The Amish Teacher's Gift

by Rachel J. Good

  Now he had to depend on his own strength. A strength he wasn’t sure he possessed. He suppressed a sigh as he strode toward the stairs.

  When he reached the bottom of the stairs to call Nathan, Sadie was descending. She put a finger to her lips. “Nathan’s asleep.”

  Josiah shook his head. Nathan asleep? Impossible. His son never went to sleep without a huge fuss. Never. He still couldn’t believe Nathan hadn’t made a sound or had one fit since he disappeared upstairs after dinner.

  Making exaggerated tiptoeing steps, Sadie motioned for him to follow her upstairs. She led him to the first bedroom on the right, where the door was almost shut. She eased the door open, and Josiah stepped inside to find Nathan curled up on the rag rug, wrapped in a quilt. Josiah’s eyes stung. His son had never fallen asleep without screeching, usually for hours.

  Sadie whispered, “I sent David to take a bath while Mary Elizabeth washed the dishes. When I came back, Nathan was asleep, so I covered him with a quilt.”

  “I’ll try to pick him up without waking him, but first I’ll have to unwind the quilt.”

  “No need to do that. Just take it with you,” a soft voice said from the doorway.

  Josiah hadn’t heard Ada come up the stairs, but she stood right outside the room, making him nervous about lifting Nathan. “If he wakes, he might cause a ruckus.”

  “It’s all right,” Ada assured him. “No one’s gone to bed yet.”

  “Are you sure?” Josiah hated to shatter the silence, but he needed to take Nathan home. After kneeling beside his son, Josiah hesitated. Nathan was cocooned in a cream-colored quilt with a complicated pattern of intertwined fans in variegated shades of pinks. “This quilt is so beautiful, I wouldn’t feel right taking it.”

  “It’s all right,” Sadie assured him. “Ada makes plenty of them.”

  “You made this?” Josiah marveled at the intricate stitching. He’d grown up watching Mamm quilt, so he was aware of how much work went into those tiny, even stitches. “You quilt plenty of these? When do you have the time?”

  Ada’s cheeks matched the quilt. “I won’t now that I’m teaching.”

  “But she used to,” Sadie said. “She had to make money to feed all of us when Mamm was ill and Daed was out of work.”

  “Sadie!” Ada scolded in a low tone.

  Despite his vow not to stare, Josiah’s eyes were drawn to Ada. Not only was she beautiful, she’d sacrificed to support her family. And she’d been responsible for taming his son. She appeared flustered by his scrutiny, so he averted his eyes.

  “I need to go,” he said, scooping Nathan into his arms as gently as he could. His son kicked and muttered something in his sleep, so Josiah stood still until he settled. “Thank you so much for the delicious meal and for caring for Nathan today. It’s been wonderful.” Words could not express his gratitude for a warm meal and an evening of solitude without a screeching child.

  “It was our pleasure. David enjoyed having a friend to play with. We should do it again soon.”

  Josiah nodded, afraid if he spoke, he might wake Nathan. Or reveal what was in his heart. Then he regretted agreeing to visit again. As much as he’d like spending time with her—and her family—it wouldn’t be wise. He should avoid temptation.

  Chapter Twelve

  Josiah laid Nathan on the buggy seat in the back, and when his son remained asleep, he released the breath he’d been holding. After sliding the passenger door closed, Josiah strolled around the buggy and climbed in. Usually he dashed to the front and leapt in to stop the buggy from rocking and calm his son’s screams. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been able to look up at the darkening night and appreciate the stars sprinkling the sky or enjoy the stillness of the night. Taking a deep breath, he sat for a few minutes in gratitude for the serenity.

  The roads were deserted except for a few cars, their engines deafening as they zoomed past until the roar faded in the distance. The ride home went swiftly, and he was soon pulling into the barn. Mamm had left the barn doors open and the kitchen light on. Remembering the last time he’d been in the barn, his pulse raced as he slid open the buggy door to get Nathan. Relief coursed through him to see Nathan still curled up on the backseat.

  He gathered his son in his arms as gently as he could, and Nathan barely stirred. A long day at school, followed by playtime with a friend, must have worn him out. Grateful, Josiah strode to the house, eased open the kitchen door, and stopped short.

