by Kelly Long
“Sure . . . oh, sure.” He got out of the squad car and opened the back door. “Come on out, now.”
Tom Granger’s teenage son slid first from the seat, blinking from the snow glare. Kate Zook followed, her hair undone, and dressed in Englisch clothes. Jacob and the Bishop exchanged a brief glance.
“If you don’t mind, Officer Mitchell,” the bishop said, sliding from the cutter, “I’ll have you give me a ride over to the schoolhouse and you can let us off there.”
“Oh, yes . . . surely.”
Jacob stared straight ahead for a moment, then turned back to look at Granger’s son. “I’ll take the boy home in the sled.”
Officer Mitchell nodded with relief. “Great. Thank you so much. I didn’t fill out a report. Just figured they were kids up to some mischief is all. Not a lot to do around here for fun in the winter.” He went around to open the car door for the bishop, then hustled Kate back inside. He waved as they took off, leaving Jacob and Tom Granger’s son alone.
“Gonna get in?” Jacob asked after a minute. The boy wore a jean jacket and dark pants, but no hat or warm coat. He was tall and thin, probably about seventeen, with bleached blond hair and a sullen expression.
“No . . . no thanks, mister. If I go home, my dad’ll beat me. Plain and simple. I’ve had enough of it. He told me to get out and I’m out. So, you just drive on to your nice Amish life where everything’s perfect.” He jammed his hands inside his pockets and glared at Jacob. “Did you ever stop to think that if you pressed charges I might have had a warm bed in jail tonight?”
Jacob closed his eyes briefly against the boy’s words. To seek jail as a refuge. Images of the comfortable bed at his mamm and daed’s house came to him. Even the floor of his new home sounded better than what the boy had. He took a deep breath. “It’s not our way to press charges; we’re called to forgive.”
The boy snickered and scuffed at the ground with a dirty sneaker. “Well thanks a lot, buddy. Forgiveness is doing me a bunch of good right now.” He hunched his shoulders against the wind and turned to walk away.
“I stole a horse from your father.”
Jacob watched him stop and then look back.
“What?”
“I stole a mare from your dad. He shot me as I was trying to get away. I married a girl to help cover it up. My mother-in-law tried to kill herself on Christmas day. And I can’t read or write much.”
The boy took turned and took a step nearer the sled. “You must be one crazy Amish guy. I thought you people’s lives were perfect.”
Jacob nodded. “Yeah, my perfect Amish life. You think you’re the only one with problems and who makes mistakes, well . . . hiya, I’ve been doing it for a good long while.”
“Yeah, but you’re big. I bet no one ever beat you.”
“No, you’re right. But I beat myself up a lot inside.”
“It’s not the same.”
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“So, you’re of age.”
“My birthday was yesterday.”
“Why are you still at home if this is going on?”
“I just got kicked out, remember?” He eyed Jacob as though he was dumm.
“Why aren’t you working?”
“Who’s gonna hire Tom Granger’s son around here? It’s all Amish, just about.”
“I’ll hire you. What’s your name?”
The boy gave a rueful shake of his head. “Tom Jr. I hate it.”
“I’ll call you Tommy. My brother and I run a horse-breeding outfit. Do you treat horses like your father does?”
“No. I . . . I used to cry when I was a kid and he whipped them.”
“Fair enough. You come work for me and my brother for a year, sleep in the barn, keep things straight—you’ll have food in your belly and a warm place to lie down at night. Oh, and my wife’ll probably try to further your education; she’s the teacher hereabouts.”
“Then, it was her school that we . . . Why would you help me?”
“Get in. We’ll go together and tell your father.”
The boy clambered into the sled and Jacob tossed him a lap robe.
“I’m Jacob Wyse, and I’m helping you because I owe your father a debt in a way, and because I’ve got to live out my faith in what I do for it to be real—even if it means I make mistakes sometimes.” He started to turn the sled and smiled. “But I promise that helping you is no mistake.”
The boy was quiet for a moment, then spoke with grim enthusiasm. “No matter what you owe him, getting my father to agree to all this is going to be one ugly fight.”
