by Tricia Goyer
What mother wouldn’t do all she could to protect her children, to keep them on the straight and narrow path—even if that meant measuring hems and counting folds in a kapp? Lydia’s lip quivered when she remembered Mem sewing Lydia’s school dresses and using a ruler to measure the length of the hem from the ground.
Lydia placed newly sharpened pencils on each desk. How proud Mem would be to see her here. Yet as she wrote the first lesson on the board, Lydia also chuckled, imagining what her neighbors in Seattle would think of how differently things were done.
In Seattle the children caught a school bus right at the front entrance of the condos. Even though they could see their children from their windows, parents didn’t let the children stand at the curb and wait. Instead they waited with them. Or drove their children to school. Her closest neighbor Megan walked her young son to his first grade classroom every day. What would she think of five- and six-year-olds walking two miles to school just as dawn broke over the high mountain peaks? Of course the dangers of Seattle and those of West Kootenai, Montana, were quite different.
Lydia glanced at the clock on the wall. Did she have time to jot down a few notes in her notebook before finishing up preparations for the day? She’d already filled two notebooks with her “book.” At least a quarter of that was devoted to her interactions with Gideon, whom she looked forward to seeing each day.
The children barely cast a glance at the pine-studded granite mountains on their way to school. To them the pointed peaks are as common as the golden orb that rises each day. Girls in dresses, aprons, and kapps, and boys in homemade shirts and pants, appear like any other Amish youth except a fleece jacket covers their Plain clothes. With temperatures dropping into the thirties even in fall, red-tipped noses glow almost as brightly as the children’s smiles. Curious eyes look upon me and then glance at each other as their knowing looks pass questions about the new teacher. I read the inquiry in their gazes: is it true Miss Wyse lived for a time in the Englisch world?
Lydia set down her pen, then looked over the short description. True, the children hadn’t arrived yet, but she’d attended school herself in an Amish schoolhouse and could imagine the scene.
She pulled out her notes and wrote the arithmetic assignments for the sixth, seventh, and eighth grades on the blackboard. Then the door opened. The Sommer children arrived first. Three older boys—David, Charlie, and Josiah—were followed by little Ellie with rosy cheeks and grayish-brown eyes. Ellie’s fine hair was neatly pinned up under her white prayer kapp. She moved to the front of the room and sat in one of the smallest desks. The boys moved to various desks around the room, and Lydia assumed they were slipping into the spots they had last year. Lydia had planned on designing a seating chart, but it was Mrs. Shelter who’d changed her mind.
“There’s enough change this year with a new teacher,” Mrs. Shelter had said. “Let the children relax by having some things be the same, familiar, like where they sit.”
Lydia had thanked her for her advice; the older woman was right. After stepping back into her old way of life, Lydia had found small measures of comfort in simple things like a familiar mixing bowl or cookbook. Through them, memories had a way of bringing pleasant times of the past into the present.
The other children arrived until all fourteen sat in their desks.
Andy Shelter, tall and blond, looked to be the oldest of the group. Lydia knew him because she’d spent last Saturday at the restaurant. Nearly every scholar had come in that day, and with each one who’d entered, Annie, the owner of the store, had told her each child’s name and a little about him or her. Andy had many older siblings, including a sister Sarah who’d been Annie’s best baker until she moved to Ohio, following an Amish bachelor she’d taken a fancy to.
The next oldest was David Sommer. Even though the three Sommer boys had different coloring, they had a similar appearance with thin frames and wide smiles. The middle one, Charlie, walked with a slight limp. What had happened to him? She’d have to ask Annie.
The two youngest students were girls, Ellie Sommer and Evelyn Shelter, and it was clear by their wide-eyed gazes that this was their first year of school. Both sat in the front two desks, clutching each other with firm grips.
“I’m Miss Wyse, and we’re going to start with the Lord’s Prayer.”
Only small Ellie looked confused as if she didn’t understand the directions. Ellie clutched the hand of her friend Evelyn, and Lydia squatted before them.
“I can help you with the words if you’d like.”
“Ja.” Both girls nodded.
On other days Lydia planned to have a student lead in prayer, but today she couldn’t think of anything more special than leading these young souls in prayer herself.
Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Lydia led the words slowly, purposefully, and was happy to see the young girls attempting to say the words with her. She smiled as they continued.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
They sang a few hymns next, and Lydia hoped the children didn’t mind that she was slightly off key. She got the older boys busy in their science text God’s Orderly World, and then had the rest of the children write out their Scripture verse for the week while she worked on reciting the alphabet with the young ones.
“‘And as ye would that men should do unto you, do ye also to them likewise.’ Luke 6:31,” the middle grades recited to each other.
When she’d finished working on the letters A and B with Ellie and Evelyn, Lydia stood and looked around. The children were happily at work—each grade in their own way—and Lydia knew more than she’d ever known that this was where she was supposed to be.
She got out her measuring stick to use as a pointer and was about to move to their geography lesson when movement outside the window caught Lydia’s attention. “Keep working, class. I’ll be right back.”
