The Amish Teacher's Dilemma and Healing Their Amish Hearts

by Patricia Davids

  Slightly breathless, she joined him next to the back door. “I was hoping to speak with you briefly about Sam. I’m guessing you’ve noticed he doesn’t speak. I’d like to help. And I think if we team up, we can be more effective.”

  Something hardened inside of Jesse. Who did this woman think she was? Coming to his home to tell him how to raise his son.

  “How old are you?” he asked.

  She blinked at his odd question. “I’m twenty-two. But I don’t see what that has to do with Sam’s reluctance to speak.”

  Hmm. She was just four years younger than Jesse. Since age eighteen was the norm for schoolteachers, he thought her quite old. And he couldn’t help wondering why she wasn’t already married. A pretty little thing like her should have no trouble finding a willing groom. Especially here in Colorado, where Amish women were scarce. But he told himself he didn’t care. It wasn’t his business and he had bigger problems on his mind right now.

  “I’m a fairly new teacher but I do know my subjects quite well. I just want to help,” Becca said.

  “I doubt anything can be done for Sam,” he said, trying to keep his voice even and calm. “He’ll speak again once he’s gut and ready.”

  Becca shook her head. “I don’t think so, Mr. King. When did Sam stop speaking?”

  A rush of sad memories flooded his mind and he looked away. Her question seemed too personal. The pain was still so raw that it felt like it had happened just yesterday. “It started the afternoon of his mother and sisters’ funeral.”

  She made a sad little crooning sound, like the coo of a dove. “Ach, I’m so very sorry. I have no doubt that was traumatic and difficult for both of you.”

  She didn’t know the half of it. Sam had started the fire. It was his fault his mother and sisters had died. His fault they were now alone in this cold, ramshackle house. But Becca’s compassion was more than Jesse could stand. Over the past year, so many people had expressed their condolences. Then they’d introduced him to another eligible woman, as if anyone could take Alice’s place in his life. And that was just the problem. He didn’t want another wife. He didn’t want to ever marry again. He just wanted to be left alone. That was the whole reason he’d relocated to Colorado in the first place.

  “I really don’t think there’s anything you can do for Sam. It’d be best if you just leave him alone and he’ll start to speak again when he’s ready.” Jesse turned to go inside but she stopped him, placing a gentle hand on his arm for just a moment.

  “I don’t think so, Mr. King. I’m sure there are things we can do to help,” she said.

  “Ne, I’ve already had two doctors take a look at him and there’s no physical reason he can’t speak. He’s just decided to stop talking,” Jesse insisted.

  “It’s gut that you’ve had him visit some doctors but there’s obviously something wrong. Though I’ve never dealt with a traumatic problem, I worked with a couple of special needs children in Ohio and I believe Sam needs some extra help.”

  So. She wasn’t going to let this go. Though Jesse was a new member of the Gmay here in Riverton and had attended Sunday church meetings, he’d stayed apart and hadn’t yet developed any real friendships with the other Amish families. Instead, he’d buried his heartache in hard work. Easy to do, considering the dilapidated condition of his new farm. Since he’d moved here two months earlier, he’d spent every waking moment mending the house, barn and broken fences. He still needed to repair the leaky roof and build furniture for his cold, ramshackle home. Having lost most of his possessions in the house fire, he’d had to start from scratch. And amidst all of that, he’d had to look after Sam, driving the boy back and forth to school, preparing meals, washing laundry and a myriad of other chores his wife used to do. There’d been a lot to deal with on his own.

  Thankfully, he’d been able to sell his smaller farm in Pennsylvania to a neighbor, which had allowed him to purchase this new, bigger place in Colorado. And right now, he needed to get back to work.

  The screen door on the back of the house clapped closed as Sam came outside. Jesse barely glanced at the boy, trying to think of something to say that would make Becca Graber go away and leave him alone. Instead, she smiled at Sam, so brightly that Jesse could only stare at her for several seconds. Bending at the waist, she looked the boy in the eyes.

  “Hallo, Sam. How are you?” she asked.

