CHAPTER ONE
The day after Christmas
Meghan Yost gazed out a frosty window on a world rapidly
changing from earth brown to pure white.
"If this snow keeps up, nobody will be going anywhere
tomorrow," said her mamm. With her glasses perched at the
tip of her nose, Ruth remained intent on finishing her
basket of mending before bedtime.
"James heard on the battery radio that the snow should
let up by midnight. If I can walk to the Wrights to
baby–sit their two little ones, then surely I can
reach the schoolhouse. It's barely a half mile farther."
Meghan rubbed a dry patch in the condensation with her
sleeve.
Gideon Yost released a weary sigh, indicative of a
hundred–year–old man, rather than a
middle–aged husband, father and bishop of their Old
Order district. "Stop smearing up that glass and tell me
what is so wrong with working for the Wright family." He
closed his well–worn Bible in his lap to concentrate
on the matter at hand. "They're nice enough folks, for
Englischers."
"Nothing at all, daed." Meghan stared out into the
growing darkness.
"They pay you well; they give you most Saturdays off
and
they would never ask you to nanny on the Lord's Day. Plus
they let you snack on all the junk food and soda pop you
want."
Her mother clucked her tongue with disapproval. "I
can't
believe you haven't fattened up like a brood sow,
considering the things I see in Jennifer Wright's shopping
cart at the IGA."
"I eat enough pickled cauliflower and smoked turkey
breast at home to offset the sweets eaten over there."
Meghan perched a hand on her still bony hipbone. "I've
got
a ways to go before someone thinks of taking me to the
market."
Gideon rose to his feet to stoke the woodstove. "Please
don't change the subject, fraa. I want Meghan to put aside
these foolish notions and be grateful for the good position
she already has."
"Foolish notions?" Meghan's tone lifted with unusual
pique. "I have wanted to become a schoolteacher since I
was
a kinner myself. And I have told you that many times
before. Now that Mrs. Kauffman has found herself in a
family way, the perfect opportunity has opened up." She
abandoned her window vigil as the snowfall increased to
near blizzard conditions.
"Don't speak of such things in mixed company,
daughter,"
scolded mamm as her face blushed to a shade of bright pink.
Meghan chuckled inwardly. Speaking about
on–the–way babies in front of daed had
embarrassed her mamm, despite having borne five of her
own. "Beg your pardon," she murmured.
"I hardly would describe this as the ‘perfect
opportunity.' You're too young to handle a roomful of
boisterous youngsters." Gideon added more split wood,
closed the door, and straightened his spine one vertebra at
a time. "Joanna Kauffman's husband has mentioned more
than
once that the students are a handful this year—two
thirds of them male instead of an even fifty–fifty
split as one would expect."
Meghan laughed with abandon. "I'm not afraid of a few
little boys. Look how I've managed to wrap James and John
around my little finger."
"Bruders are a different matter altogether. I'm sure
the
district can find someone else to finish out this school
year. Then we'll have all next summer to find a permanent
replacement—perhaps a gal who's resigned herself to
spinsterhood and would welcome a steady income. You,
daughter, we would have to replace before we knew it."
Meghan wheeled around to face her father. Sometimes his
assumptions were exasperatingly old–fashioned, even
for someone Amish. "What makes you think I won't remain
single?"
The bishop laughed as he settled back into his vinyl
recliner. "Because I've noticed the way Jacob Shultz
stares
at you at every preaching service we have. I doubt it
won't
be long until you two are officially courting. After all,
you are nineteen already, soon to be twenty."
She shook her head at his logic. "Let me see if I
follow
this. I'm too young to teach school, but not too young to
get married? I happen to know that Joanna Kauffman took
over that classroom when she was only eighteen years
old—almost two years younger than me."
"Joanna has a completely different temperament than
you,
daughter. We can't compare apples to oranges."
She opened her mouth to argue but Ruth held up two hands
like a crossing guard stopping both lanes of traffic.
