The Amish Teacher's Gift

by Rachel J. Good

  Ada arrived at school still in a sleep-deprived haze, the fear in Nathan’s eyes constantly on her mind.

  Josiah’s buggy pulled into the school yard, and Ada beckoned David, who ran out to meet his friend. Josiah got out and stepped to the opposite side of the buggy before David clambered in to wake Nathan. The two boys walked toward the schoolhouse, with David signing and Nathan frowning at his hands.

  Ada leaned toward Betty as she walked into the schoolhouse. “Have you noticed that Nathan cries a lot around his daed?”

  “I certainly have. And I know exactly what the problem is.” Betty glanced around, making sure no one was close enough to hear. “That child needs stricter discipline. Josiah is much too lax.”

  Betty’s comment only added to Ada’s confusion, and later that afternoon, when Ada spoke to Hope about the situation without giving Nathan’s name, Hope encouraged her to call Child Protective Services.

  Ada thanked her for her suggestion, but added, “We don’t like to involve outside services like that. I’ll try talking to the bishop.”

  “I’ll be praying,” Hope told her. “You really need an authority to check into this, though. Children have been killed by abusive parents.”

  “I don’t know that he’s being abused.” Although evidence seemed to point in that direction, Ada’s mind and heart refused to tie together the words Josiah and abuse.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ada needed answers to her questions, answers only Nathan could give. Over the next week, she set aside part of each day to work alone with him at recess now that they had transitioned into full school days. Although she felt guilty about going behind Josiah’s back, she needed to find out why Nathan was so fearful.

  Nathan was a fast learner, for which she was grateful. In addition to what she was teaching, David shared many signs with him, and he and Nathan developed a combination of miming and signs that enabled them to communicate while they played.

  She should be teaching Nathan basic words, but instead she was working on signs for hurt, angry, sad, and scared. When she’d given him enough signs for feelings and taught him to use the picture boards Hope had recommended, she was ready to ask the questions burning in the back of her mind.

  She hated to think the worst of Josiah, but she needed to find out the truth and protect Nathan, if necessary. She’d been mistaken about Josiah before when she’d believed he’d kidnapped her siblings, and she hoped she’d made an error this time too.

  She gestured for Nathan to stay behind as the others headed outside. He skipped over, which lessened her guilt about keeping him inside. Glad he trusted her, she started with some simple signs he’d been learning. When he played with David, ball, truck, and book showed up often. Her brother’s name seemed to be his favorite, but she didn’t want to remind him that David was outside playing while he was inside, so she skipped that.

  Then she plunged into the inquiry she needed to make. She signed Scare you with a question mark, expecting him to point to one of the pictures on the board—spiders, snakes, dark steps to a basement, a tiger with a menacing set of teeth—so she could work the conversation around to the real topic on her mind. Instead, Nathan immediately signed Daed.

  She double-checked his answer, repeating it back to him as a question. He nodded so vigorously when she asked if his daed scared him, Ada’s stomach churned. She’d wanted to find out the truth, but knowing her suspicions were correct made her sick.

  She asked her next question: Daed hurt Nathan? Rather than answering, he replied by pointing to himself and signing Scared. Ada had no idea how the two ideas connected. Did he mean he was scared of being hurt? Or scared to tell her?

  She moved on to the picture card of a child. Pointing to one spot at a time on the front and back of the child, she asked if his daed hurt him there. Each time he shook his head. Now Ada was thoroughly confused. She drew a question mark in the air.

  Nathan signed slowly as if he were struggling to share something for the first time. Tears in his eyes, he signed, Mamm gone.

  Ada nodded to let him know she understood. Poor kid. He was missing her, but had no way to share his feelings. Sad, she responded.

  His head bobbed up and down. He pointed to himself and added Cry. He followed with Daed sad. Daed cry. Yes, Josiah had gotten choked up when he talked about his wife.

  Then five sentences came in rapid succession. Daed hurt Mamm. Mamm gone. I scared. I gone.

