The Amish Teacher's Gift

by Rachel J. Good

  The clothes Ada had lent him. He’d take them with him when he went for dinner tonight. “Yes, he did.”

  Mamm’s folded arms indicated she was waiting for an explanation, one Josiah didn’t want to give, knowing it would only lead to more questions. “He wore them the night he stayed at his teacher’s house.”

  Mamm raised her eyebrows. “His teacher seems to be taking a great interest in him.”

  Josiah couldn’t tell if Mamm’s comment was neutral or if she’d included a note of censure. Curiosity underlay her words as well, but Josiah was unwilling to share too much about Ada because Mamm would read into it.

  He needed to let her know they would be at Ada’s for dinner and why, so he launched into the day’s events, explaining what Ada had discovered and the plan for helping Nathan. By the time he finished, Mamm’s eyes were teary.

  “The poor little boy.” She reached into the pocket under her apron and pulled out a hankie. “No wonder he kicks up such a fuss.”

  “Yes, I’m sick inside thinking about what he’s been going through because of me.” Sick didn’t begin to describe the guilt that overwhelmed him at the thought he’d been terrorizing the son he loved more than life itself. “How could I not have known? Why didn’t I pay more attention to the messages he was sending when he kicked and screamed?”

  “Neh, don’t blame yourself.”

  The same thing Ada had said, but Josiah did blame himself. He should have tried harder to find out the cause of his son’s distress. He should have spent time learning sign language. He should have…

  Mamm patted his arm, and Josiah flashed back to Ada’s hand on his sleeve. He forced himself to return to the kitchen.

  “I’m going to learn sign language. Ad— Nathan’s teacher offered to help.” He avoided saying Ada’s name for fear Mamm might pick up clues to his attraction. Calling her the teacher helped put distance between them. Or was he only fooling himself?

  The way Mamm was scrutinizing him, she’d detected some of the undercurrents he was attempting to hide. With a brief nod, as if satisfying herself about something, she said, “I’m grateful Nathan’s teacher is so willing to help him.”

  * * *

  As Josiah strode across the parking lot, Ada gazed after him until he climbed into the buggy. Then she hurried into the schoolhouse, worried he might have seen her in the rearview mirror, staring at him.

  The air inside felt cooler, but it did little to temper the heat that being around Josiah had created. When he’d reached out and gripped her hands, it had been only desperation on his part, but the sensations it generated were real. So real, her fingers remained warm from his touch. With seven siblings and the situation with Daed, she had no business yearning for the impossible.

  Once she’d regained her composure, she locked the schoolhouse and called the boys.

  “Nathan will be coming home with us. His daed will join us for dinner,” she said to David.

  He and Nathan both watched her lips intently, but only David jumped for joy. Nathan’s face puckered at the word daed, and he glanced around. The lines on his face relaxed when he didn’t spot Josiah’s buggy. Ada wished she could explain he didn’t need to fear his daed. Poor child. And poor Josiah.

  Using sign language and their own private motions, David conveyed the good news to Nathan. His eyes uncertain, he looked up at Ada. She nodded and was rewarded with a broad smile.

  Tucking his hand in her brother’s, Nathan skipped along beside David and climbed into the buggy. He leaned against Ada as she drove. Several times he almost drifted off, but caught himself and jerked awake. David kept him busy by pointing out various things and demonstrating the signs, which Nathan copied.

  When they arrived at the house, David and Nathan thundered upstairs. Ada had to talk to Nathan before Josiah arrived, but she wanted the rest of the family to understand, so she called Noah into the kitchen, where her sisters were making chicken pot pie.

  Sadie was rolling out the dough and cutting it into squares to drop in the boiling broth right before the meal was ready. The twins were washing and cutting up carrots and celery. Hannah emerged from the pantry with a jar of chicken breasts Ada had canned.

  “You’d better get another jar,” Ada told her. “Nathan and Josiah will be eating with us tonight.”

  “They will?” Rather than looking annoyed, Sadie reached for the ingredients to make more dough. “We’ll need more pot pie squares then.”

