by Kelly Long
He didn’t want your help.
That wasn’t exactly true. He’d slammed the door in her face before she could voice her offer of help, then she chickened out and scuttled on home. But her fears and reluctance weren’t nearly as important as the three precious children who stood in front of her, with their big, innocent eyes and dirt-smudged, freckled cheeks.
“Girls, come in please and right over here.” She led them as discreetly as possible to the hooks where everyone hung their coats and hats. On a top shelf, she kept a tub of wipes for when the children got dirty at recess. She helped Lilly Ruth get her coat off while the other two shed theirs and hung them on the hooks under their names. She would worry about the streaks of mud on the black wool once she got everyone seated and working on their lessons.
She hung up Lilly Ruth’s little coat and turned toward the class. “Everyone, find your seat. I’ll be there in just a minute. Until then, fifth graders, start reading. Remember we’re on chapter ten of Little House on the Prairie. Eighth grade, help the first graders with their letters, and everyone else, get out your readers and pick up where you left off yesterday.”
She didn’t stop to see if they did as she said. The rustle behind her was testament enough. “Now,” she murmured under her breath. She focused her attention on the three little girls.
“Is it bad?” Constance asked, eyes wide.
How could she tell the girl the truth? Lord, forgive me this lie. “Of course not.”
“Oh,” came Constance’s reply.
Bernice took a couple of Wet Wipes from the tub. She hesitated, then snatched another one out just in case. “What happened?” she asked Lilly Ruth, who seemed to be the dirtiest of them all. Even her tiny fingers were coated in dried mud. “Did you fall on the way to school?”
“Jah.” She nodded her bright head, then she stopped and looked to her sisters. “I mean, I fell last night.”
Bernice had hoped that her talk with Jess would bring about a few changes, but that optimism had been easily squashed. These wunderbaar children had been left to get dirty and not even cleaned up in time for bed. No wonder their clothes were on the ripe side and their hair tangled with rats’ nests.
But mixed somewhere in between the smell of earth and barn was a hint of detergent. Perhaps there was more to the situation than she knew. Their clothes had been cleaned sometime or the scent wouldn’t be there, but when and why did they look the way they did now were questions that remained. Not that she would ever get those answers. She couldn’t keep going out to his house and badgering him until he got things right.
She had taken one look into those blue eyes of his, and her heart had skipped a beat. Unfortunately it had nothing to do with the scowl he wore. Not that it wasn’t impressive, and she wondered if he scowled at everyone like that. Or was that look saved for teachers who cared a little too much? She would never know because she was not going out to the Schmucker farm again.
No, but there were other things she could do. She could wash the girls as much as possible when they got to school. She had two eighth-grade girls in the class. They could help as she redid their hair and wiped the smudges from their sweet faces.
And pray. She could pray for the girls and their father. Pray that the Lord provide them with everything they needed. God wouldn’t forsake them. Of that much she was certain.
But as a new week began, the girls continued to arrive at school dirty, frowsy-headed, and increasingly smelly. What was a teacher to do but bring some lemon-scented body spray she’d picked up at the grocery store? Discreetly she sprayed the girls’ coats when they were hanging by the door. She continued to wipe their faces and hands, spot-clean their dresses, and get angrier and angrier at Jess Schmucker.
She supposed some men were just like that, but he didn’t seem to be unkempt when she’d been out there. He wasn’t clean, but he worked on a dairy farm. Still, he wasn’t overly dirty, either.
“You’re not mad at our dat, are you?” Hope asked as Bernice wiped her hands clean. At the sound of her voice, Bernice realized that she might be wiping with a bit more force than necessary. But if she had thought the girls looked bad last week, this week they were downright scruffy. Dirt on their clothes, faces, and hands, dried food in all the same places. And yesterday come lunch, the girls only had one sandwich to split between the three of them. Luckily Bernice had made an extra sandwich in hopes that her cousin might stop by, but she didn’t. No wonder since she was getting married in a couple of weeks, and Joy’s absence allowed her to feed the poor Schmucker girls.
“Of course not. Why would I have reason to be mad at your father?”
Hope shrugged. “Because he doesn’t wash our faces in the morning.”
“Or our clothes,” Lilly Ruth piped in.
Constance shushed them both. “It’s okay, though.” She sounded much older than her eight years, and Bernice had to bite her lip to fight the tears that sprang into her eyes. These poor, sweet girls deserved so much more than just her prayers, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that mere prayers were not all that was needed.
Action. She needed to take action. And quick.
“Don’t be mad at our dat,” Hope said, with a precious smile. “He’s done the best he could since Mamm died.”
Bernice pressed her lips together to keep her sigh of sympathy at bay. It wasn’t the Amish way to grieve overlong. Life had to be lived, but how did a father tell his young children their mother would never tuck them in at night ever again? “I’m sure he has.” She continued to clean the stains from their dresses, but this time with a gentler hand. Hope had a sticky spot that looked a bit like jelly, while Lilly Ruth had a stain that appeared to be ketchup. What kind of breakfast was he feeding them if they had jelly and ketchup?
