The Amish Teacher's Gift

by Rachel J. Good

  The hammer slipped from his grasp and went hurtling through the air.

  “Yoder!” Ralph’s sharp cry jolted Josiah back to the job site. “That could have hit someone below. Like me.”

  Josiah tipped his head to see the ground below. Ralph’s steel-toed boot connected with the hammer, kicking up a puff of dust and sending the hammer flying toward the nearby grass. Evidently, the foreman wasn’t worried about it hitting anyone down there.

  His fists bunched and face red, Ralph yelled, “Follow that hammer. Take your lunch break and do your daydreaming then. When you get back, the only thing you’d better focus on is work.”

  His cheeks hot, Josiah climbed down the ladder. Grabbing his cooler, he headed to a nearby tree. He sank onto the grass under a leafy oak, opened the lid, and pulled out a thick ham sandwich on Mamm’s homemade bread. Eyes still closed after his silent prayer, he bit into the chewy crust and savored the smoky, salty taste with its sharp tang of mustard.

  A hand knuckled his straw hat. “OK if I join ya, dude?” Marcus towered above him, the pink hard hat he had clasped in one hand almost hidden behind his back. The greasy smell of fries came from the fast food bag he clutched in his other huge hand.

  Josiah motioned to the grass beside him. He’d been hoping for some peace and quiet, some time to think. He was so exhausted, though, he might drift off. Maybe company would keep him awake and prevent his thoughts from straying to where they shouldn’t go.

  Josiah gestured toward the hard hat. “Forgot yours today?”

  “Yeah.” Marcus’s cheeks darkened.

  Like many construction companies, Anderson & Sons handed out pink hats to those who came to work without theirs. The color was supposed to discourage workers from stealing them and to encourage them to remember their own next time.

  Tossing the pink hat under the tree, Marcus set down a white bag with grayish grease spots. “Decided to take lunch early. I’m tired of all the purty-in-pink comments.”

  “I can imagine,” Josiah said. The other guys whistled and catcalled every time Marcus walked by.

  Marcus lowered his bulk to the ground. “Whatcha doing taking lunch so early, man?”

  With a shrug, Josiah studied the house under construction. “Ralph told me to take a break.”

  “That ’cause you almost beaned him with that hammer you dropped?”

  “I didn’t know it almost hit him.” No wonder the foreman had barked at him like that.

  “Yeah, right. Sure ya didn’t do it on purpose?” Marcus nudged him and winked. “Big mouth like him deserves it.”

  Josiah hoped Ralph didn’t think he’d done it on purpose. “No one deserves to get hurt.”

  Marcus rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He opened his bag and shoved several fries in his mouth. After he swallowed, he said, “It’s not like you to be so careless. What’s goin’ on?”

  Josiah shrugged. Then worried Marcus might think him rude, he said, “Troubles with my son.”

  “Kids. They’re trouble no matter what age they are. I oughta know.” From the wild tales he told about his four boys, he’d had plenty of experience.

  “Well, Nathan’s only six, but he’s—” How could Josiah describe Nathan’s outbursts without making his son sound like a spoiled brat? “Well, he has crying fits, but he’s grieving for his mamm.”

  “Give him time. It’s not even been a year yet, has it?” Marcus unwrapped a fast food burger that emitted the sharp odor of pickle and onion. “Or if it’s real bad, take him to a shrink.” Mayonnaise oozed out as he picked up the loaded bun. “Or don’t you people believe in shrinks?”

  Josiah wasn’t sure what shrinks were, but it didn’t seem like a solution to Nathan’s problem. “The problem is he can’t talk.”

  “At his age?” Marcus said around a mouthful of sandwich. “I’ve heard of kids that don’t talk until they’re three or four, but six is kinda late.”

  “He lost his hearing when he was two.”

  Marcus munched for a minute, a thoughtful look on his face. “The kid’s deaf? Aw, man, that’s tough.” Finishing his bite, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You know any of that sign language stuff?”

  “Not much,” Josiah admitted.

  “So why not learn it? Although”—he pinned Josiah with a serious look—“once they reach a certain age, there’s no communicating with them anyway.” He popped several more fries in his mouth and shook his head.