  Mamm sat in a kitchen chair, her face tense, her eyes closed, and her lips moving. She always went to bed early so she could get to Linda’s restaurant before dawn to bake pies and cakes.

  The lines in her face softened as soon as she saw him. “Thank the good Lord, you’re home! I’ve been praying for your safety.” She pushed on the tabletop to lift herself to her feet and hurried over to peek at Nathan. “Is he all right?”

  “He’s fine, Mamm. Just tuckered out.” Josiah spoke softly so he didn’t wake Nathan. “What are you doing up so late?”

  “Praying for you,” she retorted tartly.

  Josiah almost asked why, and then it dawned on him. After discovering Nathan missing, he’d dashed off without leaving a note. No wonder Mamm had been worried. Frantic, most likely. “I’m so sorry. I had a bit of a scare with losing Nathan this afternoon.”

  “Losing him?” Mamm stared at him, then pulled back the quilt a bit so she could see Nathan’s face. “What happened? You’re sure he’s all right? Where have you been?”

  Josiah wished he could hold up a hand to stop her peppering him with questions. “Let me put him to bed. Then I’ll explain.”

  For once, Nathan stayed sleeping when Josiah lowered him onto the bed. Maybe being bundled in the quilt soothed him. If it did, he’d pay Ada whatever it cost to keep this quilt. He left Nathan in his clothes for the night. Sleep was more important than wrinkled clothes. He lifted the covers to remove Nathan’s shoes, only to discover his bare feet. Children usually played barefoot, but with Nathan having no friends and little playtime, Josiah hadn’t thought to look for his son’s shoes. It was too late to go back to Ada’s now, but inside he was rejoicing that he had an excuse to return to her house.

  Mamm was still in the kitchen doorway when he returned. “Did you have anything to eat? I saw you hadn’t touched the chicken corn soup.”

  “We ate, thanks.” While Josiah tried to organize the day’s events into some semblance of order, Mamm bustled around the kitchen fixing him a snack. “I brought some of the leftover apple strudel from the restaurant,” she said. “Do you want it warm or cold?”

  “I don’t really need a snack…” At her hurt expression, he amended his statement. “Cold will be fine.” Mamm loved to feed people. So did his sister Linda—hence, the restaurant she ran with her daughter.

  Mamm set a plate in front of him filled with a generous slice of strudel. Then she shuffled back to the refrigerator to pour a large glass of milk. Josiah waved to the chair near him, and she sank into it, staring at him with expectant eyes.

  “I know you need to go to bed,” Josiah said, “so I’ll give you a condensed version.” He proceeded to tell her of Nathan’s meltdown at school, the teacher’s calming ways, opening the buggy to find Nathan gone.

  At his mamm’s sharp intake of breath, he stopped, but she waved him on. “I see you found him.”

  “Actually, his teacher found him. He’d crawled out at the accident site. I’m so grateful she recognized him. I don’t know what would have happened if she hadn’t.”

  “You’d still be out there searching.”

  Josiah nodded. “True.” Mamm’s comment brought up the signalman’s kidnapping charge, but he skipped over that for now. She might laugh about that later. But at the thought of someone kidnapping Nathan, Josiah’s gut clenched.

  Mamm waved an impatient hand. “The teacher found him? How did you know that?”

  “The man who held the STOP sign described the woman who’d picked up Nathan. It sounded l
ike Nathan’s teacher. Anyway, I found Nathan at her house.”

  “And what time was this?”

  “Sometime this afternoon,” he mumbled. When Mamm motioned for him to go on, Josiah stumbled through an abbreviated explanation of Nathan’s friendship with David and the dinner invitation.

  “But you still should have been here when I got home from the restaurant.” She crossed her arms and gave him a look that demanded an explanation.

  “I’m sorry. I offered to help with the dishes.”

  “The dishes?” Mamm’s voice rose.

  “I thought it was only fair after she’d cooked dinner and taken care of Nathan.” Josiah wished he hadn’t sounded so defensive. Mamm would probably read into that.

  “Of course.” A tinge of sarcasm colored her words. “You’d feel obligated to do that for your tired mamm at the end of a long day too?”

