This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by Rachel J. Good
Excerpt from The Amish Midwife’s Secret copyright © 2018 by Rachel J. Good
Cover design by Elizabeth Turner
Cover illustration by Trish Cramblet
Cover copyright © 2018 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
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ISBN: 978-1-5387-1126-2 (mass market), 978-1-5387-1125-5 (ebook)
E3-20180301-NF-DA
Table of Contents
Cover
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
A Preview of “The Amish Midwife’s Secret”
About the Author
Fall in Love with Forever Romance
Newsletters
To all the parents, teachers, and caregivers of special children
for your long hours, hard work, and self-sacrifice
And most of all, to all the special children who bring so much joy
to their families and the world
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my wonderful Amish friends, who invite me to visit, offer me insights into your lives, and check my books for errors. I’m so grateful for your help.
I especially want to thank the wonderful special needs teachers as well as the Community Care Center teachers and volunteers, who love and care for special needs children. My first tour of the center touched my heart, and when I entered that multi-sensory environment (MSE), I knew I had to include it in a story. The young Amish man in a wheelchair who showed us around answered all my questions, and everyone on the staff was so cheerful and welcoming. Their joy and dedication in providing daycare services to special children and adults was heartwarming.
I hope many people will donate to the wonderful program (Community Care Center, PO Box 65, Intercourse, PA 17534) or attend the benefits. Find out more about the center at http://plaintargetmarketing.com/when-a-community-cares.
Special thanks to my sweet editor, Lexi Smail, and awesome agent, Nicole Resciniti, who made this series possible.
Chapter One
Ada Rupp balanced on her chair and reached overhead to finish stapling the row of alphabet letters across the front of the classroom. Below her, Mary Elizabeth kept both hands clamped on the wooden chair to steady it. Ada smiled down at her sister. She wasn’t sure how much help a six-year-old would be if the chair tipped, but she appreciated her youngest sister’s thoughtfulness.
Placing one hand on the blackboard for support, Ada eased herself to the ground, careful not to snag her skirt hem on the stacks of boxes behind her desk. She’d wait to open the boxes and set out the school books until after tonight’s potluck.
After Ada’s feet were firmly on the newly washed and swept floorboards, her sister blew out a loud breath. Ever since Mamm died a few months ago, Mary Elizabeth had been clingy, but as the first day of school approached, she refused to let Ada out of her sight.
Three of the scholars’ mothers had cleaned the schoolhouse earlier that week, and today five of Ada’s seven siblings had pinned up colorful bulletin boards to decorate the classroom before the singing that evening. Sadie, at age ten, alternated between taking care of the younger siblings and taping words to objects around the room.
“Danke for your help,” Ada said to her sisters and brothers as she strolled around the room to check all the details. “Everything looks wonderful.” She couldn’t have done it without them. Usually a few scholars helped the teacher set up, but with all of her students having special needs, Ada was grateful for her siblings’ assistance. The room was ready, but Ada wasn’t sure she was.
“This was fun,” Sadie replied as she taped up one last sign. “It does look nice, doesn’t it?”
Desks were fanned in a semi-circle around Ada’s desk. Rather than using traditional rows, this would allow Ada to keep a closer eye on all her scholars. Behind the desks, they’d set up rows of chairs for the singing and several tables for the food. Everything was ready—everything except her fluttering nerves.
Drawing in a deep breath, Ada tried to calm the anxiety in her stomach as she went over the list one last time: Lukas and Will—autism; Lizzie—Tourette’s syndrome; Emily—hearing impaired, Down syndrome; Nathan—hearing impaired, tantrums.
Although she’d studied books all summer, ever since the bishop asked her to teach at the special needs school, Ada still felt inadequate for the job. Her only qualification had been knowing sign language to communicate with her five-year-old brother, David. She’d learned quite a bit from her studies, but there was a big difference between book learning and real life. What if she couldn’t help these students?
* * *
As the buggy jolted along the rutted lane, Josiah Yoder glanced over at his mamm. “I’m not so sure this was a good idea.”
Behind them, his six-year-old son, Nathan, ricocheted from side to side, his screeches echoing in the small enclosed space.
“He’ll settle down soon. He always does.” Mamm’s quiet words could barely be heard over Nathan’s screams.
Her reassurance did little to ease Josiah’s concerns. In less than five minutes, they’d be at the schoolhouse, and he’d have to face his son’s teacher. He’d been dreading this evening, and the closer the day came, the higher his anxiety spiked.
