Brian's Choice (5 page)

“And should we offer one another grace, even when a person does something very bad?”

She'd avoided his eyes and murmured, “I suppose.”

He'd changed the subject then, but she'd had the distinct impression he was about to tell her something about his past, maybe even why he'd chosen to become Amish.

She thought of that conversation as she watched him speak with John and Curtis. She couldn't hear what he said to them, but they glanced at each other and then at the ground before walking toward the schoolhouse.

Brian picked up a branch that had fallen during a rain storm three days before. He opened the girls' outhouse and stepped inside. When he backed out, he was holding the stick at arm's length, and a rather large rat snake was curled around its end.

“William, would you mind returning this fellow to the woods?”

“Sure, Brian.”

William carefully accepted the stick. The group of boys and even some of the girls followed him as he walked toward the edge of the school lot.

Katie looked back toward Brian and he signaled her with ten
fingers. She knew instantly that he wanted her to keep the other children in the schoolyard for another ten minutes.

In the meantime, he would deal with the hooligans in the schoolhouse. Superheroes, indeed.

SEVEN

Brian and Katie spent twenty minutes preparing for the next day's lessons at the end of each day. There was no cleaning to do. The students took care of it before they left. It was something that still surprised Brian.

Stella Stutzman lingered at the back of the room, pretending to look for something in her cubby. Katie nodded her head toward the girl and raised her eyebrow.

“I'll handle it,” he said quietly. Brian had dealt with starry-eyed students before. He understood it was less about him and more about stages a girl went through. He walked to the back of the room, asked Stella if she needed anything, and then pointedly said, “We'll see you tomorrow.”

“She seems attached to you,” Katie said when he returned to his desk.

He simply shrugged, which was his way. Brian Walker was not one to talk when a shrug would do. Or it could be that they were both exhausted at the end of every school day, but especially one involving critters in the outhouse.

“So you gave the boys an extra reading assignment?”

“I allowed them to choose, actually. I told them I could speak with their parents, or they could accept an extra assignment.”

“I'm amazed they chose to do extra classwork.”

Brian's laugh amazed her, but she found herself liking the sound. She liked to see him happy, and he seemed to be growing more so with each week that passed.

“I was a little amazed myself, but apparently their parents would have given them a harsher punishment than reading.”

Katie finished placing sharpened pencils on each desk and plopped into the first chair in the first row. “Amish parents rarely have a need to discipline, but when they do it's meant to impress the lesson on the child.”

“Were you ever disciplined, Katie?”

She tried to still the blush flooding her face. “
Ya
, a time or two.”

“For?”

“I have always been a bit scatterbrained. When I was ten I left the gate open on the chicken coop and my
mamm
's hens escaped. We found all but one, which we later learned was killed by the neighbor's dog.
Dat
assured me it wasn't the dog's fault, only its nature.”

“What was your punishment?”

“Six weeks cleaning out the chicken coop, plus the watering and feeding I normally did. My
bruder
was happy, as it released him from the chore.”

“And did the punishment work?”

“
Ach
. I don't know.” She reached up and straightened her
kapp
. “I was no less scatterbrained in general, but I remembered to close the coop gate after that.”

“I suppose I could have had John and Curtis clean out the outhouses for six weeks.” Brian sighed as he sat down at one of the desks. As usual, he left an empty seat between them. “I was hoping for a more permanent change in their behavior. Something that would make an impression on their impulsiveness.”

“And reading
To Kill a Mockingbird
will do that?”

“It might. Have you read it?”

She shook her head.

He stood, walked over to his desk, and picked up a copy. Then he walked to her desk and held it out to her. She accepted it, her fingers brushing against his and causing another blush to creep up her cheeks.

“Try it. Harper Lee's book is one of the best American novels ever written—in my opinion.”

“Will it help me to be less scatterbrained?”

“I haven't noticed that being a problem.”

“Because with children you have to watch them every single minute.” She gathered up her lunch pail and a teacher's sack she'd sewn from leftover fabric. Together they walked toward the schoolhouse door. “Should my attention lapse, they may overpower us and lock us in the outhouse with several snakes.”

Instead of responding in the same teasing tone, Brian pulled her bag of school supplies from her arms and walked with her toward her sister's house. This was something he'd done once or twice, and Katie was wondering when he'd do so again.

“Harper Lee's story is about two children—Jem and Scout. It's a story of innocence lost, but also of the need to understand that most people have both good and bad qualities. It's how we react to those qualities, what we choose to embrace, that matters.”

“And you think that John and Curtis need this lesson?”

“I think we all do.” Brian stopped and leaned against the fence bordering the road. “There was a time in my life when I never thought about such things, never even considered them. When I had to confront the evil qualities in myself, I didn't know how. I was lost and adrift.” He glanced sideways, studying her reaction. “What John and Curtis did today was a little thing, and I'm sure they meant no harm, but our actions can harm others even when they are unintentional.”

He stepped away from the fence, and they continued walking. “I'm
hoping by reading the book that they'll stop to consider their actions and how they can affect others.”

“That's a lot to learn from a story.”

He grinned at her. “I believe in the power of the pen. Read the book and let me know what you think.”