  Josiah ducked his head so she couldn’t see his expression. Mamm’s sharp eyes saw more than he’d like. It was obvious she sensed there was more to the story he wasn’t telling. When he was young and she raised a questioning brow like that, he’d spill out the truth, every last detail. Tonight it took strength to resist. He couldn’t confess he was falling for Nathan’s teacher. Even though Mamm understood and sympathized with his loneliness after being without Ruth’s companionship for years, Josiah already knew what Mamm would say; he’d been telling himself the same thing. Falling for someone while he was mourning was a big mistake.

  * * *

  Shrieking outside the window awoke Ada from her pleasant dreams to a hot, airless room. Strands of hair had pulled loose from her braid and clung to her sweaty forehead. She wiped her damp brow, burrowed back into her pillow, and willed herself to drift back into the cool woods she’d been exploring with Josiah. He’d picked a wildflower bouquet…

  The shrieks grew louder and closer. So close they seemed to be coming from their front lawn. But that was impossible.

  At a knock on the front door, Ada rolled out of bed. She couldn’t go to the door in her nightgown. By the time she tucked her braid under a kerchief and threw on her spring cloak, Mary Elizabeth had dashed downstairs and opened the front door.

  A man’s voice drifted upstairs, but Ada couldn’t distinguish any words. Fear for her sister’s safety propelled her to move. Her foot caught in the nightgown hem as she raced down the steps, and she grabbed for the railing to keep her balance. She righted herself and resumed her rush to the door. She skidded to a stop. Josiah? What was he doing here in the middle of the night?

  He glanced up, and her body temperature—already sweltering from the heavy cloak on this hot summer night—rose several degrees.

  “Ada?” He averted his eyes. “I’m so sorry to disturb you.”

  He wasn’t disturbing her. At least, not in the way he meant.

  Footsteps padded down the stairs behind her, and her siblings crowded around her and Mary Elizabeth.

  “Ach! I didn’t mean to wake everyone in the house. I—Nathan—must have left his bunny here.”

  Noah rubbed his eyes and asked in a sleepy voice, “What time is it?”

  Josiah hung his head. “Around three a.m.”

  “Will finding the bunny stop those screams?” Noah wanted to know.

  “I hope so,” Josiah said, but he sounded far from sure.

  “Then let’s all search. I’ll check David’s room.” Noah pounded up the stairs.

  “I’ll look in the kitchen,” Sadie volunteered, although she was swaying on her feet. Grace trailed after her.

  Ada signed to David, and he rushed up the stairs.

  “I hope he didn’t lose the rabbit at the accident site. I have no idea what I’ll do if he did.”

  “Nathan was sucking the bunny’s ears while he watched the fire truck lights,” Ada told him. She couldn’t remember if he still had it when they arrived at the house. “Ruby, can you check the buggy?”

  Josiah shuffled his feet. “I’m sorry to put everyone to all this trouble.”

  He looked so uncomfortable, Ada wanted to put him at ease, but she was unsure how to do that with all the noise coming from the buggy. “Would it be all right if I went out to comfort him?”

  Josiah shook his head. “It’s much too dangerous when he’s like this. I’m afraid he’ll hurt you.”

  “I’d like to try.” Ada brushed past him with a battery-powered lantern and headed for the buggy.

  Josiah hurried after her and reached for her arm. Even through the cloth, his touch sent sparks zinging through her. Ada drew in a breath and stepped back before he could see her reaction.

  “Please, I don’t want him to hurt you,” Josiah begged.

  Ada lowered her eyes. She didn’t want them to give away the attraction she felt. Taking a deep breath to calm her racing pulse, she said, “I’ve dealt with many temper tantrums.”

  “Not like this you haven’t.”

  “I’d like to try.”

  The buggy rocked back and forth so hard, she could barely slide open the door. Josiah lay on the backseat, shrieking and kicking. She climbed into the buggy and reached over the seat. Slipping a hand past his flailing arms, she laid it on his head and stroked his hair. His eyes flew open. He backed away from her touch, but then he turned his head to look at her. His mouth still open in mid-scream, he gurgled to a stop.

  Ada, he signed.

