Michael’s smile told Jo he understood that she was steering the conversation in a better direction. “We’re happy to hear that. After our week’s work in the greenhouses and our Queen City shop, it’s always a nice break to drive through the countryside with a wagonload of our flowers and produce.”
“Jah, this fall has been exceptionally colorful, with all the maple and sweet gum trees blazing in bright reds and oranges when the sunlight hits them,” Nelson remarked. He closed his eyes to bite into his dinner roll, which he’d dipped into the stew sauce on his plate. “And you have no idea how much we look forward to the Friday night suppers you cook for us, Drusilla and Jo. You’ve been very gracious to invite us to join you. I haven’t tasted venison stew in years, and this is delicious.”
Mamm remained focused on her meal, pretending Nelson’s compliment hadn’t made her glow a little.
Jo smiled at Nelson, nodding subtly. “We enjoy your company—and hearing about your nursery business, too. With the weather getting colder, how will you keep all those poinsettias at their best? Don’t they require a lot of warmth and attention?”
“The most important thing is not to let the temperature dip below fifty-eight degrees,” Michael replied. “Our bishop has allowed us to install an alarm system that goes off when it gets that cool—”
“And then we burn wood chips from some nearby sawmills to run the greenhouse heaters,” Nelson explained further. “Between now and the end of the year, we’ll probably go through a trailer truckload of chips each week to keep our poinsettias warm enough.”
“But then, as the end of November comes around and the blooms turn red,” Michael chimed in eagerly, “each greenhouse is a sea of color from one end to the other! It’s a sight I never tire of.”
Jo could imagine how spectacular all those blooming flowers must look—and how fresh the air must smell in the greenhouses. Now that the Wengerds had invited her to share that experience, she yearned to go.
“We also raise white poinsettias and a few other varieties in shades of pink,” Nelson said, “but the red ones are by far the most popular.”
“When we bring the flowers to The Marketplace, we could arrange some in the shape of a tall Christmas tree—maybe right in the center of the commons area, where folks would see it when they walked in,” Michael suggested. “You’d lose some of your refreshment seating that way—”
“Oh, but wouldn’t that be a fabulous sight?” Jo interrupted excitedly. “But I hope you’ll still be able to sell those plants—maybe tag them as folks speak for them, and they could claim them that weekend before Christmas? We don’t want you losing money on them, because once the holidays are past, nobody will want them, right?”
When the Wengerds smiled at her, their faces were nearly identical except that Michael’s didn’t have the laugh lines that bracketed his dat’s mouth and eyes—nor did he have Nelson’s salt-and-pepper hair.
“That sort of forward thinking is the reason The Marketplace is doing so well,” Nelson remarked with an approving nod. “You and the other gals who organize things and keep track of the money understand that, as small business owners, we have to turn a profit on everything we bring—even if it’s a display.”
“We’ve made poinsettia trees a few other places, so we’ll take care of the ordering details,” Michael put in as he reached for another roll. His blue eyes twinkled with anticipation. “Denki for allotting us some space for them. It’s only the middle of October, but I think we’re already on the way to a very merry, profitable Christmas season.”
Though her mother had dropped out of the conversation, Jo found the Wengerds’ enthusiasm contagious. The upcoming holidays—not to mention Michael and Nelson’s continued company on Friday nights—gave her a lot to look forward to. And for that, she was grateful.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lydianne entered the schoolroom early on Monday morning, determined to start the week on a positive note. She felt rested after a quiet weekend. She’d prepared detailed lessons for her scholars, so she wouldn’t feel she was flying by the seat of her flapping skirt anymore. Because the previous day hadn’t been a church Sunday, she’d spent some enjoyable time with her maidel friends in the afternoon—and they hadn’t heard Ella’s story, so they didn’t quiz her about it.
Best of all, the Hartzlers hadn’t returned. Lydianne had imagined scenes in which Saul interrogated her about the circumstances of Ella’s birth when Jeremiah wasn’t around to support her.
As she turned the calendar beside the white board to a fresh page, Lydianne dared to believe her secret was safely tucked away again—known to only a few forgiving souls who wouldn’t publicly reveal the truth.