  The boy’s eyes widened, his face creased with worry. He shuffled his feet, looking anxious. A few gurgling sounds came from the back of his throat but he couldn’t seem to get any words out. Finally, he jabbed a finger urgently at the house and Becca gasped.

  “Gucke! Something is burning,” she cried.

  Jesse turned and saw billows of black smoke rushing from the open doorway of the kitchen. Oh, no! The pork chops. They must be burning. He’d completely forgotten all about them.

  “Stay here,” he commanded as he raced into the house.

  A thick fog of black smoke emanated from the metal frying pan sitting on top of the gas stove and filled the kitchen. As a certified firefighter, Jesse knew what to do. He reached into the cupboard beneath the sink and pulled out a Class B kitchen fire extinguisher. Aiming the nozzle, he blasted the burning pan with a fog of fire retardant. Then, he picked up the metal lid and, angling it to protect his face, slid it over the top of the pan to snuff out the grease fire. Lastly, he switched off the burner and slid the pan away from the source of heat.

  A light tapping came from the open doorway and Becca poked her head in. “Is it safe to come in now?”

  She stood there holding Sam’s hand, waiting for Jesse’s permission to enter. He nodded, wishing she’d go away. This had been a simple grease fire but it had brought the past right back for him. The night Alice and their two daughters had been killed, he was off fighting a house fire somewhere else. If only he’d been home that night, he might have saved them. It was his fault they were gone. It had been his job to protect them. His job to keep them safe.

  And he’d failed.

  His body trembled as he stood looking at the charred remnants of the four pork chops. He’d put the meat on the lowest heat, thinking they’d be fine until he returned from the barn. Now, he had nothing to feed Sam for supper.

  He glanced at Becca and saw her gazing at his hands. Reddish-purple scars covered his skin, extending up both of his forearms. A cruel reminder that he’d run into a burning house to try and save his wife and daughters.

  He folded his arms, hiding the ugly scars. Without speaking, Becca quietly opened all the windows and doors, allowing the chilly breeze to clear the house of smoke. As if from a distance, Jesse watched her silently. No matter how hard he clenched them, he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking.

  Becca directed little Sam to put on his coat until the room could be warmed up again. With rapt attention, the boy followed her every move as she built up the fire in the potbellied stove.

  She glanced at Jesse and hesitated. From her sympathetic expression, he was certain she could see the truth inside him. That he was upset. Shaken by the grease fire. He felt suddenly exposed. The moment was too personal. Too private. Because it hit too close to home. A reminder of what had happened a year earlier when he’d lost everyone in his familye, except Sam. And he didn’t want Becca Graber to see that. Or to know what he tried so hard to hide.

  “You should leave,” he said, feeling grouchy.

  “You’ll need something else for supper.” She spoke in that soft, efficient voice of hers.

  Without permission, she stepped over to the cupboards and opened the doors, peering inside. He knew she would find them as empty as his broken heart. She opened the fridge before lifting her eyebrows in a dubious expression.

  “Is this all the food you have in the house?” she asked, gesturing to the skimpy remnants of a ham and a small chunk of Swiss cheese.

  “That and the milk.�
�� Jesse retrieved the two buckets and set them on the counter by the sink. Having a chore to do helped soothe his jangled nerves.

  Alice had always made their butter and cheese. Jesse knew the process but didn’t have time to sit and churn milk into curd. And the few times he had done so, it didn’t taste right when he finished. Something was missing.

  Alice, Mary and Susanna were gone.

  Pulling the ham and cheese from the fridge, Becca set them on the counter. She paused for just a moment, looking at the sink filled with dirty dishes. Without recriminations, she picked up a horse harness he had been mending and carried it to set beside the back door. Then, she rolled up her sleeves and quickly washed two plates and glasses.

  “I noticed you have a coop but it doesn’t look like you have any chickens on your place, so you don’t have any eggs.” She spoke as she worked. “Maybe in the spring you can get some baby chicks. But this will do for tonight.”