  Tears came to her eyes. She’d tried to teach the scholars her name sign and theirs today, but none of them seemed to comprehend. The only sign they’d all cooperated on was cat. Nathan must have been paying attention the whole time.

  Nathan, she signed back, and his mouth snapped shut. He studied her hands as she made the movements for his name again and then pointed at him. His lips curved into a half smile.

  Now that he was still, Ada folded down the front seat, made the sign for come, and held out her arms. Nathan stared at her warily for a few seconds before glancing around the carriage fearfully. When he looked back at her, she signed again, Come.

  Nathan rose to his knees, but stopped as if undecided. He checked each window, then stood and leaned toward her. Ada slid her arm from the cape to wrap it around him and draw him close. In a heap in the corner lay the quilt she’d sent home with him.

  They sat quietly for a few minutes, Nathan’s head nestled against her. His eyes slid closed several times, but each time they did, he startled himself awake. His body started to soften and grow heavy against her, a sure sign he was close to sleep.

  David came dashing across the front yard, swinging the bunny by its ears. He peeked into the buggy, and Nathan lit up. The two of them seemed to be sending messages through looks, and then David handed the bunny to Nathan, who gave him a tired smile, but his eyes conveyed his thanks.

  David signed good night, and Nathan smiled again. Popping a bunny ear in his mouth, he leaned closer to Ada and closed his eyes.

  Tell everyone to go back to bed, Ada mouthed to David.

  He nodded, patted Nathan on the shoulder, and headed back inside.

  This time, when Nathan’s eyes closed, they stayed shut. As soon as his breathing appeared steady and even, Ada laid him on the backseat and covered him with the quilt. It was too warm for a blanket in this weather, but sometimes security overrode heat.

  As she stepped from the buggy, Josiah reached out a hand to assist her. “I don’t know what you did in there, but thank you. I stayed away from the windows in case seeing me started his crying again.”

  His eyes looked so sad and discouraged, Ada longed to reach out to him, but they were out here on the lawn alone—her in a nightgown, her hair undone down her back.

  “I’d better go,” she said, whirled around, and headed for the house.

  * * *

  Though he should avert his eyes, Josiah couldn’t tear his gaze from her figure silhouetted in the moonlight. A sharp pang went through him. A pang of loneliness, of longing.

  He waited until she’d gone inside and shut the door before climbing into the
buggy. Blessed silence reigned as Silver trotted toward the road.

  Ada was a miracle worker. Josiah could think of no other words to describe her. Well, he could, but wouldn’t allow his thoughts to go there. She remained on his mind, along with guilt. He’d loved Ruth. During the mourning period, he should be honoring her memory, not letting another woman stir his emotions. Though he tried to push away the memories of Ada’s gentleness and caring, they stayed with him the whole way home.

  When he carried Nathan into the house, Mamm was already in the kitchen. He took his sleeping son upstairs, but instead of going back to bed, he went down to join her. A pot filled with water and canning jars bubbled on the stove.

  “Isn’t it too early for you to be up?” he teased. She appeared almost as tired as he felt.

  “I couldn’t fall back to sleep after Nathan started screaming, so I figured I’d do something useful.” She gestured to the canning kettle before taking a mixing bowl from the cupboard shelf. “I forgot to tell you, I can’t pick Nathan up at noon today.”

  Josiah stared at her. He couldn’t ask for time off work again.

  Mamm had her back to him, cracking eggs into a bowl. “Mary has a new baby and won’t be back waitressing, so I’ll be filling in at the restaurant.”

  “Will you still be doing the desserts?” When she nodded, he said, “But won’t it wear you out to do waitressing too, especially with missing so much sleep last night?”

  “I expect it will, but Linda needs help. Mary’s replacement can’t start for another week.”

  A week? Did she just say a week? “You’re not planning to fill in the whole time, are you?”

  “What else can I do? Linda can’t hire someone for only a week.”

  Sinking into a chair, Josiah buried his head in his hands. A whole week. He’d lose his job if he took off that much time. If only he’d had some warning, he could have made plans. No, that wasn’t true. He didn’t know anyone who could or would handle Nathan. Except for Ada, but he couldn’t ask her.

  “What can I do about Nathan?”