by Amy Clipston
“The man she loved didn’t die.” Just to keep the record straight. “Regardless, you can’t put grief on a schedule. She’ll find her way through her disappointment in her own time.”
“You could help her.”
When elephants flew. “She doesn’t want my help.”
“How do you know?”
“She’s not ready for another man. Besides, I don’t want to be the B&W ointment on someone’s wound.”
“You’re not getting any younger. There aren’t a lot of women to choose from in Kootenai these days.”
“Give it a rest.”
Caleb flicked bark from his shirt. It landed on Henry’s sleeve. “You say you’re over it and you’re fine. I say if you really were fine, you would’ve noticed what a gut woman Mercy’s sister is. Pleasing to the eye too. Not as pretty as Mercy—”
“Let’s not compare schweschders. It’s not nice. Besides, I don’t notice women at all.” Henry flicked the bark back toward his friend. It landed on Caleb’s boot. “You’re so good at minding other people’s business, so why don’t you tell me what to do about Tommy.”
“You really don’t notice women?”
“Nee.”
His face full of mock horror, Caleb shook his head. “That’s not normal.”
Henry’s friend had a one-track mind. “Let’s move on. Tommy. What do I do about Tommy?”
“Hose him down like you do Dodger.”
“Not about the baths. He says he doesn’t believe in Gott.”
Caleb dropped his knife. His eyebrows rose sky high. He launched into a cross-examination of this piece of information. Just as Henry had known he would.
Henry didn’t need a cranky schoolteacher in his life. He had enough problems with his cranky new roommate.
4
Most kids couldn’t stop talking. Leesa fumbled for another topic of conversation. Tommy had made it clear he didn’t want to talk to her. He also didn’t want the teacher walking him home. No matter. She would make sure he made it to his new home. Mr. Henry Judgmental would see that she knew exactly what she was doing.
Raising her face to the late-afternoon sun, she lengthened her stride and cut across an open field catty-corner to the school. The grass was dry from a long, hot summer and crunched under her sneakers. For a short, skinny fifth grader, Tommy moved fast. He didn’t want to talk about Kentucky. He didn’t want to reminisce about his aunt. He didn’t want to talk about the train ride to Montana. And he certainly didn’t care to discuss why he refused to play baseball at recess.
“Why don’t you use a buggy?”
At last a semblance of interest in something. “I will when the weather’s bad this winter. Sometimes I’ll ride my bike, but when the sun’s shining, it’s gut to walk.” Those had been Mercy’s words of advice. “Clear your head before you get home and have to help Mudder with supper and around the house. No rest for the weary.” “It’s nice to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on your face after a long day in the schoolhouse.”
“Buggy would be faster.”
Which meant less time he’d have to spend with her. Less time for her to probe and get to know him. Ten-year-olds were not known for subtlety. Tough beans. “Why don’t you like schul?”
“Schul is for kinner.” His scoffing tone matched the surly look on his face. “I don’t need it.”
“So you’re all grown up?”
He grabbed his backpack straps and picked up speed. His footsteps lifted small plumes of dust in the air behind his scarred leather boots. “I reckon.”
Having no family of his own at such a young age might make him feel that way. Leesa’s heart thrummed. Not with pity. He wouldn’t want that. “Grown-ups can still learn. Did you have a gut teacher in Munsford?”
“My aenti was the teacher. She was gut at everything.”
Understanding flooded Leesa. School reminded him of his loss. “It’s hard to lose someone you love.”
“She was the only teacher I ever had. I don’t need another one.”
No emotion colored his matter-of-fact statements. He had such a hard exterior, like a tortoise that had tucked his head in his shell and refused to come out. Any sliver of child hidden from sight and sun. “I’m sorry for your loss. Is Henry your onkel?”
“Nee. He’s nothing to me.”
Ouch. “He can’t be nothing. You’re living with him.”
Tommy shrugged. “Who knows? I don’t.”
“It was nice of him to take you in, wasn’t it?”