  Josiah leaned back against the rough bark and closed his eyes. Pictures of Ruth, weary and pale, demonstrating a few signs, faded to images of Ada, vibrant and lively, confidently signing to her brother. The other night he’d almost asked Ada if she’d teach him, but it would be much wiser to find another teacher.

  “You sleeping?” Marcus’s question dragged Josiah back to the construction site. After swallowing down the last of the fries, Marcus stood and crumpled the bag in his fist. “I gotta go. Me and Rodrigo are planning to sneak away from the old ladies this weekend. You know how it is.” His grin faded. “Aw, sorry, dude.” He cuffed Josiah on the shoulder. “Hang in there.”

  Josiah finished the rest of his lunch, stowed his cooler in the buggy, and trudged back to the job site. The clock was ticking toward noon, and Ada would be leaving work soon. Images of her swam before his tired eyes. Beautiful, serene, tired after a long day. Crossing the playground to get into her buggy. Behind her, Nathan’s shrill screams echoed across the playground, while Martha and Betty, at their wits’ end, tried to calm a kicking, screeching whirlwind.

  His stomach in knots, Josiah reached the ladder and hauled himself up two rungs.

  “Yoder!” the foreman yelled behind him.

  Josiah jumped and almost lost his grip on the ladder. He swiveled his head toward his red-faced boss. Visions of Nathan and Ada faded at the sight of Ralph’s scowl.

  “You’re usually my best worker,” Ralph growled. “What’s going on up there?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll work harder this afternoon to make up for it.”

  “I wanna know why it happened in the first place.”

  Josiah didn’t believe in making excuses for his behavior, but Ralph stood waiting, his arms crossed. “Rough night,” Josiah mumbled.

  “Thought the Amish didn’t go on benders. Nice to know you’re human.” He clapped Josiah on the back. “Next time save it for Saturday night.” His gruff voice softened a bit. “Now get up there and get to work the way you normally do.”

  Too tired to correct the misunderstanding, Josiah nodded and climbed the ladder to the roof. He forced his attention away from the schoolhouse and onto each nail. They needed to go in with precision so the roof didn’t leak.

  Whenever he caught himself worrying or daydreaming, he jerked his thoughts back to the roof. It wasn’t fair to his employer to let his mind wander elsewhere—no matter how pressing his worries—when he should be concentrating on his job. He was being paid to have his full attention here; anything else was cheating his employer.

  A white pickup truck emblazoned with the Anderson & Sons label pulled into the lot, and a man stepped out holding a thick stack of papers. He huddled with Ralph for a few minutes, and then the foreman blew a whistle.

  “Finish what you’re doing and gather round,” Ralph called.

  A flurry of hammering and sawing ensued before men clambered down ladders to surround Ralph and the man wearing a suit and tie.

  Beside Josiah, one of the men scoffed, “Who’s he think he’s fooling? Look at his hard hat and shoes. Not a scratch on them.” The man’s gleaming hard hat and shiny steel-toed shoes contrasted with the crew’s scuffed, well-worn clothing and equipment.

  Ralph held up a hand, and the chattering ended. “I’d like to introduce the owner of Anderson & Sons, Mr. Lyle Anderson. He’s come here from New York today to tell us about a special project.”

  “We’re planning to expand Anderson & Sons across the country,” Anderson said. “Our new head of advertising decided we should splur
ge on small, local projects that get free media coverage. And that’s where you come in.”

  “He think we’re gonna advertise for him for free after working for such low wages?” the man next to Josiah grumbled.

  Lyle Anderson handed Ralph a stack of papers. “Pass these out so everyone can see what I’m talking about.” He faced the men again. “We’d like you to come up with ideas for community service projects. Something Anderson & Sons can underwrite.”

  A small sheaf of papers made its way down the row, and Josiah took one and passed the rest on. He read the paper in his hand as Lyle Anderson droned on. The company directors would choose one project per region to fund.

  “So,” Lyle continued, “The finished project should be something with an ‘aw’ factor. Kids and animals are always a big draw for the media, so plan accordingly. Send us your best ideas.”

