Guardian, the

by Beverly Lewis

  Sweet Maryanna had made it all too clear what stood in his way, but the thought of giving up his beloved pets just because of her sharp retort irritated him. The animals had become his family, sharing his lonely days—a comfort to him. And, too, Suzanne had always had room in her heart for pets.

  He wore himself out going up and down the steep staircase, having first forgotten to cover Malachi’s cage for the night, then going back to check on Honey Lou’s water dish. Back and forth, as if a nervous exercise.

  Joshua slipped to the kitchen window and stood there, just staring at the moon, his hands at his side. He’d promised himself he would be prudent and move slowly where Maryanna was concerned, taking into consideration her regard for Benuel. Yet the careless words had slipped out, and it was too late to retrieve them. He’d offended her and probably came across as much too eager.

  I should’ve kept my mouth shut. . . .

  Honey Lou meandered near, shunning the bed in the corner as she purred loudly. The cat rubbed against his ankle, rumpling his pajamas. I’ve ruined my chances, he thought, disheartened as he reached down and lifted Honey Lou to his chest.

  “Did ya have a nice time?” her mother asked as Maryanna sat down at the table. Mamm slid a tumbler of homemade root beer over to her.

  “It was all right.”

  “Well, not by the looks of ya.”

  Maryanna shook her head slowly. “I must not have been thinkin’ too clearly, accepting a date with such a man.”

  “Ach, wasn’t he kind to you?”

  Maryanna didn’t feel comfortable going into detail. “Joshua was just fine, Mamm.” She sighed as she relived the evening. “I’ll just leave it at that.”

  “So it was Joshua, then. All right.” Mamm sipped her own glass of root beer. “Sorry I asked.”

  Now she felt bad, pushing her own mother away like this. “No . . . ain’t your fault. I just . . .” She stopped. Dare she tell her Mamm how she’d turned down a marriage proposal over a trio of pets?

  “Turkey Dan gave me a private message for ya,” Mamm said. “Took me aside, away from the children.”

  Maryanna tensed. “Oh?”

  “He said he’d be callin’ on ya next Sunday evening, after supper.”

  She lowered her head. Oh, goodness. Was she ready to spend time with yet another man?

  “He’s awfully nice,” Mamm said, her face softening. “And you’d never have to work another day in that greenhouse, ya know.”

  The remark smote her heart. “Mamm, I love what Benuel built for us. I surely do.”

  “Didn’t mean to meddle, dear.”

  “I have my opinion, is all,” stated Maryanna. Opening the door to dating widowers was laden with problems.

  She thought again of Joshua’s impulsive comment. And for the life of her, Maryanna didn’t know why she’d shared her thoughts without restraint during their carriage ride. She ought to have known they could only ever be neighborly friends.

  Nothing more.

  Just as the sun was coming up Sunday morning, Jodi watered the potted patio plants prior to her early run. The dawn was less humid—a good thing—but already she felt things warming up. And minutes later, as she jogged the now familiar route, she considered the fifth-grade position that had just popped up in Bangor, Maine, not thrilled about moving that far away.

  On the flip side, it wasn’t sensible to be too particular this late in the game, even though she’d put away enough money to coast for several months, or longer if she ended up subbing in her own district . . . or Trent’s. Her passion for teaching had driven her since being hired in Arlington, but oddly, she was reluctant now.

  So she ran faster than usual to work things out in her head. Nearby, a handful of purple martins soared from their tall four-sided birdhouses, and in the distance, the golden sun floated over the horizon line. This early morning hour had become her second favorite time of day. The twilight run with Rosaleen and Barbara Yoder had taken first place. They’d urged her last week to think of coming back to Lancaster County for the Bird-in-Hand Half Marathon in September, and while she rather liked being welcomed and included, she still hadn’t decided.