  Ada struggled to interpret the meaning behind the sentences and tie them together properly. Nathan seemed to be accusing Josiah of hurting his mother. That much was clear. Was he scared about his mamm being gone? Or scared that whatever happened to his mamm would happen to him? Or did he want to go where she was?

  She tried to clarify his statements by asking additional questions, but his knowledge of sign language limited his answers. Two things became clear: Josiah was not hurting him physically, but Nathan was frightened of his daed. He confirmed both statements multiple times.

  Her head reeling, Ada racked her brain to think of other signs she could teach him to help her discover the truth. She didn’t like to involve her brother, but Nathan and David communicated so well together, David might be able to find answers. She’d talk to him tonight after dinner.

  Ada waited until everyone was in bed that evening before slipping in to talk to David. She sat on the edge of his bed, and he sat up, surprised.

  “Do you know why Nathan is scared of his daed?” she signed.

  When he shook his head, she asked, “Will you help me find out?”

  David agreed, and from the other bed, Noah, in a sleepy voice, pledged to help too. Now that she’d enlisted her brothers’ help, maybe together they could find answers.

  At recess the next day, David sat on the playground in earnest conversation with Nathan. From time to time, Nathan chewed hard on his bunny’s ears, but he also seemed to be responding. Ada hoped her brother could glean some more clues. Nathan bounded in from recess, but David followed, a frown wrinkling his forehead. Ada longed to know what they had discussed, but she needed to wait until she and David had time alone.

  The school day passed slowly and was marred by several outbursts. Martha did her best to calm her brother, who seemed especially agitated. Ada decided to order some weighted neck rolls from the catalog Hope had given her. The books she’d read claimed weighted vests and neck rolls calmed children with autism. What she wanted most of all, though, was a multi-sensory room like they had at the center. She could use it herself right now. But that gave her an idea. Perhaps she could create a place in the classroom for peace and calm.

  First, though, she needed to get through this day. With a grateful heart, she turned the scholars over to their parents when the school day ended. Ada couldn’t look Josiah in the eye when he picked up Nathan, and she struggled to be civil. With a heavy heart, she let Nathan leave, when all she wanted to do was hug him to her. Until she knew more, though, she had no right to interfere. Even if she did, she’d have to leave discipline up to the bishop. Most of all, Ada couldn’t let her attraction to Josiah blind her to the truth.

  Then, her stomach jittery, she waited until Martha left before asking David about his conversation with Nathan. After her brother finished, Ada repeated the information back to him several times in both sign language and speech.

  The final time David read her lips, he nodded impatiently and signed. Can we go home? I want to play before chores.

  Ada nodded, but the whole way home, she mulled over David’s information. She had to talk to Josiah as soon as possible.

  The next morning she arrived at the schoolhouse early and waited outside for Josiah, who usually arrived first. She only hoped Betty didn’t drive in and see her having a private conversation with him. As soon as his buggy pulled in, Ada hurried across the parking lot. David followed her to accompany his friend into the schoolhouse.

  As usual, Josiah stepped out of the buggy and stayed out of Nathan’s sight. While David climbed ov
er the lowered front seat to wake Nathan, Ada rounded the buggy and almost plowed into Josiah’s chest. She skidded to a stop, but her pulse continued its headlong flight.

  “I need to talk to you,” she said. “Could we meet here after school once all the pupils have gone home?”

  Josiah’s eyes widened, and Ada hoped he hadn’t misconstrued her request. “It’s about Nathan,” she explained.

  His forehead wrinkled. “Is everything all right?”

  Ada was unsure how to answer that. “It would be best if I explained this afternoon.”

  “I’ll come a little later than usual,” Josiah said. “That way people won’t wonder why we’re, um, meeting.”

  “Good idea.” Although Ada wished they were meeting for another purpose. She mentally shook herself and hurried to the schoolhouse door. She was a few feet away when Betty drove in. Ada slowed to a walk, hoping she was far enough from Josiah’s buggy to allay Betty’s suspicions.

