With effort, John held his tongue.
“Ben and I took a good look around. Deborah Fisher is of age. So is Anna Lockwright. Either one would make a right fine mama for Emmy Sue and a fine wife for you.” She stumbled on the last words, but managed to maintain her dogged expression.
“Lydia—”
“John, let me finish,” she interrupted. “I know this is hard, and you don’t want to hear it, but this child belongs back home with us. With her uncles and aunts and cousins.”
“She belongs with me,” John said, pressing his hands against his thighs.
“Of course she does, but not just you.” Lydia’s shoulders were squared. By all appearances, she had prepared well for this conversation. “You need to come home. We miss Emmy Sue. Everyone misses her. It’s not normal for someone to leave after a tragedy. To leave their family and their support system. It’s not done.”
She paused for a quick breath. “And Deborah Fisher is willing—”
John leaned forward. “You spoke to her?” He could hardly believe what he was hearing.
Lydia blinked rapidly. “Not directly. Of course not. But her aenti is my dear friend, and we were talking—”
John rose and strode to the window, turning his back on Lydia. He stared out at the weeping willow blowing gently in the breeze, its long draping branches skimming the ground.
He took a slow, deliberate breath, willing himself to be calm. Losing his temper would do no one any good.
“John, we only want what’s best for Emmy. And you, of course.” Her confident tone faded somewhat.
John listened to the low squeaks of the rocker as Lydia began rocking more fervently.
The sad truth was Lydia was right. Emmy Sue did need a mama. And she did need her whole family. He’d shocked the whole community by moving away. He had challenged an unwritten code of behavior—but he also knew that he had needed to get out of there.
He had to escape to heal.
Did it work?
He put his hand on the window frame, every muscle in his arm tense.
His pain had lessened. The hollow emptiness in the pit of his stomach had grown smaller, and sometimes—on good days—he went for small chunks of time without remembering.
Teaching had helped. Immensely. He continually surprised himself by how much he loved it and by how much he loved the kids.
And Josie… ?
“John?” Lydia spoke. “Deborah’s a nice girl. She’s a hard worker. And faithful. I’m sure if you became better acquainted with her you’d see that.”
John returned to his chair. He sat tall and stiff. “When the time comes, I will find my own wife.”
Lydia’s face reddened. “I’m not saying you’re not capable. But Ben and I thought—”
John held up his hand. “Lydia, please.”
She pressed her lips into a tight frown.
Josie passed by the doorway, and John stifled an urge to go after her and share everything Lydia was saying. He wanted to hear her reaction, ask her what she thought.
She would be upset, of course. She wouldn’t want them to leave.
He inhaled sharply. Or would she? Would she be sorry to see us go? Surely, she would miss the baby.
But would she miss me?
He didn’t know what he would do without Josie. His mind spun, and he leaned back in his chair.
Why should he care so deeply what Josie thought? She was Emmy’s caregiver. Why did he want—need—her involvement with the decisions in his life?
The truth rose within him, and he couldn’t sit still. He needed her involvement because he—
His mind jolted, and his legs felt weak.
Because he loved her. Feeling blindsided, a bewildered expression covered his face.
He loved Josie. No, not the same as his love for Essie. But he loved her. Plain and simple. He abruptly stood and started for the door.
“John! Where are you going?” Lydia asked.
He paused. “You’re right, Lydia. Someday the baby will need a mama. Maybe not today or even tomorrow, but someday.”
“Jah, and like I told you, Ben and I thought—”
“Lydia.” John’s voice was firm. “You will always be Emmy’s grohs-mammi, and you will always be deeply important to her. But you must accept that I am the baby’s dat. I will make the decisions concerning her.”
Lydia clamped her lips tight, and her face turned red.
John continued. “I have been amiss in not bringing Emmy to visit you. I will do better on that front. But marrying again? And a new mamm for Emmy? That will be my choice and in Gott’s timing, not yours.”
He drew himself up straight and tall. “Emmy will enjoy your visit. I think two or three days will be perfect. And I shall bring her to see you in November. I trust that will be acceptable.”
He didn’t wait for her answer but walked through to the kitchen where Lizzie was rolling out a lump of dough. “Where’s Josie?”
“I think she went out to the daadi haus,” Lizzie replied.
John went through the washroom and hurried out the side door. The air was cooler these days, and John took a huge breath as he strode across the yard.
He pulled open the screen door, walked into the house, and saw her. She was at the sink, washing out a bottle, and when he entered, she looked over at him with surprise.
“Is your mother-in-law going to stay a while?” she asked, her eyes focused on him.
John took two steps toward her. “Josie?” His voice was low and husky.
Her lips parted and confusion passed over her face as if trying to read his thoughts.
“She wants me to return to Linnow Creek. She wants me to marry.” John held his breath as he waited for her reaction.
Josie didn’t move, and the bottle she held dripped down the front of her apron.
A look of fear flashed in her eyes. Seeing it, John exhaled and relief swirled through his heart.
She would be sorry to see us go.
To see me go.
“So you’re leaving?” she eked out.
“Would you be upset?”
A myriad of emotions played across her face. He watched her swallow, open her mouth as if to speak and then close it to swallow again.
“Josie?”
“Do you want to go?” Her voice shook, and she appeared to brace herself for his response.
“I couldn’t leave my students,” he said, searching her dark eyes. “Nor you.”
She flinched. “What? What did you say?”
He stepped even closer and again touched her—this time knowing full well what he was doing. She didn’t back away. She stood, trembling, and the bottle in her hands continued to drip.
“Maybe you’d like to go riding with Emmy Sue and me sometime—if your dat will lend me his buggy.” He smiled at her, and his tone turned playful.
He saw the budding joy in her eyes, and his heart swelled.
