Leah's Choice (2 page)

“Wie bist du heit. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Teacher Leah.” He nodded in greeting, fingering the brim of his straw hat. “It’s kind of you to take on three new scholars with the school year so near over.”

She grasped a firm rein on her scattered thoughts. “I’m happy to have them. I look forward to getting to know Matthew and Elizabeth and Jonah.”

“They are glad to be back in class again after the move.” He glanced toward the table where the children sat eating, his face serious. “I would like to talk with you about their schooling. Perhaps when they finish today?”

The prompt request took her by surprise a bit. Still, since the Glick family had just moved here, their situation was different from that of her other scholars, most of whom she’d known since birth, seeing them at work frolics and worship services, watching them grow.

Daniel, being a widower, had to be both mother and father to his children, so she was glad to see he was interested in his young ones’ education.

“Ser gut,” she said. “I’ll see you at three, then.”

He gave a short nod to her, another to her mamm, and walked off toward the table where the children were having their lunch.

She watched him go, wondering a little. Still, there’d be plenty of time later to think about what changes the addition of the Glick family might make to her familiar classroom.

She turned to her mother, and her heart clenched with a familiar worry. “Mamm, why don’t you let the others take care of the cleaning up and go along home after you eat? You look a little tired.”

Her mother always insisted that she was well now, completely recovered from the cancer surgery that had worried them all so much a year ago, but even so, anything out of the ordinary seemed to exhaust her, though she hated to admit it.

“I’m not tired,” her mother said predictably. “Well, what do you think of Daniel Glick? A strong-looking man, wouldn’t you say? And the three children so bright and happy. They’re a fine addition to our community. Aren’t they?”

Her heart sank at the indication that her mother was, as Rachel had said, embarking on matchmaking. It was hardly surprising, since Mamm had tried her best to pair her eldest daughter up with every eligible man in their central Pennsylvania Amish community.

She had even suggested a visit to distant relatives back in Lancaster County a time or two, in hopes of finding a husband for her stubborn child.

It had taken all Leah’s determination to hold out against her mother’s loving wishes for her. Mamm thought Leah should forget her disappointment in Johnny and love again. But Mamm didn’t know the whole story.

“They seem very nice,” she said. Daniel Glick was an unknown quantity. All she could say now was that he appeared interested in his children’s education. As for the children—

She had to banish a frown before Mamm saw it. Happy and healthy, Mamm had said. Certainly the children looked sturdy enough, but she was not so sure about the happy part, at least as far as the older two went. Both Matthew and Elizabeth had seemed withdrawn, resisting her efforts to get to know them this morning.

They might just be struggling to get comfortable in a new place. So why did she have this niggling feeling that something was wrong?

Jacob Esch, the eighth-grader she’d appointed to watch the clock, began to ring the bell that signaled it was time for play. She’d found that without a reminder, some of the scholars would skimp on their eating to be first on the swings.

Children ran toward the swings and seesaw, the little girls with their braids and bonnet strings flying in the wind, the boys racing one another as they always did. Some of the older ones grabbed bats and balls.

The Glick children seemed to hesitate. Then Matthew walked toward the ball field, while Elizabeth took her little brother’s hand and led him to the swings.

Leah glanced toward Daniel Glick. He stood near the picnic table, arms crossed over his chest in a way that seemed to close him off from the rest of them. And the steady gaze he directed toward his children was so intent it startled her.

 

 

 

Leah
had her work cut out for her that afternoon. She should be focused on assessing the Glick children’s scholastic status in preparation for her talk with Daniel Glick later. Or else she should concentrate on the model of Pleasant Valley that her older scholars were constructing or the spelling test she’d be giving tomorrow.

Instead, her thoughts kept drifting into the past. It seemed no time at all since she’d been a scholar here, sitting at the row of desks against the right-hand wall, looking out at the blossoms on the apple tree, daydreaming.