"Hold
on, Meghan. Why don't you go outside to see if James needs
help getting the cows into the barn for the night? We
don't
want them out if this snow continues. Let me talk to your
daed alone for a while."
Her mother smiled so sweetly, Meghan could do nothing
but head to the back hall for her coat and boots. She
should know better than to argue with her father. Her older
sister, Catherine, was an expert with rationalization that
allowed her to at least state her case. Her eldest sister,
Abigail, with a sharp intellect but soft gentle words had
the most success in getting her own way. But Meghan's
tendency to act first and think later or to beg in a whiny
voice seldom changed anyone's mind.
Pulling on her heavy wool bonnet, she picked up the
battery lantern near the door and slipped outside. Despite
the heavy snowfall, no sharp wind or piercing air quickened
her pace toward the barn. In fact, she ambled along as
though it were a balmy summer afternoon and sent up a
silent prayer that her father would relent. Becoming a
teacher had been her one true ambition since leaving school
at age fourteen. Although she enjoyed working as a nanny,
she yearned for her own classroom filled with bright
shining faces, eager to learn. Hopefully, mamm can convince
her father that she would be perfect for the job.
* * * * *
"Why not give the girl a chance?" asked Ruth, once she
heard the kitchen door close. "Have you ever met anyone
with more love and enthusiasm for children than Meghan?"
She resumed darning a very large hole in the sock heel.
Gideon snorted, folding the newspaper in half. This
would not be a good night to catch up with his
reading. "She loves being with children because she still
thinks and acts like one, most of the time. Have you
forgotten some of the stunts she pulled as a student?"
Ruth peered over her half–moon glasses. "Have you
heard complaints from the Wrights? Has she been unreliable
or somehow irresponsible with their little ones?"
"No, no, they are safe and well tended in her care. But
it might be nice if she helped Mrs. Wright with some of the
housework while the kinner play. Instead, whether they're
swimming, swinging or running the length of the meadow,
Meghan joins in the fun." He rubbed his shoulder blade,
trying to alleviate the crick in his neck. "I overheard
Meghan tell a friend that she doesn't usually wash the
lunch dishes until she hears Mrs. Wright's car pull into
the driveway after work."
"Ach, Gideon. She has a carefree heart. Soon enough
she'll be old and arthritic like us. Let her enjoy herself
now."
"Fine, but that's why she should stay working where
she
is until marriage." He struggled to his feet, the choice
an
easy one as far as he was concerned.
Ruth shook her head. "Meghan has never wanted anything
more than she wants this. And she has wonderful patience
with little ones."
"She's disorganized, easily distracted, and usually
late
every place she goes in life."
"I can't argue with that, but everyone deserves a
chance. She might just rise to the occasion and surprise
us. You especially." She narrowed her gaze at him.
"As the district bishop, it will reflect on my decision
making if she does poorly." He scrubbed his face with his
palms as though waking from a bad dream. "What if teaching
doesn't work out for Meghan, but in the meantime the
Wright
family finds a new nanny? She'll have nothing to fall back
on."
"Goodness, ehemann, didn't you ever take a chance when
you were young? Anyway, I believe she has already given
Mrs. Wright her two–week notice, never anticipating
the bishop, her own daed, would deny her the opportunity to
fulfill a dream."
"That was impetuous—my point exactly. She never
thinks things through. And I can't show my daughter
special
favors. It wouldn't be fair to the other women of the
district."
"Has someone else stepped forward as a candidate for
the
position?" Ruth furrowed her forehead.
Gideon's face clouded over like the night sky beyond
the
window. "No, no one has, but I sent word to all the
surrounding communities."
"Why not let Meghan try since Joanna agreed to stay
another week to train her replacement on the job? What
would it hurt?"
"A week isn't long enough to impart the necessary
maturity to handle a classroom of impressionable minds."
He
began pacing the room.
Suddenly, Ruth straightened in the chair, while a smile
turned up one corner of her mouth. "What about our
Catherine? She's twenty–three, with a very level head
on her shoulders. Her intended, Isaiah, will be away at
that school for the deaf for at least a year. Surely,
Abigail and Daniel can handle improvements to his cabin
without Catherine being there. She can come back home."
