“Did you…” The answer was obvious, and Phoebe’s hands flew to her face.
“I really am sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to hear you talking to yourself.”
Phoebe lowered her hands and peeked at him. Only pain was written on his face. “You know about Ruth,” she whispered.
He didn’t answer, but he lowered himself onto a kitchen chair with a groan. “If you know, does everyone know?”
“I don’t think so. Ruth stopped by on the way to school this morning and told me.”
“Ruth…” His mouth moved almost soundlessly.
She pulled out a chair to sit beside him. “Yah. She told me everything, and I feel quite bad about the struggle she’s going through.”
“She was out till three the other morning with Ethan,” he said in horror. “Do you know what that means?”
“Of course, but no one else needs to know.”
“You would cover this up? Phoebe, you know what happens when people do such things.”
“Not like that!” She shook her head. “I want to help Ruth through this. Putting pressure on her isn’t going to help.”
“But you can’t keep things like that secret for long.”
Phoebe shrugged. “Then we’ll deal with it when the news breaks. In the meantime, I’ll be praying that Ruth makes the right choices.”
“Do you know what her future plans are?” His gaze was desperate.
“David.” She laid her hand on his. “Let’s be strong. Let’s believe that Grandma knew what she was doing. Ruth jumping the fence is not what the Lord wants, but she must come to that conclusion on her own.”
“You expect her to give up Ethan?”
“I don’t know. I hope so. Maybe the Lord will send a handsome young man from the community to charm her heart now that she is the community’s schoolteacher.”
Skepticism played on David’s face. “People are not chomping at the bit to marry into our family, Phoebe. You seem to forget that.”
Kiss me, she wanted to tell him. “We have chores to do,” she said instead. “Can you help me today?”
He nodded. Chores, David could do.
TWENTY-SIX
The sun had risen high in the sky when Phoebe slipped out of the house and crossed the lawn. David was in the barn, where he had gone after their conversation in the house earlier that morning. Other than brief glimpses of him while he tended the ponies in the barnyard, she had not seen him. The Lord must have known this problem would arise with Ruth. Here was the real reason they needed the quiet week to sort through things. How much worse would Ruth’s problem seem if Mrs. Broman had arrived an hour ago with another van-load of children to stay the week? David and Phoebe could not have hidden their troubled faces.
“Thank You, Lord, for helping us this far.” Phoebe sent the prayer heavenward as she entered the barn. “And thank You for helping us through this week.” She was sure the road wouldn’t be easy, but the Lord would be with them.
“David!” she called out. She heard a muffled grunt. “I’ve come out to help you,” she told him, moving farther into the barn.
He appeared, his hat coated with straw particles. He brushed them off and grinned. “The grain bin needed cleaning.”
“Are you finished?”
“No, but—”
“Then I’m helping you,” she said firmly.
He relented at once and led the way back.
She grabbed a broom hung on the wall. “Where shall I begin?”
“I have most of last year’s chaff loose. Maybe you can reach up the wall as high as you can, and I’ll get the rest.”
She wielded her broom, and the dust stirred.
“A handkerchief?” He offered his.
She gave him a smile through the dust-filled air and produced a square of white linen from her pocket. “I have my own.”
“Let me,” he said. He stepped closer to take the handkerchief from her hand. Gently he slung the cloth around her face and tied a knot in the back. “Better,” he said, peering around at her.
She nodded, and he tied on his own. They worked—a broom in her hand and a shovel in his—until the cobwebs were gone. The floor was dusty with bits of chaff, and they stepped outside to catch their breath. David went to empty the wheelbarrow while Phoebe untied her handkerchief.
“What next?” she asked when he returned.
“It has to be close to lunchtime,” he suggested.
She glanced around. “There is no clock out here.”
“Either way, I’m hungry. How about I walk home and grab some lunch?”
“You will not. Come in the house, and I’ll fix sandwiches.”
Doubt flickered on his face.