When the front door opened far too early for her students to be arriving, however, Lydianne’s fragile hopes shattered. Preacher Clarence Miller stepped inside the schoolroom and closed the door behind him, gazing steadily at her for several moments. It was only polite to greet him, so Lydianne spoke first. She sensed he intended to remain silent and judgmental rather than striking up a conversation.
“Gut morning, Preacher Clarence,” she said with a cheerfulness she didn’t feel. “What brings you here so early on a Monday morning? I hope it’s not because Lucy or Linda is ill.”
“The girls are fine,” he replied in a clipped voice. “I, however, am deeply upset by a story I heard concerning your being related to Ella Nissley. When I spoke to the bishop about it, I felt he was downplaying the details—whitewashing the facts—to protect your reputation. That sort of tactic doesn’t fly with me.”
Lydianne glanced at the clock above Clarence’s head. Even if she could talk the preacher out of his stern, disapproving mood before the scholars arrived within the hour, she wouldn’t begin the school day with the upbeat sense of joy she’d hoped to share with them.
But there was no sending Clarence away. As a member of the school board and the father of two of her students, the preacher had every right to challenge her spiritual and ethical qualifications for being the district’s teacher.
“Come sit down,” she suggested as she fetched a straight-backed chair from the nearby worktable. “Tell me about this story you heard.”
“Oh, I think you know the story, Miss Christner,” Clarence accused as he approached her desk. “I overheard it on Saturday when I was at Books on Bates with the bishop, selecting a new Bible for when Emma joins the church. Julia Nissley was there with Ella, who was bubbling over about a wooden placard she wanted to give you because you’re her mother,” he put in with added emphasis.
Clarence’s hawklike features sharpened as he sat down. He was a stick figure of a man, without an ounce of fat on his bony frame, and his steely-gray hair and bushy beard had always made Lydianne think of a fiercely judgmental Old Testament prophet. “As Julia shushed her, I could tell she was trying to keep the girl quiet,” Clarence continued. “But you know what they say. ‘Out of the mouths of babes . . .’”
Lydianne swallowed hard. She sensed Preacher Clarence wasn’t nearly finished with her as he studied her facial features.
“When I heard Ella’s story and her mamm’s reaction to it, I quizzed Bishop Jeremiah as soon as we left the bookstore, to see what he knew about the situation,” the preacher blustered. “He began sidestepping the issue, as well, so I felt it was my duty to come straight to the source.
“Are you Ella’s mother, Lydianne?” he demanded. “Is that why she looks just like you? Is that why we know so little about your past, and why you chose to come to Morning Star, where you have no family?”
There was no evading Preacher Clarence as he awaited her response. Every second of silence ticking by on the battery clock in the suddenly airless classroom made her guilt more apparent. Lydianne prayed for strength and the right words.
“In the interest of protecting the Nissleys’ privacy as Ella’s adoptive parents,” she began in the firmest voice she could muster, “we have agreed not to—”
“What’s this we business?�
�� he blurted out. “I’m asking you for a simple yes or no, but you insist upon dodging—”
When the door opened to admit Jeremiah, Lydianne felt a surge of relief. Even though she saw no way around Preacher Clarence’s questions, she at least had the church district’s highest authority on her side.
“I figured I might find you here first thing this morning, Clarence,” the bishop said as he strode toward them. With a resigned glance at Lydianne, he sat on the edge of her desk. “In the bookstore parking lot, when you questioned me about what Ella Nissley had said,” he began, crossing his arms tightly, “you had the air of a dog latching onto a fresh bone, determined not to release it until you’d picked away every juicy morsel.”
The preacher’s bushy eyebrows rose as he considered the bishop’s uncomplimentary remark. “And you were covering up the truth about a young woman with an incriminating secret,” he countered in a coiled voice. “This situation casts Teacher Lydianne in a very questionable light. It’s my duty to get to the truth about—”
“The truth,” Jeremiah interrupted brusquely, “is that Tim and Julia Nissley have requested that Ella’s story remain confidential until she’s old enough for them to explain that she’s adopted. You need to trust that I, as the bishop of this district, have already handled this matter properly for all the parties directly concerned—including Teacher Lydianne.”