“Maybe I would at that,” she responded.
“And in answer to your question, nee, I don’t want to go.” His voice was quiet and tender.
She set the bottle on the counter behind her and faced him. He saw her tears as she returned his smile with one of her own.
“I’m glad,” she said simply.
And right then he knew, he knew to the very depths of his soul, that the woman standing before him—this woman who loved his daughter as her own—had captured his wounded heart.
“I’m glad, too,” he responded. He took her slender hand in his. “Shall we go in and get Emmy Sue?”
“Jah. Let’s go in and get Emmy Sue,” she answered.
And together, they walked in to the baby.
The End
Thank you for reading The Schoolteacher’s Baby! Would you like to continue reading about Josie and John? You can in Amish Days: A Desperate Act? Here’s a sample for you:
Josie hugged Emmy Sue to her chest and scurried down the road to the school. Her three sisters had tumbled into the house more than
half an hour ago. As the teacher, John should have been home by now, too.
Ahead, she saw the two-room school, standing tall and white against a backdrop of trees that exploded with a vibrant display of green in the late spring afternoon. Sitting on the porch holding his chin in his hands sat young Benji Crabill, his dark hair spilling over his forehead. He scraped his big toe over the dirt below him, stirring up a cloud of dust.
“Benji?” she questioned as she neared the boy. “You okay?”
He looked up at her, his wide eyes pools of sadness. Josie sank down onto the step beside him, and Emmy Sue reached over and slapped Benji’s head, gurgling and laughing.
“Emmy Sue!” Josie scolded. She balanced the fourteen-month-old on her lap and grabbed the boppli’s chubby hands. “Don’t you be hitting on Benji.”
Josie smiled an apology at the lad and raised her eyebrows. “You okay?” she asked again.
“Fine,” he said as if forcing the word from his throat. “Just waitin’ for Mama.”
“Was there difficulty in class today?”
“Nee. Teacher wanted to talk to Mama is all. Don’t know why.”
Josie twisted around and looked at the closed door of the school. “Is she in there?”
“Jah.”
Josie’s forehead crinkled. “You mean she’s in the school talking with Mr. Beiler?”
Without thinking, Josie stood and peered around to the window. She could see into John’s classroom and, sure enough, there stood Mrs. Crabill speaking with him. Benji’s mother was a small woman, thin and fragile, but she had a way about her, a soft attractive grace that drew a person. But what was she doing talking with John? It was odd that the two of them were in there alone. Josie’s face grew warm. Was she spying on her beau as if he couldn’t be trusted? She quickly backed away from the window, embarrassed at having looked in the first place.
“I’m sure your mamm won’t be long,” she said, sitting down again with Benji. She gazed at his downcast demeanor and knew there was more to his state than impatience from waiting for his mother.
He shifted and his wispy hair moved, revealing a bluish tinge behind his ear.
“Benji,” she said, her voice full of concern. “Did you hurt yourself?”
His hand jerked up and covered his ear. “I fell,” he murmured. “Hurt like thunder.”
“Ach, I would think so! Can I have a better look?” She reached up to pull his hair to the side, but he wriggled away from her
“No need,” he muttered.
Josie stared at him. “But it’s better now?”
Benji didn’t answer nor did he look at her. He’d always been a shy lad—she knew that from Sunday meetings, but Josie had watched him come alive under John’s teaching over the last school year. Seeing how he was back to his old ways, she felt a certain sadness.
Josie snuggled Emmy Sue close while she and Benji waited. What could they be talking about in there? And why was Benji excluded? Was it wise for a widower to be in there alone with a married woman?
No one knew she and John were courting. Of course, her family had their suspicions, but they would never ask. It simply wasn’t the Amish way. Courtships were kept secret until the engagement was announced.
She felt a dull anxiety run through her chest. John hadn’t yet proposed, so there might be no announcement in the fall. Yet she’d been taking care of his daughter for nearly nine months and they’d been courting for seven of those months. Wasn’t it time? What was holding him back?
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More Hollybrook Amish Romance Books:
Amish Days: A Desperate Act
Secret meetings behind closed doors. Furtive looks. Strange, unexplained behavior. What is John Beiler involved in? Josie is desperate to find out, but her beau remains stubbornly silent. Unravel the mystery in A Desperate Act!
Amish Days: The Decision
For Sally, leaving the Amish would mean leaving Zeke.
Can she ignore her feelings for him and turn her back on her dreams?
And all for a brother who doesn’t want her around?
Amish Days: Second Thoughts
“It wouldn’t work. It couldn’t work. We are from
two different worlds, you and me.”
Zeke gazed at her, his eyes filled with infinite sadness.
Sally won’t give up. But will she burn all the bridges
she’s worked so hard to build?
Amish Days: The Stranger
Who is this stranger? And does he have the legal right
to take her away as he claims? How can Sally convince the stranger to let her go?
And how will she ever get back to Zeke?
Amish Days 1: Missing Abram
Are Hope’s dreams of Abram only a fantasy?
Will his cousin Josiah try to step in?
Amish Days 2: Abram’s Plan
Mysterious relatives force Hope
to leave her Amish home.
While gone, her fiancé Abram is hurt.
Will he heal? Can she ever go back?
Amish Days 3: Abram’s Bride
Why is Abram refusing to marry Hope?
Hadn’t he promised her a November wedding?
Was she to be a jilted bride?
Amish Days: The Runaway!
Caught in a cocoon of cold and desperation,
will Mary admit her feelings for Josiah?
Will Josiah confirm Mary’s suspicions
that it’s really her sister that he loves?
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Amish Days: The Schoolteacher's Baby: An Amish Romance Short Story (Hollybrook Amish Romance) Page 5