“Please, David,” she begged. “Don’t let this trouble with Ruth come between us. What happened last week…” She paused.
“I shouldn’t have, Phoebe.” His gazed dropped to the floor. “It was my fault.”
“There is no blame.” She reached for his hand. “Listen to me. I wanted to…” Her words stalled again.
“I am unworthy of you. You know I was out of my place.”
The protest died on her lips as she heard buggy wheels in the lane. A sharp whinny from a horse called out and was answered by the ponies’ cries from the back pasture.
“That’s Uncle Homer! I’d know his horse anywhere.”
“Do you think he knows about Ruth?” Fear filled his eyes.
Phoebe forced the words out. “That has nothing to do with us, regardless.” She took his hand. “Come with me, David. Don’t feel this way.”
He hesitated, but then he followed her.
Uncle Homer was out of his buggy when they stepped through the barn door. “There you are,” he called out. “Can you come with me, Phoebe?”
“What’s wrong?” she asked. She rushed forward with David by her side.
Uncle Homer looked worried. “There has been an accident at the schoolhouse. Deacon Matthew’s daughter, Mary, was hit on the head with a bat at the first recess. The Yoders—”
“How badly was Mary hurt?” Phoebe interrupted.
“Badly enough. I didn’t see the girl, but the Yoders drove her to the hospital in Little Falls. There was blood from a cut, I was told.” Uncle Homer winced. “The Yoders thought of calling an ambulance once Ruth sent for help, but they figured they’d be in town by the time the ambulance arrived. Emil has a fast horse.”
“Has there been an update on Mary’s condition?” Phoebe inquired. David still hadn’t said a word.
Uncle Homer shook his head. “They may have taken her on to Utica. You never know. The concussion was severe, we suspect.”
“What happened?” David finally said. “Was Ruth to blame?”
“I don’t think so,” Uncle Homer told him. He sounded none too certain, though. “Ruth wasn’t out on the playground when the accident happened.”
“I’m sorry,” David replied. “Is there anything we can do?”
“Yah, I think.” Uncle Homer gave David a quick glance. “Could you come along with me and stay with your sister for the rest of the day? She doesn’t appear disturbed, but this must have been a shock. It would be best if someone stayed with her.”
David didn’t hesitate. “Certainly.”
“Can Phoebe spare you with the children?” Uncle Homer’s glance took in the house and barn.
“We don’t have any this week,” Phoebe told him. “David can go, and I’ll make some sandwiches and bring them up to him. We haven’t had lunch yet.”
“You are here by yourselves this week?” Uncle Homer’s eyes made the rounds again.
“Yah, we were cleaning out the grain bin,” Phoebe told him. “It’s sort of an off week. Although it looks as if we won’t get much time off with the amount of excitement we’ve had already.”
“What else has happened this morning?” Uncle Homer’s gaze fixed on Phoebe.
“I…we…” Phoebe stalled. “Never mind. I’ll make sandwiches and walk up to th
e schoolhouse. You can drop off David on your way.”
Uncle Homer watched her walk into the house. That had been mighty stupid of her to cut him off like that. She couldn’t run away, and Uncle Homer wouldn’t rest until she gave him a full explanation. He felt responsible for her.
Phoebe peeked out of the kitchen window as the buggy went out the driveway. David was perched inside as if he would fall out the door. Then it occurred to her: Uncle Homer didn’t have to wait until he saw her again to dig deeper into the morning’s happenings. She had left David with him. Uncle Homer would assume correctly that David knew what she had not been able to say. Phoebe’s mouth dropped open.
“Oh, no!” she groaned. David was no match for Uncle Homer. All of Ruth’s secrets would be spilled before the buggy arrived at the schoolhouse. Uncle Homer would know that she had tried to protect Ruth. This only grew worse and worse.
She should run after the buggy, but how dumb would that be? She could never catch Uncle Homer before he disappeared from sight. Already his buggy was a dot in the distance as the two turned left onto Peckville Road.