He paused, wrapping his hands tightly around the edge of the desk in his frustration. “If you insist upon publicly pursuing this matter, you’ll not only betray a confidence, you’ll open a can of worms with consequences that far outweigh your right to interrogate Miss Christner. End of discussion.”
Preacher Clarence’s face had gone tight with his effort to control his temper. “That’s no answer, and you know it!” he spouted off. He glared at Lydianne. “Why is it that you, Miss Christner, haven’t given me any straight answers? And why, if you were carrying your fiancé’s baby before he died, did you not mention this at your interview?”
“Why do you think? Would you have hired her if you’d known?” Jeremiah shot back—and then something made him go to the window. “Here comes Glenn’s boy driving Stevie and Gracie, as well as the Flaud sisters with Ella, and close behind them, your daughters, Clarence. Do you really want this discussion to be what they walk in on as they start their school day?”
Scowling, the preacher stood up and grabbed the back of his chair. “Fine—I’ll be quiet because I’ve heard all I need to. But I’m not leaving.”
Lydianne’s stomach knotted around the cereal she’d eaten for breakfast, and she wondered if she was going to be sick as her students entered the room. Before Jeremiah turned toward the door, however, his smile settled her nerves. As he passed the preacher, who’d planted himself beside the worktable at the back of the room, she prayed fervently that this confrontation would come to a solution that left Ella—and her—unscathed.
Could Jeremiah once again rescue her from Old Order tongues that wanted to wag and demand her public confession?
* * *
Jeremiah drew a deep breath as he stood on the school’s front stoop, allowing the crisp October air to clear his head. He was no stranger to Clarence Miller’s narrow, stifling sense of religious duty. A few months earlier he’d freed the preacher’s niece, Regina, from the tiny prison of a room Clarence had forced her to live in. Regina had confessed to assuming a fake male name to mask her identity as a successful artist when The Marketplace had opened, and Clarence had been determined to make her pay penance for her wayward artistic inclinations.
Jeremiah would not allow Miller’s self-righteousness to shred the blanket of love and trust the young Nissleys were wrapping around little Ella. Nor did he want Lydianne’s past to be needlessly exposed, just to satisfy the preacher’s overzealous inclinations. As he watched the scholars approach the schoolhouse, he prayed for guidance in yet another tough situation. Would there ever come a time when he and Lydianne could explore a romantic relationship without folks prying into her personal business?
As Billy Jay skillfully steered his pony cart toward the pole barn—and he and Gracie and Stevie waved, flashing their eager smiles at him—Jeremiah’s spirits lightened. Kate and Lorena Flaud also seemed happy to see him, and as Ella called out to him, he couldn’t miss her excitement about being at school for another day of learning. Clarence’s girls waved, as well, probably unaware that their unhappy dat was sitting in the back of the classroom.
Jeremiah simply had to trust that these young souls, so full of youthful exuberance, would rally to Teacher Lydianne’s cause and roll with whatever happened as their school day began.
A few minutes after the buggies and the cart were parked and the horses had been pastured, the thunder of footsteps on the wooden interior stairs told him the kids had deposited their wraps and lunch pails in the lower-level cloakroom. Jeremiah entered the classroom just in time to see Gracie Wagler racing toward Lydianne without a passing glance at him or the stern man seated near the door.
“Teacher Lydianne!” she cried out, opening her little arms wide. “If you can be Ella’s mamm, I want you to be my mamm, too, coz Mamma is too busy with the new baby nowadays. And she’s always tellin’ me to be quiet!”
Jeremiah’s heart lurched at Gracie’s remark, figuring it would only fuel Clarence’s cause. But when he glanced toward the preacher’s face, another set of rapid-fire footsteps claimed his attention instead.
Billy Jay had seen that Gracie’s outburst had earned her a big hug, so he was rushing forward, as well. “I need a new mamm at my house, too—so Dat can be happy again, like me!” he exclaimed.
