The twins’ pensive frowns and shrugs were identical, except that Marietta’s face and shoulders were much thinner because of her recent cancer treatment. “I have no idea,” Molly admitted. “We mostly just want to be sure nothing serious is wrong, jah?”
“And that it’s only Glenn who’s got her so upset,” Marietta confirmed.
Nodding, Jo set the brake after the horse stopped at the side of the house. “We’ll hope God gives us the right words. Her windows are open a crack, so she probably knows we’re here.”
As the three of them crossed the porch, Jo glanced between the curtains in the front window. She saw Lydianne silhouetted in the sunlight that flooded the kitchen. “Lydianne,” she called out as she knocked on the screen door. “If you’re having a little pity party, that’s fine—but we want to come, too, all right?”
A few moments later, the door opened. Lydianne had removed her kapp, and she was dabbing at her red-rimmed eyes with a tissue. “So my getaway wasn’t such a well-kept secret,” she remarked glumly. “I didn’t want to be a wet blanket on Regina’s big day, so I came home.”
Jo nodded as she and the twins stepped inside. “If it’s any consolation, Glenn is long gone—he didn’t even show up to eat,” she said gently. “So why not pull yourself together and come back to the party with us? The four of us maidels can keep each other company, seeing’s how none of us will have weddings in our immediate future—unless Pete gets smart and takes up with one of the twins,” she teased.
“Puh! I’m thinking Riley’s smarter than Pete will ever be,” Molly countered with a laugh.
“We’ll see how that goes. His rent is only paid through September—we’ve not seen money for October or beyond,” Marietta remarked as she gazed around the front room. “You might be the smart one, Lydianne, not having a dawdi haus that accommodates extra guests.”
Lydianne made a weak attempt at a smile. “Denki for checking on me, girls, but I’d hate to walk around the party with a hangdog look all afternoon—especially because my scholars are there. I’ve given the other guests enough to speculate about for one day, ain’t so?”
Molly’s eyebrows rose in a challenge. “Could be folks are talking even more because both you and Glenn left the party,” she pointed out. “Who’s to say the two of you haven’t met up somewhere to be alone together?”
“Oh, there’s a story!” Marietta teased. “Maybe you two lovebirds staged that little tiff at the signing table so folks won’t think there’s anything going on between you.”
“But there’s not!” Lydianne protested. “Except in Glenn’s imagination.”
Jo smiled. The twins had pulled Lydianne out of her funk, and she was sounding more like herself. “If it’s your scholars you’re concerned about,” she began, “won’t they see a fine example of grace and personal strength if you come back with us? We maidels understand that sometimes you just need to get away from the whole wedding thing when it depresses you, but those kids—especially your teenaged girls—will think you let Glenn’s inappropriate behavior drive you away.”
“You really are above that, Lydianne,” Molly said, squeezing her shoulder.
“Jah, it’s Glenn who’s got the problem, not you,” Marietta chimed in. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Bishop Jeremiah seeks him out for some counseling sessions soon.”
Lydianne sniffled loudly, considering her options. “Well, now that you put it that way . . .”
Jo smiled kindly, letting her friend decide for herself. She’d spent many an evening in her room bemoaning her singular state, wondering whom she’d have for company after Mamm passed away, so she understood the bitter sting of reaching her late twenties with no prospects for a husband. She suspected blond, blue-eyed Lydianne wasn’t destined to share that fate, but she kept her opinion to herself.
“Take your time, girl. We’ll wait while you splash some cold water on your face and put your kapp on again,” she said gently. “If you’ve got some eye drops with redness remover in them, you’ll look no worse for wear. We can enjoy some cake and spend some time with Regina—because she’ll be more of a homebody now. I’ll miss having her at The Marketplace on Saturdays.”
Lydianne let out a long sigh. “All right, give me a minute,” she finally said. “I’ll go back to visit with the bride, jah—but also to keep you three from spreading tales about Glenn and me when I’m not there to defend myself.”
“You’ve got that right,” Molly teased.