<
br /> When Bishop Laban Troyer recommended this school, he mentioned this was the girl’s first year of teaching. Josiah would have preferred someone more experienced, someone who could handle Nathan’s acting out, rather than a nineteen-year-old new teacher. The next nearest special needs school was more than ten miles away if his son proved too disruptive. He’d worry about putting his son on a school bus, but he wouldn’t have time to take Nathan there in the mornings before work, which meant his son would have to be homeschooled. Josiah couldn’t ask Mamm to do that. Josiah, Nathan, and Mamm had moved from Ohio to Lancaster two weeks ago so Mamm could help his older sister Linda with her restaurant. From five until ten every morning, Mamm baked desserts for the seasonal menu. Caring for Nathan in addition to that exhausted her.
Nathan’s screams decreased to grizzling, an indication he was about to fall asleep. From the time he was an infant, the rocking motion of the buggy had soothed him to sleep. It never mattered how rough the road; even jostling and jouncing worked its magic. Tonight, though, Josiah hoped Nathan would be drowsy and calm, but awake, when they arrived.
“Can you keep him from falling asleep?” Josiah asked his mother. Waking Nathan meant dealing with a growling, grouchy child.
Mamm swiveled her head. “Too late. He’s curled up on the seat with his eyes closed.”
Josiah groaned. Why couldn’t his son have waited a few more minutes?
When they pulled into the school yard, several other buggies were already parked. Josiah urged his horse as far from the others as he could. If Nathan woke, he didn’t want his son’s cries startling the other horses.
After he’d stopped the wagon, Mamm touched his arm. “Why don’t you go in and meet the teacher? I’ll stay out here with Nathan.”
“I don’t want to leave you here alone. He’s hard to handle when he wakes.”
Mamm’s tired smile was meant to calm him, but it only added to his anxiety. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’ll know when he wakes and can come help.”
Unfortunately, she was right. Nathan’s wake-up screams resembled a fire alarm. He and everyone else in the building would know when his son woke.
With a nod of thanks to Mamm, Josiah hopped down from the buggy and strode toward the school building. He’d greet the teacher and hightail it out of there.
Before he reached the door, it swung open. The young woman silhouetted in the doorway looked even more youthful and inexperienced than he’d expected. And if the tension lines around her eyes and lips were any indication, she was extremely nervous. Not the best combination to handle his son’s volatile personality.
She stepped forward and flashed a bright smile that took his breath away. “Welcome. I’m so glad you’ve come. I’m Ada Rupp.”
Josiah blinked and struggled to put together a coherent sentence. “Josiah Yoder. My son, Nathan, will be in your class.”
“Wonderful.” Ada’s mouth was still stretched into a smile, but it lost some of its brilliance, and the tightness around her eyes reappeared as she peered behind him as if searching for his son.
He gave her an apologetic smile. “Nathan’s not with me. Well, he is, but he’s not here.” His neck warmed, and heat crept into his face. He was stammering like an idiot. “I mean, he’s out in the buggy.”
“Please bring him in. Most of the other children are here with their families.”
“He fell asleep on the drive here, and I don’t want to wake him. He’s had a long day.” Although that was the truth, it wasn’t the whole truth, and Josiah squirmed inside. Lying to his son’s teacher would not get them off to a good start. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Actually, I don’t want to wake him because he has, um, outbursts. Temper tantrums, I guess you’d call them. They can be quite violent sometimes. My wife…” He swallowed hard, unsure whether he could keep his words steady.
“I understand.” Ada reached out a hand and laid it on his sleeve as if comforting a child, but his reaction to her touch was definitely not childlike. He jerked away, feeling disloyal to Ruth’s memory.
The teacher’s cheeks pinkened. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
He regretted his hasty reaction. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings. “It’s all right.” His tone sounded gruffer than he intended, and he tried to soften his next words. “I just wanted to introduce myself, but I have to go now.” He started to hurry away.
“Wait,” Ada called after him.
When he turned to face her, she appeared flustered. She hesitated a moment before fluttering a hand toward the buggies. “Would it be all right if I peeked in at him? So I’ll recognize him on Monday?”
Josiah wanted to say she’d have no trouble recognizing him by his ear-piercing squalls, but he held his tongue and only nodded. She’d discover that soon enough. No point in worrying her. She deserved a few more days of peace before school started.
When she stepped off the porch to accompany him, she barely reached his shoulder. Someone that small and slight shouldn’t be alone in the schoolhouse with the scholars, especially not if they were all as troubled as his son. Perhaps he should ask if she had an assistant. Part of him wished he could volunteer for the job of protecting her, but that wouldn’t be acceptable.