When she hurried to the door, Mrs. Shelter stood on the porch, her back to the door.
Lydia opened the door. A cool breeze hit her face. “Can I help you?”
Mrs. Shelter turned quickly, her eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Lydia. I didn’t want to disturb you.” She pressed her lips together. “It’s jest that…”
Tears filled Lydia’s eyes as she remembered the letter from her mem. “It’s Evelyn’s first day of school, isn’t it?”
“Ja.” Mrs. Shelter clutched her arms around herself. “I wasna this way with the others. Maybe it’s because Evelyn is the youngest, but the house seems especially empty today.”
“Tell you what…” Lydia reached a hand to the woman. “We were just going to get started in geography, and I have some coloring sheets for the little ones. Would you like to sit and help them while I teach the continents to the older kids?”
“You don’t mind?”
Lydia shook her head. “Ne, I understand. Loving mothers sometimes have a hard time letting go. I’m sure Evelyn will be happy to see you. And I don’t mind help on my first day either.”
With a smile, Lydia stepped aside and welcomed the woman in.
CHAPTER
22
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,” Matthew 11:28.
“As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you; and ye shall be comforted in Jerusalem,” Isaiah 66:13.
I told Lydia the truth today. Did I make a mistake? Dear daughter, when you read this someday, know it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The truth came from my love. I wanted you to focus on the fact that you were a gift to your father and me, but instead you focused on the sin. The sin of a man. The sin against your birth mother.
&nb
sp; I tried to comfort you, but you stiffened in my arms. Do I look different in your eyes? Since you were a child, you knew that another woman carried you, but for the first time I saw it. You looked into my face, and you longed to see the face of another.
You couldn’t be my daughter any more than you are. Many nights I woke to your cry, fed you, changed you, swaddled you, and sang your favorite lullabies.
When you had colic, I bounced you—pressing your stomach over my arm—until the gas bubbles eased. When you skinned your knees, you’d come to me first to kiss them. When you burned your first pie crust, I helped you roll out another. Have you not seen the joy in my eyes reflected a thousand times, Lydia, when I looked upon you? I know you didn’t see the pain when you stalked out of the room tonight.
Of course this isn’t about me, as much as my heart hurts. I hurt even more for the pain the truth caused. I considered giving you the name and address of your birth mother. Maybe it would be the best thing…for you to talk to her. To hear her part of the story. But fear grips me. If you meet her, will you still need me?
Friday afternoon, Lydia wished the last student a good-bye and “Have a happy weekend” and then hurried to the chalkboard to put up some of Monday’s lessons. She’d just written a few words of next week’s memory verse when footsteps sounded behind her.
“Did you forget something?” Lydia turned expecting Andy or one of the older boys. Instead Gideon stood there with a handful of wildflowers.
A gasp escaped her lips, and the heaviness that she’d carried since last night lifted—not completely, but some. Enough to make a difference.
“They say you’re supposed to bring apples for the teacher, but Blue ate them all.” Gideon extended the flowers to her—wild roses and daisies mostly. “So I brought these instead.”
“Thank you.” She reached out and took them in her hands, breathing deeply. “They’re beautiful.”
He straightened the collar of his clean work shirt and offered her a wink. “I also made reservations for the finest dining establishment in town.”
Even though they’d spent every day together since that picnic at the lake, she still wanted to pinch herself. This had to be a dream, didn’t it? It was hard to imagine that someone so wonderful had chosen her. And yet from the words he used and the care he offered, Gideon had made his intentions known. He saw a future for them…just as she saw it.
Lydia gazed up at him, weariness creeping up her bones. “So Annie’s saving us the table in the back corner with a view of the mountains out of two windows?” She needed to sit. To put her feet up. To have a moment of silence, but from the eagerness in Gideon’s face she couldn’t tell him that.
He stroked his chin and grinned. “Ja, how did you know?”
She winked. “That is the best table in town. It sounds like the perfect evening. I’ll just have to tell Dat—”
“Already got that covered yet,” he commented. “I stopped by earlier and talked to Annie. She’s going to deliver a meal to him herself.”
She rubbed her tight neck. “That’s sweet of her, and sweet of you for thinking about it.”
“I’m glad you think so, but…” Gideon took a step closer, looking into her face. “Are you all right?” Concern filled his gaze.
Lydia shrugged. “It’s been a long week. A gut one, but long. The kids are bright, but those boys…It’s hard to get them to settle down at times.”
Gideon reached up and cupped a hand on her cheek. She leaned into it.
“I can come whip them into shape if you’d like. You don’t mind me bringing in a few ropes and halters, do you?”
Lydia laughed and then blew out a deep breath. She closed her eyes and took another step toward Gideon. He dropped his hand from her cheek and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her close. She gripped the front of his shirt, drawing from his strength.
“It’s more than that. But yer the only one I can share this with. I’ve been reading more of Mem’s notes, and it’s so hard. To read her words, to know her heart.” She shook her head.
“Ja, I can only imagine. They say that grief goes through stages. The missing isn’t going to go away anytime soon.”
