by Jerry Eicher
The characters and events in this book are the creation of the author, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.
THE AMISH SCHOOLTEACHER
Copyright © 2020 by Jerry Eicher
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.
ISBN: 978-1-68099-597-8
eBook ISBN: 978-1-68099-633-3
Cover design by Koechel Peterson & Associates
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER 1
THE WHINE OF THE GREYHOUND BUS FILLED MARY WAGLER’S EARS AS SHE shifted on the seat and pressed her bonnet against the dusty window glass for the umpteenth time. The small town of West Union was only a short distance ahead. They had been winding west on Highway 125 through southern Ohio for what seemed like hours. The Ohio River lay a mile or so to the south. Mary had studied the state map before leaving her small Amish community located in central Ohio. She wasn’t traveling that far from home, and yet this was her first time to venture abroad alone. Her destination was a sister Amish community, to serve as their schoolteacher. She wasn’t in rebellion or running away. She wasn’t nervous, or jittery, which would have been perfectly normal, considering.
This venture was a relief, in fact, a fresh start on her own, without the stifling shadow of her three older sisters. Esther, Lois, and Phoebe were married and settled down, but that hadn’t kept them from visiting the Belle Center Amish schoolhouse last year to see how she was doing. That might have been nice in a sisterly sort of way, except they really were there to drop advice from their own teaching years. Each of her sisters had been beloved schoolteachers in their time, and had snagged husbands before two teaching terms had passed.
This was Mary’s second term and no husband was in sight. “Keep the story hour after lunch short,” Esther had advised. “You don’t want the students falling asleep and word getting around the community. You know what I mean . . . schoolteacher can’t keep her own students interested.”
Mary had smiled and nodded, but she ignored Esther’s advice. Everyone knew that she read stories well and could keep a child enthralled for hours while they listened to her animated voice. She was the first one her nieces ran to at the family gatherings, to hop up on her knee, a book in their hands. She loved children, and had experienced two successful terms. Hadn’t the school board asked her back for another year, even if there was no husband on the horizon? Edwin Mast had asked her again for a date, his third request, along with two other men earlier, but none of them interested Mary. If she allowed her sisters to have their way, she’d already be married to one of those men, probably with a child on the way.
“You should take him,” Phoebe had said of Edwin when she heard the news from Mam. “That is, if he asks again.” As if there was any doubt.
“His family is excellent.” Lois had joined forces with Phoebe. “His mother also taught school.”
So maybe Mary was running? But not in a bad way. In a good way. Right into the life she wanted. What that was, she wasn’t sure, but it didn’t include any man she knew, or sisters who breathed advice down her neck. Not that she was opposed to marriage. There just hadn’t been a man who properly impressed her yet. She doubted if any such man would pop up in this new community. At least she wasn’t getting her hopes high. No use setting herself up for disappointment. Plus, she had other things to think about, like new students, a new home, a whole new life away from her closest friends and family.
Mam at least seemed to understand. “Did you pray about this?” was the only question she had asked.
“Of course,” Mary had replied, and had shown Mam the letter the Adams County school board had written after she had responded to their advertisement published in the Amish weekly newspaper, The Budget.
The ad had read, “Schoolteacher needed in Adams County. Should have some experience. Room and board provided. Wages, the usual.”
“Dear Mary,” the Adams County school board letter had written. “We were quite happy to receive your résumé in the mail, and wrote letters to the school board members in your home district. Also to your bishop, Henry Byler. They had nothing but good things to say about your time teaching school in the Belle Center Amish community the last two years. Their only regret is that you did not accept their offer of another term. We would be honored to have you teach at our school district in Adams County.”
The names had been signed at the end of the letter. Names she didn’t know, but now she was riding on the bus to meet the people they belonged to. Not that she expected the whole school board to greet her in West Union, but no doubt several of their wives would be there to transport her to the boarding house, as was customary.
She would stay with an older couple, Leon and Lavina Hochstetler, who lived within walking distance of the schoolhouse. She knew that much from the details in the follow-up letter from the Adams County school board.
The bus whined, slowing again, but the sign outside the window read Lynx, not West Union. Mary sighed and leaned back. She had to relax. This new world would arrive in the Lord’s timing. She had only to pray and believe in His leading that a new life lay before her. A life which would include everything right and good, and in the Lord’s will.
Marcus Yoder drove his horse, Rowdy, across the rattling covered bridge on his way to the bus station in West Union. He was fifteen minutes early and consequently several of the evening chores awaited him back at the farm. His younger brother Mose would have to make do without him for a few hours. He could have said no to Elmer Miller’s request that he pick up the new schoolteacher at the bus station, but he did his duty. Marcus Yoder always did his duty.
