Brightest and Best

by Newport, Olivia

  Ella righted the bookcase. Rachel knelt beside Lindy and pushed up the woolen trousers to examine the injured ankle.

  “I’ll never get used to seeing you in men’s trousers,” Rachel said.

  “I only wear them when I work.” Lindy winced under Rachel’s touch.

  “It’s already swelling,” Rachel said. “Do you have ice in that English kitchen of yours?”

  “The ice man was here just yesterday.” Lindy exhaled.

  Ella stepped around Rachel to the other side of Lindy. “We’ll help you up and into the house.”

  Gingerly, they got Lindy to her feet. Immediately it was clear she guarded the ankle against her own slight weight as she leaned on Rachel and Ella.

  “We’ll go slowly.” Ella glanced toward the open workshop door. A flash of blue, on the sidewalk in front of the house, made her blink twice. The man moved out of view.

  Why would he come back?

  “What is it?” Rachel said, following Ella’s gaze.

  “Nothing,” Ella said. Lindy was hopping at a painstaking but tenacious pace, and Ella would not suggest they should now follow a distraction from her care.

  Ella was sure it was the same man. She didn’t recognize him, but she would know him if she saw him again.

  Gideon regretted the action as soon as he put it in motion, but it was too late to stop the hay from tipping off the end of his pitchfork in the loft onto the man standing below him in the barn the following day.

  Deputy Fremont sputtered. “Are you looking to give me a reason to issue an additional violation? I will write up as many fines as you’d like to pay.”

  “I doubt it’s a crime against the state for a man to move alfalfa hay into his own stalls,” Gideon said. He may have regretted the action, but he had not yet repented of the sentiment.

  “I’ll ask you again to come down,” Deputy Fremont said.

  “As you can see, I’m busy.” Gideon stuck the pitchfork into a broken bale but restrained himself this time.

  “You’re going to want to look at this closely.” Fremont picked hay out of his uniform.

  Gideon doubted that.

  Fremont waved a paper. “Apparently our last communication two weeks ago was not sufficiently clear. Rather than put your boy in school, you took your girls out.”

  Gideon wiped perspiration from his forehead with one sleeve. “It was clear enough.”

  “Then it was not sufficiently persuasive.”

  “There’s a bench along the tack wall,” Gideon said. “You can leave it there.”

  “Whether you look at it now or later, it’s not going to change.”

  “I didn’t expect it would.”

  The deputy stomped across the barn, found the bench, laid the paper down, and dropped a worn rein on top of it. Gideon threw down a generous shower of hay.

  Fremont left the barn door wide open. Gideon waited for the sounds of the automobile engine coming to life and tires spitting gravel before he climbed down the ladder.

  The fine was much stiffer this time—no slap on the hands. He was penalized for each child separately, and now he had three truant children rather than one. He scratched the top of his head while making mental calculations. He did not yet know the market price he would receive for the portion of his harvest that he did not need to keep for his own family and animals. Some of the repairs he planned to make over the winter might have to wait. His children were worth the price.

  For others, though, the choice might be more difficult. The Hershbergers already were heavily mortgaged. Fines for four children would be beyond John’s means. And Isaiah? Chester? Gideon was not sure.

  The lessons were finished for the day, and the girls had gone to the dawdihaus to cheer up Miriam, promising to heed Ella’s warning not to be rambunctious. They could offer to read to Miriam, Ella had suggested, or ask her to tell a story about when she was their age, but they were not to ask for cookies or a game. Stew was on the stove, and corn bread cooled on the counter.

  Ella debated looking in on Miriam. She seemed more rested than she was a week ago and unlikely to accept coddling for much longer.

  The back door opened, and Gideon came in.

  He glanced around. “Where is everybody?”

  “Tobias is in the barn with James, and the girls are with Miriam,” Ella said.

  A silly grin crossed Gideon’s face. “Good.” He leaned in to kiss her on the mouth, something he never did when the children were within sight.