They ate breakfast. That was the important part. And hopefully today they would have enough lunch to divide between them, but just in case, Bernice had packed an extra two ham sandwiches in her cooler. The Lord favored the prepared.
With one last swipe at their hair, Bernice sent the girls to their seats and her teaching day began.
CHAPTER 3
Bernice trailed her fingers over the bolts of fabric and tried to remember exactly what color she had chosen for the girls to wear in the Christmas program. It had been weeks since she had sent the bolt of fabric home with the first family, but the truth of the matter was that Jess Schmucker and his darling girls were a distraction like none other.
There was just a little over a week before the program. The mothers throughout the district were sewing matching dresses and shirts—one color for the girls and a different one for the boys—that the children would wear. But Constance, Hope, and Lilly Ruth didn’t have a mother, just a father.
And just like that, the glowering, handsome face was once again at the front of her thoughts.
“I would have thought he’d remarry by now.”
“I know. For the girls if nothing else.” The woman tsked.
Bernice’s ears perked. She hadn’t meant to listen in on their conversation, but they were right behind her examining the large table of fabric while she studied the ones stacked on the wall. There was no way she wouldn’t have been able to hear them unless she was stone-deaf. Yet just because they were discussing a man who needed to remarry for the sake of his girls didn’t mean they were talking about Jess Schmucker.
“Jah. Those girls need a mamm.”
“Esther King said that his mother and sister had been over helping, but I hear these days that they have too much of their own to do. Frankly, I think they’re trying to force him to see the truth.”
“And what truth would that be, Abigail?”
“That a man shouldn’t be in this world without a wife. The Bible even says so.”
“I know what the Bible says.” The other woman sighed. “So you think Jess will get married again.”
So they were talking about him!
“I’m sure of it.”
The women moved away b
efore Bernice could find out how Jess’s wife had died, but it was probably for the best. She shouldn’t be listening in to other people’s conversations, and she surely didn’t need to be so interested in all things Jess Schmucker.
Bernice chose a dark purple that she was fairly certain had been the color for the dresses, then headed for the counter.
A tiny voice inside whispered that she might ought to ask Jess if he had someone to sew the special dresses for his girls, but she didn’t want to risk it. She would make the dresses herself and keep them at the school until the day of the program. Jess Schmucker might not care how the district saw his children, but Bernice Yoder did.
He was dead tired, but Jess had no choice. He had a Christmas program to attend. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go, but he was just worn out. The good news was he had managed to get all of the dishes washed. Now they had to be put away, though he had no idea where they all went. In the cabinets somewhere, of course. He had relied on his mother and his sister for too long, and he had no clue as to where Linda Grace had kept the dishes before she died.
As usual his wife crossed his thoughts at least once a day. He missed her like crazy, but time was a healer and now he could think about her without the stabbing pains of heartbreak.
He was moving on, living like those who are left behind are forced to do. But he couldn’t say he was good at it. Right now he felt like a swimmer lost at sea. It was taking all of his energy just to stay afloat, and that was not living.
But he had a farm to see to and girls to raise.
“I’ll do right by you,” he whispered to his wife, hoping that she could hear him. “Just every now and then, give me some direction, okay?” He could use some bearing and a little more energy.
He pulled the buggy to a stop, and the girls scuttled down like the devil was on their heels. He knew they were excited to perform the program for all the fathers. But why did it have to be so late?
In past years the program was held in the middle of the day, when everyone could get away from their farm and chores. Since more and more Amish men and women were working outside their homes, and for English companies, the school had started doing the pageant twice—once during the afternoon for the mamms and visiting scholars from other schools, then again at night for the dats and the rest of the family.
Buggies were lined up next to the fence, their horses tied to the chain-link barrier that separated the school from the field next to it. Jess parked as far out as he could. He wanted to be near the road when everyone started to leave. He needed to get home and get to bed. Three o’clock came mighty early.
He hustled the girls into the building and wiped the grit from his eyes. An eighth-grade girl met them at the curtain and motioned them to come back and ready themselves for the program. Jess watched them go with a strange mixture of pride and exhaustion.
Jah, pride was a sin, but he had settled himself to times when resisting wasn’t possible. And despite his tired soul, this was one of those times.
His girls disappeared behind the blanket hung at one end of the room, and he moved away to find a seat on one of the benches set up in the classroom. Husbands and wives sat together, along with their children who weren’t in the program. Aunts and uncles, even cousins waited patiently for the program to begin.
Suddenly, Jess felt alone. More alone than he did when he arrived at church without his wife at his side, even more than he felt in his bed at night. Because his solo state was there for everyone to see. He could feel their pitying eyes on him, but he pretended to read his program handout and otherwise act like he had everything going his way.
Thankfully he only had a few minutes to wait before Bernice Yoder came around the side of the makeshift curtain and rang a bell to get the crowd’s attention.