  The rest of the day inched along as Ada greeted her pupils, taught them some lessons, and mentally rehearsed what she would say to Josiah.

  With great relief, she watched the last parent pull out of the parking lot at the end of the day. Josiah hadn’t arrived yet, but when he did, no adults would be around to see them having a private conversation.

  As soon as Josiah pulled in, she waved him over. He left the buggy and jogged in her direction, a bright smile lighting his face.

  She turned her attention to David and Nathan who were playing together. “I thought we could sit at the picnic table.” She motioned to the wooden table at one end of the building. “I’ll let the boys know where we’ll be.”

  When she returned, they took seats on opposite sides of the small picnic table. The broiling September sun had heated the wooden bench so it burned through the fabric of her dress. Ada rutsched, trying to get comfortable, but nervousness also made it hard to sit still. Being so close to Josiah, staring directly into his eyes, she almost forgot what she’d planned to say. Think, Ada. She lowered her gaze. David. Nathan.

  “I think I’ve discovered why Nathan fusses when he sees you.” She paused to draw a breath into her air-starved lungs. The summer heat made it hard to breathe, but so did the intensity of Josiah’s gaze as he leaned forward, eyes focused on her.

  “Why?” Josiah’s desperate plea was like a drowning man begging for help.

  Ada wanted to reach across the table and hold his hands, find a way to comfort him. “David talked to Nathan, and…”

  “And?” Impatience seeped into his words.

  Ada rushed out her words to give him his answer. “Nathan believes you took his mamm away, and he’s afraid you’ll do the same to him.”

  Josiah stared at her. “He’s afraid I’ll get rid of him?”

  “Yes. He doesn’t understand what happened to his mamm, why she’s gone.” Ada clenched her hands in her lap to keep from reaching out, wishing she could wipe the sorrow from his face.

  “Nathan asks about his mamm every day.” Josiah’s voice grew husky. “I have no way to explain other than to sign Mamm gone.”

  “Oh, Josiah, I’m so sorry. That must be hard.” To be unable to communicate with your own son. To be so isolated. And poor Nathan. To have no idea why his mamm was gone.

  “My signing only made it worse, didn’t it?” Josiah lowered his head and rubbed his forehead. “I had no idea. I should have found some way to learn more sign language,” he said, his voice raspy. “But even if I had, I couldn’t teach Nathan. Not with the way he avoids me.”

  Ada laid a hand on his sleeve to comfort him, but wished she hadn’t because she longed to stroke the powerful muscle under the cloth. But if she jerked away, he might wonder why. Concentrate on his sadness, Ada. She willed her fingers to remain still and focused on sending caring through her touch.

  “I was so grateful he’d be learning it at school and hoped once he did…” Josiah gazed off into the distance. “All this time, I thought he understood what happened to his mamm.” In a broken voice, he continued, “Maybe I made a mistake not taking him to her funeral.”

  What did he say? His words buzzed in Ada’s brain. She must have heard him wrong. She’d assumed his wife had gone back to Mexico. Unlike the women in their community, who dressed all in black after a death, men didn’t change their usual attire, so she’d had no clue his wife had died. Her thoughts ran wild, and she barely heard Josiah’s next words.

  “He wasn’t there when…” Josiah choked back a sob. “I just assumed he understood…”

  Josiah isn’t married? He’s a widower? All those times she’d berated herself for thinking about him…All those times she…As the load of guilt tumbled away, the feelings she’d suppressed rushed in, overwhelming her. She had to calm herself. Not let her attraction show. Right now, helping Nathan—and his daed—should be her only focus.

  “What have I done?” Josiah gripped her hands.

  Relax, Ada. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing. He’s grasping for something to hold on to in his desperation. Nevertheless, her heart pattered faster.

  Josiah’s anguished words poured out. “I’ve frightened my son every day for the last nine months. Every time I signed to him, every time I picked him up, every time I carried him out the door, every time I put him in the buggy, he must have thought…” He looked sick.

  “Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t know.”

