The Amish Teacher's Dilemma and Healing Their Amish Hearts

by Patricia Davids

  “Unless you are at school, you will do your farm chores first and read only in the evenings after all the work is finished for the day. Except on Sunday, we have no time for reading during daytime. Do you understand?”

  Sam didn’t look up but he nodded. The boy’s back was ramrod straight, his shoulders tensed. Jesse sensed the child was upset by the situation but he offered no argument.

  “Gut. Now, go and get your shoes and coat on. Then, finish your work. After that, come and join me in the south pasture so we can clear the field.”

  Expecting his son to obey, Jesse turned and headed toward the barn without a backward glance. Because he hadn’t purchased any draft horses yet, he harnessed Blaze, his road horse, to the wagon and headed out to the field with his hand tools.

  Using a sharp spade to dig around the roots of small trees and shrubs, he worked alone for almost two hours. Even though the day was quite cold, he wiped the sweat from his brow. He dug, hacked and pulled up a number of slender saplings and tossed them into the back of the wagon. He could turn them into wood chips for use around the farm. Marvin Schwartz had a gas-powered wood chipper he could use for a minimal fee.

  Resting for a moment, Jesse leaned against the wooden handle of his tool and reached for the jug of water he’d placed in the back of the wagon. He looked toward the house, wondering where Sam was. Surely the boy was finished with his chores by now. He wouldn’t dare go back inside the house to read some more. Would he?

  Stowing the water jug behind the wagon seat, Jesse continued his work. He wasn’t pleased to see thistles growing in the field and knew they’d be stubborn to get rid of. As an experienced farmer, he knew it would take two or three years to clear them out completely and even then, he’d still have to watch out for new seedlings. But over time, he’d weed them out entirely. A variety of other obnoxious grasses and thug plants would sprout up as well. But effective farming was a patient man’s chore. And Jesse was an effective farmer. Within a few years, his farm would be tidy and in optimal working condition. He’d work hard and build a fine place for Sam to inherit one day.

  Speaking of which, where was the boy? He looked toward the house again, wondering if he should tromp back to the barn to search for him. He’d never known his son to be so recalcitrant. What had gotten into him?

  Setting his tools aside, Jesse stepped over the uneven ground and headed toward the house. It was long past lunchtime and he needed to take a break. Before they returned to the field, he’d fix him and Sam some sandwiches. While they ate, he’d explain the merits of hard work to his son and encourage the boy to do better. If he found Sam reading again, he’d have to punish him. It was his duty as an Amish father to correct poor behaviors. He’d reprimanded Sam once but the next time would require harsher action. And Jesse didn’t look forward to that. No, not at all.

  “Sam! Are you here?” he called when he stepped inside the kitchen door.

  No answer. He shouted again but still no response.

  Turning, he walked out to the chicken coop and then to the barn. A large plop of moisture fell from the sky and struck him on the cheek. Yes, it was definitely going to rain.

  He yelled again and again, to get the boy’s attention. But he couldn’t find him. Patches was missing too. Now that was odd. Where had Sam and the puppy gone off to?

  Again, Jesse searched every room of the house. He peered into every stall in the barn, the shed and chicken coop. Where was his son?

  And then, a thought occurred to him. Sam hadn’t spoken but Jesse knew he’d been upset by the scolding he’d given him that morning. Was it possible Sam had run away? And if so, where would the boy go?

  Several heavy raindrops struck Jesse on the face and hand. Soon, the sky would open up its waterworks. And Sam would be caught out in this storm.

  Jesse ran to the field, a surge of panic rushing through his veins. He unharnessed Blaze from the wagon and led the horse back to the barn where he hitched him up to the buggy. By the time Jesse steered the horse out of the farmyard, a light mist was falling steadily from the sky.

  As he reached the county road, Jesse noticed the rain increased in intensity. Great, heavy drops of water smattered against the windshield of his buggy and he was grateful to be inside, away from the damp and the wind. But his son was out in this storm somewhere. Possibly frightened and cold.