“Dear Lord, give David courage,” Phoebe prayed. But courage for what? Telling the truth? For once she wanted to hide the truth. Maybe the Fishers were having a bigger influence on her than she had imagined. Uncle Homer would likely have that figured out too.
Phoebe rushed about fixing the sandwiches. Duty always came first—even when one was being shady. But she hadn’t lied, and she wouldn’t lie. This was for a goot cause. Ruth must be given the chance to make up her own mind. Force would only send her over the fence. If only Phoebe could persuade Uncle Homer of that truth, but her uncle would be as receptive as a cow having her tail twisted sideways.
She would have to think of something.
Phoebe slapped pieces of bread on the table and lathered on butter. Meat and cheese came next. There was no time to waste. Uncle Homer might have the schoolhouse emptied out of students before she arrived. That would be his natural instinct if David told him of Ruth’s escapades on Friday evening.
Phoebe shoved the sandwiches into a paper bag and nearly ran out of the lane. She kept up her pace until she reached Peckville Road, where she slowed to a walk, panting fiercely. My, she felt out of shape. As a young girl she could run on the school playground for twenty minutes with barely a catch of her breath.
Phoebe still breathed heavily when a buggy appeared in front of her. She stepped off the road, prepared to wave, and pasted a smile firmly in place.
Phoebe gasped when she recognized the horse. Uncle Homer was on his way back. Had disaster struck already? She trembled and the smile fled.
Uncle Homer came to a stop in front of her. “Get up in the buggy, Phoebe.”
A protest died on her lips. Doomsday had arrived. She pulled herself up onto the seat and avoided his gaze.
“David told me what happened.”
No words would come, but Uncle Homer didn’t appear to mind.
“I don’t know what to think,” he said. “I guess it was bound to happen, but still. I don’t know what is right.”
She stared at him. “You approve?”
A hint of a smile played on his face. “I didn’t say that.”
“But Ruth—” Phoebe stopped. Something wasn’t right. “What exactly did David tell you?”
Hope ran across Uncle Homer’s face. “So the boy exaggerated.”
“You’re making no sense. What did David exaggerate?”
He was puzzled now. “His interest in you. Don’t you share it?”
She felt blood rush to her face. “Oh! That…” She stopped. Relief flooded her, and she blubbered the words. “I did kiss him last week, and—”
“Wait. He didn’t tell me that. So it is serious?”
Phoebe clutched the side of the buggy seat. “Are you going to tell me I shouldn’t like the man?”
Uncle Homer jiggled the reins, and his horse headed back to the schoolhouse. There was only the beat of hooves on the pavement for a long moment. “I don’t know what to say, Phoebe,” he finally ventured. “A kiss? This all seems a little fast moving to me. David made it sound as if he had an interest in you and you shared his feelings. I might have accepted that—after a warning to you, of course, about praying and making sure the Lord’s will is being sought. But David didn’t say anything about a kiss.” Uncle Homer grunted. “Just like a Fisher. Taking advantage of the situation.”
Phoebe kept her gaze on the road. “He didn’t take advantage of me, Uncle Homer. I was quite willing.” What else was there to say? Blaming David would doom them.
“You are a Lapp, and he is a Fisher. Maybe things can change, but that takes time, Phoebe. If you’re already kissing the man, that’s—”
“You gave Ruth the schoolteaching job!” The words slipped out.
“I know,” he allowed, “but that’s different. Schoolteaching is serious enough, but marriage is for life. You can fire a schoolteacher, but our people do not believe in divorce. You know that.”
“David wouldn’t divorce me.”
“You don’t have to be so touchy. That is a bad sign, Phoebe. Maybe you should slow down, and perhaps David shouldn’t be there every day working on the farm.”
She bit her lip. A hasty response would not help.
“Think about it, Phoebe,” he continued as he brought his horse to a stop near the schoolyard lane.
“Thanks for the ride,” she muttered. She hopped off.