Jacob smiled. “We’ll see.”
Half an hour later, Jacob, standing in front of Tom Granger, had to admit the boy knew his father’s temperament well.
“I know you for who you are!” The older man scoffed as he studied Jacob’s face. “Beard or no beard. You’re the horse thief.”
“That’s right,” Jacob said calmly. “And I’ve told your son all about it—with the exception of the price I paid for the mare.”
Granger’s face turned beet red as he glanced to where Tommy sat in the sled. “Well, you let the boy come up here and explain what you’re offerin’ to me. He’s got an obligation to his family, to work around here, not for some stupid Amish!”
“He says you beat him.” Jacob’s voice was level. “And that you kicked him out. How can you speak of family obligation?”
“You mind your own business, that’s what!”
“What exactly is the problem, Mr. Granger? Why the anger? The hatred? The bitterness is destroying you and your family. If you like I could—”
“You could what?” The irate man stared at him as if truly waiting for an answer. A moment later he gave a bark of laughter. “Whatever you think you could do I’m sure would be a real interesting idea. You go on now, and take that worthless boy with you. He’s no longer any son of mine!” He turned and slammed the door and Jacob eased off the porch with a sigh, having no doubt that Tommy had heard every word.
He climbed into the cutter with his shoulder and head throbbing distinctly, but he smiled at the boy’s pale face. “There. Not so bad.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Hang on, kid,” he murmured as he turned the sled away from the farmhouse. “Just hang on.” And he began to pray that the Englisch boy might have the hope of a different life.
Lilly finished a lesson on modern geography, grateful that the world globe had only been dented and not damaged beyond repair. She was just about to have the students line up to wash their hands from the large thermos of water she brought every day when a knock sounded on the door.
The children stilled in their seats. Lilly knew how they felt. She was still a little on edge after the morning’s happenings. She went to open the door and was surprised when Kate Zook entered, her eyes downcast, followed by the bishop.
“We’ve someone here to help with the cleaning when class is done, Mrs. Wyse.” The bishop said softly.
Lilly took in the smeared eye makeup and the bright paint stains on her clasped hands. Quickly, she pulled her cloak from its nail and covered Kate’s Englisch clothes, reaching gently to tuck her long hair in at its collar.
“John,” she called over her shoulder. “Please bring me a damp cloth.”
The boy obeyed, looking at his schweschder but saying nothing. Then he went back to his seat.
Lilly lifted the cloth with tenderness to the younger girl’s face. At first Kate stiffened, but then gave a faint sob as Lilly continued to remove the makeup, revealing the fresh skin beneath. Then she put her arm around the girl’s shoulders and led her forward. The bishop followed.
“Boys and girls,” Lilly began, “Kate Zook has come to help us clean up a bit. And the bishop has come to hear our lessons. Kate, why not sit here, next to Abel Beiler . . . and Bishop Loftus, please take my desk.”
Everyone was situated and Lilly was about to have a brief spelling bee when Abel spoke up in his mono
tone voice. “She has paint on her hands. The same as the board. And she looks funny.” He stared out the cracked window. “She’s the one who did this.”
Lilly glanced at the bishop, who met her eye with a twinkle in his own and thought fast. Here was a teachable moment, and she must not lose the opportunity.
She wet her lips and clasped her hands behind her back. “Yes, Abel is saying aloud what we’ve all been thinking. That Kate did this to the school.”
“Well, I wanna know why,” Reuben Mast yelled out without raising his hand. “And why don’t she get in trouble for it any. She just has to help clean up. My mamm would tan my hide from here to Lockport.”
“Reuben . . .” Lilly’s tone held a faint note of warning and then she said to the other children: “What Reuben asks is fair. But God’s love and the way He commands us to love one another does not have to do with what’s fair. Love and forgiveness depend on grace, on mercy—those things we cannot see but they may change the world in their giving. It is the Amish way, to go beyond fairness and to think about forgiveness first. Then we can be angry, or hurt, or sad.”
