Sinking onto the floor beside Nathan, Ada set a hand lightly on Nathan’s back. At first he shied away, but when she maintained her gentle touch, he stopped wriggling, and his shrieks lowered several decibels. A look of relief crossed Josiah’s face.
“Don’t worry. I can handle him,” Ada assured him.
Josiah didn’t meet her eyes, but the tilt of his head and eyebrows indicated his uncertainty. “I, um…”
The door squeaked open, and Martha peered in. “I came early to help.” With compassion brimming in her eyes, she studied Nathan. “Lukas is out in the buggy with Mamm. He’s afraid to come in with the noise.”
Ach, school hadn’t even started and already Ada’s classroom was out of control. One having a fit on the floor, the other refusing to come in.
Martha, one hand over her mouth, ducked her head. “I didn’t mean…”
“It’s all right,” Josiah said, setting a hand on her shoulder. “You didn’t hurt my feelings.” He lowered his voice. “Or Nathan’s. He can’t hear you.”
Martha giggled at his comical expression. Then she turned toward Nathan. “I can help him.”
A skeptical look crossed Josiah’s face, but Martha didn’t notice it. Her attention was focused on Nathan. She sat on the other side of him and placed a hand on his head. When he didn’t wriggle away, she laid down next to him on the floor, put one arm over his shoulders, and hummed.
Nathan’s cries grew fainter and fainter.
Josiah’s eyes widened. “But he’s deaf.”
Ada stood and placed a finger against her lips to silence him. “He may feel the vibration,” she whispered over the thudding of her heart. Whether the sharp staccato beats of her pulse were from tension over Nathan’s screaming or from her nearness to Josiah, Ada chose not to examine too closely.
Martha continued to hum until Nathan was sobbing quietly. Then she picked him up, cradled him like a baby, and rocked him while she sang hymns. After a few minutes, Nathan emitted a long, shuddery sigh and gazed up at Martha. He lifted a hand, and a look of fear crossed Josiah’s face. He bent over to grab his son’s wrist, but Ada tugged his sleeve and motioned for him to wait.
Nathan reached up and stroked Martha’s cheek. Her beatific smile made her look like an angel. Nathan returned it with a watery half smile. A frown creased his brow as he studied Martha’s face, first touching her lips, next her cheeks, then her throat, as she sang. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pursed his lips and screwed up his face. Strange rumbling noises came from his chest.
He was humming.
* * *
A swift, sharp pain sliced through Josiah. Moisture filmed his eyes, blurring the vision of his son and the young girl into a misty watercolor. His son, who fought being touched or held, was cuddling. And making sounds. His first positive ones.
Nathan had always been fascinated by Ruth’s singing, but she’d been unable to sing those last few months. And for the past nine months, Nathan had made no noises other than moans or screams.
His heart overflowing with gratitude, Josiah glanced at Ada, whose eyes were as misty as his. The sunlight streaming through the window turned her hair to spun gold and lit her tender smile. He lowered his eyes before she could read the admiration in them. He should not be thinking like this when he was still in mourning. His mouth dry, he turned his attention back to the miracle unfolding before him.
The bishop’s wife stuck her head through the door. “Is it all right to bring Lukas in now?”
“Of course,” Ada said. “Thanks to your daughter.” She motioned to Martha.
Josiah tore his gaze away from Ada’s sweet smile and forced himself to focus on the bishop’s wife.
Betty Troyer smiled. “I’m so glad she’s doing well as your assistant.”
Assistant? This teen girl was Ada’s assistant? Yes, she’d done a wonderful job calming Nathan, but what if her humming didn’t work the next time?
Josiah cleared his throat. “Do you have other assistants too?”
“Just Martha,” Ada said. “And it looks like she’ll do a wonderful gut job.”
“But—” Josiah snapped his mouth shut on his protest. He didn’t want to hurt Martha’s feelings or her mother’s, and he couldn’t express concern for Ada’s wellbeing.
Ada leaned over to whisper, “It might be best to slip out now while he’s not looking. And please don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”
She was so close her sleeve almost brushed his, and Josiah’s heartbeat tripled. Although it pained him to do so, he stepped away from her and struggled to take a calming breath before he asked, “It’s a half day here too, I assume?”
“We follow the same schedule as the other schools.”
Josiah nodded. As they had when he went to school, the scholars had half days the first week of school so they could help with finishing up summer chores. “I’ll take time off work to get him.” He turned to go, but couldn’t resist one last glimpse over his shoulder. First at Martha, who was still holding Nathan, but she had an arm around her brother too. Followed by a quick look at Ada, who’d knelt and was talking to Martha.
Just then the bishop’s wife glanced over and pinned him with a pointed look. Josiah gave her a quick wave, turned his head, and rushed to the door. He’d spent so long here he’d be late for work if he didn’t hurry, but that wasn’t the only reason for his hasty departure. What must the bishop’s wife be thinking? He swung into the wagon and urged his horse into a trot, but he couldn’t outrace his thoughts.
All morning he struggled to concentrate on his work, but his mind kept straying to the schoolhouse. Images of his son on Martha’s lap. Of Ada’s smile. Of her leaning toward him to whisper. He shook his head to clear it of those pictures. But other ones soon filled his mind. Nathan throwing fits. The other children crying and backing away. The whole room in pandemonium, and Ada slumped at her desk, head in her hands. Worried she’d be overwhelmed and need rescuing, Josiah asked to take off even earlier than planned and promised to make up the time.