When they reached the buggy, Mamm smiled. “I’m Barbara Yoder, Nathan’s grandmother, and you must be the new schoolteacher.”
Ada returned the smile. “Yes, I’m Ada Rupp. It’s very nice to meet you. I came out to see your grandson.” She turned to Josiah.
The blue of her eyes reminded him of Nathan’s crystal-clear ones, and the last rays of sunset illuminated the golden highlights in the hair left uncovered by her kapp. He almost forgot why they’d come out to the buggy. Mentally he shook himself. This was his son’s teacher; he had no business thinking about her looks.
“He’s on the backseat,” he managed to explain.
She stood on tiptoe to peer inside, and her expression softened. “Oh, how sweet.”
Josiah stepped up beside her to glimpse what she saw. He didn’t often have an opportunity to view his son like this. Curled up, hugging his green terrycloth rabbit to his chest, eyes closed in sleep, Nathan appeared angelic.
“I’ll look forward to teaching him,” Ada whispered.
Not once you’ve met him, Josiah almost said aloud. Maybe he should warn her, though. How could he in good conscience unleash his son’s furious outbursts on someone so sweet and innocent?
* * *
Ada returned to the schoolhouse, her cheeks on fire. She regretted calling out as Josiah headed across the parking lot. The families in the schoolhouse must have seen her chase after him, but they had no idea his mamm had accompanied him because his buggy wasn’t visible through the windows. Ada hadn’t even started her first day of teaching, and already she’d made a major mistake. Everyone would assume she’d been out there alone with a man—a married man.
Mary Elizabeth hurried toward her. “Where were you?” she demanded.
“Outside meeting one of the scholars.” Ada’s words came out breathless, and she tried to steady her voice. She had to put Josiah out of her mind.
Her sister’s brow wrinkled the way it did before she cried. “I looked all over for you.”
Ada tilted Mary Elizabeth’s chin up and gave her a warning look. “You promised me you wouldn’t cry, remember?”
“I’m not,” Mary Elizabeth insisted, although her eyes were damp and she sniffled.
Ada set a hand on her sister’s shoulder and drew her close. “I’m a teacher now. I have to do my job.” Although her duties didn’t necessarily include trailing after Josiah Yoder and requesting to see his sleeping son. Ada tried not to dwell on that thought. Beside her, Mary Elizabeth grasped a fistful of her skirt and hung on tight.
Another buggy rolled into the school yard. The last scholar. With her sister still clinging to her skirt, Ada held open the door but couldn’t resist checking to see if the Yoder buggy was still visible. All she could see were puffs of dust in the distan
ce.
Betty Troyer emerged from the buggy, holding a foil-covered casserole dish. Pasting a smile on her face, Ada forced herself to pay attention to the newcomers. Bishop Troyer hitched the horse to a post, before helping his sixteen-year-old daughter, Martha, from the buggy. Then Martha, in turn, assisted her nine-year-old brother, Lukas.
Martha’s round face lit with a smile as soon as she spied Ada in the doorway. Holding her brother’s hand and waving excitedly, she limped toward the schoolhouse, and Ada responded with a genuine grin. As usual, Lukas never met her eyes.
“Gut-n-Owed,” Ada said to the family. She also signed it, although with Martha’s hearing aids and lip-reading abilities, she most likely understood the spoken phrase.
Betty followed her children to the porch. “I’m sorry we’re late.” Once her children had gone inside, she lowered her voice. “Lukas was in one of his moods tonight and threw a fit about coming. Martha convinced him to get into the buggy, but he brought his comb. I hope he won’t cause any disruptions.”
“I put two chairs on the other side of the room, away from the crowd. I thought he’d prefer to sit there with Martha, so the singing and talking won’t disturb him as much.”
“Danke. That was a good idea.” A long, slow sigh hissed from between Betty’s teeth. “That way if he starts flicking his finger along the comb, it may not bother others.”
In her studies, Ada had read about stims, the repetitive movements children with autism used to self-soothe. Lukas often ran his fingers along a comb during church services. Stims might not be acceptable in a regular classroom, but she’d allow it in hers. She wanted him to feel comfortable the first few weeks. She’d also set his desk apart from the others to lessen the noise and distraction.
If loud sounds upset Lukas, though, would Nathan’s outbursts be a problem? Perhaps she should have spent more time talking to Josiah to find out about his son’s “temper tantrums,” as he’d called them. No doubt, her conscience warned, that was the only reason you wanted to spend more time with him. Ada recalled his twinkling eyes, his reddish beard, his…
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