“It’s not like he’s doing me a favor. I could have taken care of myself back in Munsford.”
He was homesick and brokenhearted. Leesa’s hands fluttered to her throat. He would never accept a hug from her, but that was what he needed. A prescription of hugs and listening ears and time to heal the wounds he tried so hard to hide.
“Do you like camping? Henry likes to hunt, fish, and hike. Tourists hire him to be their guide when they go hunting. He’s gut at it.”
Tommy’s cheeks had turned ruddy in the cool air, and his nose was running. He wiped it on his sleeve. “I don’t know. I never done any of that.”
Deflated, Leesa cast about for another topic. Naturally a boy living with a spinster aunt in Kentucky would not have experienced those things. However, Henry could teach him. They could get to know each other. Henry might be short on words, but he seemed to have a decent heart. “It’s a whole new world, I promise. People move here for the outdoor fun. They move here for a fresh start. That’s what Henry did.”
“Henry ran away.”
“That’s a harsh thing to say.”
“That’s what Aenti Anna Mae said.”
“Did she say what he was running from?”
“His fraa died.”
Leesa stumbled over a rock, flailed, and righted herself. Henry Lufkin had been married. That was news. Did Mercy know that? If she did, she’d failed to mention it. “Even more reason not to say such things about him. Losing a wife is sad.”
Tommy didn’t respond. Leesa pointed north and led him onto the dirt road that would take them to the newly rebuilt cabin where Henry lived.
“How much farther?”
“Not much. Does this look familiar from your buggy ride this morning?”
Tommy looked around and shrugged. “Maybe.”
Leesa stopped and flung her arm across Tommy’s chest. She pointed with her other hand. “Look.”
An enormous moose with massive flat antlers trotted down the road toward them.
“Whoa,” Tommy whispered.
“Whoa is right. I reckon he weighs a thousand pounds or more.” Leesa backed Tommy away from the road until they stood under the overgrown branches of a maple tree. Gratitude that moose season didn’t start for another week washed over her. This animal was too regal to be turned into steak. Her father would laugh at the idea, especially since Leesa loved a good moose steak. “Let’s give him plenty of room.”
The moose halted in the middle of the road. His large overhanging snout dipped. He sniffed the air. Huge muscles rippled under his dark-brown and black coat.
“What’s he doing?” Tommy whispered. “Is he lost?”
“I reckon he’s trying to decide where to go next.”
The moose’s head bobbed. His mouth opened and he bellowed, a sound somewhere between a hound’s bay and a donkey’s bray. After a few seconds he turned and trotted across the field on the other side of the road and headed toward the mountains. His short tail wagged behind him.
“It looks like he’s going back home.” Leesa stepped away from the tree and trudged toward the road. “He just took a detour into town, I reckon.”
No answer. She looked back. Tommy hadn’t moved. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open.
“Are you coming?”
Tommy shut his mouth and clumped through the undergrowth. “He was big. Huge!” He scampered ahead of her and turned around so he walked backward. “Does that happen a lot? Do you see moose all the time? What
about bears or wolves? Do you see them too?”
Finally. Tommy, the ten-year-old boy, had peeked out from behind the grown-up fort he’d constructed between himself and the world.
* * *
He should’ve gone to pick Tommy up. Henry stood staring at the road from the doorway of the cabin he’d rebuilt with the help of friends after the fire. Tommy should’ve been here by now. How long did it take for kids to walk from the schoolhouse? It was at least a mile. He rolled his shoulders to loosen tight muscles. It didn’t help. A low whine in his throat, Dodger paced between the two spruce trees Henry had planted in his front yard. “I agree.”
They probably stopped to play kickball or climb trees. Naw, the other boys knew they had to get home and do their chores before supper.
Where was he?
Movement down the road caught Henry’s gaze. Two figures. One short, one shorter. They were headed this direction. Hand to his forehead to block the late-afternoon sun, Henry tromped down the steps and strode to the edge of the yard.
Yep. Tommy. The other one . . . was Leesa.
She’d been serious about walking him home.
