by Jerry Eicher
He nodded. “I’ll light the lantern. It’ll still be dreary when the children get here.”
They worked, ignoring each other, or at least trying to. Marcus went into the basement once he had the lantern humming on its ceiling hook. He puttered about down there, probably keeping himself busy, and away from her. She had been too bold, and Marcus had said too much. They both had been caught in the magic of this rainy morning. Magic went away, and life continued. This would all look so different tomorrow once the sun came out again.
Mary focused on her lesson plan until the first student drove into the driveway. The black buggy appeared like a ghost out of the mist, the horse shaking his head in protest from the lash of the wind on his face.
Marcus had Mary’s raincoat ready when she came down the steps. She was making an effort to look out the window, anywhere but where he stood.
“You don’t have to help me,” he said. “It’s still bad outside.”
“I want to.” She finally met his gaze.
He gave in with a bob of his hat. He wanted her by his side. He desperately did. He had resisted the urge for the last thirty minutes down in the basement to rush upstairs and tell her how wunderbah he thought she was, and how beautiful. He forced himself to move and open the door. Too many things had already been said this morning by the warm stove, with the fire flickering in front of their eyes. He must not embarrass himself further.
“Let’s go,” he said, and they dashed across the yard together.
CHAPTER 18
THE BALL GAME ON THE SCHOOLHOUSE FIELD WAS IN FULL SWING THE following week. Mary shielded her eyes with the flat of her hand, standing behind home plate, concentrating on the incoming pitch. Marcus’s sister Esther had become quite the expert pitcher since the beginning of the term. The third-grader had the characteristics of her older brother—his determination, his steady hand, and his focus on the task at hand.
Lamar, one of the eighth-grader, was up to bat, but Esther wasn’t flinching. The ball sailed in the air and came slowly in for the hit. Lamar swung, but failed to make a solid impact. The result was a grounder towards first base instead of the home run fly ball Lamar must have envisioned. Esther didn’t hide her glee while the first baseman ran out, caught the grounder, and almost beat Lamar back to first.
“That was a nice pitch,” Mary hollered to the happy girl.
Esther did a little jig on the pitcher’s mound, stopping only to catch the ball thrown back to her.
Lamar roared his displeasure. “I’ll get it right next time!”
Mary shouted her encouragement. “Don’t let him scare you!”
Esther prepared herself for the next pitch. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the sight of two figures heading their way from the Yoders’ farm. She turned for a better look, and the pitch faltered.
Mary stilled the sharp intake of her breath. Marcus and his brother Mose were headed across the field. What could the two want? They didn’t appear in a hurry or alarmed. She hadn’t seen much of Marcus since that rainy morning last week, when the combination of storm and fire had so mesmerized them. Marcus must have known the passing nature of their emotion. She certainly did. He was back to lighting the fire in the stove each morning, but he hadn’t gone out of his way to stay until she arrived at the schoolhouse, and she certainly wasn’t going to show up early just to catch him. Her feelings about him were getting to be quite confusing, but she knew she didn’t want to appear overly eager. No sense setting herself up for embarrassment and disappointment.
“Maybe they are coming to help us play,” a student suggested.
Mary cringed. She had been trying to forget what happened that rainy morning, and the things they had said. To make it worse, she had almost reached for the man’s hand again. What if Marcus knew how much she would have welcomed his embrace?
“He is quite the ball player,” the student declared.
Mary brought herself back to the present. “Keep going,” she hollered to Esther.
The girl shook her head. “They’ve come to play with us. I want to wait.”
No one else on the field was moving either. They stood with eager faces turned towards the two approaching Yoder men. This was a sunny Friday workday for the farmers. Marcus would never walk away from his duties. Maybe he wanted one of the eighth-graders to help on the place for a few minutes?
Esther began squealing and waving her arms around as Marcus and Mose slipped through the fence. “Hurry! We’re waiting!” she ordered her brothers.
Both men obliged and broke into a slow trot.
“I’m picking Mose,” Esther hollered. “He’s playing shortstop.”
The two halted, and Marcus sent a warm smile her way. “Is it okay if we play, teacher?”
“Sure. Why not?” Mary tried to hide her confusion. “You’re here, so join in. But . . .”
“Give me a glove,” Mose hollered, trotting across the field. He expertly caught the glove someone tossed him. Marcus approached home plate with a sly grin on his face.
“You’re really going to play?” Mary’s head was still spinning. “I haven’t seen you all week.”
Marcus appeared not to notice the irrelevant comment. “I couldn’t resist watching such fun going on right under our noses without joining in.”
“You’re done with your farm work?”
Marcus wrinkled his brow. “Let’s say we’re caught up for the moment.” Marcus waved his hand for Esther to throw the pitch. “Let’s go.”
Esther concentrated and the ball sailed across home plate.
Charles, one of the first-graders, swung and managed a solid enough hit towards shortstop. Mose scooped up the ball and easily made an out on first.
“Number three,” someone shouted, and the sides began to switch on the field.
“Where am I supposed to play?” Marcus asked.
“Shortstop.” The answer came without hesitation.