  She would never tire of the taste of him.

  “Let’s go for a ride,” he said.

  Ella tossed the dish towel in her hands onto the table and reached for her shawl.

  “What will you do about the fines?” she asked as the buggy rumbled onto the main road.

  “Pay them,” he said.

  “You can’t just keep paying fines,” Ella said. “They’re sure to get steeper.”

  “I have a plan.” Gideon clicked his tongue to speed the horse. “Did James get into town to check on Lindy today?”

  Ella nodded. “The doctor says it’s only a bad sprain. Lindy needs to stay off her feet for a few days.”

  “Then it will be handy to have David around,” Gideon said. “I hope he’s helping with the chores around the house.”

  “Rachel wishes he would come home, and I don’t blame her. Someone has broken into Lindy’s shop twice. How is Rachel supposed to know David is safe? Lindy could come, too. I’d be happy to help look after her.”

  “But David won’t come home, will he? Not unless Jed agrees to let him go to school.”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s better that he is with Lindy for now.”

  “I don’t understand why anyone would want to hurt Lindy—twice.” Ella exhaled. “Rachel is organizing meals. James will make deliveries.”

  “Good.”

  She leaned forward, realizing Gideon’s route. “Are we going to the new school?”

  Ella hadn’t seen the construction since it was hardly more than framing. The Mast farm was far enough off her usual routines that she did not cross their fields often.

  A few minutes later, Gideon eased the rig to a stop in front of the one-room school and helped Ella out of the buggy. He held open the door to the building. Even in the waning afternoon, windows channeled light inside.

  “The blackboard is up!” Ella said.

  It was pristine, still rich in its slate hues, unclouded by layers of chalk smeared across the surface. Desks were lined up in precise rows, not yet subject to the jostling of squirming children. Three different sizes bore witness to the mixed ages the room was meant to serve. The simplicity and efficiency of the space beckoned beauty.

  “All we need is an Amish teacher,” Gideon said, “and I think I know someone who would do a wonderful job.”

  Ella’s eyes widened. “You can’t mean me.”

  “Of course I can.”

  “I haven’t even got my legs under me with the girls. I wouldn’t know what to do with an entire school.”

  “Of course you would. You’d figure it out, just the way you figure everything out.”

  “It wouldn’t be legal,” Ella said. “I’m not qualified.”

  “Let me figure out that part.” Gideon took both her hands. “Just tell me you’ll think about it. And it would only be temporary. I’ll correspond with the teachers college and impress upon them the urgency of finding a suitable candidate as soon as possible.”

  CHAPTER 24

  No, you are not going to work today.” James could be adamant when he chose to be. “I brought strudel, with biscuits and pot roast for later.”

  “Aunti Miriam’s pot roast?” Lindy’s face brightened. “With mashed potatoes, peas, and gravy?”

  “That’s right. Enough for you and David to eat two or three times.”

  “Just like she used to make on Sundays, but it’s only Saturday.”

  James had tried to persuade Miriam to prepare something simpler, but she brushe
d him off and began peeling a mound of potatoes. James adjusted the pillow under Lindy’s swollen ankle.

  “Tomorrow Mrs. Borntrager will bring a roast chicken,” he said, “and the day after that Mrs. Mast has in mind a casserole.”

  “Did you arrange all this?”

  “Rachel did,” James said.

  “I suppose everybody knows David is staying with me.”

  “You know how it is.” James handed Lindy a mug of steaming coffee. “Word gets around on the Amish farms.”

  Lindy looked down into the dark liquid. “I suppose she came on Thursday to make sure David is all right. Now she’ll think I can’t take proper care of him.”

  “A better question is whether he’s taking proper care of you.” James moved Lindy’s crutches within reach of her chair.

  “David’s already cleaned up most of the mess in the workshop,” Lindy said. “He’s out there now, trying to cut pieces for birdhouses. I had customers waiting for the ones that …”

  “Your customers will understand,” James said. “You need rest. No work.”

