by Marta Perry
“I guess I do.” Once he put it that way, she could apply the idea to what she did know about. “It’s like teaching arithmetic. If a scholar gets in trouble with the advanced steps, it’s usually because he or she didn’t master one of the elementary ones. So we have to go back and take care of that before we can go on.”
“So I’d guess you take your own time to work privately with the kid, right?”
“That’s what it means to be a teacher.”
Aaron seemed to study her face for a moment before he spoke. “You must be a very good teacher.”
She shrugged, unaccountably embarrassed at his praise. “I guess it is like you and Star. If you care about something, you take as much time as you need to get it right, ain’t so?”
“It’s so.” He gave her the first truly relaxed smile she’d seen from him yet, and her heart gave a deplorable flutter.
Fortunately, he didn’t seem to have anything else to say, since he slipped between the rails to the paddock, intent now on the horse.
Sally held that warm moment of understanding close while she watched him. She could do it safely, because he was totally preoccupied with the gelding.
It wasn’t hard to see how he’d landed in a job training horses for a living. As folks said, obviously that was what he was born to do.
Aaron talked softly to the horse as he attached the lunge line and got Star moving in a circle around him that widened slowly as he let out a little more of the line each time.
Star was skittish at first, inclined to resent the gentle taps of the lunge whip on his shoulder that kept him moving along. But after a few efforts to escape the control of the lunge line, he seemed to start paying attention. The first time he moved along properly, earning a relaxation of the shoulder taps, she wanted to cheer.
She didn’t, of course. Nothing should disrupt the work that was going on. Aaron had been right at that. There was little purpose in trying to work the gelding in harness when he hadn’t mastered the simplest steps.
Who had trained him initially? Whoever it was must have taken her uncle in completely, convincing him that this was a properly trained buggy horse. She smiled, shaking her head. Simon Stoltzfus was that rare creature—an Amish man without the inborn understanding of animals. Everyone had been right to be skeptical about his unexpected gift.
Aaron was wrapped up in what he was doing, his face intent on the animal, all of his movements steady and sure. His hands—one controlling the line, the other handling the lunge whip—never wavered. When Star, tiring, attempted to bolt, Aaron seemed to know it almost before it entered the animal’s head, and he let the line out a few yards before slowly drawing Star’s head back around.
She’d always liked watching a person do something well, and Aaron was an expert. More, that quicksilver temper of his had been totally submerged when he worked with the horse. She’d seen others lose their tempers at signs of rebellion, but not Aaron. He just kept bringing Star back to the task at hand, never faltering.
Sally wasn’t sure how long she stood there, completely captivated by the dance between man and horse. At last Star was circling the paddock at the length of the line, obedient to the guidance of the line and the sound of Aaron’s voice.
Aaron brought Star into a smaller and smaller circle until the gelding stood quietly next to him, letting Aaron pat him and murmur softly, much as he had that day on the road. Then they came toward her.
Sally let go of her grip on the top railing, surprised by the indentations in her palms from the board. She must really have been concentrating not to realize how tight a grip she’d had.
“Wonderful gut,” she said when they reached her. She reached out to pat Star’s neck. “I can see how you got a job at a racing stable. You’d be an asset to any horse business.” She hesitated. “Are they holding your place for you?”
She shouldn’t have asked the question—she could see that by the way his face tightened.
“No.” He cut off the word.
And cut off, too, anything else Sally might ask. For the past hour he’d been almost transformed as he’d worked with the horse, intent but open. Now that hostile, closed-down look was back on his face.
Something had gone wrong out there in the place he’d made for himself. Something that hurt him. He might think he could outrun it by coming here, but she knew better. Her own experience had taught her a hard lesson. A person couldn’t just walk—or run—away from trouble. The only way to get rid of it, to keep it from eating you up, was to face it.
Aaron wouldn’t do that unless he had to. Someone would have to push him into it.
Chapter Four
Aaron drew the family buggy up to the back porch the next morning in a driving rain. The wind and thunder of the previous night had passed, but the rain lingered, hard enough that Jessie hadn’t wanted Becky to walk to school.
So she’d recruited him. No problem. He’d drop the kids off at the school and be on his way back, probably not even seeing Sally in passing.
It wasn’t that he was avoiding her. But...
The back door rattled, and Caleb came out, standing just under the roof overhang. “Sorry,” he said, his manner stiff. “Jessie shouldn’t have asked you to take the kinder. I can do it.”
Once again, it seemed Caleb didn’t want him around the kids. What did he think Aaron was going to do? The words hovered on his tongue when Becky came running out, her schoolbooks wrapped in a plastic bag to protect them.
“I’m ready, Onkel Aaron,” she sang out.
“Me, too. I don’t get many chances to drive a pretty girl to school.” And if Caleb didn’t like it, he could be the one to make a move. “Hop on in.”
But Caleb apparently didn’t have anything else to say on the subject. He hoisted his daughter up the high step and into the enclosed buggy, where she settled on the back seat.