“Looks like it’s tit for tat,” Mary told him. “Unless you can’t play?”
He grinned and didn’t answer, trotting over to take his position. Mary went towards first, which was the position she’d been playing this week. Marcus noticed and waved. “Can you catch?”
She stuck her nose in the air and didn’t answer, but her heart was pounding in her chest with Marcus’s teasing. She desperately wanted to impress him the way she had at volleyball. Why did she care so much what he thought of her?
Mary held her place, waiting for the game to begin. Marcus would be throwing a ball her way. That was inevitable. She couldn’t fumble. Much seemed to hang on her success. But what could happen? Marcus wouldn’t criticize her. She could even imagine him being perfectly understanding if she missed a thrown ball that landed right in her glove. Had last week changed their relationship that much? Or the week before? The touch of his hand, or hers in his? Such little things, those moments by the fire. Had they been transformed?
The whack of the ball pulled Mary out of her thoughts. The hit was a high fly ball over second base, and the outfielder was never going to make the catch for an out. A throw to first was the best anyone could expect. Mary concentrated, the beat of the runner’s feet in her ears. She leaned forward with her foot on base for the ball that came hurtling towards her. The solid thump in her glove came a second before the rattle of the runner crossing the plate.
“Out!” several voices shouted.
Mary threw the ball to the pitcher. She had made the play, and Marcus was smiling. She felt a rush of joy and satisfaction so strong she was nearly giddy.
Marcus grinned, watching Mary’s excellent play at first base. She didn’t surprise him anymore with her abilities. He had learned to expect the best from her, although Mary probably didn’t know that yet. She had taken his teasing well a moment ago. He hardly ever teased, let alone Mary. Why couldn’t things have been like this when he first met her at the bus station? Mary was not to blame for their conflict. He was. He should never have made such a big deal of the stupid suitca
ses.
This was a big step today, coming over to play ball on the schoolyard. He hadn’t dared make any overtures since those sweet moments spent around the stove that rainy morning last week, where the wonder of her presence had overpowered him and stirred feelings he didn’t know existed. Too many questions buzzed unanswered through his head. Was he falling in love with Mary? That didn’t seem possible. He had been mesmerized by her, which was just infatuation, and that was dangerous territory. But she certainly didn’t seem dangerous today, playing ball and laughing with the kids. Goodness, this was all so confusing. Soon the noon-hour ball game would be over and he would return to the safety of his world until the weekend, before he would see Mary again.
“Coming your way,” someone shouted, and Marcus focused on the game.
The grounder arrived fast, and he bent low to scoop up the ball. With a twist on his heels, he came around and sent the ball towards first base. Mary was ready, her face intent, and she didn’t fumble.
“Out.” The holler was clear.
Two plays later they made another out together when he threw the ball to Mary on first base. They made a team, apparently. Mary was laughing and smiling, obviously thrilled with her plays.
“You catch well,” he told her on the way to home plate.
“And you throw well,” she said, sending the compliment back.
Marcus pulled his watch out of the side pocket. “We have ten minutes left.”
“You hoping to bat?” she teased.
“Yah,” he admitted. “I kind of was.”
“Then you will,” she informed him, turning to say, “Marcus will bat third. Let’s get two runners on base.”
Marcus planted a smile on his face and banished the turmoil of his thoughts.
“Thanks for coming over.” She returned his smile. “Should we be expecting you here more often?”
“We don’t often have a chance,” he said. “But I would love to.”
“You’re welcome anytime.”
She turned her attention to the first batter, who managed to make first base. The second sent a fly ball between first and second, near enough to avoid the lunge of the outfielder and far enough to stay out of reach of the first baseman. There were now two runners on base.
“Your turn.” Mary handed him the bat. “Let’s see if you can get them home.”
“Nothing like a little pressure,” he said.
“You can handle it.”
Marcus gripped the bat. He usually enjoyed playing ball, but Mary made him feel something more: alive, strong, like he could pick up a thousand hay bales on a hot summer day and never break a sweat. Her eyes made him dizzy with their blue sincerity. He had to stop thinking about Mary, or this would never work. The first pitch he let go by, and prepared himself. The second ball was too low, and he passed again.
“Come on now,” someone hollered, but he blocked out the sound.
The third pitch was to his liking and he swung with the full power of his work-hardened muscles. The ball connected in a solid whack and sailed skyward to hang suspended against the sun. He stopped following the track and raced towards first. The ball was still in the air when he rounded the base, so he kept going. The players were searching the back field at second, and he crossed home plate before they found the ball in the bushes.
“That wasn’t even fair,” Mary scolded, but her eyes glistened with admiration.
“You asked for it.” He winked at her, and couldn’t believe his boldness.
Mary blushed bright red, and whirled about to give the order. “Someone run and ring the bell.” She took a moment, turned away from him. Her face was still flushed when she faced him. “Thanks for coming. That was fun.”
“We’ll have to do it again.”
“There is the farm work,” she demurred. “I understand that.”