  After extracting a promise that Lindy would remain in the house and not try to hobble out to the workshop, James returned to his wagon. He let the horse clip-clop slowly while he worked his jaw from side to side, thinking. Rachel and Ella had insisted Lindy telephone the sheriff’s deputy to see the wreckage in the shop for himself, but his examination had not gone beyond a cursory inspection. So far Deputy Fremont had not seemed compelled to investigate.

  James took firmer control of the reins and steered the rig toward Main Street, where he parked in front of the local sheriff’s office and went in.

  Deputy Fremont looked up. “Mr. Lehman, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right,” James said. “I’m here to make an inquiry on behalf of my niece, Lindy Lehman.”

  Fremont reached for a folder at one end of his desk. “Simple breaking and entering.”

  “Don’t forget that Lindy was physically harmed,” James said. No doubt the English had a word for a crime in which someone was injured. “Do you have any suspects?”

  Fremont shrugged one shoulder. “Not much to go on.”

  “Ella Hilty saw a tall man wearing a blue shirt and dark trousers,” James said.

  “That describes half the men in Seabury.” Fremont scanned James from head to toe. “Probably all of the Amish farmers as well.”

  “Why would an Amish man break into Lindy’s shop?”

  “Why indeed?”

  Heat flashed through James’s neck. “You are going to look for this man, aren’t you?”

  “As I said, there’s not much to go on. Perhaps if there’s another crime that fits the same pattern, we’ll have more information to work with.”

  The same pattern? Lindy’s shop had twice suffered wreckage. Another episode in the same pattern would put her at risk a third time.

  “I have other pressing matters,” Fremont said. “Perhaps if your people would abide by the law and send their children to school, Seabury would return to being a peaceful town.”

  James swallowed his response. The smirk on the deputy’s face made James wish he had a bale of hay to pitch down on his head.

  Ella spotted David approaching from the corner on Monday after school and slowed her movements so she would be pulling the stew of chicken and potatoes out from under the buggy bench just as he reached Lindy’s property line. She made sure to catch his eye.

  “Hello, Ella.” David shifted his books, hanging by their leather strap, to the other shoulder.

  “You look well.” Ella focused on the details Rachel would want to know. His face retained its round shape with color perched high on his cheekbones. In fact, David looked better than Ella had seen him since he first moved to the Hilty farm a year ago.

  “Everything is fine,” David said. “That’s what you can tell Mamm.”

  “Why don’t you tell her yourself? Better yet, come by and show her.”

  David’s head turned toward the clatter in the tree in Lindy’s front yard. “Barn swallows,” he said.

  “They won’t be around much longer,” Ella said, eyeing David. “I’ll miss them.”

  “The school library has a book about winter birds. I might check it out.”

  “I’d like to see it,” Ella said. “Bring it when you come by.”

  David’s gaze rotated back toward Ella. “You know I can’t do that.”

  “Of course you can. We all want you to … visit.”

  “I offered to help on Saturdays. Your daed made it clear I needn’t come.”

  Ella exhaled softly. “Your mamm wanted to see you the day Lindy got hurt. That’s why we came.”

  “It’s good you were here. Gottes wille.”

  “Yes.” She paused. “Rachel seemed unsure where you were, though.”

  They had called the doctor and waited with Lindy until he came. Then the sheriff’s deputy came for a disinterested look around. And all the while, Rachel festered over why David had not come straight home from school that day.

  “I was bird-watching,” David said. “I told Lindy. She probably forgot because of everything that was going on.” He let his bundle drop off his shoulder, unstrapped it, and pulled a sheet of paper from between the pages of a book.

  Ella admired the sheet. “It’s a brown thrasher. Did you do this drawing?”

  The muscles around David’s mouth twitched in a suppressed grin. “Does it really look like a brown thrasher?”