  Jodi once again passed the spot where she’d found little Sarah Esh nine days ago, lost and crying. The memory of that discovery, and the child’s family—Maryanna especially—had embedded itself in Jodi’s mind. Each day this past week, she’d had to purposefully keep herself from driving to Hickory Hollow as she kept busy following up on teaching leads, only to learn she was a few minutes or days too late. She had also talked to Trent by Skype quite frequently, including Friday, when he’d flown to Japan. And then again last night, when it was already this morning in eastern Asia. He was jet-lagged and glad he’d arrived a day before needing to report to the Japan Exchange and Teaching Programme coaches. He admitted how terribly he already missed her.

  It was hard to think about Trent so far away . . . and Karen even farther. Jodi needed to pull herself out of the doldrums and do something these last few days before Scott and Paige arrived home. The thought of not seeing little Sarah and Maryanna again once she returned home to Vermont was disheartening. And when Jodi spied a tall white silo in the distance to the east, she knew exactly where she wanted to spend the rest of today—this Sunday was a no-Preaching day for the Esh family.

  What could I give as a surprise? she wondered, wanting to do something to thank them for their kindness and, most of all, acceptance of her as an outsider. Maryanna grew the most gorgeous flowers in her gardens all around the house, and in the greenhouse, too. So flowers were out. There was also plenty of produce thriving in the fertile soil surrounding their stable and woodshed.

  But the town practically rolls up on Sundays, so there’s nowhere to shop. So what could Jodi bring as the perfect farewell gift for Maryanna and the children?

  Chapter 40

  During dessert, there was a gentle knock at the back door. Maryanna rose quickly, having just noticed the dark blue car parked down toward the end of the lane. “Ach, children—Jodi’s back!”

  Sarah let out a little yelp and scampered to the door. Maryanna didn’t have the heart to shoo her daughter away, not when Sarah had knelt at her bed again this morning, her tiny hands folded in prayer.

  Maryanna greeted the young woman, who looked clean and neat as always, especially minus any eye makeup. She wore the long pale blue skirt and beige blouse. “Willkumm, Jodi . . . so nice to see ya.”

  “I hoped you might be home.”

  Sarah raised her arms to Jodi, who leaned down quickly to give her a hug. She babbled to Jodi in Deitsch, looking sweet in her for-gut clothes. “I prayed you’d come see us again, Jodi.”

  Maryanna told Jodi what Sarah had just said, and Jodi beamed. “Come have a piece of strawberry pie and ice cream with us,” Maryanna said. She laughed lightly, adding, “When I think about it, the kitchen table is the most important furniture in the house—it’s where we talk, pray, and eat. And entertain our special guests.” She smiled at Jodi. “It’s so gut to see you.”

  Following Maryanna with Sarah’s hand in hers, Jodi accepted the chair little Sarah pulled out for her. She spoke to each of the children warmly, careful to include all four.

  “I was anxious to see you before I leave for home in a few days,” Jodi said when she was seated.

  Maryanna noticed she wore no earrings this time. “You say you’re leavin’ so soon?”

  “Yes, Scott and Paige will be home this Wednesday.”

  The children’s faces wilted, especially Sarah’s, when Maryanna translated in Deitsch.

  And then, just that quick, Maryanna recalled what Ned Peachey had come over to ask her last Monday morning. “Oh dear, I nearly forgot. One of the fathers on the school board was here lookin’ to contact you recently.”

  Jodi frowned. “Me?”

  “’Twas Ned Peachey, wanting to know the next time you dropped by.”

  Jodi glanced at Benny and Tobias, who were sitting together on the ben
ch. “Am I in trouble for the lesson time I had with the children?” She paused, looking now at Maryanna. “Is that why Ned wants to meet with me?”

  Maryanna shook her head. “That’s not the reason, I can assure you.”

  “I guess we should take Jodi over to Ned’s after dessert,” Benny said. “Ain’t so, Mamma?”

  “Would ya feel comfortable ridin’ in the carriage with us, Jodi?” asked Maryanne.

  “Or I can drive us, if you’d rather,” Jodi offered.

  “Well, we don’t ride in cars on the Lord’s Day,” Maryanna let her know. “It’s against the church ordinance.”

  The children leaned forward, curious eyes on Jodi. Suddenly, Maryanna wondered if they, too, suspected what Ned had in mind to ask the Englischer.

