Brightest and Best (21 page)

Deputy Fremont kept Margaret waiting so long she was ready to pound on his desk. By the time she had his attention, she remembered almost nothing of the reasoned arguments she had spent the day preparing and instead blurted out her frustration.

“I will deal with this matter,” she said. “I am here only to ask you to communicate to the sheriff in Chardon that he need only wait with more patience for a favorable outcome.”

Deputy Fremont chuckled as he stood and picked up his jacket from the back of his chair.

“You can’t seriously think we are going to overlook the exceptional level of truancy among the Amish children.”

“I will speak to the fathers and make clear that they must comply with the law,” she said. “The children can come to school while the families make their case within appropriate legal parameters.”

“I have my instructions,” he said.

“And what would those be?” Margaret saw no benefit from the deputy screeching his tires onto Amish farms again with blustering threats.

Deputy Fremont picked up a stack of papers from the corner of his desk. “These are official notices of fines that are the consequences of Amish flagrancy.”

“Amish flagrancy! Can you not see the hyperbole in such a term?”

“I suppose you are entitled to your opinion.” The deputy picked up the crank that would start his automobile. “But frankly, it has no bearing.”

Margaret stood and leaned over the desk. “Are you truly going to inflict fines over a matter that might yet be solved by conversation?”

“The time for conversation is past.”

“The time for conversation is never past.”

He laughed again. “Miss Simpson, you were supposed to help the Amish consolidate. You failed. Now it’s time for me to do my job. I represent the sheriff’s office. My duty is to enforce the law, not to turn my head the other way.”

“I must protest!”

“If you like.” He gripped the papers in one hand. “I have work to do, starting with Mr. Wittmer. I think you were right when you pointed us to him as the most influential of the fathers. If we set an example with him, the others will come in line soon enough.”

Margaret swallowed and composed herself. “Deputy Fremont, perhaps if you and I work together, we could be more effective.”

He shook his head. “I have my orders from the sheriff.”

Deputy Fremont strode past Margaret and into the street, his papers in one hand and his crank in the other.

Margaret trailed after him, but once outside, she turned sharply toward home. She would take her own automobile out to the Amish farms.

She had not counted on finding Gray Truesdale standing on the corner where she needed to turn toward her bungalow. His back was to Margaret, and she halted her steps before he twisted around. If only she could ask for his help. If only she could ask anyone’s help. But right now Margaret could not afford further delay. This was no time for flirting or explanations or wondering if he was going to kiss her.

Gray’s head began to rotate, and then one shoulder dropped.

Margaret pivoted, retraced her steps for half a block, turned down the wrong street, and muttered sincere prayers that Gray would not decide to go to her house—at least not before she could arrive, get her own crank to start her car, and pull away in a direction that would allow her to avoid eye contact. It wasn’t that she meant to deceive him, but only that she had no time to be polite.

Moments later she cranked the engine and put the full weight of her foot on the pedal. There was a reason her uncle had given her this old car, though. It wasn’t fast enough for him, and at the moment, neither was it fast enough for Margaret.

By the time she arrived at the Wittmer farm, Deputy Fremont and Gideon were squared off in front of the barn. Margaret braked with a lurch and leaned against the door, willing it to open smoothly. She groaned when she saw the official yellow form already in Gideon’s hand.

“Deputy, please,” Margaret said, approaching the men.

“I’ve done my duty here,” Fremont said. “I have several other stops to make, and my wife would like to have me home for supper.”

“I refuse to believe we cannot have a reasonable conversation about this matter,” Margaret said.

“Miss Simpson,” Gideon said, creasing the paper, “your assistance is not necessary.”

Heat flushed through her face. “I represent the school in this matter.”

“It’s a matter for the law now,” Fremont said. He shuffled through the remaining papers. “I will move on. Mr. Hershberger’s children haven’t been to school at all. Mr. Borntrager, Mr. Mast, Mr. Byler. Yes, I think I’ve got everyone sorted out.”

Gideon seemed far calmer than Margaret felt.

“I think you’ll find the fine modest,” Fremont said. “I would hate for matters to escalate, so I’ll remind you to take note of the date specified on the form. We’ll need to see all the children properly enrolled and attending regularly by that date. And I stress
regularly
.”

The deputy marched to his car. Margaret fixed her eyes on Gideon, who disappeared into his barn.

Gideon murmured the “Amen” and closed the Bible. He had chosen to read, “Children, obey your parents” from Ephesians the next morning not to assume a disciplinary posture but as a gentle reminder to his three children that he had their best interests in mind.

“Gertie,” Gideon said, “please go check and see if we missed any eggs last night.”

“But I do that after school,” Gertie said, fumbling to tie her
kapp
under her chin.

“Today I want you to do it this morning.” Gideon looked into Gertie’s eyes, her mother’s eyes, and waited for the protest to pass through the muscles of her face.

Savilla slid off the davenport, her eyes focused on the clock on the mantel. “I’ll get the lunch buckets. Hurry up, Gertie.”

Gideon put the German Bible on the shelf. On most school days, the girls would be six minutes away from leaving for the bus stop. Savilla hated to be late for anything and knew well the consequence for missing the bus.

Tobias stood up. “I noticed the stalls need mucking. Shall I do that today?”

Gideon nodded. “This morning, please. After midday, Aaron King will come to help us get the last of the hay into the loft.”