“Well, my mamm don’t think like that . . .” Reuben muttered, and the bishop choked on a laugh.
“Doesn’t,” she corrected. “Actions have consequences. Do you think Kate feels no pain about what she did? No sorrow?” Lilly glanced to where the girl sat with her head bent.
John Zook spoke up against his schweschder. “Maybe she’s just sorry that she got caught.”
“And maybe you, John Zook,” the bishop said, “are tired of all the attention your mamm’s been paying to Kate’s running around, and you’re a mite jealous of the whole thing. And maybe a little angry.”
John’s face flushed. “Jah, sir.”
The old man looked at Lilly. “Sei so gut, go on, Mrs. Wyse.”
“Well, I . . . I just want to remind us all—” She stopped, a motion from the back of the room catching her eye. Abel Beiler had leaned over, gently stroking Kate’s hair with his thin hand.
“She’s crying.” He looked at Lilly. “She needs some loves.” The boy moved to lay himself half over Kate, and the sound of her sobbing became audible.
Lilly’s eyes filled with tears, and the bishop suddenly withdrew a large hankie from his pocket and turned to look toward the cardboard-patched window. Lilly’s gaze swept over her scholars and she waited.
John Zook stood up first and walked back to where his schweschder sat. He awkwardly patted the side of her head where he could reach around Abel. The other students followed; each one moving to touch Kate, and when they couldn’t reach, touching the shoulder of the one in front of them, forming a circle of love about the girl.
Lilly sniffed and turned to look at the old man at her desk. “Bishop Loftus, I don’t think you’ve had the pleasure . . . our new student, Abel Beiler.”
CHAPTER 38
So, how’s your time coming with the Widow Beiler’s boy?” Seth said.
They were exercising two of the horses, having ridden far afield in the lessening snow of early February.
“Why do you always call her the ‘Widow Beiler’ like she’s some crow? The woman’s downright beautiful,” Jacob stated.
“I hadn’t noticed.”
Jacob shot his brother a quick glance and grinned. “You hadn’t noticed? Now, why do I have trouble believing that?”
“Fine. She’s beautiful. All right. So what?”
“Lilly told me she saw you and the widow together and that you looked ‘smitten.’ ”
Seth laughed aloud. “Smitten? Not me, bruder.”
“Well, what were you doing then?”
“Being a good Amish man and helping introduce her around.”
“Why not give her a chance?”
“A chance for what?”
“A chance to let her into that cold, cold heart of yours.”
“I thought my heart was tortured—longing for true love. You can’t have it both ways.”
“I’ve heard she’s a good woman, Seth. You’ve tried everyone else around here.” Jacob threw him a brotherly look—as pointed and sarcastic as his words.
“I’ve told you before; I plan to outrun every scheming woman within a twenty-mile radius.”
“Somehow I don’t see Grace Beiler as scheming for you.”
“Then she’s a wise woman.”
“So, you haven’t thought of her?”
“The only thing I’m thinking of is beating you back to lunch and Mamm’s fried apples ’n onions. Tommy’ll eat ’em all if we’re late. Last one back has to stable both horses!”
Thoughts at school had turned toward Valentine’s Day, and Lilly enjoyed the cheerful heart decorations in the windows and around the classroom. The school board and community had come together for a few hours, along with Tommy Granger and a much subdued Kate Zook, to repair the school. And now, nearly a month later, everything held the fresh scent of new wood and paint. Even the blackboards had been replaced using similarly-sized pieces from a school that was being torn down two valleys over.
At home one evening, Lilly asked her mamm if she wanted to help her make traditional Amish Shatter Candy to give as a treat to the students on February fourteenth. She was happy when her mother agreed.
In truth, Lilly was developing a new way of being with her mamm, finding common ground to talk about things and feeling much closer as they often went to medical or therapy appointments together. The community continued to rally in support, never ceasing to provide companionship and trips away from the house for her mamm while Lilly was at school and Jacob at his family’s farm.