Stevie, always eager to keep up with his buddy, exclaimed, “Jah, Baby Adah takes all of my mamm’s time, too, so I want you to be my new mamm, Teacher Lydianne!”
Determined not to be outdone or ignored, little Ella scrambled up onto Lydianne’s chair and into her startled teacher’s arms. “Mamm says that God brought me to our family—not you, Teacher Lydianne—but I love you anyway. You can be my other mother, okay?”
Kate laughed as she and her sister stepped to either side of Lydianne. “You can be my other mother any day!”
“Jah, I could use another mother, too!” Lorena chimed in as they slipped their arms around their wide-eyed teacher.
Lucy Miller laughed as she joined the growing, giggling huddle in the front of the classroom. “We all love you to pieces, Teacher Lydianne!”
Linda was approaching the big group hug when she caught sight of her father at the back table. She blinked, but then she went around behind Lydianne and wrapped both her arms around the teacher’s shoulders. “There’s no such thing as too much love,” she declared. “It’s gut to be here in school with you, Teacher Lydianne, because you love us as we are, and you help us be the people God created us to be.”
Jeremiah was stunned. As Lydianne gratefully embraced each of her students, his heart overflowed with deep emotion. The first light of morning was streaming through the windows, and as it bathed Lydianne in its radiance, she glowed with an all-over halo as she shared her scholars’ genuine affection.
Jeremiah sighed wistfully. He could easily imagine Lydianne embracing the children he longed to have with her. It was a holy moment for him, magnified by the power of the love he hoped to share with her for the rest of his life.
A movement caught his eye. Before Jeremiah could say anything else to Clarence, the preacher took his leave. His parting glance expressed his dissatisfaction, yet Jeremiah sensed the preacher knew better than to disrupt the important relationships being formed in this schoolroom.
Denki, Lord, for pulling us through this one, and for putting so much love in these scholars’ hearts, Jeremiah prayed silently.
When he looked toward the front of the classroom again, the children were quietly taking their seats, getting ready for another day of learning—unaware of the unpleasantness they’d dispelled with the simple gift of their love.
The grateful gaze Lydianne gav
e him made Jeremiah’s whole being thrum with the rightness of their deepening feelings for each other. Sure that none of her students were watching, he blew her a kiss and turned to go.
But already, he couldn’t wait to be with Lydianne again.
Chapter Twenty-Five
As his friends gathered Friday evening for their weekly singing session, Jeremiah welcomed them into the front room because it was too chilly to sit out on the porch. Inspired by the cider he’d purchased from the Wengerds at The Marketplace, Mamm had prepared a special treat: fresh pumpkin doughnuts stacked on a platter alongside a punchbowl of warm, spiced cider. Even though most of the fellows had just come from their supper, they flocked to the goodies as if they hadn’t eaten for weeks.
Jeremiah noted the scruff of beard adorning Gabe’s face, denoting his status as a newly married man. His brother, Jude, and Matthias Wagler had dark circles beneath their eyes, bearing out what Stevie and Gracie had said about new babies demanding a lot of attention and keeping their parents up during the night.
But it’s a wonderful reason to be exhausted.
Jeremiah asked Matthias and Jude how things were going at their homes. He sympathized as they described their wives’ feedings in the wee hours, as well as cleaning up their newborn daughters’ vomit and changing their diapers.
I would welcome the chance to change a diaper or rock a baby, even if I was walking the floors with a little soul who was screaming for relief I didn’t know how to provide.
An image of Lydianne tenderly caring for his infant children filled Jeremiah’s soul with such overwhelming love, he had to take some deep breaths—and another doughnut—to bring himself back into the present moment with his friends.
Gabe snagged one last doughnut and took his seat in the armchair. “Not to rush the season,” he said as he passed some song sheets to the men who were filling in the circle of chairs, “but in a couple of months it’ll be Christmas! Let’s spend some time tonight refreshing our memories about how the harmony goes on these carols. You never know—we might be invited to sing at some holiday functions, so we should be ready!”
First Light in Morning Star Page 21