“Mammi says don’t forget to stop next door,” she said, obviously feeling important that she got to deliver the message.
“I won’t, not with you to remind me.” He clucked to the mare and she moved on a little reluctantly, no more eager to be out in the rain than anyone else. Apparently the two families shared taking the children to school in bad weather.
With Becky talking away and asking him questions, he didn’t have a minute to think until after he’d picked up the youngsters at the Fisher place, including Lige, Daniel’s future stepson. Once they’d all piled in, they chattered away together.
Now he had a chance to think about Caleb’s reaction to his taking the children to school, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
Did his brother think Aaron would be a bad influence on them? That becoming close to him might lead them to want to jump the fence? That seemed just plain silly, given how young they were. But what else could it be?
Irritated, he put Caleb’s reactions out of his mind. Unfortunately, that seemed to leave room for Teacher Sally to slip in.
Things had turned awkward between them yesterday, and much as he’d like to blame Sally, he had to admit that he shared the fault. Face it, he was supersensitive when it came to the reason he’d left his job. The very subject made him cringe. He wasn’t ready to talk about it to anyone, and he didn’t know if he ever would be. Sally was just too inquisitive.
But not rude. He was the one who’d been rude, basically snubbing her when she’d asked about it.
By the time he reached the white frame schoolhouse, he’d convinced himself he ought to speak to her, at least. He ought to tell her that he wouldn’t be there to work with the gelding today, anyway. Star would have to learn to behave in bad weather eventually, of course, but it was too early to take on that lesson.
So, instead of dropping the kids off, he jumped out and ran through the rain with them, spurting through the door into the vestibule that included places for wet coats and muddy boots. After wiping his shoes on the ma
t, Aaron opened the door into the classroom.
Instead of the orderly rows of students he expected, they all seemed to be milling around. No, that wasn’t it, he realized after he watched for a moment. All of the hurrying around was purposeful, and he understood why when he found Sally struggling with the large bowl she’d pushed under a steady drip of water from the roof.
“That looks bad.” He bent to help her position the bowl. “This thing will be full before you know it. Do you have a bucket?”
“Yah, two, thankfully. I sent one of the older boys to bring them from the shed. Denke, Aaron.”
She stood up, looking around at the mess caused by water running in, probably since sometime in the night. Her scholars were already organized, some of them removing things from the path of the water while a couple of the older girls had set to work with mops. Apparently he didn’t need to come to the rescue. Little Sally was all grown-up now, and she could take care of problems herself. The realization left him feeling oddly useless.
“I’ll go outside and see if I can spot the problem.” Aaron headed for the door. “It’s probably a missing shingle, torn loose in that wind last night.”
He ducked back out in the rain, grateful for the protection offered by the black felt Amish hat Daniel had lent him. In fact, Daniel had given him most of what he had on. The clothes he’d left behind had mostly been pitifully small on him now, and it hadn’t seemed appropriate to go around in denim.
Aaron had to go around to the side to get a view of the roof, where a quick glance confirmed his suspicions. A good-sized branch had come off the black walnut tree, hitting the roof and taking several shingles with it. Fixing it would be a job for ladders and new shingles, at least.
He returned to the schoolroom to find Sally appointing a couple of the oldest boys to watch the buckets and switch them out whenever one got full.
“Yah, Teacher Sally.”
“Yah, Teacher Sally.”
Funny to see Sally in the teacher role, but clearly the children accepted her readily. She glanced up and met his eyes.
“How does the roof look?” She came toward him, frowning a little when she took in how wet he’d gotten.
“Nasty. A heavy branch came down on the roof and took several shingles with it. I can’t tell how bad it is without going up there.”
“Not now.” Sally spoke to him in her teacher voice—quietly authoritative.
He found he was grinning. “Not worried about me, are you? I’ve been on higher roofs than that.” It was worth teasing her to see the sparkle in her eyes.
“No one goes up on the schoolhouse roof in the pouring rain,” she said. “Including you.” She smiled suddenly. “Besides, if you did, I’d have half the boys convinced they can climb up, as well.”
“I’d tell them not to.” He didn’t really intend to go up, knowing there was little he could do without the proper tools and equipment.
“And they’d listen about as well as you did at that age,” she retorted.
Aaron realized that Becky was standing at his elbow, looking from one face to another as they spoke.
“Did you go to this school, Onkel Aaron?”
“Yah, of course I did.” He pointed to one of the bigger desks in the back row. “I sat right there. And Teacher Sally was on the opposite side almost to the front.”
Becky seemed to look at the schoolroom with new eyes. “So you were in school together. That’s why you said about walking her home yesterday.”
“We all walked to school together,” Sally said. “Your daadi and your onkels, and all the kids from the Fisher farm as well as me and my brothers and sisters.”
“That’s a lot.” Her eyes widened. “We don’t have so many now.”
“Your brother will be coming to school before you know it,” Sally said briskly. “Now, I think it’s time we got the desks back in place so we can start.” She clapped her hands for attention and gave her directions.