“We saw a moose! We saw a moose!” Tommy yelled when he was still several yards away. He picked up his pace and hurtled into the yard. His face red and sweaty, he careened to a stop in front of Dodger, who greeted him with a full-throated bark. “It was in the middle of the road. What do you think of that?”
“They were here first. The mountains belong to them.” Stuffing his relief under his hat, Henry smiled at the boy’s enthusiasm. Moose were common in these parts. “What took you so long? Did you get lost?”
“It hasn’t been that long.” Leesa strolled into the yard several paces behind her charge. “I waited to make sure the kinner had all their things, and I said good-bye to them. I had to get everything ready for tomorrow and then close up the schul.”
“You didn’t have to walk him home.” The words sounded ungrateful in Henry’s ears. He tried again. “Danki for walking him home, but it wasn’t necessary. The Shrock kinner live close by.”
“I told you I’d make sure he got home safe and sound.” Her cheeks were pink from exercise and the sun. The stress and nerves from earlier in the day were gone, leaving behind a pretty woman. “So I did. It gave us a chance to talk.”
She was very pretty. Short and curvy. The only physical attribute she had in common with Vivian was her blue eyes. Where had that thought come from? It was all Caleb’s fault for planting the seed. Henry did not notice women. He hadn’t since Vivian. Sweet, long-legged Vivian with her dark cocoa-colored hair and eyes bluer than a Kentucky summer sky. Her cheeks crinkled with deep dimples every time she smiled at him on those long walks on his parents’ farm in Munford. She’d loved to fish, hunt, and hike. She would’ve loved Montana. He didn’t need a photo to remember Vivian. Her face was engraved on his heart. In recent years he’d visited that spot less often. And with less angst.
That’s what he got for talking to Caleb. Old memories burbling up from a deep well that was better off stoppered. Henry swept the thoughts aside and forced himself to focus. “Talk about what?”
Her gaze went to Tommy who had dropped his knapsack and settled onto the grass next to Dodger. The dog rolled over on his back and stuck all four legs in the air—his way of communicating that he expected a belly rub. “He’s been through a lot. He thinks he’s all grown up.” Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “He’s hurting and hiding it. His aenti was his teacher, so it makes him feel bad to come to a schul knowing she won’t be there. He’s homesick.”
“You got all that in a mile’s walk?”
“He’s never been hunting, fishing, hiking, or camping.” She made a tsk-tsk sound. “Can you image? No wonder he was so excited about seeing a moose.”
That was wrong. Every child should have good memories of the great outdoors. “I can fix that.”
“Jah, you can. You have a few months of fall weather before winter sets in.” Despite her smile, the words held a challenge. “I’ll work on getting him to like schul again. The rest is up to you.”
“You mean like teamwork.”
Her forehead puckered, she nodded. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Nee.” Relief welled up in Henry. Leesa might be new at teaching, but she grew up in a big family. She had to know more about child rearing than Henry did. “No problem whatsoever.”
“Gut. Make sure he gets to schul on time tomorrow.”
“I didn’t know what time—”
“No excuses. We start devotions at eight thirty sharp.”
They hadn’t today. No fair. It had been her first day. “He’ll be there.”
Looking incredibly pleased with herself, she called out good-bye to Tommy.
The boy ignored her. Leesa’s pleased look deflated like a punctured ball. “Anyway, gut natch.”
Her pace brisk, she strode back down the road.
Henry felt immeasurably better. He wasn’t alone. He and a woman he had known for four years but hardly knew at all were in this together.
Surely two adults could handle one small child.
5
“Tweet, tweet. Tweet, tweet.”
Leesa stood with her back to her scholars. She paused, chalk poised in the air. The schoolhouse windows were open, so it was possible a bird had flown into the classroom, but this didn’t sound like a real bird. A brisk breeze wafted through the room, bringing with it the fall scents of fir and earthy decaying leaves. But no actual leaves. And no birds.
