by Sarah Price
“Priscilla,”someone said as the children and parents were headed outside for dinner under the trees and a game of stickball.
She was surprised to see Linda, Morgan Byler’s mamm approach her. At first, Priscilla glanced around for Stephen or her daed, worried that Linda was going to confront her about the Susie Byler situation. But the smile on Linda’s face spoke otherwise of her intentions.
“I want to thank you for helping my Morgan,”Linda said. She reached out and grabbed Priscilla’s hand.“Your work with him for his reading is ever so appreciated! And his progress…I see remarkable changes in him.”
“I’m so glad to know that,”Priscilla said, stilling her beating heart.“There are great tricks to dealing with dyslexia,”she admitted.“I found a lot of resources that I will leave for the regular teacher.”
Linda nodded.“Dankefor sharing,”she said.“And dankefor caring. You know my niece has that dyslexia, too. Can’t see the words right.”She shook her head and lowered her voice, a clear indication that whatever was about to be said was not meant for others to hear.“Such a shame, too, since her mammwasn’t always right nice about Susie not being able to read and getting her words all mixed up. Thought she was right dumb.”Linda shook her head and added,“Wish her teacher could have been as kind and smart as you are.”
Linda’s comment stunned Priscilla. Since Susie hadn’t lived in their community growing up, Priscilla hadn’t known her. Indeed, it was after Susie’s grandparents died in Florida that Jacob had moved his wife and daughter back to Pennsylvania and taken up farming in the same district as one of his brothers. So Priscilla knew very little about Susie and her childhood. She also knew very little about Susie’s parents.
“I didn’t know that,”Priscilla managed to say. So Susie hadn’t been diagnosed as having dyslexia as a child? She most certainly had struggled in school and probably did poorly. That, for sure and certain, would have hurt her self-esteem, Priscilla realized, especially if her mamm teased her or said mean things about Susie not being able to read properly. If Susie had grown up thinking that she was stupid, it would certainly have negatively impacted her psyche, she realized.
“Ja,”Linda said.“It’s true.”
“Well,”Priscilla struggled to find the right words to convey what she was feeling . Part of her felt sorry for Susie Byler. She had suffered during her childhood; that was apparent. However, the other part of Priscilla knew that choices were made by a grown woman who knew right from wrong.“I sure hope that Morgan is able to receive help”she heard herself say.
Linda started to walk away but turned back, dipping her head as she lowered her voice again.“And I sure do apologize for all of those things that she has done to you. Ain’t quite right, that girl. Maybe now she can get some proper help, ja?”Linda didn’t wait for a response as she hurried to rejoin her family.
Priscilla stared after her, realizing that more people knew about the problems and the source behind those problems than she had realized. Despite the pretense of godliness, Susie Byler was anything but that…and people knew it. That realization seemed to give Priscilla a new sense of peace. She felt as if she understood, now, that lies and falsehoods could never win. She hadn’t given the community enough credit, that was for sure and certain.
“What a wonderful program, Priscilla!”
She turned around and smiled as Stephen approached her. He was carrying two plastic cups filled with meadow tea.“I was nervous,”she admitted.“Do you think it went well, then?”
He handed her one of the cups.“Oh ja, for sure! And I was impressed by Morgan being able to read that verse. You’ve truly done a wunderbaarthing, helping that boy.”
Demurely, she lowered her eyes.“It’s his efforts that did it, not mine.”
“It was your encouragement,”he countered.
“It’s what I was hired to do,”she stated, ending the flow of compliments.“I was quite pleased with the children today. They really adapted well to the disruption and their respect in the classroom was a right gut testimony to their regular teacher.”
Several other parents came up to Priscilla, shaking her hand and thanking her for a job well done with the children and their learning. Everyone seemed to be beaming at her, reminding her that she had touched the lives of more than the children…she had touched the lives of the families in the district as well.
In many ways, she realized that each of the children was like her precious hope chest at home. In the beginning, they were empty vessels, waiting to be filled with goodness and godliness. The values that the children learned from school, church, and family helped them become positive influences on the entire district. The past few weeks of teaching the children had helped to contribute something to their lives, something that they would put into their own“hope chest,”something to reflect upon over the years.
When the children had all left with their parents, Priscilla walked into the schoolhouse for one last time. She knew that she would not be returning until her own children attended the school. Her short time as a teacher had been a blessing to her, something wonderful to tuck into her heart, the same way that she would put the compilation of letters from the students into the bottom of her hope chest. They would reside there, safe amongst her other keepsakes, and, one day, would be shared with her own children and eventually their children.
She wiped clean the board one last time, using water from the pump in a bucket that Stephen had bought inside for her. She made certain to wash each of the desktops and organize the books. It didn’t take long, especially since she had cleaned over the previous weekend.
