by Marta Perry
Lydia flushed a little with pleasure. “She got such a fine start with Teacher Ruth over at Oak Creek school.”
“I’m sure she did.” The Gaus family had moved from another church district when Zeb Gaus’s father passed a couple of years ago. “Ruth Schutz is a fine teacher.”
Ruth had been such a help to her when Dorcas started teaching that she could never repay her, except in doing for Anna what Ruth had done for her.
“Yah, she is. So wise, ain’t so? She’s just the right age for a teacher, I always say.”
Dorcas blinked. She wondered what exactly Lydia considered the right age for a teacher, but decided it was best not to ask.
“Was there some reason in particular you stopped by?” she asked, hoping the woman wouldn’t take offense at the direct question.
She’d turned slightly to look at Lydia, and from the corner of her eye she caught sight of Thomas, watching them. He looked as if for a penny he’d jump into the conversation and prayed he wouldn’t.
“Ach, yah, I clean forgot why I came. This.” She flourished a large envelope and then thrust it into Dorcas’s hand. “This is the program Teacher Ruth did when our boy was leaving school. I kept a copy because we were so impressed with it. When Erna told me you were working on the program, I just decided to bring this right over.”
Dorcas took the envelope a little unwillingly. “That’s kind of you. Denke.”
“It’s no trouble. I just said to myself, why should you have to make up a whole new program when there’s a perfect one right here that you can use. Teacher Ruth would be happy to share.”
It was time she took control of the conversation before Lydia had the whole day planned.
“I’m sure Ruth would. In fact, when we had our teachers’ gathering at the beginning of the school year, we already shared our programs with each other. Ruth and I always do that. It’s very helpful to see what resources other teachers have.”
Lydia looked a little taken aback at that, but she seemed to make a quick recovery. “Well, you won’t need to get out your notes when you can just make copies of everything in that envelope.”
They had moved inside the classroom as Dorcas spoke, and she belatedly thought that might be a mistake. Lydia might consider it an invitation to stay and talk, and she’d like to get home. Still, it was a teacher’s duty to talk with parents, even when they had little to say.
“I’ll think about that. Now I should finish cleaning up my classroom, so I won’t be late for supper . . .”
Lydia was looking around the classroom and didn’t seem to be paying much attention. “The Oak Creek school is a good bit bigger than this one, ain’t so?”
“Yah, it is.” Dorcas looked with affection at the room where she spent her days. “But we’ve always found it’s sufficient for our needs.”
“Because you have so few children,” Lydia said. “It’s a shame. I always say the kinder do better in a larger class where there are more people the same age, but you can’t provide it when you have so few kinder available, can you?”
Dorcas stamped down impatience and annoyance, wondering if she’d found the person who wanted to send her scholars to the Oak Creek school. “Our numbers are a little down this year, but we’ll have a larger group coming in next year, with so many kinder turning six. School numbers do go up and down.”
Before Lydia could offer any more improvement suggestions, Dorcas hurried on. “Let me walk you to your buggy. And thank you again for this.” She waved the envelope, wishing she could shove it right back in Lydia’s hands. But that would seem rude to Teacher Ruth, whom she liked very much.
“If there’s nothing else I can do for you . . .” Lydia let that trail off. Dorcas resisted the impulse to say that she’d done too much already.
They walked out to where Lydia’s buggy sat waiting. Once again Lydia stopped, staring back toward the shed. “That’s Thomas Fisher, ain’t so? What did you say he was doing here?”
“I don’t think I did say, but he’s offered to do the needed repairs to the stable and shed. The big storm caused a fair amount of damage, you know. It’s very nice of him, ain’t so?”
Lydia sniffed, looking as if she’d tasted a sour pickle. “That’s all very well, but I didn’t know he knew anything about construction. We shouldn’t let someone work on the buildings without knowing what kind of job they’ll do. I’m surprised at the school board.”
“I don’t think we need to worry about his qualifications. He’s been working with his onkel’s construction firm for several years.” Dorcas could hear the forced patience in her voice and hoped Lydia didn’t. “Abel knows about him. The onkel has a large business out in Ohio, and he thinks Thomas is ready to start his own construction company.”
She wasn’t positive Thomas had said exactly that about his uncle, but it had been implied.
Lydia didn’t seem impressed, in any event. “Well, I just hope he won’t run off in the middle of it. I was told he did that once already, running off to jump the fence and leaving his father with no one to help him on the farm.”
Dorcas felt as if her head was about to blow off, but she made a huge effort to stay calm. “I’m afraid you were misinformed. When Thomas was a teenager, his parents sent him out to Ohio to live with his onkel and learn the trade. He never left the church.”
Lydia climbed into her buggy and picked up the lines. “That’s not what I heard.” She drove away before Dorcas could answer, apparently determined to get in the last word.
Dorcas stamped back into the school, slamming the door to vent her feelings. And then was promptly ashamed of her lack of control.
One thing was certain—she didn’t have to wonder any longer who was behind the pressure to combine her school with Oak Creek.