The bishop pulled on his snow–white beard,
perplexed. "What good would that do?"
"You can appoint Catherine as head teacher and Meghan
as
her assistant. You know that Catherine can handle the
children, and Meghan can learn the necessary skills during
the remaining term." Ruth smiled rather smugly as she
returned to the sock.
His mouth gaped open. "That's a good idea. It could
actually work, as long as Catherine is willing."
"I'll write to her tonight so that the letter gets to
the Graber farm soon."
Gideon stopped pacing and walked to his wife's chair.
He
leaned down and brushed a kiss across her kapp. "I'll
leave
convincing Catherine up to you, fraa, as well as breaking
the news to our youngest daughter. Who knows how Meghan
will react to taking an assistant's position?" He ambled
toward the stairs.
"Where on earth are you going? It's barely
eight–thirty."
"To bed. I'll need my rest if Catherine is moving back
home and those two start working together."
Ruth pondered his wisdom while she finished the sock.
Recognizing sound advice when she heard it, she soon set
her sewing basket aside and followed him up the steps.
Besides, she had one persuasive letter to compose before
climbing into bed.
* * * * *
Meghan thought she heard her name but burrowed her head
deeper beneath the pillow. She hoped to return to the
pleasant dream of floating on her back in the pond, on a
hot summer day. It was cozy beneath the double quilt with
the shades drawn against nighttime chills or an intrusive
morning sun. Suddenly, she remembered today was the first
day of her new job and bolted upright in bed. Springing
into action, she collected her clothes and headed toward
the upstairs bathroom, only to find it occupied by one of
her brothers. She would have to take a sponge bath in the
downstairs tub, although a quick shower would have chased
away the morning cobwebs.
In the kitchen her mother handed her a cup of
coffee. "Guder mariye," greeted Ruth.
"Good morning to you, mamm. I must get ready fast. Why
did you let me sleep so late?" Meghan sipped the coffee
black, without bothering with milk or sugar.
"I called you three times, but as usual, you turned
over
and went back to sleep. You need to set your wind–up
alarm clock and get up when it buzzes. That's part of
being
a professional teacher." Ruth poured cornflakes into a
bowl.
Meghan nodded. "That's true, but I don't have time to
eat." She carried her coffee and clothes into the
bathroom.
Her mother was right—self–discipline was the
mark of a good teacher, and a worthy trait to teach her
students. Her students. Already they seemed like hers even
though Joanna would still be around for a few more days.
And due to her father's insistence, Catherine was moving
home to help in the classroom. But Megan would only need
her sister for a couple weeks. After all, Catherine had a
cabin addition and a wedding to plan back at Abby's. Then
she would be in charge—a teacher at last!
Didn't the two little Wrights smile each day she showed
up to work? Didn't their mother describe her as a
"natural"
with children? Soon she would make her parents proud and
herself content, since no calling was more noble than
teaching young scholars skills that would serve them a
lifetime.
For now, Meghan concentrated on getting ready for work.
After bathing with mostly cold water—thanks to her
brothers—she downed a second cup of coffee and
hurried out the door, nearly forgetting her scarf and hat.
Since she didn't know the current teacher very well, she
hadn't a clue what supplies to bring, but assumed a
positive attitude would be all an apprentice would need for
a while.
Halfway down their driveway, her upbeat mood faltered
when she slipped on an icy patch and fell on her backside.
Unfortunately, the ground hadn't frozen solid yet. By the
time she scrambled to her feet, her skirt had become both
damp and muddy. For a moment she considered returning to
the house to change, but decided against the idea. A tardy
arrival would make a poor first impression. Anyway, her
skirt would probably dry before she reached school.
Just as Meghan passed the neighbors' house, her former
employer stepped onto the front porch and
hollered. "Meghan! I'm so glad to see you. The woman I
hired to replace you has a dead battery. At least, her car
does," she added with a laugh. "I don't dare call in
sick
because our department is already shorthanded." The
woman's
voice carried in the crisp air as though she used a
megaphone.
