The Amish Teacher's Dilemma and Healing Their Amish Hearts

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The Amish Teacher's Dilemma and Healing Their Amish Hearts Page 25

by Patricia Davids


  “Danke, Lord. Danke for bringing them home safe.” Jesse whispered the prayer of gratitude beneath his breath.

  They were here. He could stop worrying. At least until Becca had to drive to her farm in an hour or so.

  “Hallo!” she called as she hopped out of the buggy.

  She reached back to help Sam down. The boy rested his little hands on her shoulders without hesitation. And that’s when Jesse noticed his son seemed to trust his teacher quite a bit.

  “Were you going somewhere?” she asked, looking at his horse as they walked over to greet him. Her blue eyes were bright and alive, her cheeks and nose pink from the chilled temperatures. He could see each of her exhales like a puff of smoke on the frosty air. And looped over one arm, she carried a rather large basket covered by a clean cloth. Probably her school books for tutoring Sam.

  He nodded, leaning against Jimmy’s front shoulder. For some reason, he felt extra tired today, though he’d never admit it to Becca. “Ja, I was getting ready to go and find you. Now that you’re here, I’ll put your horse in the barn until you’re ready to leave.”

  Without being asked, Sam helped his father. Becca stood near the wide double doors, watching silently as they stabled her horse and offered it some water.

  “It’s barely four o’clock,” she said. “I don’t know why you were getting ready to komm and find us. School gets out at three thirty and I had to make sure all the scholars were picked up by their eldre and secure the building before I could leave...”

  He turned to face her and her eyes widened and she gasped. “Jesse! What happened to you?”

  Feeling confused, he reached up and touched his forehead where he discovered a giant bump forming there.

  “It’s nothing. I was working to repair one of the walls in the back shed and took a fall off the ladder a little while ago.” He reached for the halter to lead Jimmy back inside the warm barn too.

  Becca and Sam followed after him. The boy didn’t speak but took hold of his father’s elbow, his face creased with concern. Jesse could tell Sam was worried about him.

  “Geht es dir gut?” Becca asked.

  “Ja, I’m all right,” he reassured them both. “The fall just knocked the wind out of me. I didn’t realize I’d hit my head until just now.”

  He released Jimmy back into his stall and shut the door. No wonder he had a mild headache and had been disoriented a few minutes earlier. But now, he could feel his mind clearing and realized he’d been stunned by the fall.

  “Let’s go inside the house. It’s too cold out here,” Becca said.

  She still looked anxious and for some crazy reason that touched Jesse’s heart like nothing else could. It had been a long time since someone had fretted and cared about him.

  Even though he still had cows to milk and chickens to feed, he didn’t argue with her. He wanted something warm to drink and then he’d finish his evening chores.

  They went inside the back door, the warmth of the potbellied stove engulfing them. Though this house and the surrounding corrals and outbuildings needed tons of repairs, at least the old stove worked well as long as he kept it supplied with fuel.

  Becca set her basket on the table and doffed her gloves and heavy shawl. She helped Sam do the same, tossing his hat and coat carelessly on a chair. While Becca went to the kitchen cupboards, Jesse placed more wood on the fire. When he set the kettle on the stove to heat up, he glanced over and saw Becca retrieving a clean dishcloth from a drawer. Thankfully, she didn’t say a word about the sink filled with dirty dishes. He planned to wash them later tonight but knew his home suffered from his lack of tidiness. Alice had always kept their place immaculate and in good order. But with all the work he had to do just to get ready for spring planting, he couldn’t seem to keep up with everything.

  He didn’t question Becca when she went outside to fill the dishcloth with small chunks of ice. By the time she’d returned, he had sat down to rest a moment. Without a word, she promptly placed the cold cloth over his forehead. He flinched and she moved more gently, her fingertips warm against his skin.

  “Hold this against your head for a few minutes. It’ll help the swelling go down,” she said.

  “I don’t need this,” he said.

  “Ja, you do,” she insisted. “I’m wondering if I should take you to see Eli Stoltzfus. He can tell if you need to go to the hospital in town.”