Uncle Homer was off with spinning buggy wheels. Students filled the playground, busy with another ball game. When David met her halfway to the schoolhouse door, his face was wrinkled with concern. “I am so sorry, Phoebe,” he whispered. “But I had to say something.”
“The other would have been worse,” she agreed. Should she tell him everything? How else was their relationship to survive? They couldn’t begin to hide secrets from each other. “I told him about our kiss. And that I was most willing.”
Horror filled his face. “How could you?”
“It slipped out when—oh, David. I said the right thing.”
“It’s okay,” he told her, but he didn’t sound convinced.
“Uncle Homer wants you to stop working on the farm until things can slow a bit.”
“And you agreed?” His face went pale.
“It doesn’t matter what I agree with. He won’t listen to me.”
“But I want to hear it from you.”
She glanced around the playground. No one was paying them any attention. “I want you to stay, David. I don’t regret our kiss one bit, and I never will.”
Relief flickered on his face. “In that case—”
“We’ll weather the storm.” She reached for his hand. “They always blow over.”
“This is a big one, Phoebe,” he said, his hand over hers. “But I would do a lot to earn your affections. I hope you know that. If it comes out about what Ruth is doing…” The threat hung in the air. “We may not survive that.”
“Come.” She pulled on his hand. “I have the sandwiches ready. You must eat.”
He didn’t resist but followed her.
“How’s Ruth?” she inquired.
“A mess. But it’s all on the inside.”
She looked and saw Ruth in the schoolhouse doorway. Phoebe hurried up to her and opened her arms. Ruth flew into them, and they embraced. “Have you heard news about Mary?” Phoebe asked.
Ruth shook her head. “It was awful. Blood was everywhere, and that horrible cut lay open on her forehead. The accident was all my fault. If I had been on the playground—”
“You must not blame yourself,” Phoebe interrupted. “I’ll stay with you for the rest of the day, and we’ll get through this.”
David stood beside them with his hands clasped, and Phoebe handed him the bag of sandwiches. “Eat,” she ordered. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
He nodded and hungrily eyed the bag. Life would go on. It must, and the Lord would not leave them.
“Come and sit with us while we eat,” she told Ruth.
“I had better go out on the playground,” Ruth demurred. “But I am so grateful you came, Phoebe. I can’t thank you enough.”
“You’re welcome.” Phoebe forced a smile.
Ruth turned and dashed outside, and David waited until Phoebe sat on the long bench beside him. He handed her a sandwich before he took a bite of his. They ate in silence to the sound of the children playing in the schoolyard outside the long glass windows.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Two days later, Phoebe stepped out of the house into the brisk morning air. David had entered the barn with only a brief glance toward where she waved from the kitchen window. Now, she approached the barn with quick steps, and the hinges on the door squeaked as she pushed it open. The familiar, dusty interior greeted her along with the whinnying of the ponies. David had the back barn door open, ready to release them into the pasture for the day. The man was efficient, even if his courage failed him.
“Why didn’t you come up yesterday?” she called to him.
He turned to face her. “I figured you had things under control, and Daett needed my help on the farm.”
She didn’t argue with him. He had his reasons. “I’m glad you’re here now,” she told him instead. “Even if there isn’t much to do.”
“I had to make sure everything was okay.”
“Have you had breakfast?”
“The rest of the family did.”
“David,” she chided. “There is nothing to worry about. I’m okay, and the rest of my relatives will eventually approve of us.”
He hung his head. “I wish I had your confidence.”
She stepped closer. “Come to the house. I’ll fry eggs and bacon, and maybe make toast and oatmeal.”
A hint of a grin played on his face. “That would be nice.”
“And we can talk while you eat.”
“There’s not much to say,” he objected.
“Then we can chat, or…” She let the sentence hang. We can simply enjoy each other’s company didn’t sound right. She tried again. “We’d better catch some downtime this week, don’t you think? Next week could be quite hectic again.”
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