  “I recognized it, didn’t I?” The head was slightly elongated and the angle of the wings not quite right, but David had captured perfectly the downward angle of the beak and placement of the yellow eyes, along with dark spots on the white breast.

  “It’s the first time I tried sketching one. That’s why I remember it was that day. When I got home, Miss Simpson from across the street was sitting with Lindy.”

  “Miss Simpson was kind enough to look after Lindy when Rachel and I needed to go home.”

  “I’ve already been over to thank her.”

  The stew pot grew cumbersome in Ella’s hands under a wave of guilt. She knew the church’s position on high school as well as David did, but somehow she could not bring herself to wish he would give it up.

  “Come and see your mother,” she said quietly.

  “That would only cause her distress when it was time for me to leave.” David buckled his books together again.

  “What about church? We’ll be at the Garbers’ next time.”

  He met her gaze. “You know what that would be like.”

  Stares and whispers. Side glances. Heads shaking in sympathy and then bowed in fervent prayer for Rachel and her rebellious son.

  “There’s Lindy now,” David said.

  Ella looked up. Lindy stood framed in the front door, light from within outlining her form bent over two crutches. Ella followed David to the door.

  Margaret sat on the front porch with an untouched slice of cherry pie in her lap and her fork slack in her fingers. She looked in both directions down the quiet street. A week after coming home and finding a sheriff’s car parked in front of Lindy’s house, Margaret remained unsettled. Locking her doors at night and when she was away from the house, which she had never done since arriving in Seabury, was insufficient assurance that the vandal would not return to the vulnerable block. Every evening, as she checked on Lindy and scanned the neighborhood, she saw nothing to alarm her, but she could not shake off images of Lindy’s white face that night.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Gray said, his plate already cleared of all but the slightest indication of what it had held.

  Margaret scraped her fork along an edge of pie crust. “I’m still thinking about Lindy. Deputy Fremont doesn’t seem to have done anything to make sure it won’t happen again to someone else.”

  “You’re safe,” Gray said.

  “I’m sure Lindy thought she was safe.”

  “But she took in that boy.”

  Margaret raised he
r eyes from her pie plate to Gray’s face, shadowed just outside the feeble beam of the porch light. “What do you mean?”

  “She took in that Amish boy.”

  “He’s her best friend’s son, and he wanted to go to school.”

  Gray shrugged. “It’s a warning.”

  “A warning! That’s ridiculous.” Heat fired up the sides of Margaret’s neck.

  “It’s best if folks stay out of the Amish problem.”

  “I wish people would stop calling it that!” Margaret set her plate on the side table with too much force, and the fork clattered to the porch floor.

  “Whoever broke into Lindy’s shop wants her to stay out of the business of what happens with the Amish.” Gray gently lifted Margaret’s hand and wrapped his long fingers around it.

  No matter what Margaret’s mood, when he did that, yearning shivered through her. A man’s touch. A husband. A family. A future.

  “It’s a matter for the sheriff,” Gray said. “It’s better if everyone leaves it be. Then there won’t be any trouble.”

  “David Kaufman is a perfectly nice young man,” Margaret said. “Why should anyone think he would be trouble?”

  “He belongs at home with his parents,” Gray said, as if it were obvious.

  Margaret flushed, uncertain whether the sensation rose from fury at Gray’s words or the touch that made her tingle.

  “I’m glad,” Gray said, “that you’re not in the middle of that business anymore. I can rest more easily knowing there is no reason anyone should target you.”

  “They’re children,” Margaret said. “I still have Hans Byler in my class.”

  “Do your job,” Gray said, “but there’s no reason to be personally involved.”

  “It’s my job to care about the welfare of my pupils.”

  “You wouldn’t be the excellent teacher you are if you didn’t care,” Gray said. “But sometimes you have to draw a line. Let the authorities handle this. The fines should bring all the families in line.”

  Margaret’s heart sank a fraction of an inch. How could a man whose hands and lips made her go soft at the center also spike distaste at the back of her throat?