  Jesse wiped his brow, filled with trepidation. His six-year-old son was all alone. Hopefully, the boy had worn his hat and coat but it didn’t matter. Not if the child got wet. If Sam was out in this frigid air for very long, he could easily become sick. And that thought terrorized Jesse. Because he’d already lost the rest of his familye. He couldn’t lose Sam too.

  Maybe the boy had walked over to the Fishers’ farm. Maybe he’d sought refuge with Becca. It wasn’t far. That’s where Jesse would check first. He hoped and prayed his son was inside her house, safe and warm. Because Jesse refused to contemplate anything less. He had to find his son. He had to find him right now!

  * * *

  Becca clicked her tongue and urged her cousin’s horse onto the county road. Driving the buggy, she’d left the town library and was eager to get home. It was late afternoon and several heavy raindrops thumped against the windshield. It was just a matter of minutes before it started pouring cats and dogs. Though she hadn’t wanted to go into town this Saturday, her trip had been fruitful. Sitting beside her on the cushioned seat was a terrific book on skits that would help augment the year-end school program. She’d also checked out several new books for Sam. Wouldn’t he be surprised when she gave them to him on Monday morning at school? He’d read all the other books she’d given him at least twice already.

  More raindrops spattered the window and she blinked, thinking her eyes deceived her. Was that Sam walking along the side of the road? He was all alone, his shoulders hunched against the drizzling rain, his head bowed low beneath his black felt hat. Definitely an Amish boy. She couldn’t see his face clearly but knew Sam’s body build and the way he walked.

  Tugging on the lead lines, she pulled the horse over onto the shoulder of the road. The boy sidestepped the buggy and looked up in surprise. She saw that he was carrying Patches, his little black dog, in his arms. He was trying to shield the pup from the driving rain.

  What on earth was he doing out here all alone on this busy road in the freezing rain?

  She opened the door and called to him. “Hallo, Sam. Where are you going?”

  He shrugged and blinked in the rain as he scuffed his booted foot against a rock. Patches squirmed in his arms and the boy tightened his hold. His cheeks were rosy from the cold air and he hunched his back against the lashing wind.

  “Do you need a ride?” she asked.

  He hesitated, then shook his head. But that didn’t deter her. This boy was always quiet but she’d learned to read his mannerisms. He was cold and upset. From his red eyes, she could tell he’d been crying. And then, she noticed a little bag slung across his shoulder. A plethora of questions hammered her mind all at once. Was he running away? And why would he do that? Where was he going? Did Jesse know?

  Regardless, a six-year-old boy was too young to be out in this rain all alone.

  The deluge increased, beating against them like a drum. It gave her the incentive to force her hand.

  “Sam, get in the buggy, please. You don’t want Patches to catch a bad cold, do you?”

  Her reasoning got through to the boy. Thankfully, he did as she asked. If she was reading his expression correctly, it was one of relief. And no wonder. When she opened the door wide and he stepped inside and sat on the seat, he was shivering and his teeth chattered. Patches wasn’t in much better shape. The little dog gave a good shake to get the water off before curling next to her side.

  “You’re both frozen clear through.” She reached for the warm quilt her cousin kept stowed on the back seat. After draping it over Sam a
nd Patches, she tucked the edges around them both before rubbing the boy’s arms briskly.

  “What are you doing so far from home in this storm?” she asked, not really expecting an answer.

  He glanced up, his big, brown eyes filled with so much misery that she made a sad little sound in the back of her throat. Before she could stop herself, she pulled him close for a tight hug. After a moment, she released him and clicked to the horse to walk on.

  “Ach, it can’t be all that bad, can it? Did you run away from home?” she asked as she drove the horse through the driving rain.

  The boy sat close beside her and she was half-surprised when he gave a slight nod. Oh, no! She hated the thought of Jesse and Sam having trouble between them.

  “Did you have a disagreement with your vadder?” she asked.

  He stared down at Patches and gave another nod.

  She hesitated, wondering what she could say to make the situation easier.

