceless doll. Those sold great too, and Lori loved helping to make them.

  Ada glanced up. “I never dreamed we’d stay this busy. We’ve sold every hope chest, coatrack, and side table that Israel made, and he’s making more items for us.”

  Deborah slid the money into the deposit bag. “I hope I’m not all puffed up to think this, but I’m so pleased with us. We’ve come up with a theme for every season so far, and people have enjoyed each one.”

  Cara snipped loose threads off the doll in her hand. “We need to start working on a spring theme, but I’m not planting, hoeing, and harvesting according to the Old Ways. So if anyone mentions farming the Amish way at Ada’s House, I’ll scream.”

  “I’ve been mulling over the spring theme,” Jonathan said. “And I think farming like the Amish is a great idea.”

  Cara screamed softly, making all of them giggle.

  “It’s just the first of February. We have a few more weeks of Amish Winter Wonderland to get through. We’ll figure something out soon enough.” Deborah removed her coat and Jonathan’s from pegs near the back door. “I’m ready.” She tossed Jonathan his jacket.