by Marta Perry
The day moved on and staying inside during the sunny recess was torture for her as well as for the erring scholars. More than once she was tempted to let them off, but that would hardly teach the lesson.
The periodic sound of Thomas’s hammer didn’t help matters any. If she’d been outside, she might have seen him, at least. Maybe it was better this way, but she couldn’t convince herself of that.
The afternoon dragged on until Dorcas felt as restless as the smallest of her first graders. When she finally dismissed them, with a final warning to stay off the neighbor’s property, she felt like throwing her books in the air.
When the scholars were well on their way, she straightened her kapp and picked up her sweater and book bag. It was time for her apologies.
But when she walked out of the schoolhouse, Dorcas saw that she wouldn’t have to go to Mr. Haggerty. He was coming toward her, and he looked as if there should be steam coming out of his ears.
“Mr. Haggerty.” She forced a smile. “I was just—”
“I told you to keep those kids off my property!” His voice was loud enough to be heard in town, and she winced, her courage fading. “I warned you. I’m going to complain to the school board. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll call the police!”
* * *
—
Thomas had just stepped back from the stall bar he’d been replacing when he heard the voice—loud, male, angry. Dropping the hammer, he ran toward the sound. Dorcas, the children . . .
He rounded the corner to see a man confronting Dorcas. His antagonism slipped down a notch. Whoever he was, he was oldish, probably sixties or seventies at a guess. Short, thin, with a peppery red face and a fringe of white hair. He might be loud, but he didn’t look threatening.
Dorcas didn’t seem frightened, but when he walked toward them, her expression turned to one of pure gratitude at his appearance.
“Was ist letz?” he said as soon as he was near enough to speak without shouting. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Thomas, this is our neighbor in the house next to the lane, Mr. Haggerty. I’m afraid some of my scholars came across his lawn on their way to school this morning.”
“That’s right.” He seemed to simmer down while Dorcas was speaking, but he flared back up again. “I warned you I wouldn’t put up with it. A man moves out to the country to get some peace and quiet. Is that too much to expect?”
Taking his cue from Dorcas’s calm demeanor, Thomas spoke easily. “I’m afraid you moved right next to a school, Mr. Haggerty. That’s probably not the best place for quiet.”
Thomas thought he detected an acknowledgment in the man’s face, but he started to grumble. “In my day, the teacher had control of her students. Not like now.”
Dorcas paled slightly, and Thomas knew she was thinking about the school board and the Gaus family’s attempt to close the school. She seemed to try to speak calmly.
“Why don’t you stop by sometime when school is in session? You might find it very similar to the school you attended.”
“One-room school, is it?” For the first time, he seemed to be a little interested despite himself. “I went to a little two-room school.” He paused, and then shook his head. “Never mind that. I don’t want to see your students. I just want to be left alone and not have kids tramping over my yard.”
“I’m truly sorry they disobeyed me. Apparently it had something to do with a dare. I punished the class for it, and I don’t think it will happen again. I’d be glad to bring them to your house to apologize.”
His face reddened again at that. “I don’t want any kids at my house. See that it doesn’t happen again, or I’ll talk to the school board. And the police.”
It appeared that was his last word. He turned and stamped back down the lane, the wind ruffling his fringe of hair and making it stand up like a rooster’s comb.
She turned to Thomas, her whole body relaxing. “Denke, Thomas. I was glad to see you coming.”
“You handled him all right without me, but he certain sure was unpleasant.”
“Poor man.” Dorcas’s sympathy was as predictable as the sunrise. And just about as heartening. He was going to miss her.
“Why poor? He doesn’t seem to want any sympathy, ain’t so?”
“I don’t know, and that’s a problem. He’s our neighbor, and I don’t seem to know anything about him. Why did he move here? Does he have a family? What makes him so sensitive about his property?”
He shrugged. “What does it matter? You’re worried about him going to the school board, aren’t you?”
“I don’t want that to happen on top of everything else, that’s for sure. If I knew more about him, maybe I could help.”
“And maybe he just wants to be left alone. That’s what he says, ain’t so?” It seemed to him that she had enough on her shoulders without worrying about what made the man the way he was.
She had a wry smile for that question. “People don’t always mean what they say. Don’t you know that?”
Clearly nothing he said was going to ease Dorcas’s conscience about her neighbor. He made a silent promise to ask around and see what he could find out about this Mr. Haggerty.
His thoughts switched abruptly in another direction. “These kids who went on his property . . . was my sister one of them?”
Dorcas was silent for a moment, and he thought she didn’t want to answer him. Then she smiled slightly. “I think we had this conversation before, didn’t we? Just because you’re here, that doesn’t mean I should confide in you about one of my scholars.”
“You should when the scholar in question is my sister, ain’t so?”
“But not your daughter,” she retorted, but he figured he knew the answer.
“Never mind. You can keep your teacher ethics intact. I know it was. She wouldn’t lag behind when something was going on.”