When Lydianne turned toward the bathroom, Jo flashed the Helfings a thumbs-up. She could recall a few times when the maidels had lifted Marietta’s spirits when her chemo treatments were most grueling, and it was gratifying to know that the power of their friendship had rescued Lydianne, as well—even if Jo sensed the new teacher might be dealing with issues she wasn’t ready to talk about.
Glenn may have taken himself out of the picture for now, but that still leaves Bishop Jeremiah with a tendency to gaze at Lydianne when he thinks nobody’s looking. It’s only a matter of time before he tries again.
* * *
Jeremiah’s heart stilled as Jo drove her buggy up the Millers’ long lane and parked it. It was a good sign that the maidels had only been gone from the wedding festivities for about half an hour—and he smiled when he saw Lydianne following the Helfing twins out of the rig. She had a firmness about her jaw that told him she was determined to see this day through for her best friend—that she was no quitter.
A fresh surge of longing filled his soul. Lydianne appeared weary, as though the busy Saturdays at The Marketplace and the hours she spent at home preparing for school were draining her well of inner resources faster than she could refill it.
If you were my wife, sweet lady, you wouldn’t have to work at two outside jobs. You’d have a comfortable home and a man who cherished every moment he spent with you—
But this wasn’t the time to approach her. Lydianne still seemed raw from her spat with Glenn, and Jeremiah still needed to come up with some compelling reasons for her to go out with him. Besides, neither of them wanted to become the object of everyone’s attention this afternoon. He was guessing more than two hundred people were in attendance, eager for something else to gossip about.
Jeremiah relaxed. Sometime during the upcoming week, while he was harvesting corn, inspiration would strike. He and Lydianne could start again, slowly—and alone, rather than someplace where folks were watching them. Maybe he’d fetch her after school one day and they could share a picnic in his favorite place, on the rocks alongside the riverbank. Seated among the trees, where the leaves whispered in the breeze and the water sang a soothing tune, surely he and Lydianne could blaze a trail toward the happiness that was missing in their lonely lives.
Chapter Fifteen
On Friday, as she trudged from the pole barn up to the white schoolhouse, Lydianne felt achy all over, as though she was coming down with something. The overcast sky promised another rain shower sometime this morning—and everyone was tired of rain.
I’m probably just worn out from staying up late to work on lessons, or because the kids still haven’t settled down after having the day off school on Tuesday—and because the rainy weather has kept them indoors a lot. If I could catch up on some sleep, I’d shake this heaviness in my head.
She wouldn’t be sleeping late on Saturday, however, because she’d agreed to cover the Flaud Furniture store at The Marketplace for Gabe. He and Regina would be out of town, visiting family and friends who had wedding gifts for them. And Sunday there would be church, which started promptly at eight.
Lydianne entered the schoolroom with a weary sigh. She didn’t foresee any break in the dreary weather, so her students—especially Stevie and Billy Jay—would probably need to work off their excess energy with some relay races on the stairs again at recess. Just the thought of the kids’ racket when they played indoors made Lydianne’s head throb.
When she flipped the light switch, the sight of the large, colorful Noah’s ark p
oster—and the collection of clay animals on the table beneath it—lifted her spirits. With another session or two, the model of the ark would be completed—a tribute to the patience and persistence of the older scholars working with the younger ones as they fitted its pieces together. The Miller sisters and the Flaud girls were godsends when it came to keeping two or three of the little ones focused on flash cards, vocabulary drills, and the Noah’s ark class project, while Lydianne worked individually with Ella, Gracie, Stevie, or Billy Jay.
And it’ll be Linda, Lucy, Kate, and Lorena who get me through today, as well.
Lydianne erased the special Noah’s ark spelling words from the white board, because they would be on the test this morning. As she wrote out the morning’s reading assignments for each level, the downpour she’d been expecting drummed on the schoolhouse roof.