  Yes, he planned to buy some chickens next week. He also wanted to buy pigs, draft horses and another milk cow once the weather warmed up. But for now, he’d have to make do. A trip to the grocery store in town was definitely on the agenda for the morning. He’d stock up so this didn’t happen again.

  Becca shivered and Jesse placed another stick of wood in the potbellied stove. His home wasn’t much to look at. The walls were dingy and scarred, the rooms devoid of furniture. Upstairs in the bedrooms, he’d laid two mattresses on the bare wood floors for him and Sam to sleep. No chairs. No chests of drawers. No armoires, curtains, rugs or wall hangings. The house had been uninhabited for six years. He’d been told the previous owner was Englisch and couldn’t make a go of the place. But Jesse was willing to work hard and didn’t need much to earn a simple living for him and Sam. He’d bought the farm cheap from a foreclosure sale and was glad to have it.

  Becca set out the last six slices of his store-bought bread and layered them with wedges of ham and cheese for sandwiches. It’d be a dry meal but they could wash the food down with plenty of milk.

  Watching her slender hands work, he thought about how much he missed Alice’s homemade breads, biscuits, pies and cakes.

  “Here you go.” Becca set the two plates on the table and directed Sam to sit.

  The boy gave her a questioning glance, his eyes wide, his little face so sweet and innocent. Jesse dearly loved his son. He truly did. But Sam was a constant reminder of all that they’d lost. Because Sam had set the fire. And though Jesse knew it wasn’t right, he couldn’t help blame the boy. He’d tried to forgive his son just as he’d tried to forgive himself. He really had. But he hadn’t been able to do so. Not yet, anyway.

  “Ahem, will you join us?” Jesse asked, trying to be polite but wishing she’d go now.

  “Ne, I’ll eat when I get home. This is for you,” Becca said.

  Surprised by how she seemed to have taken over his home, Jesse joined Sam at the table. Within a few moments, they had bowed their heads and blessed the food. Jesse didn’t know what else to do. While Becca poured his son a glass of milk right from the pail, Sam immediately picked up his ham sandwich and took a big bite.

  “I’m going to head home now.” Becca spoke to Jesse. “It’s getting dark outside and the roads will turn icy. I think you and I should speak more in depth at another time when you aren’t so...indisposed.”

  Jesse nodded eagerly. “Ja, another time, perhaps.”

  But she didn’t move. Didn’t take a single step toward the door. Instead, she closed the windows above the sink, seeming satisfied that enough smoke had dissipated from the house. Since it was wintertime, the days were shorter and it was already getting dark outside. She lit two kerosene lamps. The wicks flickered, sending eerie shadows to chase around the room. He could see her curious gaze as she peered into every corner. A feeling of mortification washed over him. He was highly conscious of the run-down condition of his home. And more than ever, he missed Alice’s home bottled beans, corn, peaches and tomatoes. She’d cared for their children and kept their home running with methodical order. But like everything else, it had all gone up in smoke.

  “I... I’ve been kinda busy. I haven’t had time to go into town to the grocery store. And I haven’t had time yet to repair and paint some of the holes in the walls.” He sat there, his thumbs looped through his suspenders.

  She brushed past him. He caught her scent...a clean, citrusy smell that he kind of liked. “I understand completely. It must be difficult being on your own in a new place with a little boy to raise. But don’t worry. You’ll get things in order soon.” She spoke in a cheerful, positive voice as she picked up the pair of gloves she’d set aside earlier when she’d prepared their supper.

  Finally. Finally she stepped toward the outside door. Jesse stood and followed, breathing a silent sigh of relief. She was really leaving this time. But she stopped at the door and turned, catching him unaware. As he gazed down into her beautiful blue eyes, he couldn’t help comparing her to Alice. The two women were so different. Alice had been filled with inner strength but she’d been shy, quiet and unassuming. So different from Becca, who was rather bossy, outgoing and quick to take matters into her own hands.

  “Mr. King, until we can make a more formal plan of action, I’d like to suggest that you read to Sam each evening. Try to get him to read to you as well. I really think that would help for the time being,” she said.