Before he could answer she was moving away, ushering her students in front of her. Marcus stood rooted at home plate until Mary disappeared inside the schoolhouse door. He wanted her to turn and wave, to give him some acknowledgment, some something. He knew that things between them could never go beyond friendship, but he wished they could. For the first time he wished with his whole heart, but there were things no man could change. Certainly not Marcus Yoder. Mam would marry in a few weeks, and he was no closer to finding a wife than he had been at the beginning of the year. With a heavy heart he followed Mose back across the fields to his farm duties.
CHAPTER 19
THE ALARM CLOCK JANGLED LOUDLY ON THE MORNING OF THE WEDding. Mary leaped out of bed to push back the bedroom drapes. School had been dismissed for the day, and the first streaks of dawn were on the horizon. The sky was clear above the rising sun. Across the fields, the windows of the Yoders’ buildings were bright with lantern light that flooded into the yard. The dim outline of buggies being unhitched could be seen. The cooks were arriving, no doubt, and other relatives who wished to help with the last-minute details. Marcus’s mam would be wed today. Before noon, Silvia Yoder would be, for the second time, a married woman.
This would be a solemn and serious day of commitments. Silvia would walk into the future with another person by her side, a man who would be there until the Lord called one of them home. Mary had not crossed that border into the land of marriage even once, yet alone twice. Did the journey become easier the second time, fraught with less danger, perhaps? The choice of a marriage partner should be easier than her experience indicated. Others seemed to find the journey almost painless, while she had turned away many suitors, waiting for the perfect one. Maybe that was her problem? Maybe there was no perfection? Yet her heart had begun to view Marcus with great admiration. He appeared almost perfect to her, which she knew couldn’t be true, which led her to doubt all of her feelings and instincts. Was he really the arrogant, critical man she had encountered that day at the train station, or was he the thoughtful, hardworking, sweet man she had come to know since? How could she trust her own feelings when they had changed so dramatically in such a short time? The confusion was torture. She was thinking about him way too much. Most every day in fact, stealing glances towards the Yoders’ place during the school children’s play hours.
Marcus and his brother Mose hadn’t been back to join in the games. Not that she expected them to. Grown men didn’t have time to leave their farm work during the day for foolish activities, and there was the extra work the wedding had imposed on the Yoder family. Still, she had wanted Marcus to come back. He was slipping in and out of the schoolhouse in the early morning hours before she arrived. What had happened to the hint of spending a few seconds with her? Was she supposed to change her routine and arrive earlier? That seemed risky and fraught with even more danger. There were so many questions and so few answers. They had both been touched with the magic of that rainy morning in front of the fire, but life was more than magic. Marriage was meant to be practical, and Marcus and she were not practical together. She knew that. So did Marcus, which was why he stayed away from her. That was the logic of the situation, which her heart didn’t accept, obviously. Neither did the community. Both thought that they were a perfect match. She had only to think about Marcus standing by her side that morning near the stove, only inches away, so close and yet so far, to feel her heart rate increasing with a longing she couldn’t put words to. They had almost crossed an invisible barrier that morning. Just beyond lay an embrace in each other’s arms. There would be no turning back then.
Mary pinched herself and stepped away from the window. Better sense had prevailed, but she was still tormented by the question. What would have happened if she had reached for Marcus’s hand that morning? What would being wrapped up in Marcus’s arms feel like? That was a question best unanswered, which was why she had come to her senses. They were not meant for each other. Her heart was wrong. There was simply no other answer. The road to marriage should not be this complicated, which confirmed a thousand times their unsuitability. Wasn’t Silvia Yoder demonstrating that truth today with perf
ect clarity? Around noon, Silvia would reach for the hand of John Beachy with a smile on her face and promise to honor and love the man, right there before Bishop Mullet and everyone else. She could never do that with Marcus. There would never be enough magic moments in front of open stove doors on rainy mornings to carry them through life together.
Mary wiped away a tear to dress and hurry down the stairs. She had promised to help Lavina with the breakfast preparations this morning, since everyone wanted to arrive early for the wedding.
“Goot morning.” Lavina looked up with a smile when Mary burst into the kitchen.
“I was . . .” Mary caught her breath. “I was looking out the window. The buggies are gathering already.”
“The cooks, yah.” Lavina’s eyes twinkled. “How are you doing?”
“Okay. I’m fine. Why?”
Lavina shook her head. “Did you know that Marcus bought the farm, now that his mam will wed?”
“He mentioned he might.” Mary busied herself with getting the eggs out of the refrigerator.
“I expect he’ll set up house for the time being by himself,” Lavina continued. “But the man can’t do that for long. A male alone in a house isn’t decent, not with the cooking, baking, and washing. He can’t stay a bachelor for long, I’m thinking.”
Mary didn’t answer. What was there to say?
“At least Marcus asked you to have a part in the wedding today. Be one of the special table waiting couples.”
Mary took a quick gulp of air. “Silvia asked me. It’s her wedding, and it seemed the logical choice, with me being the new schoolteacher.”
“That’s the same thing,” Lavina said.
“Ah, I don’t think so.”
“Wedding days are such sweet moments.” Lavina ignored the objection. “Your day will come soon, dear. Marcus is more than willing, even with his gruff ways. Take that from a woman who knows the man quite well.”