When the children arrived, however, the sunshine broke through, dispelling the clouds and lifting her spirits further. The angle of the autumn sun was so intense, she had to shield her eyes with her hand while she returned her scholars’ greetings. Her day began, falling into its comforting, familiar rhythm.
By lunchtime, the classroom had grown so stuffy from the heat, Lydianne threw open some of the windows. It was still humid, however, and there wasn’t much of a breeze.
“Can we have a picnic lunch today, Teacher Lydianne?” Gracie piped up.
“Jah, if we eat outside, we’ll be all ready to start recess, right?” Billy Jay pleaded.
Lydianne smiled at the boy’s winsome expression. Some fresh air and exercise would do everyone good—and it might help her get through the afternoon’s classes. “That sounds like a wonderful-gut idea,” she replied. “We’ve been working hard all morning—”
“And maybe since it’s Friday, we can just play for the rest of the day, ain’t so?” Stevie put in with a perfectly straight face.
As the students clamored to do as Stevie had suggested, Lydianne shook her head good-naturedly. “Have you already forgotten that we took Tuesday off for the wedding? We need to finish our math units for the week, and some of you are working on book reports this afternoon. However,” she added as she glanced at the clock above the door, “we can add an extra fifteen minutes to recess to make up for all the time we’ve had to play indoors this week. You’re excused.”
Stevie and Billy Jay headed downstairs in a flash to fetch their lunch boxes from the shelves in the coat room. Soon the younger girls were calling out to the older ones to grab the jump ropes and balls from the storage units behind the coat pegs. Within minutes, her scholars were seated at the picnic tables, grateful for the shade as they quickly ate their sandwiches.
Lydianne sat with them only long enough to eat her peanut butter and jelly sandwich—a meager lunch, but it was all she’d had the energy to pack early this morning. When she slipped back inside, she became aware of how unseasonably warm the day had become—and even more aware of how tired she was.
For a few moments Lydianne allowed herself to enjoy the blessed relief of her empty classroom. She gave in to the urge to fold her arms on her desk and rest her head on them—just for a few moments, she told herself. The sing-song chant of jumping rope rhymes outside lulled her into a light doze . . .
Next thing she knew, forty-five minutes had gone by. As she rose from her desk in a state of groggy heavy-headedness, Lydianne realized that some of the afternoon lessons would have to be cut short—and that the kids would see through whatever story she made up about why she hadn’t joined them outside. When she went out to use the restroom, she was once again grateful that her four older girls were so conscientious about watching the younger ones.
Maybe they’re all enjoying the sunshine so much, they have no idea how long they’ve been out here. And maybe—just this once—it’s all right to let recess run overtime.
As Lydianne emerged from the restroom building, she blew her whistle so the kids playing on the far side of the ball diamond would know it was time to come in. She preceded the students indoors and began to write some math problems on the white board, pleased that the voices downstairs indicated that the scholars had come inside promptly. Even the youngest of her students had become immersed enough in the weekly routine to realize—without being told—that after recess, they were supposed to copy the simple addition problems written on their section of the white board onto notebook paper so they could do the computation.
Everyone was so focused on the task at hand, that when Lydianne turned away from writing on the board, it took her a few moments to realize one of the smaller desks was unoccupied. “Where’s Ella?” she asked. “Did any of you girls notice if she was still in the restroom when you came in?”
Seven sets of eyes widened as everyone looked up from the math problems they were working. Gracie, Ella’s closest companion, gazed at the vacant desk on the other side of Stevie’s as though she could make her friend appear through the sheer power of her will.
“She used the bathroom, jah,” Lucy recalled with a frown.
“But that was when we first went outside,” Linda murmured with a shake of her head. “While Kate was pitching balls for the boys, Gracie and Lorena and I were jumping rope—”
“And I knew Ella had gone into the restroom,” Lorena put in, “but I wasn’t keeping track of when she came out. I’ll go check—I hope she’s not sick.”
“I’ll take a look,” Lydianne insisted, already thrumming with guilt for not staying outside with her students. “You kids can continue working your problems.”