Elmer had slapped him on the back at the last Sunday church service. “Any chance you could pick up our pretty new schoolteacher at the West Union bus station on Tuesday?”
Marcus had laughed along with Elmer. Neither of them knew if the new schoolteacher was pretty or not. But there was a hesitation under Marcus’s friendly chuckle. He had so much to do—and now he was supposed to take time out of the day to travel to the station and back?
He had been kept abreast of the search, since he lived in the farm across from the schoolhouse, and five of his siblings attended classe
s. Dat* had passed away five years ago, when Marcus was sixteen, barely out of school himself. Mose had been fourteen that year, and still in the eighth grade. Mose had helped on the farm in the mornings and evenings, because Mam had not wanted Mose to quit school, even as she had wanted to hold on to the farm. The community had wholeheartedly supported both decisions. Widows were always properly cared for in any Amish community, but the task was easier on everyone if some means of ready support could be found. That had translated into carrying on with Dat’s farm, and continuing to milk the cows, a burden that had fallen heavily upon his young shoulders. Mam had noticed, and so had a few others, but life went on. He supposed it was easy to forget a young boy in the hustle and bustle of their busy community life.
Elmer’s slap on the back last Sunday had been more than good-natured teasing. Elmer’s eyes had twinkled. Elmer was telling him, “There is another duty you have, young man. It’s time you find yourself a wife.”
Marcus nodded respectfully, knowing that it would be disrespectful to tell the chairman of the school board that he was too busy to do this simple task for the community.
How was he supposed to find a wife when the duties of the farm lay so heavy on his back? There was hardly time for the weekly youth gatherings, and he never traveled into town in the early afternoon. Not without a special reason, like today. He did not live a carefree life. He knew the full weight of responsibility that most adults bore.
Marcus pulled his buggy to a stop and looked both ways before crossing another small bridge. The tinkling sound of the water soothed his soul. There were few moments these days when he had a chance to stop and listen to water flowing over rocks. He used to enjoy such things, and had often stepped barefoot into a stream on summer days. But that had been another life, light-years removed from his duties of supporting Mam, Mose, and four other siblings.
He supposed Elmer was right. He should think about a wife. When such thoughts crossed his mind late at night, he figured he wanted a serious girl, if he began dating. He wanted a woman who would stand beside him in the rough spots of life. There had been a few such girls in the community who he’d thought would meet that standard, but in each case by the time he came around to asking her for a date, another man had beaten him to the question. In his heart, he had often hoped one of them would wait for him, but none of the girls did. Maybe they didn’t notice his attraction to them? He should move faster, and make his intentions known earlier, which was likely what Elmer had in mind with the trip today. This would be his chance to get a foot in the door first.
“Mary Wagler.” Marcus spoke the new schoolteacher’s name out of the buggy door. The only sound which came back was the steady beat of his horse’s hooves on the pavement.
What was this Mary Wagler like? She must be dedicated to her duties, as a schoolteacher should be. Mary was young, he knew that much. Younger than he was. There had been nothing said in the exchange of letters between the school board and Mary Wagler about a boyfriend. Elmer wouldn’t have sent him on this errand if there had been.
Marcus let his breath out slowly. Was the truth really that he was scared of starting a friendship with a young woman? That did not make the least bit of sense. He had plenty of courage for everyday living, and dating and marriage in the community were very much a part of everyday living. He must look at dating as a necessity, something that must be done. He must gather his courage, and venture across the waters. The Lord was working things out for him in His own way, so he had best take the gentle nudge Elmer had given him.
“Mary Wagler,” he said again. Could Mary Wagler be his future wife? Could he ask her for a date? At least he knew what he wanted in a wife—stability, a woman who could get by on a tight budget and be happy with her state in life. Most of the girls in the community were like that. That’s what being Amish was about, so there was no reason to think that Mary Wagler would be any different.
“Mary Wagler,” Marcus said again, and settled into his buggy seat. Now he was so nervous he could barely see the road in front of him.
Twenty minutes later the bus lurched over the curb and lumbered to a stop. Mary leaped to her feet, her bonnet askew, as the bus drive announced, “West Union.”
Finally! She had arrived. Mary bent over to peer out of the dusty windows. There was a buggy parked on the far side of the gas station, but no Amish women or men were in sight. Maybe they waited inside for her? She grasped the seat to steady herself and made her way up the aisle.
“You have luggage,” the bus driver stated more than asked.
“Yah!” Mary offered him her sweetest smile.
He didn’t return the favor. “I’ll have your luggage out in a moment.”