  Read to Sam? Jesse didn’t have time for such nonsense but didn’t say so. He wasn’t interested in taking advice from an inexperienced schoolteacher like Becca Graber, no matter how attractive she was. But he nodded.

  He accompanied her outside but didn’t help as she climbed into her buggy. He didn’t think it would be appropriate to touch her. With a wave of her hand, she bid him farewell and her horse took off at a jaunty trot.

  Jesse stood there, watching her go. And as she turned onto the main county road, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. He couldn’t help feeling as if a tornado had just swept through his home. Rebecca Graber. What a dynamo. Jesse chuckled, thinking that another fire wouldn’t dare invade his new house. Because if it did, Tornado Becca would just sweep it away.

  Chapter Two

  Becca pulled another dusty book off the shelf and promptly sneezed. Flipping through the front table of contents, she read each topic, searching for anything that might help Sam King. After a few moments, she added this text to her growing pile. She had chosen at least six good books on vocabulary and selective mutism and how to help children who wouldn’t speak.

  Standing inside the town library, she perused a bulleted list on a tip sheet, her mind churning. The little bit she’d learned that morning was not what she’d expected. Not at all. Selective mutism wasn’t a problem where a child refused to speak in order to get attention. Nor was the child acting naughty. Rather, such children had an anxiety disorder wherein they couldn’t speak because their apprehension was so severe they were actually scared silent.

  Flipping to a chapter on treatment, she braced the book against the shelf and continued reading. It was Saturday morning and she’d taken advantage of the clear weather to come into town and see what she might find. She could check out library books, as long as they magnified Jesus Christ. Jakob Fisher, her first cousin, had driven her here but she’d have to walk back to his farm. She lived with Jakob, his wife and three children, her aunt and grandfather. If she found some help for Sam today, the nine-mile walk home would be worth it.

  An hour earlier, she’d paid a quick visit to Caroline Schwartz, Sam’s permanent teacher. The poor girl was still in the hospital, her legs and hips in traction. If Caroline hoped to walk again, she’d be restricted to bed for the next four months. At barely eighteen years of age, Caroline seemed even more inexperienced at teaching than Becca. And since the accident had happened about the same time Jesse and Sam had moved to the area, Caroline hadn’t yet been able to do anything about the boy’s problem. S
he’d explained to Becca that she’d ordered a newsletter written by Amish parents of special needs children titled Life’s Special Sunbeams. That might be of some help but Becca doubted it. Still, she had the address of the national publication and planned to subscribe as well.

  Caroline had also tried to speak with Jesse King but the man had terrified her with his offish manner. No surprise there. Jesse didn’t seem to like anyone. But Becca wasn’t about to let the oafish man scare her off. She was determined to do something to help Sam, with or without his father’s cooperation. She believed Sam’s unwillingness to speak had everything to do with his mother and sisters’ deaths.

  Lifting the pile of books, Becca carried them back to the open area of the library. Her mind buzzed with a number of techniques she’d like to try with Sam. Ritual greetings every morning at school, including him in activities even if he didn’t speak and some other techniques to reduce his anxiety while at school. She had some flash cards she could use but thought she might need to spend extra time working one-on-one with Sam when the other children weren’t around to distract or startle him. And she wasn’t sure how to build that time into the school curriculum. It wouldn’t be prudent to ignore the other children’s needs because Sam required so much extra attention but she’d figure it out.

  Making her way back to the table where she’d been jotting down notes, she thought of a possible solution...and promptly bumped into someone.

  “Oof!”

  She looked up and blinked. “Mr. King.”

  He stared down at her with widened eyes, seeming just as surprised as she was. “Hallo, Miss Graber.”

  “Wh...what are you doing here?” she asked, thinking how nonsensical she sounded.

  He shifted his weight and she saw that he held a book in his hand. He quickly lowered his arm, shielding the text behind his thigh. From his nervous gesture, she thought he was trying to conceal it from her. But he didn’t know her very well. Reaching behind him, she took the book from his hand and read the title out loud.