Dread churned Meghan's stomach along with the black
coffee as she turned to face her. "I can't baby–sit,
Mrs. Wright," she called. "I'm training today at the
schoolhouse. The teacher is expecting me."
"Oh, dear. Who can I get to watch my children?" A look
of panic etched the woman's features.
Meghan dug her hands into her coat pockets and glanced
longingly up the road. "I'm sure my mamm will help out.
Are
they dressed and ready to go? I'll walk them home so you
can leave for work." She ran full speed up the Wright
driveway before she could change her mind.
"Oh, bless you, child. They'll be ready in a jiffy."
True to her word, Mrs. Wright bundled her two little ones
up and packed a bag of toys and snacks quickly.
By the time Meghan took them home, explained the
situation to her mother and restarted for school—in
the same muddy skirt—she'd lost half an hour. But at
least the snow stopped and the sun reflected blindingly off
the fields and rolling hills.
When she arrived at the white clapboard schoolhouse, she
saw no stragglers lingering on the teeter–totter. No
cluster of little girls whispered behind upraised mittens
at the swings. Inside the double doors, Meghan found no one
on the benches in the outer hallway empty. On the left
side the boys' black jackets and felt hats had been hung
on
the row of wooden pegs, while the girls' navy blue coats
and bonnets were neatly lined up on the right. Not a bonnet
string dangled askew. With no pegs left, Meghan hooked her
coat and outer bonnet atop another and quietly pulled open
the inner door.
But not quite quietly enough. Thirty–five pairs of
curious eyes turned in her direction, while the
thirty–sixth pair appeared more piqued than curious.
Joanna eyes scanned Meghan from the bottom of her soiled
skirt up to her reddened nose, which unfortunately had
begun to run.
"Meghan Yost, I presume?" Joanna stepped away from the
chalkboard as boys in the back row began to chatter. Joanna
clapped her hands and the chatter ceased. "Please leave
your boots in the outer hallway. You'll find a box of
tissues on the windowsill, and then take a seat in the last
row. Today, you'll just observe. Children, this is Meghan.
She might be your new teacher, but for now let's return to
what we were doing." Joanna turned back to the chalkboard.
Meghan would have preferred blowing her nose before her
official introduction, but it was too late to worry about
that. Some of the older boys smirked, while several girls
giggled. One girl—an eighth grader, judging by her
size—stared at her skirt as though she'd never seen
mud before. But at least she scooted over on the bench when
Meghan approached, bootless and clutching a wad of tissues.
"What happened to you?" the girl whispered, not
looking
up from her paper.
"I slipped and fell on my way here," Meghan answered.
The girl nodded and then refocused on her assignment,
leaving Meghan to sit and peruse her surroundings.
The first graders occupied the first rows on either
side, the still kappless girls looking so tiny, fresh and
innocent compared with the mature scholars in the back.
Joanna was instructing at the blackboard with a group of
mid–range children who clustered along her like
ducklings. The rest of the pupils appeared to be working on
math problems, except for three boys who seemed to do
nothing except stare out the window.
"How could you become our teacher?" asked the girl on
her left, breaking Meghan's woolgathering. "You're not
even
as big as me." She had taken a break from copying
multiplication problems from a textbook to compare
Meghan's
size with her own.
"I plan to grow taller before I assume full
responsibility of the class."
To Meghan's horror, the girl broke into loud peels of
laughter.
Joanna rapped a ruler on her desktop. "Annabeth, don't
distract the class with your foolishness." Unfortunately,
the teacher aimed her glare at the short person on
Annabeth's right.
