The Bridge of Peace (27 page)

Lena knocked on Crist and Mollie’s door, wondering why the school board had chosen to meet here. They were Peter and Dwayne’s parents, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was entering the lions’ den. She doubted Grey would come, but she hated the idea of facing opposition without his voice of reason.

Mollie let her in. “Lena.” Mollie managed a short nod and motioned to the kitchen table.

Elsie’s Mamm looked pale and almost as sad as the day her daughter was killed. All the school board members and their wives were here, except Grey. Dwayne was here too. She guessed it was futile to hope he might not be at a meeting being held in his own home. Sylvan and Lillian Detweiler were here too, which meant old criticisms were coming her way again.

Lena went to a chair and took a seat.

The Detweilers’ complaints against her stemmed from the incident last year, the one that caused the board to put her on probation. It’d been such a foolish mistake on her part, but her alternative was to let four children go hungry.

Michael looked up from the papers in his hand. “Ah, Lena, you’ve arrived.”

She’d arrived ten minutes before it was time for the meeting to begin and had managed to be the last one to get here, so she wondered if they’d had a meeting beforehand too.

He called the gathering to order, and Dwayne took a seat at the table. She was in his home, but she’d hoped he wouldn’t stay for this part.

They bowed their heads in silent prayer.

Michael interlaced his fingers and placed his hands on the papers spread out in front of him. “Several parents have a lot of questions, but rather than having everyone come, Mollie and Crist will be their spokesmen. They’ve been gathering questions from parents, and we’d like you to respond to those questions. Since Grey isn’t here to take notes, Jake will. It won’t take long. Are you ready?”

“Ya.”

Crist placed a piece of notebook paper on the table. Only half of it was filled. That gave Lena a little hope. “The first item the parents would like to know is about Elmer. He was on a swing when the chain broke, and he ended up in a cast. Why weren’t you aware that the chains needed to be replaced?”

Michael shook his head. “She’s not responsible for playground equipment. That’s the board’s job.”

“I disagree,” Crist said. “It’s the board’s job to replace the items. It’s hers to inform you.”

Michael shook his head and started to say something.

“I can answer his question,” Lena offered.

“Okay, Lena, go ahead,” Michael said.

“Those chains were only two years old. Not a one of them should have broken, but Daed and I changed them all out after Elmer’s accident and before anyone else used a swing.”

“Gut. Denki, Lena.” Michael made a note.

Crist read the next item. “You buried one of your scholars’ cats while the child begged you not to? Is that true?”

Michael lifted his hand. “Who wrote these questions? Lena deals with a large classroom of children, and we can’t second-guess her every decision.”

“I’d like to at least know where she found the cat,” Crist said.

Lena glanced at Dwayne. “The cat’s throat had been slit, and it was left in my chair. We all know that mean pranks are pulled on teachers from time to time. I tried to bury it before the children arrived. I guess I could have hidden it in the lean-to and buried it later, but I didn’t.”

“And you didn’t bother to tell the school board that someone left a dead cat in the room? Shouldn’t they have been informed?”

“I mentioned it to Grey within a few days of it happening.”

Michael tapped his hand against the table. “That answers plenty. She did her job, and I’m sure Grey would have told us if … if … Elsie hadn’t.” The sting of Michael losing his daughter had stolen the words from him.

Crist nodded. “Yes, you’re right.” He looked at Lena. “Were you aware that the bull had gotten into the pasture near the school before the day … of the incident?”

Lena cringed. “Ya.”

Michael shifted. “I won’t sit here and let anyone blame Lena. It’s my field, and my son’s bull. We’re responsible. End of it. I’ve told the board for months there’s nothing to talk to Lena about.”

She ached for Michael. Like Aaron, he blamed himself.

Crist took a sip of water. “The parents would like to know if the school board approved Lena bringing a counselor, a psychologist of some sort, into the school to talk to the children after the incident.”