She glanced into the sitting room at her husband as he half-dozed in a chair. In profile, the soft lay of his growing beard only made him appear more handsome, and Lilly had to remind herself not to stare. He worked endlessly long hours, often rising before 4:00 a.m. and not returning home until supper. And last night there’d been two foals born, which meant he’d gotten little to no sleep at all.
Lilly eased the large frying pan atop the stove and spoke in whispers to her mother.
“Remember when we used to make Shatter Candy when I was little, Mamm?”
“Jah. Your favorite part was the shattering. Your daed’s too.”
Lilly smiled. “And I remember that neither of you would let me have more than three pieces until Valentine’s Day. Ach, I’m so glad we can talk about Father without it hurting you so much, Mamm.”
Her mother patted her arm. “It’s probably always going to be hard, but I learned in the hospital to just be in the moment instead of living in the past or worrying about the future.”
Lilly measured out the granulated sugar from the large jar while her mamm poured the corn syrup into a cup. Both sugar and syrup went into the heated frying pan with a cup of water.
“What flavor are you planning?”
“Ach, cinnamon, I guess, for Valentine’s. And I suppose we’ll use the red food coloring.”
Her mamm rummaged in the pantry and returned with the ingredients. The syrup was soon boiling and Lilly pulled up a tiny bit on a spoon to drop into a clear glass of cold water. A soft ball formed.
“Not ready yet,” her mamm advised. “Just a few more minutes though.”
Lilly added the food coloring as the sugar climbed in temperature. Her next spoonful produced brittle threads in the cold water and she quickly drew the pan from the heat. Her mother added the cinnamon extract, stirring rapidly.
“Now the best part.” Lilly smiled as she spilled the syrup onto the greased cookie sheets.
“What’s the best part?” Jacob asked.
She looked up to find Jacob watching with his dark hair slightly messed, easing himself into a chair.
Lilly’s mother laughed. “A man knows when to come to the table.”
“What are you making?”
Lilly drew a heavy ice-cream scoop from a drawer and poised its backside over the cookie sheet. She pounded lightly once and the now hardened candy shattered into a h
undred pieces.
“Shatter Candy!” Jacob exclaimed. “I haven’t had it since I was a kid.”
“And you may only have one piece now. It’s for the children for Valentine’s Day.” She scooped up a warm piece, dusted it with powdered sugar, and absently held it across the table to his mouth. He opened and she popped it in.
“Mmmm,” he said as he nodded. “Wish I were ten again . . . in some ways. In truth, I could do with a primer lesson from my favorite teacher.” Lilly heard the sensuous note in his voice and avoided looking at him while her mamm laughed.
CHAPTER 39
Jacob walked into the nearly empty schoolhouse at 3:15 on the day before Valentine’s and saw Lilly at her desk, Abel coloring busily at his own.
“Ach, Jacob . . . danki for coming. Did Seth mind you leaving work for a bit?”
“Nee . . . it’s all fine.” He was aware that the child had turned to look at him. He slipped off his hat and coat, laying them atop a desk. “Hiya, Abel. Did you see any animal tracks this morning in the snow?”
Jacob enjoyed the time he spent with Abel and had most recently been teaching him things about the woods.
“Jah, Mr. Wyse. I saw rabbit, deer, and chipmunk.”
“Gut eye.”
He held out his hand to the boy and Abel took it, following him up the aisle.
“Well, teacher, today we have a surprise for you.” He exchanged a smile with Abel.
“What is it?”
Jacob half-laughed, knowing what her reaction was going to be to their plan.
“Today the teacher becomes the student. Right, Abel?”
The boy nodded.
“I’ve gotten special permission from Mrs. Beiler for Abel to come over to the horse farm.”
Jacob watched Lilly swallow and couldn’t help himself from studying the delicate line of her throat. “The horse farm?”
“Yep. Today you have your first riding lesson.”
“Oh, but I have so much grading to cover. Maybe we should wait.”
“You’re scared,” Abel said flatly.
Lilly looked at him and sighed. “Yes, I guess I am.”
“Trust God,” he replied, and Jacob watched her cheeks fill with delightful color. Then she nodded.