  During the ride in the delicate, boxlike carriage, Jodi and Maryanna sat on the only bench seat as little Sarah nestled in Jodi’s lap, her cloth doll, Engel, in her arms. Behind them, in the small area near the back of the buggy, sat Benny, Leda, and Toby.

  The leisurely pace and the sound of the horse’s steady breathing and its hooves plodding against the road gave Jodi an otherworldly sensation. It was as if she’d been propelled back to another era.

  She saw things she’d never noticed before when driving—the shape of tree branches sculpted by the wind and the dappled sunlight showering down through copious leaves. And she saw Buster wagging his tail at the end of Joshua’s lane, a near smile on his striking canine face.

  Maryanna made good use of the time, asking the children to practice singing “Jesus Loves the Little Children” in German. The sweet unison blending of their voices touched Jodi.

  Benny asked his mother if he could tell Jodi about practicing the “Loblied” with his Dawdi Zeke.

  Maryanna agreed. “It’s something I’ve asked Benny to memorize before I’ll let him sit with his grandfather over on the men’s side of the church,” she explained. “A very special ritual for a boy, when he’s old enough to sing it.”

  “Jah, and that hymn’s real long, too. It has four verses with seven lines,” Benny added, sounding excited. “And it’s in German, so I still have a lot of practicing to do.”

  Toby piped up. “Practice makes perfect.”

  “That’s a terrific goal.” Jodi laughed. “And there’s another way to say that, by the way: Perfect practice makes perfect.”

  Benny laughed behind her, and Jodi hugged Sarah.

  “You’re ever so gut with them,” Maryanna said, looking fondly at her. “All the children. Even the bishop noticed.”

  Jodi’s mother, too, had observed this from the time Jodi was eight years old, the year she began asking to help in the church nursery. Jodi had even subsidized her appetite for books as a young teen with baby-sitting jobs.

  Later, Toby described how he thought little Sarah had tumbled out the back of the carriage. “She leaned over so far that kerplop, she fell out onto her head.”

  Jodi winced at the vision of the precious dumpling tumbling onto the road like that.

  “No wonder there was a knot on her forehead,” Toby said, sounding empathetic.

  “Jah, no wonder,” Leda said more quietly.

  Jodi wished Karen could see her now. Never in her sister’s dreams would she have expected Jodi to be received like this—even doted upon—by an Amish family.

  “I’d like to give your family a gift,” Jodi mentioned. “Something you might need or want, just to remember me by.”

  “Awful nice of you, dear, but we do have our happy memories, ya know.” Maryanna smiled brightly. “And Sarah right here to remind us, too, of how special you are to all of us.”

  “Well, if you think of something, let me know.”

  Then, looking at Jodi holding her youngest, Maryanna said softly, “Seems to me you’re the gift, Jodi Winfield. You. And the splendid answer you were to our prayers in finding our Sarah.”

  Jodi shifted in the seat, feeling humbled and deeply moved.

  Chapter 41

  When they arrived at Ned Peachey’s big stone farmhouse, Jodi, Maryanna, and the children were ushered inside, where Ned’s six youngsters sat around the table playing quiet games or coloring.

  Jodi was struck by the solemn demeanor of Joshua’s bearded brother Ned. It was quickly apparent that he would not speak to her privately without his wife, Sadie, present. They led Jodi into another room, expecting Maryanna and the children to remain in the kitchen, something Ned communicated with the mere raise of an eyebrow and a jerk of his head.

  She sat on a stiff brown settee near a window as Ned took a seat on the sofa next to his wife. “We’ve been lookin’ high and low for a teacher to take Rosaleen Yoder’s place,” Ned began. He went on to explain that they had a good lead on a young woman in another Amish church district, but she was helping an elderly relative in Apple Creek, Ohio, and wouldn’t be able to return for six weeks or more. “Peculiar as this may be to you, Jodi, it seems you’re the only possibility we’ve got at present.”

  He paused, sighing, and Jodi wasn’t sure what to make of his words—all of this was slightly surreal.