Then he handed her the bag of school supplies, met her gaze briefly, and turned toward his home. She stood at the entrance to her sister's place, watching him and thinking of all he had said.

Evil qualities in Brian?

Lost and adrift?

None of that sounded like the man she knew, the man she was beginning to genuinely like. But he thought they did, which suggested he harbored scars he still wasn't willing to talk about.

EIGHT

Brian found himself whistling as he prepared his breakfast of hot oatmeal, bread, and coffee. The bread was a gift. He hadn't learned to make it yet, and he didn't have money to purchase things he didn't absolutely need from the local grocery store. The bishop's wife provided it. She sent a new loaf to school, with one of her grandchildren, at least twice a week.

The community was like that—anticipating the needs of their members and helping out. True to their word, Joseph and Luke had brought a work crew to his place and harvested his small crop. They had also fixed the tractor he hadn't had time to look at, and they had put his barn in good shape for the winter.

Brian didn't own a horse yet. He'd put off buying one, opting instead to walk to the bishop's and catch a ride with him and his wife to church meetings. For trips to town, he drove the tractor—though he rarely needed to go to the store.

Most of his days were spent in one of two places—home or the schoolhouse. He'd fallen easily into the routine and found he liked the rhythm of teaching all day and then returning to his quiet, peaceful home at night.

His life was lonely at times, but he found that the injured places
deep inside him were beginning to heal. Katie's face popped into his mind as he sipped from the too hot coffee. She was a sweet girl, and he'd grown to depend on her.

No, it was best to be honest with himself.

He'd grown to like her. She was pleasant, eager to help, good with the children, and always looking for ways to make his job easier. He wouldn't have made it through the first few weeks without her. And though he had spent many days trying to remain aloof, he hadn't been able to maintain that distance.

Now it was October, and Brian finally admitted to himself that he was looking forward to church for several reasons—and one was that he was going to see Katie.

Six hours later, the church service was over and lunch was finished. Brian wasn't one to overeat, but sometimes it was difficult to say no to the homemade casseroles and desserts spread across the makeshift tables. The service had been held at the bishop's home this morning, and the luncheon took place in the barn due to the rain. Now the barn doors had been thrown open, and sunshine struggled to peek through clouds that were quickly scattering.

“I suppose I'll never grow tired of the sound of rain on a barn roof.”

Brian turned and smiled at Katie. He felt as if he knew her better than anyone in the room, and when she was standing next to him, his world achieved a balance that was otherwise missing.

“It's a good sound,” he agreed.

“The only thing better is walking through wet leaves.”

“Is that so? I would have thought you might be too refined for that.”

Katie raised an eyebrow but didn't respond.

“A walk it is, then. Do you need a shawl?”

“
Nein
. The cool air feels nice.”

As they walked out into the midday sun, Brian resisted the urge to reach for her hand. Was he ready to start courting? He let that thought
rattle around in his head—and his heart—and found that the fear that normally accompanied such an idea was completely gone.

“When I was young, I asked my mother why the leaves changed colors.” She purposely walked through the large pile of scattered leaves to the side of the lane. “
Mamm
told me that perhaps God had angels who colored our world, staining the leaves to resemble lemons, tangerines, and apples. Then another angel would come along, and when he'd see the colors he would begin to sing—and the breath from his song knocked the leaves to the ground.”

“Your mother could be a writer.”

“
Nein
. She was…no, she is…a quilter. She works the loveliest colors into her creations—they're quite unusual compared to most. But she also enjoys telling us stories, challenging us to think of things from a heavenly perspective, even if it was with a silly explanation about falling leaves.”

They walked in silence until they reached Bishop Levi's tire swing. Normally it would be surrounded by children, but the youngsters had begun a game of hide-and-seek in the loft of the barn and were still playing it.

“Would you like me to push you in the swing?”

Katie studied him a moment, and then her smile widened and she wiggled onto the tire.

She glanced back at him, waiting. Brian's arms were on the rope of the swing, but he seemed transfixed.

He looked down at her, his heart thudding with long forgotten emotions and said, “When you look at me like that, the blue in your eyes reminds me of the Pacific Ocean.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is.” He pushed her gently at first, and then harder, causing her to squeal and clutch the rope.

The moment seemed to freeze and catch in Brian's mind—Katie
swinging, her head back, laughter in her eyes and a smile on her lips. For a moment it seemed as if they were the only two people in the world.

Then the dreamlike moment was broken, and they were surrounded by children. Katie hopped off the swing, and Brian helped Edna onto the tire. The older girls began pushing the swing, and the younger ones waited in line, scuffling their feet through the wet leaves.

“It looks as if we're being run off,” Katie said with a smile as she dusted the back of her dress with her hands.

“If we're quick about it, we can escape before we're drawn into a game of baseball.” He nodded toward the barn, where the older children were streaming out. John and Curtis were leading the pack.

“We haven't had any more trouble out of those two. That worries me. I'd rather know what they're up to.”

“What?” Now he did snag her hand and lace his fingers with hers. “You don't believe my extra assignment permanently changed their behavior?”

“Perhaps. Or it's possible they're waiting for us to let our guard down.” Katie didn't meet his gaze, but neither did she pull her hand away.