* * *
—
By Saturday afternoon, Dorcas had managed to stop worrying about Lydia Gaus and all her doings. Except when the thought of what she’d said about Thomas intruded. That still ruffled her. Whatever her own doubts and concerns about Thomas, he was having a difficult enough time without someone spreading false stories about him.
From her bedroom window, she could hear the sound of buggy wheels in the drive. Sarah was a little early. Grabbing her sweater, Dorcas hurried down the wooden staircase that was rounded by several generations of feet and on into the kitchen.
“Sarah’s here to take me to the Mud Sale meeting, Mammi.”
“Are you sure you have the list of the things I’m donating to the quilt auction?” Her mother turned from the stove, where she spent so much of her time. “Don’t forget about it.”
“I have it right here.” She patted her bag.
“Are you sure? You’d better look.” Mamm wore the worried expression that had become commonplace since Daadi’s death.
To please her, Dorcas took out the list and showed her before tucking it away again. “I won’t forget, Mamm. But why don’t you come, too. You’d enjoy getting out, and I’m sure the committee would love your help.”
Not only that, but it would do her mother good to talk to the other women from her age group. She so seldom went anywhere unless it was to visit family or to worship.
Mammi glanced at the door, and for an instant Dorcas thought she’d say yes. But then she shook her head.
“I’d best stay here. You know Betsy doesn’t like being alone in the house. She might need my help.”
Dorcas held back a number of things she’d like to say and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Try to relax a bit.”
Pulling her sweater on, she hurried out the door. Sarah had turned her buggy and pulled up at the porch, so Dorcas had only to climb in and they were off.
When they reached the road, Sarah made the turn before she gave Dorcas a questioning look. “You may as well let it out, whatever you’re stewing about. Otherwi
se you might just explode.”
Dorcas did explode then, but with laughter. “I can’t hide anything from you, ain’t so?” Although even as she said it, she thought of the one thing she’d never confided.
“Anyone up to noticing could see that. You’d best talk it out before we get to town, yah?”
“Do you want the whole list?” Dorcas said lightly.
“Just the immediate trouble will do to start. Is it your sister-in-law again?”
“Somewhat, I guess. And Mamm, too. I just thought it would be good for my mother to join us today. After all, the Mud Sale is coming up fast, and she always helps, besides donating to the quilt auction.”
“I wish she would. Everyone would be wonderful glad to see her getting out more. And really, there’s no reason why she has to stay home, is there?”
“She says that Betsy might need her help.” Dorcas made a face that relieved her feelings somewhat. “And Betsy doesn’t like to be alone there with the boppli.”
Sarah, with her air of always trying to see both sides of any issue, shrugged. “Little Will isn’t that old yet. I suppose every new mother is a little overly cautious with the first one.” She smoothed her hand over her own still-flat belly, making Dorcas smile.
“I suppose. But Betsy hasn’t made any effort to take her proper place in the household. The rest of us wanted to move into the daadi haus when they were married, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She’s just happy to let Mamm continue to run everything.”
“She helps, doesn’t she?”
“Yah,” she admitted. “But not even that so much since the baby came.” She looked at her friend. “All right, tell me I’m being too hard on her.”
Sarah chuckled. “I wouldn’t say that exactly. My cousin’s wife settled into her place pretty quickly, but everyone is different. And Betsy is pretty young, ain’t so?”
“You’re right. And I’m probably turning into a crochety old maid. It’s mainly that I’m worried about Mammi. Ever since Daad died, she hasn’t wanted to go anywhere or do anything. She’s so anxious all the time.” Dorcas shook her head at the futility of trying to explain. “And then I worry about her.”
“I know.” Sarah reached across to pat her hand. “I know you want to help, but it may be that this is one of those things your mamm has to work out for herself. I’ll tell you what—why don’t I get my grandmother to stop in and see her? Grossmammi is wonderful gut at getting folks to open up to her.”
Relieved at hearing a good suggestion, Dorcas smiled. “That would be perfect. Your grossmammi is just what she needs. She always makes me feel better just seeing her.”
Sarah nodded. “She has a gift. Now—let’s talk about this afternoon’s meeting.”
Accepting that her friend had contributed all she could to the situation, Dorcas zeroed in on the issue at hand. “I’m never sure why we have to have so many meetings about the Mud Sale. Everyone is still taking charge of the same things they always have, just wait and see.”
“True enough,” Sarah admitted. “But you should be there representing the school, and I thought we could help Dinah. It was nice of her to offer the use of the bakery space for the meeting, and I’m sure she plans to serve coffee and maybe something else besides.”
Dorcas had to agree. “She’s such a good person. She always makes me feel I should be doing something else to help people.” Dorcas seemed to see the sweet face of the girl who’d gone through school and rumspringa with them. “And she’s certain sure worked hard to make a go of things since her husband died.”
Dorcas couldn’t help but contrast Dinah’s quiet determination to face life as a widow and make a go of the bakery she and her husband ran with her mother’s withdrawal from life. But as Sarah had said, sometimes people had to work through things by themselves.