“I wish…” Lydia let the words drop. What she really wished was that she hadn’t been so self-focused when she was a teen. Lydia had only considered her feelings, her pain. Not once could she remember ever thinking about how hard it was for Mem to tell her the truth.
But it was more than that. Lydia gripped Gideon’s shirt more tightly and pressed against one of the buttons with her thumb. She was also mad at Mem. Mem had written everything down in letters, but why hadn’t she talked to Lydia about some of these things? Mem could have said, “Lydia, it’s hard for me to tell you the truth” or “I’m afraid you’ll love your birth mother more than me…but I have loved you every day of your life.” It might have made a difference. Lydia released a shuddering breath. She didn’t understand why parents had to hide their pain. It’s not like their kids believed them to have their whole act together. Or believed them to be perfect. These same kids lived with them, after all. A bit of truth from Mem might have gone a long way.
Lydia soaked up Gideon’s embrace, and when she felt strengthened, she stepped back. Her stomach rumbled, and she placed a hand over it. “Did you say something about dinner?” She forced a smile. “I shared my lunch with Eli Yoder, who forgot his.”
“Ja.” He turned and offered his arm. “I believe this is how the Englisch do it.”
Lydia slipped her hand into his arm. “I think so, but it’s possible for us Plain folks to be jest as romantic.”
“Do you think so?” Gideon paused his steps, looking down at her. “Because I’ve never done this before.”
“Done what?” She gazed up at him, noticing his hair rumpled under his hat.
“I’ve never taken a woman on a date in a restaurant. I’ve never opened my heart.” And then his eyes softened. “I’ve never done this.” With his free hand he ran a finger down her cheek. The touch warmed her, soothed her soul, reminding her that the pain of the past did not have to ruin today—this moment with this man.
“Or this.” He slid his finger under her chin and tilted it up toward him.
Lydia swallowed, anticipating what was to come.
“Or this.” He bent closer, and her hand went to the nape of his neck, holding the place where his dark hair met the warm skin of his neck.
She closed her eyes, accepting his kiss. His lips were soft, but the passion behind the kiss could not be denied.
They stood in the middle of the classroom, yet they could have been in the middle of the Kraft and Grocery for all it mattered to her. Gideon was the only thing on her mind. His taste, his touch. Since their first picnic three weeks ago she’d wondered when—not if—this was going to happen. Their first kiss.
After a moment he leaned back, and her eyes fluttered open. “Flowers for the teacher, um-hum. You offered more than flowers, Gideon.” She smiled, feeling more of the tension she’d been carrying ease.
“Ja, well.” His voice was husky. “How did I do?”
She released his nape, ran her hand down his neck, and then squeezed his arm. “Gut, real gut.” She winked. “This teacher gives you an A.”
CHAPTER
23
Friday nights at the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery were a gathering of sorts as those from the community came to relax after a long week and enjoy the once-a-week buffet. Chicken, ham, potatoes, vegetables. Just a little of each filled Lydia’s plate. She could only eat half of what she got, though. Partly because her eyes were bigger than her stomach, but mostly because her attention was on the handsome man across from her. Gideon’s thoughtfulness and humor brightened her day. She believed more each day that God had a good plan for her life with him, and could only imagine good things for them from this point on.
Lydia was thankful that they had dined early, because by the time six o’clock rolled around, the restaurant was filled with folks co
ming for the Friday-night buffet. It was great seeing the members of the community—and finally feeling a part of it—but every time she and Gideon started a new topic, without fail someone would approach. Either a parent of a student with compliments or one of the men of the community who had a horse question for Gideon.
When Mr. Peachy showed up and pulled up a chair next to Gideon, Lydia knew it was the perfect time for a bathroom break. She rose.
“Lydia, wait…” Gideon reached a hand to her.
“I’m just using the ladies’ room, but when I get back, why don’t we head back to my place and check on my dat? I feel so bad leaving him all alone.”
Gideon nodded. “Ja. I like that idea. I’ll get us some cobbler to go?”
“Perfect.”
She’d only gotten halfway to the bathroom when a familiar blonde woman in the dry goods aisle caught her attention. The woman’s smile caused her to pause.
“Lydia, I’m so sorry I haven’t been down in a while to check on you.” Susan Carash—her closest neighbor—took Lydia’s hands. “Both kids have started sports practice all the way down in Eureka. My littlest one, Sally, has piano practice down there too. Is everything all right with you, yer dat?” Susan eyed Lydia’s kapp. “We heard from the Sommers about your baptism. I am thankful God drew your heart—isn’t He amazing like that?”
“Ja, yes, I agree…and we’re doing fine, Dat and I.” She pointed to the table in the back corner. “Gideon comes often.” She couldn’t help but smile. “He’s another blessing God has gifted me during this time.”
Susan squeezed her hands. “I’m so glad. And I wanted to tell you, too, we have a prayer meeting every Monday at our house. I would love for you—for Gideon—to come any time. There are many who attend, and we come together to lift up our requests.”