  Ralph thanked the owner and then yelled, “OK, back to work, everyone.”

  As the men dispersed, Lyle Anderson pointed to Josiah. “You, there, what do you do?”

  “I’m a roofer, sir.”

  Anderson glared at the straw hat Josiah wore. “Where’s your hard hat?”

  “I’m Amish. We don’t wear hard hats.”

  “Everyone wears a hard hat on Anderson sites. No exceptions.” The company owner’s voice grew shrill. “I’m not dealing with another lawsuit.”

  Ralph intervened. “The Amish don’t believe in suing people, and they’ve been granted an exemption—”

  “Not from me they haven’t,” Anderson snapped. “I will not have a worker on my property without proper safety equipment. Young man, I expect you to put on a hard hat immediately.”

  Although Josiah understood the supervisor’s concerns, the rules of the Ordnung were deeply engrained in him. The hat represented his humility and separateness from the world. To remove it in public or wear a different hat than his brethren? Neh, he couldn’t do it. Not even to keep his job.

  “I’m sorry, sir. It’s against my beliefs to wear a different hat than the rest of my community.”

  Hands on his hips, Lyle Anderson looked Josiah up and down. “You heard my ultimatum. Either that hat goes or you do.” His face red, he spat out, “You understand?”

  “I understand, Mr. Anderson. I’m sorry I can’t continue to work here. I’ve enjoyed my job.” Josiah turned and walked toward his buggy, his thoughts churning.

  Behind him, Lyle Anderson’s voice rose in disbelief. “He’d really lose a job over that foolish hat?”

  “The hat is part of his religion,” Ralph retorted. “I can’t believe you just fired my best worker.”

  “Roofers are a dime a dozen,” Anderson said. “Put an ad in the paper, and you’ll have someone in place at the end of the day.”

  “You don’t understand.” Ralph was practically screeching. “He does more work than two men combined, always arrives on time, never stretches out his lunch hour, and…”

  The voices faded as Josiah moved out of earshot. He untied Silver and slid into the buggy, the flyer still in his hand. He tossed it onto the seat beside him, picked up the reins, and headed toward the street.

  Ralph waved him down, and Josiah pulled to a halt. “Anderson doesn’t realize it’s illegal to fire you over that hat,” Ralph said. “OSHA regulations allow you to wear it. Might be best to go home now and take tomorrow off so I can sort this out, but report for work Thursday as usual.”

  Josiah appreciated Ralph’s support, but Lyle Anderson, as the boss, had made it clear he was in charge. If Josiah had any questions about Anderson’s word being law, the man’s clenched fists and teeth as he stalked over to Ralph erased all doubt.

  “You’d better not be rescinding my decision,” Anderson thundered. “I own this company—lock, stock, and barrel. No one, not even legal, will reverse my decisions.”

  Ralph held up a hand in protest. “But the—”

  “I should be going,” Josiah said, flicking the reins.

  Ralph mouthed Thursday at the same time Anderson said, “No hard hat, no job.”

  The horse picked up speed, carrying Josiah away from the arguing men. Ralph had told him to come back Thursday, so Josiah would obey his order. But he had no idea if he’d still have a job.

  Chapter Fifteen

  With Lukas absent and Nathan calm, Ada walked into the classroom with more confidence than she had yesterday. With no screaming children, she could do what other schoolteachers did—greet the arriving scholars by the door. Nathan clutched her skirt and shrank behind her when the next wagon pulled into the school yard. David stood on her other side, smiling. Martha stayed just inside the doorway, bouncing a little on her toes.

  Leah hopped out and brought Lizzie to the doorway. Ada greeted both of them. Lizzie’s head jerked to one side, then she flailed her arms. Several sounds issued from her mouth.

  “Tell everyone about your surprise, Lizzie,” Leah encouraged her.

  Lizzie’s tics increased, and she struggled to get out words between clicking sounds. “I have…a…baby…brother.”