Collecting her things, she walked down the aisle between the desks and headed toward the door. She paused one last time as she looked back, her mind filled with the memory of the children sitting there, reading from their books or raising their hands to answer a question. She would miss it and almost wished that she had more time to teach. However, she knew that she would be busy over the next few months, helping her daed and mamm around the farm. She needed to focus on the garden and canning food for the winter. They would can even more food than usual since some of those goods would be used at her wedding feast.
“Ride for the teacher?”
She laughed as she heard Stephen call out to her. He had parked his buggy under the tree and was leaning against the side, his straw hat tipped back on his head. She locked the door to the schoolhouse and walked down the steps toward him.
“Were you waiting the whole time, then?”she asked, her voice happy and light.
“Ja,”he said, reaching out to take the bundle of books that she held in her arms.
“You shouldn’t have done that,”she said.“I know you have so much work to do at your farm.”
He smiled and gently corrected her.“Our farm.”
She blushed and averted her eyes, hoping that he didn’t see the glimmer of pride that flashed there. She would never be able to fully suppress her happiness with Stephen Esh. He was a right gut man and God had smiled on her when He guided Stephen in her direction.“Not yet,”she whispered.
After he slid open the door to the buggy, he set the books on the back seat and turned to help her crawl inside. Once situated, she smiled at him as he sat next to her.“Now,”he said, releasing the brake to the buggy and lifting the reins.“How about a treat for Teacher? Perhaps some nice ice cream for a warm spring day?”
“Why, that would be wunderbaar!”she said, bouncing slightly on the blue velour seat of the buggy as he backed up the horse.“And then we can read these letters from my students before I tuck them into my hope chest,”she added with a warm smiling, hugging the package of letters.
The sun was still overhead as the buggy pulled away from the schoolhouse. She glanced back, sad that her time as a schoolteacher was over. It had been such an enjoyable experience.
But a moment later, the strange feeling gave place to one of relief and fulfillment.
It finally dawned on Priscilla that by not directly confront
ing Susie Byler when she had spread her lies within the community, Susie had not achieved her goal of discrediting her. Indeed, Susie had actually made Priscilla a stronger and a better person, a person of such high moral fiber that she had been honored with the privilege to being asked to teach those children.
By turning the other cheek and trusting that God would work His wonderful ways, she had embraced the very essence of her faith and proven not only to others, but to herself as well that she was pure of heart and rightful in deeds. She had grown even closer to God, closer to her community and closer to this wonderful man who had stood by her all along, the man who would soon become her beloved husband and the devoted father of their children.
Priscilla turned to look out the window, happy as she realized that she had come a long way during the past two years and that she had grown. In many ways, the experiences with Susie Byler had taught her to survive by trusting in and walking with God in ways that she hadn’t known were possible.
As happy as she was with the prospect of a strong, fulfilling future with Stephen, she was most happy that she had developed such a strong relationship with God. While she tucked her precious earthly treasures into her beautiful hope chest, she was most pleased that she could carry that precious relationship with God within her heart.
Part Four: The Clothes Line
Chapter One
The sun had risen over the back pasture and Priscilla paused at the kitchen window, a smile on her face as she stared outside, admiring the growing rows of pansies that she had just planted the previous weekend. In the distance, she saw some movement. At first, it was subtle, the hint of dark figures moving along the horizon where the hill dipped nonchalantly toward the road. But it didn’t take long for her to realize that it was Stephen, already at work in his fields, plowing neat and even rows in the rich soil where he had spread fresh manure only a month ago.
Barely three weeks had passed since she had moved onto the farm. Despite having been married for five months, it had taken that long for Stephen to properly prepare the house for the arrival of his new bride. She hadn’t minded the delay for he had visited her often at her parents’farm, stopping in for an early supper meal before returning to help his own daed with the evening chores. And, on the weekends, they had gone visiting members of both their families, a tradition among the Amish, and a time for their aunts and uncles and married siblings and cousins to gift them something special as a way of celebrating their nuptials.
Despite that, during the first months of their marriage, Priscilla had still felt as if they were merely courting. On the weekends, he would not stay with her at her parents’for he had too many chores to tend to at his own farm in the early morning hours. So, the day that Priscilla had moved to the farm had been the true start to their marriage, the day when she felt that she had become, indeed, Stephen’s Priscilla.
She smiled to herself as she turned around, leaning against the counter and assessing her kitchen. The words rang in her ears and she loved the sound of it: her kitchen. It was large and roomy with a dividing wall at the far end. Beyond it was a large gathering room, one that would be used when church services would be held at their home. Since they had a larger farmhouse, they would host church services once or twice a year, depending on the rotation schedule that the bishop determined. While that room might hold the spiritual heart of the home, Priscilla knew that the physical and emotional heart of this home was its kitchen.
My kitchen, she thought as she hugged her arms to her chest and smiled to herself.
Yes, Stephen had done a wonderful gut job fixing up the house. He had put in new windows and hardwood floors as the original ones were all worn out. There were five small bedrooms upstairs that Priscilla hoped would one day be filled with their kinner. Their own bedroom was downstairs, a larger one with the doorway on the other side of the kitchen, near the staircase.