Meghan felt her cheeks blush as she swallowed hard. She
turned away from the easily distracted Annabeth to admire
the artwork around the room. Sets of mimeographed pictures
with various levels of coloring ability hung in seasonal
clusters on the walls. In the fall grouping, leaves blazed
on an oak tree next to an Englischer's red barn, while a
horse and buggy trotted by on the road. All of the horses
were brown; all autumn leaves had been colored gold. Plain
kinner were taught uniformity and conformity—no one
was prettier, smarter, or more gifted than the next person
in the eyes of the community...or the Lord. The final
grouping, a summer scene, depicted green fields of
gold–tasseled corn beneath a cloudless aqua sky.
She then studied the teacher's domain—a raised
platform in the front of the room. Joanna sat at a carved
desk holding a rack of teacher manuals, grade and
attendance books, a bowl with a dozen sharpened pencils,
and a tray of papers to be graded. Her chair rolled on
little wheels to two bookcases of textbooks. The classroom
was arranged in six rows, six desks per row. The
fold–top desks had wrought iron legs and long wooden
benches. As her daed had warned, two–thirds of the
pupils were male, creating a center aisle decidedly
off–center. Most of the little boys were hard at
work, same as the girls. Except for three eighth graders
who continued to steal glances and then smirk, whenever the
great outdoors failed to hold their attention. The biggest
of the three kept staring at her with unusual boldness.
"Let's get to work on the math, Owen," ordered
Joanna.
The rap on the desktop had been unnecessary, since her
voice alone caused Owen...and Meghan to jump in their
seats. The former focused on his math, while the latter
felt a little light–headed. She should have eaten
some cereal as mamm had suggested.
For the rest of the morning, the teacher called various
groups to her desk or the chalkboard for specific
instruction at their level. Afterward, older kinner would
sit next to younger ones for additional
one–on–one help. Joanna enunciated two
different sets of spelling words from the board. The
students knew which words to recite and then copy down to
practice, depending on their grade. Meghan marveled how
fluidly Joanna moved from one task to the next, never
consulting a list or daily plan. The classroom operated
like a well–oiled clock. Even students that needed to
use the outdoor facilities did so without interruption,
always one at a time.
Before long, Joanna rang a small brass bell on her
desktop. "Lunch and recess," she announced. In orderly
fashion, first the girls and then the boys went
row–by–row to retrieve lunch boxes from the
back table. Once they'd washed their hands, they returned
to their desks to eat. "Meghan, you may join me up here."
Annabeth offered a shy smile as Meghan scrambled to her
feet and walked to the front of the room. Joanna carried a
folding chair from the corner and set it beside her
desk. "We eat outdoors during nice weather, but today is
much too cold and windy," she explained, pulling a
sandwich, apple, bag of chips, and bottle of water from her
cloth totebag.
"Jah, but at least the sun is shining." A very loud
stomach grumble nearly drowned out Meghan's comment.
"Was that you?" Joanna laughed as she spread wax paper
out as a placemat. "You had better eat something. That
growl sounded serious."
Meghan felt herself blush for the third time. "No,
danki. I'm perfectly fine."
"Didn't you bring a lunch?" Joanna seemed shocked.
"Were
you expecting a cafeteria with plenty of choices like in a
big–city English school?" This time her laughter drew
amused glances from the front row.
"No, I just left in a rush. I wasn't thinking at
all."
Meghan spoke close to Joanna's ear. "Then I ran into the
woman I baby–sat for and she needed my help. That's
why I was late."
"And your muddy clothes? What's the story behind them?
"
One blonde eyebrow arched over Joanna's crystal blue eyes.
Meghan exhaled slowly. "Since I was hurrying, I fell in
the driveway."
"Of course," agreed Joanna with a warm smile.
"That's
what always happens when we try to make a good first
impression."
Meghan didn't dare ask what kind of impression she'd
made so far. Instead she folded her hands primly in her lap.
Joanna placed half of her sandwich on a napkin and
pushed it across the desk, along with the bag of
chips. "Here, no one goes hungry in my classroom."
"Oh, no, I couldn't take your meal. Not considering
the
condition you're in." As soon as she spoke the words,
Meghan knew she'd made a horrible error. Pregnancies were
seldom mentioned even among sisters, thus two strangers
would never discuss them.