  “Your vadder loves you very much. You know that, don’t you?” she asked.

  He tossed her a doubtful glare and shook his head. Her heart gave a powerful squeeze. For some reason, it hurt her to think that Sam doubted his father’s affection.

  “Sometimes it isn’t easy to honor our eldre but it’s a commandment from Gott. Your vadder knows what’s best for you and you must obey him in all things,” she said.

  Sam’s forehead crinkled and he stared out the window, at the sheets of water blanketing the buggy. It wasn’t long before they arrived at Jesse’s farm but he wasn’t there. Maybe he was out looking for Sam.

  Becca stowed her horse and buggy inside the barn, then hurried to the house with Sam and Patches. While she got a towel to dry off the dog, she sent Sam upstairs to change out of his damp clothes. Then, she built up the fire in the stove. Since it was late afternoon, she took the liberty of fixing Sam something to eat. She found a pound of ground beef in the refrigerator and made a quick casserole. The boy wolfed down the hot food, which told her he hadn’t eaten in a while. She also fed the puppy, satisfied when both of them were warm again.

  An hour later, the rain let up and Jesse came home. The moment he stepped inside the kitchen, his gaze riveted on Sam. The boy still sat at the table, sipping a cup of hot chocolate. Patches lay on the floor beside the warm stove.

  Without a word, Jesse knelt beside Sam and scooped the boy into his arms to hold him close for several long moments. This action alone told Becca he was beyond relieved to find the boy safe. It displayed Jesse’s fear and love for his son more than anything else could. But then, Jesse drew back and clutched Sam’s upper arms as he gazed into his eyes. Becca could see that Jesse was cold and angry. No doubt he’d been outside in the rain for quite a long time, looking for his son.

  “I’ve been so worried about you. Where have you been?” Jesse asked, his eyes narrowed on the boy.

  Sam stared at his hands folded in his lap, his cup of hot chocolate ignored.

  “I found him and Patches walking alone along the side of the road. I was worried because they were out in the freezing rain, so I brought them home,” Becca supplied.

  Jesse gave a stiff nod. “Danke for bringing them home.”

  “You’re willkomm.” She spoke in a cheery voice, hoping to alleviate some of the tension in the air.

  It didn’t help. Jesse rounded on Sam again, his face tense with annoyance. He swept his black felt hat off his head and tossed it onto the table before wiping his damp face with an impatient hand. Like his son, his cheeks were pink from the cold and his heavy wool coat was soaked clear through.

  “Do you know how worried I was when I found you missing? I had to leave my work and spent most of the afternoon searching for you. I don’t have time to go traipsing all over the valley looking for you because you’d rather read your books than do your morning chores. It is not right for you to throw a temper tantrum and run away.”

  Standing in front of the sink, Becca held very still. Was that what this was all about? Sam had been reading instead of doing his work? Oh, dear. No wonder Jesse was upset. Any Amish father would feel the same way. A disobedient son who didn’t do his chores put the entire familye at risk. Jesse would be derelict in his parental duties if he didn’t reprimand the boy.

  “Go to your room now and get ready for bed. I’ll be up to collect your books in a few minutes. Except for school and bedtime, there will be no reading in this house for a week,” Jesse said.

  Something cold gripped Becca’s heart. Would Jesse really ground the boy from reading for an entire week?

  Sam nodded in obedience as he slid out of his chair and left the room in a rush. Patches padded after him. When they were gone, Becca looked at Jesse, finding his expression grim and forbidding.

  “Surely you won’t keep the boy from reading, will you? He’s been making such great progress. It’s his one true enjoyment,” she said in a quiet voice.

  He looked at her as if he had forgotten she was there. “He’s got to learn that work comes before pleasure. He’s reading so much that it’s interfering with his chores on the farm. He didn’t do any of his tasks this morning. And when I chastised him for it, he threw a tantrum and ran away. I wasted an entire afternoon looking for him. He must learn to obey.”