Johnny had sat behind her, Rachel in front, making her a buffer between the twins. Johnny had tied her kapp strings together once, and spent the afternoon recess sitting on a stool in the corner as a result. She could still see him looking over his shoulder to make a face at her when the teacher’s back was turned.

She pulled her rebellious thoughts into order. This was Rachel’s fault, making her think of Johnny again. Making her feel that familiar sense of failure that came each time she remembered how they’d parted.

She moved to the row of first-graders, bending over to check the lined sheets on which they were practicing the letter
L
. They looked up now and then at the capital and lowercase alphabet that marched across the top of the chalkboard.

“Very nice work, Jonah.” She smiled at Daniel’s youngest, and the boy’s chubby face crinkled in a returning smile. She’d already noticed that Jonah was the most open of the three.

“I like to make letters, Teacher Leah.”

“I can see that.” She patted his shoulder lightly. “Keep up the good work.”

At six, Jonah’s ease in English was surprising. Most of the first-graders had spoken only the Pennsylvania Dutch dialect at home before they started school, where they were expected to learn English. Jonah must have had a fine teacher at his last school to be so at ease in his second language. Or third, if one counted the High German used for worship.

Toward the back of the room, Matthew seemed contented enough, working on a model of some sort for the display. She hadn’t seen him interact with any of the other children in spite of friendly overtures from several boys.

She walked back to check on the boys’ progress, pausing by Matthew’s desk. And blinked. What she’d taken for a model of a silo certainly wasn’t, unless silos had suddenly taken on a substantial tilt.

“What are you making, Matthew?”

He squirmed a little in his seat, not looking at her. “Nothing. I mean, a silo.”

She tapped the model. “I think the grain might fall out, don’t you? This looks more like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.”

His wide blue eyes met hers again, but this time they were lit by enthusiasm. “I’d like to see that someday. How can it lean over but not fall down? Do you know?”

She heard the wonderment in his voice. Heard it, and recognized it. She knew that yearning to see things that were far away and to understand things that seemed inexplicable. For just an instant she wanted to share the boy’s curiosity.

No, of course she didn’t. She’d stopped longing for the impossible years ago, when she’d put away childish dreams. She was Amish, and Amish didn’t fly off to a foreign country to gape at something that had no influence on their lives.

“I don’t know. But perhaps you should make a silo. I’m sure Jacob could use one for his farm.”

Jacob Esch, hearing his name, looked up and nodded, and the moment passed. Matthew turned toward the other boy, and if there was disappointment in his face, she didn’t see it.

She moved away. Matthew’s sister, eight-year-old Elizabeth, was practicing spelling words with Rachel’s oldest, Becky. She smiled a little when she made a mistake, but she shot an apprehensive glance toward Leah now and then, as if unsure of her approval.

All in all, she found the Glick children a bit of a concern, although there was nothing she could really put her finger on. As their teacher, it was her job to make them feel at home and bring out their best. Perhaps her talk with their father would help her understand them better.

Beyond the side window, the apple tree had begun to put forth its blossoms. Something fluttered inside her, like the apple blossoms trembling in the breeze. She and Johnny had stood under that tree the first time he’d told her that he loved her. And it was there that they’d said their bitter good-byes.

The automatic timer in her mind went off, and she turned to check the clock on her desk.

“It’s time to clean up now. Please be sure the paste lids are on tightly.” The older boys sometimes skimped on the cleanup, a little overeager to be out the door. “Who would like to wash the chalkboard today?”

Becky’s hand went up immediately, and after a glance at her, Elizabeth Glick put her hand up, too.

“Ser gut. You girls may start on the boards. Please leave the spelling words.”

The final routine of the day moved swiftly to its conclusion, and soon her scholars were headed toward the door in an even line, saving the running and jumping for the moment they hit the schoolyard. Leah touched Matthew Glick lightly on the arm.

“Your father is coming to talk with me, Matthew. Will you please watch your brother and sister on the playground until we finish?”