Tobias nodded and left.

Savilla returned with two lunch buckets. “I forgot where I left my shawl.”

“What do I always tell you about that?” Gideon said.

“Hang it on the hook.” She set the lunch buckets on the floor next to the front door. “I think I left it on my bed.”

Four minutes.

Savilla’s steps on the stairs were light, rushing, scampering. She returned with the shawl over her shoulders and took custody once again of the lunch buckets.

Three minutes.

“Gertie’s taking too long,” Savilla said.

“We’re all right,” Gideon said.

“No, we’re not. We’ll be late.”

“It’s all right, Savilla.”

“If we miss the bus, you’ll have to take us to school, and I know you’re busy.” Savilla stuck her head out the door. “Gertie!”

“Savilla, please sit down.”

“I can’t,
Daed.
It’s time to go.”

“I asked you to sit down.”

She plopped into a chair, her eyes shifting between the waiting lunch buckets and the ticking clock.

Two minutes.

“We’re going to have to run,” Savilla said. “Gertie doesn’t like it when I tell her to run for the bus.”

“You won’t have to run,” Gideon said.

“I don’t understand why you asked Gertie to get eggs in the morning. She dawdles.”

“We’ll just wait for her.”

One minute.

Gertie burst in, breathless. “I looked in all the nests and there’s not a single egg.”

Savilla popped up, and Gideon motioned she should sit again.

“I need to talk to both of you,” he said.

“Your eyes are not smiling,
Daed
,” Gertie said.

“I’ve made a decision,” Gideon said. “I’ve decided that the two of you will learn at home from now on.”

Savilla’s eyes widened. “We’re not going to school?”

Gideon shook his head. “I think it’s best for you to stay on the farm and study here.”

“But who will teach us?”

Gideon brightened his tone. “Today you will have a school holiday! Play outside. Get some fresh air.”

Gertie squealed her delight.

Savilla scowled her doubt.

When Gideon’s buggy approached, Ella set aside the bird manual and leaned on the fence to wait for him.

“I took the girls out of school,” he said.

“I thought you might,” Ella said. “I was at the Hershbergers’ when the deputy arrived with the papers yesterday. He said he had already been to your farm.”

“I will pay the fine, but I will not be bullied into sending my children to a school that thinks so little of them that they would make no effort to understand their home.”

“Miss Simpson seems very nice.” Ella’s heart pelted her chest. This conversation could have only one end.

“She’s quite pleasant.” Gideon nodded. “But she is one teacher, and despite her intentions, she seems to have no voice in the decisions.”

Ella swallowed. Living alone or having a job or even owning an automobile did not mean
English
women were equal to their men. Lindy had said as much many times. But once she decided she didn’t want to marry, Lindy chose to live among the
English.
Better to be an
English
old maid than an Amish one, she reasoned. Ella wasn’t so sure. Margaret Simpson did not seem to be any better off for her
English
upbringing and independence.

“I’ll do it,” Ella whispered.

Gideon raised his eyebrows.

“I’ll teach the girls,” Ella said. “I won’t have any idea what I’m doing, but I’m willing to muddle through if you are.”

Gideon’s brow wrinkled. “I want you to be certain.”

“I am.” And she was.

I
’m old enough to decide.” David spoke with surety two days later. “If I’m old enough to do a man’s work on the farm, I’m old enough to decide I want to stay in school.”

“But if you go to school, you won’t be here to do a man’s work,” Jed said.

“David, no,” Rachel said.

“I’m going to live with Lindy. She’s like an
aunti
to me. You always tell me that.”

Ella held her breath. The breakfast she’d swallowed a few minutes ago threatened to work its way up. When she saw Lindy pick David up after school, she never imagined it would come to this. At least David waited until after morning devotions and Seth’s departure, sparing his brother this scene.

“I already packed,” David said. “I don’t mean to hurt anybody. If you want me to, I’ll come home on Saturdays and work from dawn to dusk.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jed said.

Rachel blanched. Ella’s stomach sank.

“Lindy has been my friend since we were small girls,” Rachel said. “I can’t believe she would do this to me.”

“I haven’t talked to her about it yet,” David said. “But she’ll say yes.”

Ella’s eyes flicked up. With his bag packed, David seemed certain.

“I’ll ask her not to,” Rachel said. “She’ll know I don’t approve.”

“Then I’ll go somewhere else,” David said softly. “I’ll find a place to camp, or get a job after school and rent a room.”

“You would really do that?”

David met his mother’s eyes. “Wouldn’t you rather I be with Lindy? I know Lindy would rather know I’m safe.”

Ella forced some air out of her lungs, wishing David had waited two more minutes until she’d at least left the room, if not the house. She could have been cleaning the henhouse or sweeping the porch or mixing bread dough or on her way to Gideon’s. Anything but listening to this. Slowly she stood up from the end of the davenport.

David stood as well, and without speaking he climbed the stairs. Ella crept out of the room and hovered at the doorway to the kitchen.

“Are you going to just let him go?” Rachel said to Jed. “You didn’t even try to stop him.”

“He has made up his mind,” Jed said.

“Don’t you think of him as your own son?” Rachel said, her pitch rising. “Would you let your own fifteen-year-old son do this?”

“When we married, I took responsibility for the boys,” Jed said. “But he already runs off half the time even though he knows our decision. How do you propose that I make him stay?”