  Jesse had met Eli and knew the man was a certified paramedic who worked for the small hospital in Riverton. Since Jesse was a firefighter, he wasn’t surprised to find an Amish paramedic here. He knew they never drove any automotive vehicles, but the Amish had quickly discovered the benefits of having EMTs, paramedics and firefighters among them.

  “I don’t need to see Eli. It’s just a little bump on the head and I feel fine,” he said.

  Her forehead crinkled slightly but she didn’t argue as she bustled over to the table and began emptying the contents of the basket she’d brought. Watching her, he couldn’t help thinking she had a way of taking over his home every time she arrived. And yet, he didn’t mind. Not really. Because she seemed to bring lots of comfort and order with her. But he was surprised when she removed a casserole dish, a loaf of homemade bread and a cherry pie from her basket.

  His mouth watered at the sight of so much good food. His hunger alone told him that his head was okay. “What are those for?”

  She didn’t look up as she slid the casserole into the gas-powered oven and turned it on. It looked like some kind of pasta, cheese and hamburger mixture that smelled delicious. Simple but filling food that made his stomach rumble. Sam had homed in on the pie, climbing up on a chair so he could gaze longingly at the golden crust and plump red berries that had oozed out of the lattice top when it was baked.

  “This is for your supper,” she said. “It was easy to keep the food chilled until we got here and I figured you were busy and might appreciate a night off from cooking.”

  He laughed out loud. He couldn’t help himself. “Is this your polite way of letting me know I’m a lousy cook?”

  She laughed too, the sound high and sweet, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. “Ach, I don’t mean to offend but you must admit that you really are a poor cook.”

  He nodded without argument, still smiling at her sense of humor. “I’m willing to concede your point and will admit I have come to dread meal preparation. I think Sam dreads it too.”

  Her smile stayed firmly in place as she removed several books from the bottom of the basket. “And these are for my tutoring session with Sam.”

  She handed the boy one book, which he took readily. A feeling of deep and abiding gratitude for her thoughtfulness rested over Jesse like a warm blanket. And that’s when he realized something important. He had laughed just a few moments ago. A loud, full-bodied laugh that came from deep inside. It was the first since Alice and his little girls had died. And that made Jesse pause in startled wonder. He felt suddenly unfaithful to their memory. Disloyal for feeling happy when they were gone.

  He stood abruptly and tossed the dishrag onto the cupboard. “This is fine now. I’ve got chores to do.”

  Placing his black felt hat on his head, he closed the door firmly behind him and hurried to the barn. After tossing hay to the animals, he fed the chickens and milked the cow. The work gave him time to gather his thoughts. To remember who he was and what he was doing here.

  Becca was efficient, bossy and wonderful but she wasn’t Alice. And he was not going to let her take over his life or his thoughts. In his heart, he was still a married man who was faithful to his wife. And he wouldn’t allow himself to be taken in by Becca’s competent ways.

  Thirty minutes later, he returned to the kitchen, carrying a bucket of frothy white milk. As he set it on the table, he could hear Becca in the living room, reading to Sam. He stepped over to the doorway and peeked into the room without
revealing his presence. They both sat huddled together in the new rocking chair he had finished making last night. Little by little, he was getting things done but he was impatient to paint the ugly, scarred walls inside his home. However, that would have to wait. There were more pressing issues he needed to tend to right now or they wouldn’t have a livelihood. Issues such as getting the corrals and sheds repaired so he could buy livestock for their farm.

  He listened silently as Becca read Sam a story about a cat named Elmo and a dog named Patches. The feline played a lot of tricks on the dog and got away with all sorts of antics. Finally, Becca finished the story with a laugh.

  “I really like Elmo. He’s so funny. He’s always sneaking up on Patches,” she said.

  Sam nodded in agreement.

  “But who do you like the best? Elmo or Patches?” Becca asked.

  A slight movement from Sam told Jesse that his son had pointed at his preference.

  “Ach, pointing at the picture will never do. Can you say his name out loud for me?” Becca asked, her voice calm and inviting.