Her shrug was a tacit admission that he was right. “You know what kids are. If somebody dares you, you just have to do it to prove you’re not afraid. You remember that, ain’t so?”
“I do. But I don’t think I want my sister following in my footsteps. Still, I have to say that if the man didn’t make such a fuss about it, the young ones probably wouldn’t even think of it. It’s the challenge.”
“That, and the fact that they can tell themselves he started it. No matter what caused it, this behavior has to stop. I just hope missing their recess today made an impression on them. It did on me.” She made a face, laughing at herself a little.
“Yah, I can see that it would.” He knew Dorcas wouldn’t enjoy being stuck inside with a cross bunch of kids when the spring day beckoned.
Now she glanced toward the school. “I’d best lock up and be on my way home.”
The afternoon sun caught her as she moved, gilding her hair and warming her cheeks. “One minute,” he said before she could move away.
She looked at him questioningly. “Yah?”
“Why don’t you want to tell my parents about what Esther’s been up to?”
She paused, studying his face intently. At first he thought she wouldn’t answer. Then she spoke, her expression serious.
“I think there’s enough trouble at your house right now, ain’t so? I don’t want to add to it.”
He could feel his face tighten. “Something else to add to my account. It would be better if I’d never come back.”
“Thomas . . .” Her eyes darkened. “Don’t think that.” She reached out toward him pleadingly, palm up.
He took a step back, careful not to touch her. “Why not? It’s true, and nothing anyone says will make it better.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
By the time Dorcas reached home that afternoon, she felt as if she’d been trampled by a horse and run over by the plow. In every direction she turned, problems loomed like so many hills to be cl
imbed. And even if she climbed them, she found no guarantee that there’d be any peace or comfort on the other side.
She was already pulling her sweater off as she walked into the kitchen, hoping she might have fifteen minutes to rest before plunging into a chore. The wish vanished when her mother hurried in from the hall, her bonnet on and her small suitcase held in one hand.
“What’s wrong?” Dorcas dropped her school bag on the table. “What’s happened?”
“Your cousin Jenny’s Elijah has had an accident. The paramedics are there already, but there’s no word yet. No one else is available to go right away.”
Dorcas snapped to attention, her fatigue forgotten. Jenny’s young husband . . . it must be bad, or they wouldn’t have called the paramedics. And their little ones would be terrified.
“I can go with you—” she began, but Mammi shook her head.
“I’m all set, and Lemuel is going to drive me and take care of their animals. I don’t know if I’ll be staying the night, but I might. You’d best stay here and help Betsy.”
That made sense, much as she’d like to rush to Jenny’s aid. If it meant staying overnight, Mamm could do it much more easily than she could, with school in the morning. Still, she longed to be with her cousin. She hugged her mother.
“Tell Jenny I’m praying. Don’t you worry about the rest of us. We’ll be fine.”
“I know you will.” Mamm paused long enough to pat her cheek. “Don’t let Betsy get all upset about it.”
Dorcas nodded, although she thought she’d be more upset than Betsy would. After all, Jenny was her cousin.
Picking up Mamm’s case, she walked outside with her, just as Lemuel pulled up in the buggy. She gave her mother a hand up and tucked the suitcase at her feet. Lemuel looked solemn, but he tried to smile. None of them knew what they’d be going into, but whatever it was, they’d help out as best they could.
And as the news spread, others from Jenny’s church district would show up to help. Lemuel might be able to leave the outside work in the neighbors’ capable care.
“Call as soon as you know anything. We’ll keep checking the phone shanty.” As was the custom, the phone shanty was a few yards from the back door, so the family could check for messages as they went past. Some Amish businesses had phones in them, and a cell phone was always charged and ready at the school in case of emergencies. The phone shanty was a compromise between convenience and necessity.
Mamm nodded. “When I can, yah.”
Betsy came out onto the back step to join her in waving good-bye. She looked worried, making Dorcas think about what Mamm had said. Suddenly she realized why Mamm had made a point of it. Betsy was likely picturing herself in Jenny’s place, with her young husband perhaps leaving in an ambulance.
“It will be all right.” She put her arm around Betsy’s waist. A foolish thing to say, she supposed, but one always said that at such a time. Maybe the words contained some comfort. “We’d best get supper started before your husband comes in hungry.”
Betsy went in with her willingly enough, but she was shaking her head. “Levi went down to the sawmill, so he most likely won’t be home too soon. I’ll put the chicken on—”
Before she got any more words out, they heard little Will’s protesting wail. Dorcas smiled.
“Perfect timing. You tend to him, and I’ll deal with the chicken.”
Betsy nodded, heading for the stairs. At least she was no longer running the instant Will made a peep.
Mammi had planned chicken with homemade noodles tonight, and the noodles were already rolled out and ready to cut. She put the chicken pieces in the kettle to stew, considered the time, and decided to go ahead and cut the noodles.
If anything was designed to comfort her, it was this. Working with the noodle dough took her back to her earliest childhood. Mammi had taught her the simple steps in making noodles when she could just reach the table, giving her a bit of dough to roll out with her own tiny rolling pin.