"And what condition would that be?" asked Joanna
slyly,
cocking her head.
Meghan's brain stretched to its limit. "Considering
the
challenge you'll face this afternoon motivating those
three
boys to finish their work. They seemed determined to stare
out the window."
Joanna's smile bloomed across her face. "That will be
an
undertaking, but I intend to enlist your help. So eat up,
young lady. You'll need your strength if you want to
become
the teacher of this class." She pointed at the napkin with
the sandwich. "Especially if you plan to grow taller by
the
time you take charge." She rested a hand on her slightly
rounded belly.
"You heard me?" Meghan gasped. "You were all the way
in
the front of the room."
"Exceptionally acute hearing is a helpful ability for a
teacher to develop. With it, you'd be surprised how often
you can nip trouble in the bud."
Meghan stared at the amazing woman while they ate lunch
and later as they monitored the students in the schoolyard.
Some of the boys tried to throw a football around, but they
were slipping and sliding too much to catch the ball.
During the afternoon lessons, Joanna continued to impress
the novice with her smooth handling of both students and
subject matter. Per Joanna's suggestion, Meghan moved
closer to the boys' benches whenever they began
daydreaming. And it actually worked to a certain extent. At
the end of the day, Joanna dismissed the children by rows
to the outer hallway to get their hats and coats. Then the
two women stood smiling in the doorway as the children
filed out.
Tying her bonnet strings beneath her chin, Joanna gazed
down on her. "You did fine for your first day. I hope
you'll come back tomorrow for another go–round."
After a bright smile, she walked down the steps, heading
home in the opposite direction. The woman didn't even seem
tired.
Meghan stood there transfixed, filled with anticipation
and a sense of wonder...until she spotted Jacob Schultz's
buggy parked near the road. She marched toward him at a
brisk pace.
"Hullo, Meg," shouted Jacob while still thirty feet
away. "How did your first day of school go?" His ruddy,
clean–shaven face glowed from the brisk temperatures.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, tightening
the
scarf around her neck.
"Your daed told me where you'd be when I stopped by to
sharpen his cutting blades today. Bet you're glad to get
this teaching job for a while."
She silently wished her father wouldn't sic Jacob on
her
like a watchdog going after a burglar. "But why did you
come?"
"To drive you home, of course. With this changeable
weather, there's no reason you should walk when I was out
doing errands. Climb up here. I've got some warm bricks to
rest your feet on." He lifted the plaid lap robe so she
could snuggle next to him on the bench seat.
Meghan glanced left and right. Joanna and the students
had already hurried off. No one was around to witness her
accept the ride and draw incorrect conclusions about their
relationship. "All right, danki. That would be nice. I'm
eager to get home and tell mamm how well things went.
Joanna put me in charge of watching these three problem
boys. On my very first day!" Pride rang out in her words.
"Good for you, but you just let me know if those boys
give you any trouble. I'll be happy to meet them on their
way home, for a special little talking–to." He winked
one of his large green eyes knowingly.
"You'll do no such thing! This is my job, and I need
to
learn to how handle students just like Joanna. I didn't
notice her husband standing by the window with a switch, in
case someone gave his fraa any grief." He grinned with
pleasure, while she could have bitten her tongue in half.
Why in the world had she made such an analogy since she
didn't want Jacob getting any wrong ideas about their
future?
"Sure, I meant in case of an emergency. I'm sure
you'll
be the best teacher in Shreve before long." He shook the
reins over the horse's back and the buggy rolled onto the
road.
She settled back and tried to relax. With everything she
learned swimming through her head, she barely heard his
small talk about weather forecasts, local gossip and the
upcoming social events. Jacob was a nice enough boy—a
man really, at twenty–three—and he was rather
handsome. He lived on a nearby farm that he would someday
take over when his daed retired, with a lucrative side
business fixing farm equipment as a blacksmith. But Meghan
happened to know he was in the market for a wife. And with
her future opening up like a banquet buffet, marriage or
even serious courting was the last thing on her mind.