That seemed to be the signal for him to leave. He couldn’t stand here all day reminiscing.
“I’d best go, unless there’s something else I can do to help. I really came in to say we’d better skip working with Star today.”
“Yah, I think you’ll have gotten wet enough by then,” she said. She was walking beside him to the door, and once they were inside the coatroom she paused. “One thing you can do is let Caleb know about the leak. He’s on the school board, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know, but I’ll tell him.” He wasn’t surprised that Caleb would have taken on that responsibility. That was his nature.
He should go, but Aaron found he was studying her face, trying to see the girl he’d known in the teacher. The voices of the children seemed far away.
“Thank you. I appreciated your help.” Sally sounded breathless, and her blue eyes darkened under his steady gaze.
So. It didn’t even take a touch. That spark of attraction was there even at a look. He’d better get out of range. Maybe the chilly rain would splash some common sense into him.
* * *
When the school day had ended Sally lingered, glad to have a little quiet time to clear up and get her school back the way she felt it should be. Her school. At first she hadn’t been able to think of it that way, but by the end of her first year of teaching it had become hers.
Now the schoolhouse felt like a personal responsibility—her duty and her pleasure to keep it spotless and welcoming.
The water had splashed some of the books on the bottom shelf of the bookcase, and she was thankful it hadn’t penetrated to the pages. She removed each volume, spreading it out carefully so the binding could dry.
Sally stroked the cover of a copy of Anne of Green Gables, long one of her favorite books. She’d always identified with Anne, understanding her lively personality, her vivid imagination and even her irrepressible tongue.
“A favorite book?”
She whirled at the rumble of the masculine voice. Aaron stood in the doorway, watching her with a smile.
“You startled me. I didn’t expect anyone.”
“Caleb sent Daniel and me to patch up the roof.” He gestured toward the open door behind him, and she realized that the King wagon was pulling up to the side of the schoolhouse.
“That’s kind of you.” She tried to speak evenly, hoping she hadn’t given away the wave of sudden pleasure she’d felt at the sight of him.
Aaron’s lips quirked. “Daniel’s the carpenter. I think he’ll let me hold the ladder.”
“Aaron, what’s keeping you?” Daniel’s call floated into the school. “Get out here and help me unload.”
He shrugged. “Orders.” He turned, and Sally followed him as far as the doorway.
She waved at Daniel. “This is wonderful kind of you both.”
Daniel gave her his easy grin. “We can’t have our teacher getting wet, now, can we? I told Caleb this roof needs replacing, so we’ll be setting up a work frolic soon. Maybe Saturday, yah?”
She nodded, her thoughts hurrying to what she might have to do to get ready. “You’ll tell me what I should move and cover, ain’t so?”
“I won’t let him make a mess today, at least,” Aaron said. He pulled a toolbox from the wagon bed. “Don’t worry.”
She retreated to the classroom and went back to the books with a wary look at the ceiling. In her experience, when men got working on a project they sometimes didn’t pay any attention to the debris they left behind. If they were going to do a work frolic on Saturday to replace the roof, she’d have to ask some of the mothers to help her put things away on Friday.
Working on, she listened with half her attention to the talk between Aaron and his brother. With Daniel, Aaron seemed to have established a quick, easy relationship. It was only with Caleb that she still sensed the tension between them.
As for her... Well, if she c
ould ease his transition back to Amish life, she’d be satisfied, she told herself firmly.
It occurred to Sally that those words sounded very self-sacrificing. Were they? There might be a little self-interest in her longing to have Aaron settled here where he belonged...where she’d see him frequently.
After a bit, the hammering over her head ceased, and she heard the sounds of the ladder being taken down, and a thud as something went into the wagon. It sounded as if they were finished for the moment. She walked to the door to find Daniel coming in search of her.
“That should hold for now. Want a ride home? We can squeeze you in.”
“Denke, Daniel, but I still have cleaning up to do. You’ll let me know about Saturday?”
“Yah, for sure. We’ll be off, then.”
But when the wagon drove out, Aaron wasn’t on it. He exchanged a few words with Daniel, and then he came back to the school.
“I’ll help you finish.”
She hesitated, wondering whether being alone in the schoolhouse was the best of ideas. But Aaron didn’t wait for permission. He walked into the classroom and picked up the overflowing wastebasket.
“I see what you meant about the mess.” He glanced around. “Tell me what to do.”
It seemed she didn’t have a choice. “If you’ll pull that bookcase away from the wall, I’ll see if it’s wet underneath. I don’t want any mold getting into the books.”
“Of course not. Always with your nose in a book, that’s Sally,” he teased. “I remember that about you.”
“That’s how you learn things,” she said tartly. She wasn’t the little kid he could tease any longer, and he may as well start remembering it.
His suddenly serious expression caught her off balance. “You were wiser than I was, Teacher Sally. It took me years and some loneliness to find the riches in books.”
It was the closest he’d come to being open about his time away, and instinct told her he’d clam up if she made too much about it. “Teacher Esther would be proud of you, no matter how long it took.”