Michael looked surprised. He angled his head toward her. “You brought in an outsider to talk to the scholars without permission?”

“I … I guess I did.”

“You guess?” Dwayne scoffed. “You don’t know?”

Lena straightened in her chair. “The children were traumatized, and I have a friend who is a school counselor. She only came in to help them sort through their feelings and to offer advice on dealing with trauma and shock. I never left the room while she talked. We did some exercises she suggested—drawing, talking, acting out how we feel. She said and did nothing against our beliefs. Nothing.”

Michael breathed deeply. “That wasn’t wise, Lena. An outsider we don’t know, a psychologist no less, brought in to talk to our children? You had to know this was unacceptable.”

Lena steadied her pounding heart. “The day of the incident I saw the trauma that took place in each child’s heart and mind. I know Samantha Rogers from my days of attending public school, and I knew she’d have the expertise to help them.”

“Peter is worse, not better,” Mollie snapped.

Lena tried to find the right words. “That’s not Samantha’s fault. She did nothing that would make anyone worse. I … I think he’s probably better than he would have been without the insights Samantha had to offer.”

“I don’t believe you,” Mollie said.

Lena cleared her throat, trying to guard her tone. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Mollie scoffed. “You think what you’ve done is okay?”

“I’m sorry it upset you, but I think it’s been helpful for all the children.”

“You’re not even a little sorry.” The oldest board member, Jake Fisher, scooted his chair forward, making an awful sound as he did. “We don’t want some stranger who may not even be a believer offering the children of Dry Lake hope. Why would you step outside of our ways to do this your way?”

Lena steadied her tone, trying to remain respectful. “We allow firemen to come to the school and share their wisdom. They put on their full gear and teach the children how to respond to a fire. I thought Samantha could help in her own area, like they do.”

Jake frowned. “So you didn’t ask because we allow firemen to come into the school?”

“A problem came up, and then an opportunity for finding some relief surfaced, so I went for it.”

“Went for it?” Dwayne’s smug smile made her feel sick. “She talks more like a public school girl than an Amish one.”

A wave of nods circled the room.

Michael took notes. “Lena, do not allow any outsider to come into the classroom without permission. Clear?”

“Ya.”

He gathered his papers. “We can’t decide a discipline tonight. I’m dealing with all I can right now. I might as well let you all know about Aaron. You’ll hear about it elsewhere if I don’t. He’s … entered a rehabilitation center somewhere outside of Owl’s Perch. I … I don’t know what made him think he needed that kind of help, but he didn’t ask my opinion. I can’t see us trying to make a fair discipline call on this tonight.” He grew still as he studied Lena. “I’m afraid you’ve crossed a line.”

Dwayne scoffed, and all eyes moved to him. “I think you should ask Lena who suggested Aaron leave Dry Lake and see a shrink.”

Aaron’s mother straightened, looking more alert than she had since Lena arrived. Dora ran her fingers over her cheek. “What did you say to our son that made him leave his family when we needed him most?”

Lena’s heart jumped, and she knew her face radiated guilt. “I … I know how this looks, but he came to me, and … I … I gave him some information.”

“What
kind
of information?” Dora asked.

She wouldn’t tell because Aaron might not want her to. “It was a private conversation. I … I was only trying to help.”

Murmuring continued, and several board members asked her questions at the same time.

Michael’s hand shook when he raised it to silence everyone. “Whatever conversation took place between Aaron and Lena isn’t a school matter. Aaron may have chosen badly when deciding who to talk to, but no part of that can affect our decision concerning Lena as a teacher. And we’re all too upset to have any sense of fairness in our decision of what discipline to hand down. I say we table this matter for at least a week. All in favor say aye.”

A chorus of dull ayes echoed. “Any nays?”

No one said anything.

With his elbow on the table, Michael held his head in one hand. “You will remain under probation, and you are not to allow any Englischer inside the school without the board’s permission. Is that clear?”