“Good evening, everyone.” She smiled prettily at the room at large. Even though she never turned her gaze to him, Jess’s heart skipped a beat as if she had pinned him with those gorgeous green eyes.
He shook those thoughts away. Beautiful or not, Bernice was a meddling busybody who had placed judgments on him and his family.
He stifled a small cough, realizing that while he’d been in his own thoughts, Busybody Bernice had finished her introductions and moved back behind the blanket.
As far as Christmas programs went, this one was not much different from any others. The children performed skits, recited poems, told Christmas jokes, and at the end, they all came out together and sang the English Christmas song “Jingle Bells.” He laughed as the children shook bells and otherwise finished with big smiles. But it was in that moment that Jess realized the girls all wore the same color of purple. Even his girls.
Had they come home from school wearing the dresses? He couldn’t remember. Did they have them on when they clambered into their buggy? Or maybe they changed when they arrived at the school. Why had he not noticed that before?
Because he had been so caught up in his own issues and problems that he hadn’t thought of all the events leading up to the Christmas program. But he remembered in years past, Linda Grace sewing the dresses for Constance and then for Hope, as well. Dresses she made out of the material the teacher bought each year. But there hadn’t been any material this year. So, who had made the dresses his daughters now wore? Surely his mother and sister would have said as much, so that left only one person—well, two if he counted Bess Lapp who sometimes took in extra sewing to help make ends meet—and that person was Bernice Yoder.
Jess pulled on his suspenders and tried to calm his temper. He was normally a levelheaded man, but something about the dark-haired teacher brought out the worst in him. Maybe he should leave a conversation with her until a better time. When he wasn’t so tired. So cranky and angry.
He pushed up from the bench and nodded a farewell to those nearest him, then went to find his daughters. Instead he found Bernice Yoder. She should have been talking to the other parents, voicing her thanks and smiling at the compliments she received for her work. Yet, she looked like she was simply waiting for him.
“Jess Schmucker.” She gave him a nod of greeting and another of those smiles. But this one trembled at the corners, and he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what was coming next. “Can I talk to you for a bit? Maybe tomorrow afternoon?”
He hardened his heart against the sweet tone of her voice. “I’m busy tomorrow afternoon.” His words were gruff and coarse, but he had to stop this before it began. She had no right butting into his business, and he had better things to do than help her feed her own personal gossip mill.
“It’s important,” she pressed.
He braced his hands at his sides and fought the urge to reach out and touch her cheek. Her skin was fair and pale without a mark from the sun. Such an unusual case for an Amish woman. That had to be why he had the strangest urge to run the backs of his fingers down the side of her face. It was that reason and that reason only.
“Nay.” He shook his head to back up his words. Maybe then she would know he meant what he said and she would give up whatever mission she had set herself to.
If only he were so lucky.
She pressed her lips together, her green eyes flashing. “It’s about the girls, Jess.”
Of course it was. “Although I appreciate your concern, my girls and I are fine, just fine.”
“I don’t know how you can say that.”
“I can say it because it’s the truth.”
Then they started talking over one another. “You have no right to tell me how to raise my children.”
“Their cleanliness and care should be of the highest importance in the household, and I don’t think that’s happening.”
“You don’t think?” Jess raised his voice, then realized that all of the lingering guests were staring at them as intently as if they were the second round of the evening’s entertainment. “Send my girls on out to the buggy when they are ready to leave.” He spun on his heel and headed for the door. Stopping just short of completely sto
rming out, he turned around. “Danki for making their dresses,” he said without meeting her gaze, then he pushed his way into the cold night air.
Jess Schmucker was without a doubt the most stubborn and prideful man she had ever met.
Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.
The verse from Proverbs popped into her head like it always did when Jess was near. And that was exactly what he was setting himself up for: a fall. Didn’t he understand that she only wanted to help? His children needed him, and he was too blinded by his pride to see that he needed help.
She harrumphed as she watched him stride from the schoolhouse. She wasn’t giving up. For the girls’ sake something had to be done. Quickly. And whether he liked it or not.
CHAPTER 4
“Hold still, Lilly Ruth.” Constance Schmucker pulled on her sister’s arm, turning her around to face her. All the while, she smeared dirt on her sister’s freckled cheeks. “Be still or you’ll end up with this mud all over.”
Lilly Ruth frowned in that way that looked so much like their dat, Constance wanted to take a step back and away. “What difference does it make?”
“Jah,” Hope said, running her own dusty hands reluctantly down the front of her dark purple dress. It was the same one the teacher had made for them to wear for the Christmas program the day before. Constance knew that Hope had been extra careful not to soil the dress so she could wear it again today. And she was sure it was hard for her sister to purposefully dirty the pretty frack.
“You’re going to need to use more than that if you want Bernice to notice.”
Hope propped her hands on her hips in the way Constance had seen their mamm do on too many occasions to count. Was this how their father felt, faced with a reminder at every turn? No wonder he was struggling to get himself together. She wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but from the tone of voice she had heard her grossdawdi use when he said it, Constance was for certain it wasn’t good.