  Ada squatted down to her level, and Nathan backed up and flattened himself against the door. “How wonderful!” Ada said. After signing the word baby, Ada pantomimed rocking a baby. Martha clapped and beamed, and Ada turned to David to mouth more details. Martha avidly watched Lizzie’s and Leah’s mouths as they discussed the baby.

  Smiling, David studied everyone’s faces and lips. He signed to ask the baby’s name. Ada interpreted his request and followed up by translating Lizzie’s spoken Matthew to the class, but Nathan stayed semi-hidden behind Ada, his body tense.

  Before she left, Leah leaned forward to whisper to Ada. “The delivery went well, and I have some exciting news. I’d love for you to stop by the store today if you can.” Giving everyone a brief wave, she crossed the yard to her wagon as Emily’s mother pulled in.

  Once Emily joined them, Lizzie shared her news again while Ada signed, eliciting a flicker of a smile from Emily. Grateful for the peaceful start to the day, Ada herded the children into the classroom. Will had still not arrived, but it was time for school to start.

  Lizzie’s announcement provided the perfect lead-in to the day’s lesson—signs for family members. Ada gathered the cards she’d made last night after Josiah and Nathan left. She began with baby, and then brother and sister. Next she demonstrated the sign for daed. As soon as he saw the sign, Nathan shrank in his chair and glanced over his shoulder fearfully. He appeared on the verge of a meltdown, so she quickly switched to the sign for mamm.

  Nathan squeezed his eyes shut and repeated the sign. He’d evidently had a lot of practice with that one. A tear trickled down his cheek, and Ada regretted choosing that sign. He’d be missing his mamm while she was in Mexico. She wanted to reach out to comfort him, but didn’t feel right singling out one scholar over the rest.

  Opening his eyes, which were brimming with tears, Nathan signed Mamm gone. He repeated it a second time and burst into tears. Ada broke her rule about not giving a child preferential treatment and cradled him in her arms while he sobbed.

  Miriam arrived with Will during Nathan’s crying jag. Will covered his ears and balked when his mamm tried to walk him through the door. Ada, her arms full, smiled encouragement, but Will only planted his feet more firmly.

  She pinched her lips together to hold back her sighs. The morning had begun so well, they’d actually made some progress on lessons before everything fell apart. Now they were headed back to yesterday’s chaos. Lizzie’s tics had slowed once they’d started the signing lesson, and Emily sat, still and silent, as usual. Martha hurried to the door and blocked Will’s view of Nathan.

  “Will can go for a walk,” she told Miriam. Martha stepped outside and beckoned to Will. To Ada’s amazement, he followed her. Bless Martha. She was a godsend.

  While Martha walked Will outside, Ada rocked Nathan until his sobs quieted to hiccupping sniffles. She wiped his face and nose, gave him a tight squeeze, and waited until he had comp
osed himself. Then she motioned toward his chair. He looked up and met her eyes, and she could read the longing in them. He wanted to be held and cuddled. Ada was as reluctant to let him go as he appeared to be. If his mamm was so ill, she might not be able to hold him when she was home. And it seemed she wasn’t home now due to her treatments. The poor child seemed to be starving for affection and closeness. But she had a classroom to run, and it wouldn’t be fair to hold one child and not the others.

  Giving him another tight squeeze, she encouraged him to return to his chair. A few minutes later, Martha peeked her head in the door and, seeing that all was quiet, led Will into the classroom. Ada decided not to continue with family signs. They’d had enough drama for one day.

  The rest of the morning went fairly well, with one major outburst from Will and, when Ada’s back was turned, a sudden screaming session from Nathan. Ada had no idea what had prompted it, but she managed to calm him before the parents arrived.

  Despite the morning being less hectic than the day before, Ada was drained by the time most of the students had been picked up. Even with no accident to delay her today, Will’s mamm again breezed in fifteen minutes after school let out. Ada suspected Miriam was chronically late.

  Betty had already arrived to help Martha with Nathan, and she eyed Miriam. “School is over at precisely noon. It is unfair to ask the teacher to watch Will after that time.”

  Miriam shriveled under her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she said meekly. “I’ll try not to be late again.”

  “Don’t bother to try; see that you do it.”