  “What I’m getting to is . . . would you consider filling in as teacher for our Amish scholars for the time being?” Ned was dressed all in black, except for the long-sleeved white shirt, as if he’d been to church. “This would be for no more than two months, until the school board can locate a permanent teacher.”

  “This is quite a surprise,” Jodi replied, stunned. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Sober Sadie did not even blink, as far as Jodi could tell. She sat silently draped in a green dress and long black apron, scarcely more than a breathing fixture.

  “Jah, no doubt.” Ned tugged on his thick brown beard. “But if you agree, we’ll see to it you receive thorough instruction and some help from Rosaleen between now and when school opens the last week in August. You’ll have plenty of assistance.”

  Jodi was still trying to process his request.

  “Unfortunately there is less than a month to familiarize yourself with our curriculum and the many expectations of the board.”

  Many expectations . . .

  Before she could respond again, he added, “No one amongst the Amish community here has ever hired an Englischer substitute that we know of, so admittedly we’re in uncharted waters.”

  So why would they even consider me?

  “When do you need to know?” she asked.

  Ned rubbed his forehead. “Well, as soon as you feel you can submit to the board’s requirements and start to prepare.” He turned and gave his wife a gentle smile. “Of course, we don’t expect you to teach without pay. We’ll offer you the sum of nine hundred dollars per month. And provide a place to stay, as well, since our typical Amish teachers still live at home.”

  Jodi didn’t permit herself to react, not wanting to insult him. Oh, my goodness. Was she hearing this correctly? This offer by no means matched the master’s degree salary level to which she was accustomed in the public school system. But the free lodging was quite generous and unexpected. Where did he envision her staying? If I agree to do this.

  “How many students attend the school?” she asked, still numb from the direction of the conversation.

  “There are twenty-two children this year in all eight grades.”

  Such an ambitious undertaking for any teacher, let alone a very young woman like Rosaleen. And even more so for someone unfamiliar with Amish tradition.

  “Would it be possible to review the curriculum—the various subjects—before I decide?”

  Ned wore a solemn, scrutinizing expression. “Either Sadie here or our friend Maryanna can answer your basic questions about that.”

  Jodi agreed to talk with Maryanna.

  “Perhaps you’d like to go and walk on the field roads out yonder. Give this some further thought?” He raised his callused hand and pointed behind the house. “It’s peaceful out there, and one feels closest to the Good Lord near farmland, I daresay. It’s the ideal p
lace to quiet one’s heart.”

  It was then Jodi realized: He wants an answer today.

  The rippling alfalfa field quivered with flying insects, bluebirds, and silvery green willows in the near distance as Jodi walked with Maryanna on the dirt path.

  “Ned’s eight-mule team goes back and forth to the barn on these perimeter lanes,” Maryanna explained. Then she said nervously, “By the way, Sadie whispered that Ned encouraged you to come out to talk with me.”

  She’s curious to know what’s going on.

  Jodi shared Ned’s proposal on behalf of the school board.

  “I kinda wondered if that might not be it.” Maryanna nodded, her white cap strings flying.

  Jodi confided that she wanted Maryanna’s company—and advice. “I feel like a lone, floundering fish far from sea. And even more than that, why would the school board choose an outsider to instruct the children . . . even for a few weeks?”

  “Well, there was some talk that our bishop took note of how all the youngsters were attracted to you after the Preaching service. From what I heard, he was very impressed with how ya conducted yourself.”

  Jodi remembered being encircled that Sunday afternoon. She guessed she could see how the children’s fondness for her might astound the Amish bishop.

  “Bishop Beiler believes it was nothin’ short of a miracle that Sarah was brought home safely by you—and that you knew just where to bring her, too.”

  Jodi inquired about the curriculum, and Maryanna told her everything she knew about the subjects taught: arithmetic, spelling, penmanship, and reading. “There are also history and geography lessons, and some time in the afternoons for drawing, singing, and storytelling,” said Maryanna. “Of course, the first graders are taught English, too, since up till then they’ve spoken only Deitsch.”