“Ya.”

“We’ll take all this under advisement and either let you know of another meeting or send you a letter with our decision. Your actions between now and then will be carefully scrutinized. I’m very concerned, Lena. Do you understand?” He spoke gently, but she saw hurt and anger in his countenance.

“Ya.” Lena said her good-byes, grabbed her coat, and left. Cold wind slapped her in the face when she stepped outside. Her heart ached over the board’s view of her, and she fought tears while making her way along the narrow path of cleared snow toward the barn. At least Michael refused to make a decision until he and the others calmed down, but the idea of losing her school stung. Her scholars needed that time with Samantha. But if she lost her school because of overreaching her authority, she’d never get another teaching position at any Amish school.

Twenty-Three

Wonderful smells of baked goods drifted throughout Ada’s House, constantly reminding Deborah of all she had to be thankful for. She sat at the kitchen table, counting the money they’d made this week. Ada and Jonathan chatted quietly while Cara and Lori sat at the sewing machine making cloth dolls.

Deborah stacked the cash and checks together. “I just can’t believe how well our business continues to do, and it’s almost six weeks past Christmas.”

Jonathan turned a chair around backward and straddled it. “Most of the snows have been perfect for sleigh rides this year. I think that’s helped keep things really hopping around here.”

“Ya, everything is just working so much better than I figured. But the truth is, we couldn’t have done it without your constant help, Jon.”

Cara laughed. “And some nights his big reward is getting to sleep in that awful room above the carriage house.”

“Well, the upside is I’ve had a chance to expand the blacksmith business to places the horse and wagon can’t reach from Dry Lake in one day.”

Lori stayed focused as Ada and Cara helped her sew another faceless doll. Those sold great too, and Lori loved helping to make them.

Ada glanced up. “I never dreamed we’d stay this busy. We’ve sold every hope chest, coatrack, and side table that Israel made, and he’s making more items for us.”

Deborah slid the money into the deposit bag. “I hope I’m not all puffed up to think this, but I’m so pleased with us. We’ve come up with a theme for every season so far, and people have enjoyed each one.”

Cara snipped loose threads off the doll in her hand. “We need to start working on a spring theme, but I’m not planting, hoeing, and harvesting according to the Old Ways. So if anyone mentions farming the Amish way at Ada’s House, I’ll scream.”

“I’ve been mulling over the spring theme,” Jonathan said. “And I think farming like the Amish is a great idea.”

Cara screamed softly, making all of them giggle.

“It’s just the first of February. We have a few more weeks of Amish Winter Wonderland to get through. We’ll figure something out soon enough.” Deborah removed her coat and Jonathan’s from pegs near the back door. “I’m ready.” She tossed Jonathan his jacket.

He caught it and opened the door for her. She grabbed her scarf, gloves, and winter bonnet off the shelf. Almost every Friday night, unless the temps were too cold, they walked to the bank to drop the money into the night depository.

Deborah put on her black bonnet, wrapped the knit scarf around her neck and lower face, and wriggled her hands into the leather gloves.

With his hands jammed inside his coat pockets, Jonathan nudged her with his shoulder. “Warm?”

“You know the answer to that,” Deborah mumbled through the knit scarf.

“Did you put on the insulated underwear I brought you?”

“That’s not for you to know.” She pretended offense. “Where’s your sense of respectability, young man?”

His quiet laugh warmed her more than all her layers of clothing. “Well, Little Debbie, I think working in a hot kitchen year round puts you at a disadvantage for dealing with cold weather. I could take the deposit to the bank for you.”

“At least I wouldn’t have to worry you might eat it before getting there.”

“That’s true enough.”

She treasured his sense of humor, his willingness to exaggerate any fault, real or imagined, and laugh in a way that caused amusement itself to dance within her. He walked with confidence and lightheartedness. On a whim she slid her gloved hand into his coat pocket with his hand.