  “I’m sorry that happened, Jesse. But I’m certain, if you reason with him, he’ll understand and want to do better. He’s just seeking your approval. He wants your love so much.” She held out a pleading hand, her voice gentle and nonconfrontational.

  Jesse snorted. “He’ll win my approval by obeying what I say. I won’t have him reading books instead of doing his chores again. The livestock must not suffer because of his dereliction.”

  She nodded. “Ja, I agree. But maybe if you weren’t so grouchy with him all the time, he might be more willing to obey. It’s entirely appropriate to reprove your child with sharpness but then if you’d show an increase in love toward him afterward, he might not consider you to be his enemy. As it is, he thinks you don’t love him. And I’m sure that’s not the message you want to send him.”

  Jesse shrugged out of his damp coat. His eyes narrowed, his lips pursing tight with disapproval. “Miss Graber, do you presume to tell me how to raise my sohn?”

  She blinked. “Ach, of course not. But it seems you need some help right now. I just thought...”

  “I don’t need your advice on how to handle my boy,” he cut her off.

  She stared at him, completely aghast. Of all the nerve! Who did he think he was?

  The answer came loud and sharp to her mind. He was Sam’s father. She was simply the boy’s teacher and didn’t have a right to tell Jesse how to raise his own child.

  “This isn’t your business and I won’t allow you to interfere.” Jesse’s voice was low but powerful, like the sound of rolling thunder off in the distance. His hands were clenched, his features tight.

  Some inner guidance told her not to challenge him right now. But she didn’t have to like it.

  “All right. If that’s the way you want it,” she said.

  Drawing herself up straight, she reached for her scarf and shawl, which lay over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Without speaking, she jerked them on, wrapping up tight against the frigid wind outside. It had stopped raining but the ride home would undoubtedly be as chilly as it was inside this kitchen.

  She walked to the door, longing to say something more. Wishing she dared plead with him to show some compassion toward his son. Sam seemed so lost right now. So did Jesse.

  He didn’t speak as she stepped out onto the back porch. A blast of chilly wind struck her in the face and she gasped. It slapped the screen door closed behind her. It reminded her of the glacial man standing inside, watching her go.

  He didn’t walk outside to see that she was safely in her buggy and on her way. But as she pulled out of the yard, she saw him standing at the living room wi
ndow, watching her with a severe expression on his face. If she hadn’t seen his deep concern for Sam, she might think he hated the boy. That he hated the world.

  She tried to calm her trembling hands and beating heart as she headed home. She told herself everything was all right. Sam was safe. Jesse was obviously upset but, in the morning, things would look differently. Jesse would calm down and so would Sam. Unfortunately, the problem wouldn’t just resolve itself. Deep in her heart, she knew the issue wasn’t going away anytime soon. It occurred to her that Jesse’s trust in Gott was in tatters. He hadn’t said so but she knew without asking. His faith had been greatly damaged. And though she longed to help him and Sam, she had no idea how to go about it. Other than to keep tutoring Sam and trying to show both of them compassion, she didn’t have a clue. She just hoped it was enough.

  Chapter Ten

  Sam didn’t show up for school Monday morning. A part of Becca wondered if it was because of the disagreement she’d had with Jesse when the child ran away. Another part of her thought it might be just because Jesse was so busy with work that he couldn’t drive the boy here. She thought of offering to pick Sam up every morning on her way. After all, they lived only a mile apart. But she was already tutoring the boy three afternoons each week and barely keeping up with her own work as it was. It also occurred to her that Jesse needed that time alone with Sam each day, to be a father. What he did with the time was up to him. He could make it a quality chat with his boy or a silent, sullen trip.

  Deciding not to make more out of Sam’s absence than necessary, she taught her lessons as usual. As she worked with the fourth-graders and Caleb Yoder, she couldn’t believe the difference in him. Since that second week when she’d started teaching here, he’d been so good and helpful. Maybe his older brother and sister had told on him and Bishop Yoder had corrected Caleb’s poor behavior. Whatever it was, Becca was grateful. Now, the school was quiet and orderly and she really thought she was making headway with the children.