  “First, I’d like to talk to everyone before Josiah arrives.” Ada waited for everyone to gather around her and then explained why Nathan screamed for his daed. “Nathan only knows that his mamm’s gone, and he blames his dad. He’s scared Josiah will get rid of him too.”

  Noah shuffled his feet. “Poor kid. No wonder he’s so upset.”

  Tears in her eyes, Sadie said, “Poor Josiah too.”

  Mary Elizabeth sniffled.

  “If any of you have ideas about how to explain this to Nathan,” Ada continued, “let me know. For now, we just need to convince him his daed won’t hurt him or get rid of him.”

  Everyone nodded, and Ada sent Hannah up to get the boys.

  “David and I will talk to him for a little while in the living room. Then maybe all of you can join us. Dinner won’t take long to cook.”

  David came down the stairs with Nathan. They sat next to each other on the couch, and Ada sat across from them. By the time the rest of her siblings joined them, Ada had begun the discussion about Nathan’s mamm.

  A wistful look crossed his face. Want Mamm, he signed.

  You miss Mamm? Ada responded.

  Nathan frowned at the sign for miss. Ada poked her chin with her index finger, wrinkled her brow, and made her face as sad and regretful as she could. Nathan imitated her. This time he bobbed his head up and down so vigorously, she had no doubt he understood.

  His eyes grew misty, and he blinked. Then he signed, I miss Mamm, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

  “Oh, Nathan,” Mary Elizabeth gushed. She rushed over, swept him into her arms, and hugged him tight.

  Nathan’s eyes bugged out, and he seemed to be appealing for someone to save him. Ada tapped her sister on the shoulder and untangled Mary Elizabeth’s embrace. “It was very thoughtful of you to care about Nathan’s feelings, but he might be a bit overwhelmed right now.”

  “But I’d want someone to hug me tight.” Mary Elizabeth’s chin quivered.

  “I know,” Ada soothed. “Not everyone reacts the same way, though. Some people like to be alone when they’re sad.” She pulled Mary Elizabeth onto her lap. “Why don’t we see what else Nathan has to say?”

  But Nathan seemed to have been startled into silence. To give him time to recover, she directed her siblings to finish fixing dinner, then she and David did their best to communicate the idea that Nathan’s daed wouldn’t hurt him. Nathan looked skeptical, so she assumed he’d understood most of what they’d said. Ada suggested David take Nathan to his room and keep trying to convince his friend. She joined her sisters in the kitchen.

  The broth was bubbling by the time Josiah knocked. Sadie and Mary Elizabeth tried to elbow each other out of the way to be the first to reach the door. Ada put her hands on their shoulders to separate them. Then she walked between them, because, truth be told, she wanted to be the first to the door.

  Sadie glared when Mary Elizabeth grasped the doorknob first. But her expression turned sunny when Josiah smiled and greeted both of them. Then he looked at Ada, and her heart stuttered. If Sadie hadn’t invited him in, Ada might still be lost in his gaze.

  Josiah held out a small stack of clothing and the quilt. “Mamm washed them, so they’re clean.”

  As Ada took them from him, their fingers brushed. Breathe. Act normal.

  “Danke for letting Nathan borrow them,” he said.

  “We’re having pot pie tonight,” Sadie broke in. “I made the dough squares.”

  “Smells delicious,” Josiah said, and Sadie beamed.

 
; Not to be outdone, Mary Elizabeth pushed in front of Sadie. “I buttered all the bread.” She took his hand and pulled him through the living room. “Come out in the kitchen and see.”

  Josiah inspected the towering stack of homemade bread slices, alternating face up and face down, with a serious expression. “Very nice.”

  Sadie pulled out the chair he’d sat in the last time. “Have a seat.”

  “Danke.” He smiled at her but turned to Ada, a question in his eyes.

  She motioned toward the stairway. “The boys are upstairs. We did try to talk to Nathan. I’m not sure we convinced him, but I hope we made a start.”

  Josiah sank into the chair Sadie had pulled out for him. “It seems I’ve done everything wrong.”

  “You didn’t know.” Ada stopped herself from reaching out to comfort him. Having her sisters in the kitchen, keeping an eye on them helped keep her impulses in check. “How could you?”