  His fingers tightened on hers. “How will I ever make it right? I can’t talk to him, explain what happened. Even if I learned the signs, he doesn’t know them. What am I going to do? How can I explain?”

  Ada had no idea how to teach abstract concepts in sign language. For feelings, she could use facial expressions and pictures, but for death and God and heaven, she was at a loss. She tried to remember teaching David to understand some of those signs, but it had happened gradually over time, and she’d never analyzed how she’d done it.

  Josiah glanced down at his hands, and redness suffused his face. “I’m sorry.” He quickly withdrew the big, strong hands engulfing hers, leaving Ada bereft.

  She moved her hands back to her lap, but the touch of his fingers remained. Ada struggled to gather her scattered thoughts.

  Josiah cleared his throat. “Maybe I should ask the teacher at the center if she could teach me sign language.”

  Fierce jealousy gripped Ada at the thought of Josiah working with the pretty Mennonite teacher. A jealousy she had no right to feel. “I’d be happy to teach you,” she blurted out.

  He frowned. “I don’t think…That is…”

  Ada’s heart sank. He had no interest in working with her. She’d been foolish to offer.

  “I wouldn’t feel right taking up your time. You have so much to do with teaching and caring for your brothers and sisters.”

  Unsure if his response was a polite refusal or if he truly worried about overloading her, Ada paused before answering. She longed to say she’d love to teach him, to spend time with him, but she tempered her response. “I don’t mind.” Then worried that sounded too unenthusiastic, she added, “I’d be happy to do it.”

  “Thank you for the offer.” Josiah stood. “I should pick up Nathan, although now that I know I’m scaring him…”

  Ada longed to erase the misery on his face. No daed should have to endure such pain. “Why don’t I take Nathan home with me,” she suggested, “and you can join us there later? David and I can try to explain using sign language he knows.”

  A look of relief crossed his face, but then he stiffened. “No, it’s not right that you should have to deal with our problems. You’ve done so much already.”

  “It’s no trouble at all. David loves spending time with Nathan.”

  When he looked about to protest, she said, “You want this to be easier for Nathan, right? He should have some explanation.”

  “You’re right. Nathan’s needs are most important.” He glanced away and swallowed hard. “What time should I come for him?”

  “Why d
on’t you come for dinner?” Ada cut off his mumbling about being an imposition. “The girls enjoyed your company, and you can always wash dishes afterward,” she said teasingly.

  Josiah laughed. “Who could pass up an invitation like that? All right, dishes it is.” He started to walk off but then turned toward her. “Thank you.”

  The look in his eyes took Ada’s breath away. His eyes overflowed with gratitude. But his gaze contained something deeper, much deeper, she couldn’t identify. As if they’d connected soul to soul.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The enormity of his mistakes overwhelmed Josiah. He’d traumatized his son. No wonder Josiah clung to Ada. When he was with her, he felt safe. Safe from the father who would…Who would what? What did Nathan think would happen to him? Josiah wished he knew what terrors ran through his son’s mind.

  Even more, he wanted to alleviate them, to let Nathan know how much he loved him, to share a relationship with him like Ada had with her brothers and sisters, to do things together. For some reason, every activity he pictured doing with his son, Ada accompanied them.

  His skin still registered her gentle touch, butterfly light, conveying caring and empathy. He couldn’t forget the compassion in her eyes when he met her gaze. The softness of her skin when he gripped her hands. The emptiness inside when he’d forced himself to let go.

  He replayed each touch, each gesture, each smile until Silver trotted down the driveway and into the barn beside Mamm’s wagon. Then he shook away the thoughts and readied himself for his mamm’s barrage of questions.

  As usual, she was in the kitchen, amid counters filled with canning jars. She greeted him, then stared at his empty arms. “Where’s Nathan?”

  “I’ll be picking him up from his teacher’s house later.”

  “I see. I did laundry this afternoon.” Mamm pointed to a small, neatly folded stack of clothes and the quilt. “I didn’t recognize those. I assume Nathan borrowed them?”