They were just pulling up to the building where the bakery shared space with the harness shop owned by Sarah’s cousin, Jacob Miller, and Sarah went around the side to where buggies stood at the hitching rail. The harness shop was closer, so they went through it to the bakery, already filling up for the meeting. As always, the women were chatting together about families while the men clustered in the other corner for a chat about something that seemed to generate a lot of laughter.
With a grin at Sarah, Dorcas slipped behind the counter to join Dinah, who was already serving coffee and slices of a rich-looking coffeecake.
Dinah smiled her thanks when Dorcas took the tray to pass the coffee while Sarah started serving the coffeecake. There was a good turnout for the meeting since it was the last one before the event. Dorcas knew everyone, of course, and had a special greeting for the parents of her scholars. Spring was a busy time, especially for farmers, but the Mud Sale was important to the whole community, always netting a fine profit, which was split between the volunteer fire company and the school.
Once everyone had been served, it was time to get down to business. Eli Younker, the church deacon, had been the driving force behind the spring Mud Sale for at least ten years. He seemed just as enthusiastic as ever when he called for reports on each aspect of the sale.
Smiling as she passed people, Dorcas went with her tray to slip behind the counter and join Sarah and Dinah, who silently handed her a mug of coffee and pushed a plate of crullers closer. Dorcas snatched one, well aware of the meltingly delicious quality of Dinah’s crullers. She listened with half an ear to the various reports, thinking this would be a repeat of a long series of successful sales and everyone would go home afterward tired but happy. A good take might even allow her to buy some new books for the classroom beyond the usual expenditures.
She was mentally leafing through a catalog of children’s books when she realized that Zeb Gaus was getting to his feet, obviously propelled by Lydia, his wife.
Dorcas set her coffee mug down with a thud, filled with apprehension. Something was about to happen that she wouldn’t like—she sensed it.
But even as Zeb prepared to speak, her gaze was distracted by the door between the bakery and the harness shop opening. Thomas Fisher walked in, apparently to join the meeting. He glanced around the room until their eyes met. For an instant, she felt a connection that seemed to sizzle. Then, with an effort, she turned back to the meeting.
* * *
—
Thomas yanked his gaze away from Dorcas. Just because she was one of the few people he’d been in touch with since he’d returned, that didn’t mean he ought to spend quite so much time looking at her. Although she certain sure was worth looking at, with her rosy cheeks and the sparkle in her brown eyes.
He pulled his attention back to the man who’d just begun to talk. It looked as if his wife was the woman who’d been prying around the school—the one who’d looked at him as if he were a stinkbug. They must be relative newcomers to the community. He’d remember them if he’d known them before he left.
“. . . we . . . I . . . my wife and I thought we might change the division of the profits from the Mud Sale. Seems like the school doesn’t have as many scholars this year, so it wouldn’t need as much money. And the fire company needs new equipment.”
He’d rushed his words as if to get them all out on a single breath and looked around, seeming to ask for approval. His wife frowned and nudged him. He looked at her blankly and then nodded.
“Yah, so what if we give seventy percent to the fire company and thirty percent to the school this year?”
He sat down abruptly. A low buzz of conversation broke out. Jacob, standing slightly behind Thomas, muttered in his ear.
“Nobody from the school board is even here. What does Zeb Gaus want to bring it up at the last minute for anyway?”
“Doesn’t seem fair, does it?” Thomas didn’t like the idea either. Especially not with Dorcas looking like somebody had come up behind her and shoved her.
Deacon Eli stood with an air of not knowing q
uite what to do but feeling sure he should do something. He looked around, seeming to search for an answer.
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “Anybody have anything to say about that idea?”
Thomas nudged Jacob. “Go on,” he muttered. “Speak up.”
Jacob glared at him but took a step forward from where they stood against the wall. “Nobody from the school board is here,” he said. “I don’t think we ought to go changing things that affect the school when they’re not around.”
Elijah King, eighty if he was a day, shuffled his feet and shoved himself up to standing. “Lot of folks don’t have kids in school, but everybody depends on the fire company. That’s all.” He sat down abruptly.
“The school benefits everybody, whether you have a child there right now or not. We all went to school, ain’t so?” Given that he’d just been thinking he was too newly back to give an opinion, Thomas was surprised to hear his own voice.
“That’s right,” Jacob said, and Thomas could see a lot of heads nodding around the room.
Deacon Eli glanced around as if looking for help. “Anybody else? Somebody from the fire company want to speak?”
Nobody volunteered, and everyone began to look uncomfortable. Seemed like they’d gotten into a tangle, and there wasn’t any way out without upsetting someone.
Jacob nudged Thomas. “Say something,” he muttered.
“Why not you?” Thomas returned. Were they going to hang around for the rest of the afternoon because nobody wanted to argue with a brother in the church?
Finally he caught Deacon Eli’s eye. “Thomas?”
“The sale is only a week away. It’s getting late to make changes.” He could see that his comment was going over. Plenty of people nodded now.
Deacon Eli gave him a look of relief. “That’s right,” he said quickly. “If somebody thinks a change is needed, take it to the committee in the fall. Agreed?”