  “Still, to do this to my own son.” He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wish…” His voice broke. “I wish I’d been a better father.”

  Mary Elizabeth rushed across the room and threw her arms around him. “You’re a good daed.” Then she stepped back, glanced over her shoulder at Ada, and asked, “Do you like to be alone when you’re sad?”

  Josiah glanced at her with startled eyes. “Being alone makes me sadder, I think.”

  Mary Elizabeth lifted her nose in the air with a sniff and threw Ada an I-was-right look. “Ada says some people like to be private.”

  “That’s true,” Josiah agreed. “Some people hide their feelings. They prefer to bear their burdens alone.” He studied Ada with a thoughtful expression.

  Sadie interrupted. “Should I put the pot pie squares in now?”

  “They won’t take long to cook,” Ada said. “Maybe we should wait until everyone washes up and comes to the table.” Ada sent Mary Elizabeth to call the boys while the twins set out the plates and Hannah filled water glasses.

  As everyone filed to the table, Sadie dropped the dough into the pot and stirred to separate the squares.

  Nathan skidded to a stop when he saw his daed. His face puckered, but David tugged at his arm. Nathan turned to face his friend. David signed slowly, reassuring Nathan his daed was not taking him away. Then David pointed to himself and Nathan and signed friend. A smile bloomed on Nathan’s face.

  Then, pointing to each person at the table, David interlocked his index fingers twice in the symbol for friend. Nathan nodded after each one. David saved Josiah for last. This time Nathan’s face turned to stone.

  Ada’s stomach clenched at the pain in Josiah’s eyes. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how hurtful it would be to have your own son reject you. She whispered a silent prayer, Lord, please heal Josiah’s hurt and give us the wisdom to reach Nathan and reunite him with his father.

  Mary Elizabeth, her expression mirroring Ada’s distress, signed to Nathan that his daed loved him and wouldn’t hurt him. From the skeptical look he gave her, Nathan understood her. But he circled far around Josiah to get to his place at the table.

  Josiah sat, his lips pinched together and eyes downcast, as David and Nathan settled into their places. They all bowed their heads for prayer, and when Josiah looked up again, his face appeared expressionless, though he glanced at Nathan with longing and regret throughout the meal.

  Sensing Josiah’s distress, her siblings told humorous stories, trying to include Nathan by adding signs, but he studied their hand movements, a look of confusion on his face. Whenever everyone laughed at the punch lines, though, he joined in.

  * * *

  A sharp pain shot through Josiah when a rusty laugh issued from Nathan’s throat. The only times Josiah had seen his son happy and laughing had been here in this kitchen. Here, where he felt safe from his father. Safe and loved. Two of the most important needs of a child. And Josiah had failed to provide either.

  Throughout the meal, Nathan avoided looking in Josiah’s direction but engaged with everyone else. Now that he understood the reason behind his son’s outbursts and avoidance, he had to find a way to reduce Nathan’s fears and establish a loving relationship. Connecting with Nathan seemed to be an insurmountable barrier, but Josiah was determined to overcome that obstacle. With Ada’s help, learning to communicate with his son now seemed possible.

  After the meal and the final silent prayer ended, Josiah rose. “Time for me to keep my end of the bargain.” He carried his plate and glass to the sink.

  Scuffling ensued behind him, along with several squeals. Josiah positioned himself so he could observe the drama.

  “I’ll dry,” Sadie announced, carrying a stack of plates toward the sink.

  “It’s my job.” Mary Elizabeth scrambled to push in front of her sister, but Sadie maneuvered around her and reached the counter first.

  Sadie set down her dishes and waved a hand magnanimously. “I usually wash, so I’ll be kind and take your turn to dry.”

  Mary Elizabeth pouted. “I want my own turn.”

  “Girls!” Ada’s voice cut through the bickering. “I’ll do the drying if you can’t settle this peacefully.”

  Josiah hoped a compromise couldn’t be reached. His heart beat faster at the thought of touching Ada’s soft skin while handing over wet plates, of feasting his eyes on her while she worked.

  His hopes were dashed when Sadie became the voice of reason. “You did dishes with Josiah the last time, so I should get a turn. Then next time it will be your turn again.”