When Stephen had first brought her inside the house, it was the day after their wedding. They had spent their first night together as husband and wife at her parents’home. But they had both collapsed onto the bed, exhausted after having gotten up so early that morning and having stayed up so late. Stephen had wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight so that her back was pressed against his chest. She had fallen asleep feeling the gentle beat of his heart against her shoulder.
The following morning, they had helped her parents clean all of the remaining dishes, pots and pans before reorganizing the furniture on the first floor. Everything had been removed and stored in the barn in order to accommodate the large crowd of well-wishers that had gathered for the wedding service and the celebration that followed.
But afterwards, Stephen had lured her outside, holding her hand in his as he pulled her toward his awaiting buggy. She giggled as he stole a quick kiss, peeking around to make certain no one was spying on them, before helping her step inside.
“Today,”he had told her.“I am taking you to our home. Now that we are married, no one will think twice if we are alone inside.”
At their farm, Stephen had helped her out of the buggy and, after unharnessing the horse and setting him loose in the paddock adjacent to the barn, he had led her toward the front porch. For a moment, he had paused at the doorway, smiling at her. Then he had reached out with his hand and gently touched her cheek, a gesture of tenderness and love. She had blushed and lowered her eyes, all the while feeling her heart beat stronger and faster.
Once he had led her inside, he had turned around to watch her reaction. Indeed, Priscilla remembered her first thoughts as if that day had been just yesterday, not four months ago.
She had been amazed at the size of the kitchen and gathering room. Everything was large and open, bright and airy. There were enough windows to let in the natural light all day. The kitchen needed some work for the stove was clearly old and not functional. The counters were warped and a few of the cabinets had broken doors. But she saw the potential and, in her heart, knew that this was to become her home. Her own, real home.
“Oh Stephen,”she had gasped.“It’s just perfect!”
He had laughed at her.“Not yet, Priscilla, but soon. I promise.”
He had taken her on a tour of the upstairs where there were several smaller bedrooms and one bathroom. Back downstairs, he had lingered by the door near the staircase and smiled at her.“I saved the best for last,”he had murmured, his eyes staring at her as his hand reached for the doorknob.
Priscilla had flushed when he opened the door. Inside was the master bedroom and, unlike the other rooms, it was already fixed up with new flooring, fresh paint, and furniture. At the foot of the bed was her hope chest and lying atop the double bed was her quilt. Her beautiful wedding quilt, the one that she had made for Stephen the previous winter. He had watched her as she had walked into the room, noticing that everything was perfect and pristine in its presentation.
“Stephen,”she had whispered, feeling emotion building in her throat.“I…I don’t know what to say.”
And, with that, he had shut the door and crossed the floor to take her into his arms, his embrace telling her how pleased he had been with her reaction.“Welcome home,”he had whispered before he lowered his mouth to gently kiss her lips for the first time in their own home.
Priscilla felt the color rising to her cheeks at the memory. Not a day went by that she didn’t thank the Lord for all that He had given to her. Stephen was truly the most wunderbaar gut man and she felt blessed each day that he had chosen her to be his wife; his Priscilla. Their days were filled with laughter and sunshine, even when the skies were grey and overcast with rainclouds.
During those first months of marriage, with the cold weather and shorter days, it had taken Stephen longer than he had anticipated fixing the downstairs of the house. But once it had been ready, he had been more than eager to bring home his bride.
At first, it had felt strange to wake up in a house that wasn’t her parents’. She had lived her entire life at her parents’farm and had alw
ays been under the guidance and direction of her mamm. Mamm had set the schedule for baking bread, planting the garden and doing the laundry. Now, however, Priscilla had her own household to run and that meant having to make her own decisions.
Now, it was early April: time for planning her garden behind the house. Already Stephen had plowed and fertilized a patch of ground for her to plant all of the vegetables that she needed to can and preserve for winter. Luckily, during their weekend visits with family members, they had acquired enough gifts of ready-made pickled beets, chow-chow, canned meat, and other necessities to carry them through until her garden would produce some of their own food.
Stephen had promised to take her to the market today to get her starter plants. She was looking forward to that time, just the two of them alone in the buggy, talking quietly as they drove down the winding back roads toward the store.
Despite living on their own farm, Stephen still insisted on stopping by his daed’s farm once a day to help with early afternoon chores. Often, Priscilla would ride over there with him so that she could visit with his mamm and help her with baking or cooking. It was easy to tell that his parents were proud of the man they had raised. Indeed, Priscilla was just as proud to call him her husband.
“I see you are ready for a full afternoon of planting.”
Priscilla turned around, surprised to see Stephen leaning against the doorway, watching her.“I hadn’t heard you come in,”she said, smiling as he approached her.
Placing his hands on her shoulders, he stared down into her face, his eyes soft and gentle as he searched hers. For a moment, she felt lost in his gaze, her heart swelling with love for this amazing, godly man that the Lord had blessed her with having as a husband.