Matthew’s face was very like his father’s. Guarded in a way one didn’t often see in an Amish child. He studied her for a moment, blue eyes serious, before he nodded. “I will.”

“Ser gut.” She glanced up and saw Daniel near the door, moving aside as the line of children passed him. When Matthew reached him, he extended his hand, as if to touch the boy’s shoulder, but then he seemed to change his mind, standing where he was until they were all out. The door closed behind the last scholar.

“Komm in. Wilkom to our school.” Leah gestured toward the rows of desks. “Matthew’s desk is here, and Elizabeth’s there. And Jonah is up in front, with the other first-graders.”

Daniel followed her without speaking to the front of the classroom, his shoes thudding on the bare wooden floor. Not that she expected him to chatter, but a few words might ease the awkwardness.

He was a stranger, after all, and she thought again how odd that was. Pleasant Valley’s Amish community had been established in the 1970s, when the brethren had left Lancaster County for cheaper farmland in the valleys of central Pennsylvania. Since then, the population had been stable, so that she knew every member of the church district as well as she knew her own family. Daniel Glick and his children were the exception.

She pulled over the visitor’s chair for him and seated herself behind her desk. “Komm, sit down. I’m glad you’re willing to talk with me about the children. I want to make their move here as smooth as possible.”

Daniel balanced his straw hat on his knees. He smiled, the frostiness disappearing from his blue eyes as his face relaxed. It was a very appealing smile. She’d been right—if Daniel was in search of a wife, he’d have no trouble finding one by himself.

Not her, of course. She was content with her life the way it was, and she didn’t foresee any changes coming her way.

“We’ve been warmly welcomed here,” Daniel said. “It is a change for the young ones, though.”

“And for you.”

He shrugged. “I don’t mind a new place. I’m just glad to have a chance to buy such a fine farm.” His eyes narrowed, accentuating the sun lines that fanned out from the corners. “Amish children should be raised on a farm.”

“Everyone doesn’t have that opportunity.” Even here, farms were being lost every year to development. Most Amish parents couldn’t manage to provide land for each of their children, no matter how much they wanted to. “One of my brothers has a farm machinery shop, and another is a carpenter.”

Daniel’s brows drew down. “My children will have that chance. I’ll see to that.”

It was what every Amish parent wanted, of course, but Daniel’s insistence seemed a little intense, and it made her wonder what was behind it.

“They’re going to be a gut addition to our class, I know. I notice that Jonah speaks English very well already—better than most of my first- and even second-graders.”

For some reason that made his frown deepen. “Ja.” The word was so curt that it sounded as if Jonah’s skill in English was a fault.

She struggled for something else to say about his children on such short acquaintance. “Elizabeth volunteered to wash the chalkboard already, she and Becky Brand.”

“She’s a gut helper.” He said the words absently, his gaze on the world map she’d pulled down earlier for geography. “Teacher Leah, there is something I want to say. I want to be certain my children are not learning worldly things in your classroom.”

Leah stiffened. That was something the parents of her children seldom had occasion to say, knowing it was a given in an Amish school. She remembered Matthew’s comments about the leaning tower. Did Daniel assume that the map meant she was encouraging the children to yearn for the outside world?

“Our course of learning is much like that of any Amish school,” she said firmly, on sure ground when it came to her teaching. “I’d be happy to show you our textbooks and our course of study. Or perhaps you’d like to meet with the school board members.”

He shook his head. “There’s no need for that. I’ll see their books soon enough when I help the young ones with their homework.” He paused for a moment, as if weighing his words. “I meant no disrespect by what I said, Teacher Leah. But I care about my children’s education, and it means a great deal to have them in an Amish school.”

“I understand.” But she didn’t, not entirely. She didn’t know Daniel, and she didn’t know what drove him. She managed a polite smile. “Well, here is a chance to see young Jonah’s primer, since he went outside without it.” She picked up the ABCs book and handed it to him.