  There was a long, quiet pause. Becca didn’t intrude. She gave Sam plenty of time to think. And then, the softest whisper wafted across the room. So quiet that Jesse almost didn’t hear.

  “Patches.”

  Jesse blinked. Had he heard right? Had Sam actually said the dog’s name out loud?

  “That’s very gut,” Becca said. “But why do you like Patches the best?”

  Every nerve in Jesse’s body went on high alert. He leaned forward slightly, eager to hear his son’s response. Would Sam speak again? Could he do it?

  “Dog,” Sam whispered low.

  Okay, not a complete sentence, but Jesse understood only too well. Before Alice had died, Sam had asked him numerous times if they could get a dog. They already had several barn cats who kept the mice population down but Sam wanted a puppy of his very own. Jesse hadn’t gotten around to getting the boy one before tragedy had struck and then they’d moved here to Colorado. Maybe it was time...

  “Very gut,” Becca said, closing the book with a slight snap. “You’re doing so well, Sam. I’m very pleased with you.”

  She leaned her head down and kissed the boy’s forehead. When they stood, Jesse pulled back into the kitchen with a quick jerk. He didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping, yet he felt mesmerized by the two of them. He could listen to them all day.

  Hurrying over to the kitchen sink, he noticed that all the dishes had been washed and put away. He stared at the clean countertops, stunned down to the tips of his worn work boots.

  “We’re all done for this evening.” Becca spoke from behind and he turned.

  She stood in the doorway, holding Sam’s hand. The boy smiled shyly but didn’t speak.

  “How did he do tonight?” Jesse asked, clearing his throat.

  “Wundervoll. He even spoke twice,” she said.

  “Ja, I heard. That’s great news.”

  Jesse smiled at his son, trying not to overreact so much that it startled Sam and shut him down. Jesse had enough common sense not to push the boy until he was ready. But it was an amazing, wonderful start. And he had Becca to thank for all of it.

  Chapter Six

  “I see you’ve finished making more chairs for the table. You’re a gut carpenter.” Becca glanced around the kitchen in Jesse’s home and couldn’t help admiring his simple handiwork.

  There were now four wooden chairs surrounding the long table, which had enough room to seat eight people. That wasn’t surprising. Most Amish families had an average of seven or eight children. But since Jesse’s wife had died, Becca wondered why he had made such a large table. Maybe he hoped to remarry and have more children. She wasn’t sure. She figured he’d lost all his furniture in the house fire and it would take time to rebuild. Already, she’d seen enough of his house to know the walls needed painting and the cold wooden floors needed covering.

  “Ahem, supper is ready. Would you like to join us in our meal?” Jesse asked.

  His voice sounded a bit stilted, as though he wasn’t used to having a woman in his home who wasn’t his wife.

  “I would like that very much.”

  She rolled up her sleeves and reached inside the cupboard for some plates so she could set the table. As she did so, she thought it odd that she already knew where he kept the utensils. Having washed his dishes, she knew quite a bit about his kitchen, including the fact that his cupboards were now filled with a variety of canned goods.

  “I see you’ve got plenty of food in the house.” Wearing two mitts on her hands, she lifted the casserole out of the oven and set it in the middle of the table. Steam rose from the hot dish and filled the air with a yummy aroma.

  He chuckled as he sliced the loaf of homemade bread. “Ja, I don’t want Sam to go without his meals just because I can’t cook.”

  They sat together at the table and bowed their heads. No one spoke and Becca simply recited the Lord’s Prayer in her mind. She also asked Gott to help Sam continue to make progress in his speaking and to help Jesse be safe while he worked on his farm.

  After a few moments, Jesse released a low sigh and they dug into the delicious food. Sam ate ravenously and Becca realized it had been a long time since he and his father had enjoyed a home-cooked meal that wasn’t burnt. Maybe she could do something about that from time to time, just until Jesse got back on his feet with his farm chores.

  “What was the name again of the little dog in the story Becca was reading to you?” Jesse asked.