This sounded more like a child trying to get her goat. She inhaled, exhaled, and continued writing the geography questions on the board so the fifth to eighth graders could copy them into their composition books. They were to look for the answers in their books and write them down so they could memorize them.
“Tweet, tweet, tweet.” The sound was louder this time and full of panache.
A child giggled. Several tittered.
Leesa turned. Immediately heads lowered, the students earnestly attentive to the lessons before them. “Do you not have enough work to do? I can give you more.”
No one responded.
Charlie wiggled in his seat. Grinning, he cocked his head toward the older children. Specifically, the fifth graders.
“Do you have something to say, Charlie?”
“Nee.” He shook his head vigorously.
“English.”
“No.”
“Then I suggest you get busy with your reading assignment in the workbook. You stumbled on the oral reading. You don’t want to fall behind.”
Charlie hunkered down at his desk. “Yes, Teacher.”
Once again Leesa returned to writing the questions on the board.
“Chirp, chirp, chirp.”
She whirled.
Nineteen faces stared back at her. All nineteen were trying not to laugh and not doing a very good job. Molly raised her plump hand as far as her face and pointed behind her other hand as if no one but Leesa could see her.
Leesa followed the trajectory of the third grader’s tiny index finger.
Tommy.
Leesa deposited the chalk on the ledge and brushed the remnants from her hands. Irritation rolled through her in waves. A ten-year-old would not best her. She would not—could not—lose her cool in front of her charges. Stay calm. She strode to his desk and gave him her best teacherly frown. “Do you have something to say? Or maybe sing for us?”
“Nee.”
“English.”
His expression bland, he shook his head. “Nee.”
“Tommy.” She leaned down and put one hand on his desk. “English.”
The wooden top gave way and the entire desk crashed to the ground, leaving Tommy in the seat. Leesa flapped her arms like a prehistoric bird and teetered. She came within a lizard’s eyelash of falling on her scholar.
His eyes wide with feigned dismay, Tommy crossed his arms and shook his head again. “Now look what you’ve done, Teac
her.”
Leesa fixed her fiercest frown on him. “I think you had something to do with it.”
Tommy adopted a hurt puppy-dog look. “I didn’t touch it. You did.”
Breathe. Breathe. If she couldn’t handle this one child, how could she manage an entire classroom?
How would she handle her own children? God willing, one day she would have her own. If it was God’s plan for her. Why wouldn’t it be? Gott?
If this—right now, this place, these children—were His plan for her, could she accept that? Could she do her best?
Pain wrapped itself around her heart and squeezed so hard she could barely breathe. She wanted her own children, but right now these little ones needed her. Particularly this rebellious ten-year-old.
Not taking her gaze from Tommy, Leesa managed a smile. “Scholars, it’s time for recess. Line up and go outside in an orderly fashion.” To her relief, her voice didn’t shake with the anger so fierce it rattled her bones. “Quickly now.”
“But, Teacher, it’s not two—”
“Go.” Leesa cut off Diane’s protest. “You’ve earned a few extra minutes of sunshine.”
She waited until all eighteen happy campers had exited—with much more whispering and giggling than usual.
“Let’s take a look, shall we?” She knelt and examined the desk. All the screws had been removed. “Hmm, all the screws are missing. I reckon that’s your handiwork.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Tommy managed to look hurt. “I was just sitting here.”
“Where are the screws?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s a sin to lie.”
“Well, there’s no Gott, so there’s no such thing as sin.”
The words were like a scythe slicing through Leesa’s skin to the muscle and then bone. “Tommy! You don’t believe that, do you? There is a Gott who loves you and wants to be your Father—”
Tommy’s snort exploded around her. “Like my father who died when I was five? Nee, I don’t want no father.”
Such dejection, such pain, lived in those words. “Gott has a plan for you. To prosper, not harm you.” Platitudes even a child could see right through. Platitudes Leesa had heard over and over again after Ian’s decision to abandon her during one of the worst seasons of her short life. She had survived. So would Tommy. “He brought you here for a fresh start with Henry, who’s a gut man. He will be a gut friend to you.”