But cutting the noodles . . . that was another story. She hadn’t been allowed to do that until she showed that she could cut them into the fine, straight pieces that would absorb the chicken broth and turn a lovely golden color.
She smiled, remembering those days as she cut the noodles. So many ordinary things brought back memories to treasure. Did Thomas feel that as he worked around the farm where he’d grown up? Or were all his memories tainted by his father’s distrust? It would be a terrible thing if that were so.
Trying not to think of it, she shook the cut noodles with her hands to be sure they weren’t sticking together, and then scattered them on the floured board to dry a little more. It was when she was finishing them that she realized something odd. Little Will was still crying.
Odd. She washed the flour from her hands. Will was a placid baby, Mamm claimed, easily satisfied as soon as his food appeared.
She hesitated a moment. Would Betsy want her to come up, or would she resent any offer to help?
After a moment’s hesitation, she decided that Mamm would have offered help at this point, so she went quickly up the stairs. Levi hadn’t appeared yet, so he couldn’t be of help, and if he were there . . . well, he doted on his small son, but he had even less experience with babies than she did.
When she reached the door to Levi and Betsy’s room, Dorcas knew she’d been right to come up. Not only Will’s face but his whole little head was bright red, and his shrieks could probably be heard clear to the barn. Betsy sat in the rocking chair holding him with tears flowing down her cheeks. She didn’t know which one was unhappier.
“May I help?” she asked, wondering what help would be forthcoming, since she couldn’t think of anything to do.
“I don’t know what to do.” Betsy’s wail was nearly as loud as her son’s. “He’s been fed, and burped, and he has a dry diaper. Usually he goes right to sleep, but now he just screams, and nothing I do helps.”
“He has a nice loud scream, too.” She smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. “Why don’t you let me take him for a moment to give you a rest?” It couldn’t be easy to try soothing an infant who reared back in your arms and screamed.
Betsy nodded in relief, and Dorcas lifted him, attempting to hold him against her shoulder. She immediately found out just how hard it was. Her tiny nephew pushed against her with a strength she found hard to believe.
“Strong, aren’t you, little man,” she said, hoping to distract him. “but that’s not making you feel any better, ain’t so?”
It didn’t have an impact on Will, but Betsy reacted immediately. “Oh, Dorcas, you don’t think he’s sick, do you?”
Dorcas needed both hands to keep Will from back-flipping out of her arms, so she put her cheek against the baby’s forehead.
“He doesn’t feel warm, so I don’t think he has a fever.”
Betsy came to touch his forehead for herself and then nodded in relief. “You’re right. But what else could make him cry like that? I ought to know. I’m his mammi.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “I’m not a good mother.”
The words were heartfelt. She actually meant that. Dorcas had to say something to help.
“Ach, Betsy, don’t be silly. You’re a wonderful gut mother. You know that, don’t you?” She had to smile at the contrast between Betsy’s woeful face and Will’s irate one. “Anyway, he just looks like he’s good and mad.”
“If your mamm was here, she’d know what to do.” Betsy brushed away a tear.
“Well, I guess we just have to figure it out.” She bounced Will in her arms, moving from one foot to the other the way she’d seen Mammi do.
For about thirty seconds, that actually seemed to help, but then he got going again. She and Betsy exchanged looks.
“Maybe if you walked with him . . .” Betsy ventured.
“Gut idea.” She looked into the tiny red face. “What
do you think, Will? Want to go for a walk with Aunt Dorcas?”
Deciding that his shriek meant yes, she carried him out into the hallway, still bouncing. Still yelling, as far as Will was concerned. She paced down the hallway and back again, talking softly while Betsy watched.
“There now, you can see something different. See, from this window there’s the barn, but if we go into my room, we can see to the east, the way the sun comes up.” She paused by the window, and Will stopped in mid-yell, apparently attracted by the light through the panes.
Before she could congratulate herself, he started again. Bounce some more, walk some more, then sing a nonsense rhyme. And all over again. But by the time they’d reached the other end, the crying had gone down in volume, and he wasn’t pushing back quite so much.
Betsy looked at her, her eyes seeming to light with hope. “Keep going,” she whispered.
Dorcas hoisted him up on her shoulder into a more comfortable position and started patting his back as she walked. How much longer would it take? Should they be doing something else? Thoughts whirled through her head.
And then as if from nowhere, Will gave a gigantic burp, spitting up a little on her dress. Before she could realize what had happened, his little body relaxed like a punctured balloon. In another moment he was asleep against her shoulder. The silence was deafening.
She and Betsy exchanged glances. Was that it? Could that actually have worked? When he didn’t stir, she moved very softly to the bassinet. Gently, inch by inch, she lowered him into the bed, afraid any movement might disturb him. At last she could slip her hands from under him and draw back. Still he slept. Betsy tucked a blanket around him, and all was silence.
They hovered over the bassinet for another moment, not wanting to move, and then backed away.