  He was looking at Sam expectantly. Obviously, he hoped the boy would respond. But he didn’t. Sam glanced hesitantly at his father, then stared down at his plate. He didn’t say a single word but set his fork on his plate, as though he’d lost his appetite.

  The silence continued and Becca realized the mute boy had returned. To break the stilted moment, she reached across the table and squeezed Sam’s chilled hand.

  “It’s all right,” she said. Then, she looked at Jesse. “The dog’s name was Patches. We had fun reading about him and Elmo.”

  Jesse’s gaze met hers and she could see the disappointment in his eyes. Sam had spoken for her but not for his father. And that must sting Jesse pretty hard.

  They finished their meal in silence and Becca quickly washed the remaining dishes. She was startled when both Sam and Jesse helped her clear the meal away.

  “It’s getting late. You go on up and get ready for bed. I’ll be up soon to read you a story,” Jesse told his son.

  A glint of eagerness sparked in Sam’s eyes but he merely nodded and did as asked. When they were alone, Jesse reached for a clean dish towel and started drying the dishes.

  “You’re gut with him,” Jesse said.

  Becca sank her hands deep into the hot, sudsy water as she scrubbed a particularly stubborn fork. “It’s easy to be helpful with Sam. He’s such a sweet, innocent little boy.”

  “I... I want to thank you for what you did tonight. I know it wasn’t much and he didn’t speak during dinner but just hearing his voice again was amazing,” Jesse said.

  She nodded. “I know. I couldn’t believe it when he actually spoke. In all honesty, I didn’t expect him to do it so soon and it was all I could do not to jump up and yell. It took everything in me to remain calm and act natural.”

  “Me too. He’s comfortable around you. It’s obvious you don’t make him nervous.” Jesse didn’t look at her as he dried a spoon and placed it in a drawer.

  “Ja, I think you’re right. And that’s a gut thing,” she agreed.

  “But I do. I make him too nervous to talk.”

  Jesse stood perfectly still. He lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes filled with a bit of misery. Becca didn’t know what to say. She realized in that moment just how far apart Jesse and Sam really were. And the fact that Jesse knew it too made her feel a great de
al of compassion for him. The house fire had taken more than just his wife and two daughters. In a way, it had stolen Sam from him too.

  “I’m sorry, Jesse. I... I didn’t mean to do anything wrong or create a problem for you,” she said.

  He shook his head. “Ne, it isn’t your fault, Becca. It’s mine.”

  She went very still as he told her about the night he’d come home to find his house on fire. Sam had cried and kept telling him it was his fault.

  “The day I buried my wife and dechder, I was filled with such grief.” He spoke in an aching whisper that caused goose bumps to cover her arms and neck. “I pushed Sam away. He tried to comfort me and I couldn’t stand to even look at him. I think he knew what I was feeling inside. He’d started the fire and I blamed him for killing my familye. Now, he suffers from nightmares. He doesn’t say anything but I know he relives the trauma of that night over and over again. We both do.”

  Jesse braced his hands on the countertop and hung his head. Before she could stop herself, she reached out and touched his arm.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, Jesse. So deeply sorry,” she said.

  He lifted his head and she saw the anguish and sorrow in his dark eyes. For just a moment, he looked bereft. She’d seen that same look in Jakob’s eyes when she’d attended the funeral of his first wife after she’d died in childbirth. Nothing Becca could do or say could console him.

  “That’s why he was late for school this morning. He’d had a bad nightmare and it took a long time for me to calm him down,” Jesse said.

  Ah, so now she knew. He hadn’t been cruel to the boy. Sam had simply had a nightmare and been crying. Jesse had tried to comfort the boy. He wasn’t an abusive father. Not from what she could see. He was just a grieving father and husband who was trying to help his troubled son. And knowing this brought Becca a great deal of respect for Jesse as well as a ton of relief. The fact that he had confided in her softened her heart.

  Jesse swallowed hard and took a deep breath before glancing out the window. “It’s dark already and you should be home where you’ll be safe. It’s time for you to go.”

 

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