What made the man so rude? She had paid to transport the extra suitcase, so there was no reason for short tempers, or snootiness. She didn’t want to arrive destitute in a new community, or fail to make a proper impression because she wore the same dress at the schoolhouse every day.
Mary followed the driver down the steps and paused on the last one. Should she? Yah, she would. With a leap Mary completed her journey to the ground, and ended upright with arms waving. That was a perfect, proper entry into her new life. If the school board wives saw her execute the maneuver through the glass of the gas station’s waiting room, they would understand perfectly, and certainly appreciate their adventurous and creative new schoolteacher.
“Thank you, dear Lord, for bringing me here,” Mary proclaimed out loud. She didn’t care who heard.
Marcus stood beside the bus driver, helping to unload the suitcases from the hatch. He stared at the Amish girl who catapulted herself out of the bus door and pronounced a prayer of thanks with her head lifted towards the heavens. The words hung for a moment in the air of the parking lot. Beautiful words they were, but they had been spoken in public by a woman.
The bus driver shrugged, as if nothing surprised him, and dug deeper into the luggage compartment. There were already two suitcases on the ground. Mary Wagler’s piece must be buried deep.
The bus driver grunted and pulled another suitcase out. “There,” he said. “That’s it.”
Marcus bent low to read the names. They all said, “Mary Wagler,” plain enough, written in beautiful cursive, on pink name tags. The last suitcase pulled from the hatch was a shimmering shade of blue.
He turned and stared at the approaching Amish girl. She was pretty beyond belief, slender as a willow branch and smiling as if the sun had just risen on a perfect day.
“Mary Wagler,” she said, extending her hand. “Who are you?” She laughed. “I mean, you are Amish, obviously, but why are you here?”
“You are the new schoolteacher,” he said, as if that explained everything.
The bus driver cleared his throat. “If that’s it, Ms. Wagler, I’ll be going.”
She took in her suitcases with a quick glance. “That’s it. Thank you.”
The bus driver scurried off without a backward glance.
“So where’s my ride?” Mary was looking around the parking lot. “Are the school board women waiting inside?”
Marcus’s mouth worked soundlessly for a few moments. “I am your ride.”
Her pretty face wrinkled in disapproval. “Now don’t we say!”
He squared his shoulders. Elmer had sent him, and he had done nothing wrong.
“Don’t forget your glowing suitcase,” he ordered, grasping the other two. Every bit of his nervousness had fled far away. If she could disapprove of him, he could return the favor. Why did she have so much stuff? Three suitcases, including that ridiculous bright turquoise one. So she was the kind of woman who wanted to draw attention to herself with fancy things, who loved excessive belongings. His earlier musings of a woman who might be a suitable match for him suddenly seemed incredibly foolish as irritation clouded his thoughts. Why had he allowed himself to hope? His disappointment manifested as annoyance. “Do you always travel with enough luggage for a family?”
* The Amish often refer
to parents as “Dat” and “Mam.”
CHAPTER 2
MARY WAGLER DRAGGED HER TURQUOISE BLUE SUITCASE ON ITS wheels across the rough pavement of the gas station parking lot. The broad back of the Amish man walking in front of her was squared and muscled. Both of her heavy suitcases were hoisted in the air as if they weighed mere ounces. The man obviously distained to use the much easier method of wheeling them across the pavement. Perhaps he didn’t know that suitcases had wheels? The dunce! Why had he had to insult her about her luggage when she had offered him such a pleasant greeting?
The man was arrogant and full of himself. Why had he come to meet her at the bus stop, alone? Surely there were other women in the town who could have come, or at least accompanied him. But wait a minute. She knew why. He had volunteered in the hopes of snagging an early foothold on her affections. Impress her with his gentlemanly willingness to transport a hapless schoolteacher to her new lodgings! What a thick head the man had, to think that such a lowbrow trick would work on her, even if he had managed to show his charming side—if he had one, which she’d seen no evidence of thus far. He hadn’t even bothered to introduce himself.
Perhaps he thought his unjustified disapproval of her traveling methods would cow her into submission? He hadn’t hesitated a second before making that caustic remark about traveling with enough luggage for a whole family.
She was surprised he knew the word “luggage.” Most Amish men spoke of suitcases, or bags. At least he wasn’t totally uneducated.
The man broke his stride to lower her luggage to the ground and unlatch the back door of his buggy. With a heave, he hurled the suitcases inside. She cringed. Those were her best dresses, but she was not about to lower herself to an objection. She would just have to hang them as soon as she arrived to get the wrinkles out.
He turned to look at the suitcase she had wheeled across the parking lot. Clearly there was not enough room in the back of the buggy.
“You’ll have to balance the thing at your feet,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “There isn’t room.”