  “We could share,” Mary Elizabeth said, her tone plaintive.

  Sadie huffed. “All right. You dry the silverware, and I’ll do the plates and glasses.”

  Sniffling, Mary Elizabeth agreed. Josiah alternated washing a piece of silverware with a dish or cup to keep the drying fair. As soon as they had settled into a routine, Ada flashed him a brilliant smile and headed for the stairs.

  Josiah lost his grip on the glass he was washing, and it slipped into the sudsy water. It clinked against a plate, and he forced his attention back to the sink. Holding the glass up to the light, he examined it for cracks or chips and was grateful to find it intact, which was more than he could say for his nerves.

  When he’d handed over the last plate, he drained the sink and dried his hands. “I’ll take Nathan now, so all of you can get ready for bed.”

  “No.” Mary Elizabeth rushed over and grabbed his hand. “You can read us the bedtime story.”

  “Please,” Sadie pleaded. Both girls tugged him into the living room and toward the couch.

  It warmed Josiah’s heart to know they wanted him to stay, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t stumble over another Bible story with Ada watching. “Your sister’s here tonight. I’m sure she’s planning to read to—”

  His words died in his throat as Ada descended the staircase with David and Nathan, one boy on each side, grasping her hand. His son stared up at Ada, adoration in his eyes. Josiah only hoped he’d been masking his own feelings better.

  When they reached the foot of the stairs, Nathan caught sight of him and backed up against Ada’s skirt. She knelt beside him and turned him to face her. After mouthing, It’s all right, she signed a few things that had the word daed in them, while David stood beside her nodding enthusiastically. Nathan looked from one to the other.

  Just before she rose, Ada’s hands formed words he knew so well, Daed loves you.

  Nathan shook his head, and Josiah’s heart sank. No matter what they told him, his son didn’t want to believe them. Could he ever rebuild Nathan’s lost trust?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ada, Ada.” Mary Elizabeth charged over, and Nathan backed up a few steps. “Josiah’s going to read the Bible story to us tonight.”

  Eyebrows arched, Ada turned to Josiah.

  He shrugged. “I planned to take Nathan home, but the girls insisted. I assume you’d prefer to do it.”

  One corner of her mouth quirked. “We’d all be honored to hav
e you read.”

  “See?” Mary Elizabeth dragged him back to the couch and sat next to him. Sadie plopped down on the other side, holding the Bible story book.

  The other children tromped down the stairs freshly bathed and in their pajamas. They gathered in the living room for story time, and Josiah stared around the room longingly. Being part of their bedtime routine stirred deep-down yearnings. For family. For togetherness. For a relationship with his son.

  His gaze lit on Ada, who had settled on the floor beside his son. Nathan let go of her hand and signed something.

  “What did he say?” Josiah asked Ada. “I saw the sign for Mamm, and he pointed to himself.”

  “He said he misses his mamm.”

  “Oh.” Josiah’s chest tightened and his eyes blurred.

  “Show me that sign for miss, please.” Josiah copied Ada’s movements, trying to convey his own anguish through his expression when he reached the word miss.

  I miss Mamm too, Josiah signed.

  Nathan, eyes wide and uncertain, stared at him. He shrank back against Ada, and she lifted him onto her lap, her eyes sparkling with tears. Nathan cuddled against her, tucked a rabbit ear in his mouth, and closed his eyes. Ada brushed away his teardrops with her fingertip, then stroked his cheek, gently and rhythmically, until his face relaxed.

  Sadie handed Josiah the book, and the pages fell open to the parable of the Lost Lamb. He blinked to clear his vision, but the printing on the page still swam until he could barely make out the words. His voice husky, he read the brief story of the shepherd who left all his other sheep to find one lost lamb.

  “I’m glad he found it,” Mary Elizabeth whispered.

  So was Josiah. He too would give up everything to bring his own lost lamb back into the fold.

  * * *

  The interaction between Josiah and Nathan had touched Ada. Josiah, with his limited sign language, had bared his soul to make a connection with his son. A connection Nathan severed. But for a few moments, he’d seen his daed’s pain. Someday soon, she hoped they’d both be able to share their grief.