She hurried down the wooden stairs and into the school’s storage level, checking between the rows of shelves and pegboards where her scholars kept their lunch boxes. Ella’s small cooler was in its place, so she darted outside.
But a quick scan of the horizon showed no sign of anyone in the schoolyard or on the ball field. “Ella?” Lydianne called out as she rushed toward the concrete block building that housed the two restrooms.
When she entered the girls’ side of the building, however, her voice echoed around the empty stalls and the sink. For safety’s sake, she checked the boys’ side, too, and then jogged out toward the ball diamond. “Ella!” she cried out at the top of her lungs. “Ella! It’s time to come in!”
No answer. No sign of anyone near the edge of the woods, either.
As her heart raced into overdrive, Lydianne hurried toward the pole barn and the pasture where her horse grazed alongside Billy Jay’s pony and the Miller and Flaud girls’ mares. All she saw was grass and fence and the four horses.
Where could Ella have gone? The only place left to look was the red stable that housed The Marketplace. As Lydianne turned in that direction, she saw the other scholars coming out of the schoolhouse. They appeared as flummoxed—and as concerned—as she was.
Lydianne motioned for her students to join her as she headed toward the big stable with its window boxes full of colorful flowers. “Look all around the building,” she instructed as they came within earshot. “The doors are locked, so Ella can’t be inside—”
“I wish we had our cell phone here, to call the Nissley place,” Kate said. “But Mamm won’t allow us to bring it to school.”
Lydianne knew some of the Plain teenagers in town used cell phones during their rumspringa, and she was wishing the school board and Pete had thought to put a phone shack by the schoolhouse for emergencies—because this situation was quickly developing into a crisis. Well-behaved little Amish girls didn’t wander away during recess—
Unless the teacher’s not paying attention and falls asleep, Lydianne chided herself.
How would she apologize to Julia and Tim Nissley if something happened to their daughter because of her negligence? And how would she ever live with herself if her little girl got hurt while she’d been napping at her desk? Never mind how she would explain Ella’s disappearance to members of the school board.
The kids who’d circled the red stable came back without Ella.
“I’ll ring the fire bell,
” Lydianne said. “We’ll hope folks will be able to hear it from clear out here.”
Lydianne jogged toward the large old cast iron bell, which had been transferred from the previous schoolhouse. It was mounted on a pole a few yards from the school’s front steps. In earlier times, teachers had rung the bell each morning as a reminder for scholars to be on time for classes, but because her eight students hadn’t shown any inclination to run late, she’d never bothered with it. Otherwise, when the bell rang out, any of the nearby men who heard it would know there was a crisis at the schoolhouse.
Would the bell’s toll carry over the noise of traffic on the county highway? Would Amish farmers hear it clanging despite the big English harvest equipment that was running in nearby fields? The new schoolhouse was on the opposite side of town from most Amish homes, so as Lydianne tugged on the warm rope several times, she could only hope the bell would still be effective.
As the last peal reverberated in the air around her, Lydianne realized they shouldn’t sit idly by while they waited for someone to respond. “Let’s split up into pairs—an older student with a younger one,” she instructed. “Lorena, how about if you and Stevie start up at the road by the fence and work your way over toward the woods and back this way? Linda, you and Billy Jay can start along the far pasture fence and circle back this way. And Kate and Lucy, you and Gracie search the area in the middle—from the far end of the ball field and into the woods a bit.”
The children nodded solemnly, eager to be helpful.
“Everyone should report back in about fifteen minutes, all right?” Lydianne directed. “I’ll stay here to keep track of you, and to tell the first helpers who respond to our bell what we’re doing. I can’t think Ella went very far—we’ll surely find her. When you hear my whistle blowing, you’ll know she’s back, all right?”
As they took off at a trot in the directions Lydianne had indicated, her prayers went with them.
Where can Ella be, Lord? She’s not the type to go running off by herself. Please keep her safe and unharmed. Please don’t let this be the work of a kidnapper . . .
First Light in Morning Star Page 13