He galloped most of the way to the schoolhouse and sprinted to the porch. He paused and listened before turning the handle, but heard no sounds. Easing open the door, he peeked inside. The teacher’s desk had been moved back against the wall. Ada sat on a chair facing the semi-circle of scholars, holding a picture of a cat with the word printed on it. Martha sat on a chair between Nathan and her brother, an arm around each of them. Josiah couldn’t believe his son was sitting still and quiet. That was a blessing. Even more wonderful, he was paying attention to his teacher.
Josiah breathed a sigh of relief. He’d spent the morning fretting. Never could he have imagined he’d arrive to find his son calm and interested in the lesson. He’d expected chaos, but the room was silent, except for one girl who was jerking in her chair, flinging her arms in the air, and spitting out a repetitive duh-duh-duh sound.
Ada said the word cat several times, exaggerating the sounds with her lips. Then she set down the card and, after making a slightly open circle under her nose with her thumb and forefinger, she pulled it out like a cat’s whisker. That must be the sign for cat.
Josiah found himself imitating her movements the way some of the students were doing, including Nathan, although in his hand, he clutched his terrycloth rabbit. The twitching girl copied Ada, but her arms flew up in the air several times while she was executing the sign, and she made strange clicking sounds. Ada smiled encouragingly in her direction, and then smiled at each scholar in turn. Josiah couldn’t see his son’s face when Ada nodded at him, but Nathan straightened up and put his shoulders back as if he were proud. Josiah couldn’t blame him.
A smile like that was a gift. An encouragement to be his best self. Something Josiah prayed he himself could be.
Chapter Four
Ada was bending to pick up another vocabulary card when a rustling in the doorway startled her. She looked up, straight into Josiah’s eyes. Her pulse skittered, and she fumbled the cards. They scattered across the floor, startling
the students.
Lukas shrank back in his chair, and Martha removed her arm from Nathan’s shoulders to draw her brother close. Nathan’s face crumpled, and Ada reached out to pat his knee, hoping he wouldn’t start crying. Emily sat placid, a thumb in her mouth, staring straight ahead, lost in her own world, while Lizzie clicked louder and jumped up from her chair, arms flailing. Will flicked at the brim of his hat, which he’d kept jammed down on his head the whole day. She’d allowed him that stim, which seemed to comfort him. He rocked back and forth in his chair so hard the wooden board attached to the desk legs lifted off the floor and banged down with a crash.
Lukas cried out at the sound, and Martha wrapped her arms more tightly around him. Ada cringed, wondering what Josiah must think. The room was dissolving back into its earlier bedlam. She and Martha had spent most of the morning getting all the scholars calmed and seated. Lizzie’s head jerked to one side, a sign of her agitation. That tic had calmed earlier, and she’d stayed in her seat, but now her head, hands, and legs were spasming.
Nathan reached a hand toward Martha, who glanced at him and then at Ada with a plea for help. Ada wasn’t sure how professional it was to hold a pupil, especially not with his father watching, but Nathan seemed on the verge of tears. Ada picked him up and settled him on her lap, holding him close. He slid a rabbit ear into his mouth and started sucking. His shoulders relaxed as he cuddled against her. The rabbit was working its calming magic again; it had prevented several tantrums earlier today.
Then Ada made the mistake of looking up and meeting Josiah’s startled look. Her whole body stiffened, and Nathan’s forehead furrowed. He tilted his head and stared at her with a puzzled frown, then followed her gaze to the doorway.
When his eyes latched on his father, he shrank back and screamed. Ada jumped, and he slid from her grasp. Nathan clutched and clawed at her. His cries set off Lukas’s howls.
Martha looked at her as if asking permission to take him outside, which she’d done several times earlier to calm him, and Ada nodded. She bent over, struggling to get a grip on Nathan’s writhing body. Her ears hurt from the intensity of his screams. Will clapped his hands over his ears and rocked harder, clunking the chair and desk legs in a rapid rhythm reminiscent of horses’ hoofbeats.
Josiah burst through the door, thundered across the classroom floor, and swooped down to grab Nathan. His eyes apologetic, he hugged his son close to his chest despite the pummeling fists and thrashing feet. “I’m so sorry,” he mouthed before whirling and rushing from the building.
Ada’s shoulders sagged. Could the ending of her first day have been any worse? She stood and put a hand on Lizzie’s shoulder, hoping it might calm some of the Tourette’s tics, and one on Emily’s head. Will’s mother had warned her he hated to be touched, so she kept her distance as he crashed the chair legs up and down. When the rest of the parents arrived, rather than seeing the calm classroom of a few minutes ago, they’d see two boys screaming outside the building, vocabulary cards splayed across the floor, and two upset children inside. Only Emily remained oblivious to the commotion around her. Even David had looked up from his coloring with fearful eyes.
It was all Ada could do not to burst into tears as Lukas’s and Emily’s mothers arrived to pick them up. Before they could collect their children, the schoolhouse door burst open, and Mary Elizabeth, eyes streaming with tears, raced across the floor and hurled herself into Ada’s arms. The collision almost knocked Ada over, and she grabbed the edge of the desk to steady herself.
Sadie raced in right on her sister’s heels. She stopped a moment to catch her breath, then faced Ada. “Mary Elizabeth cried for you all day. She didn’t even stop once. Not even when we were on the playground.” She paused, then added ominously, “Rebecca wants to speak with you.”
Ada barely had time to regain her equilibrium between two screaming scholars exiting and her sisters bursting into the schoolroom before her best friend, Leah, rushed through the door, her eyebrows raised in a question.
“You have two bawling children outside. I hope that means the day went well, and they’re sad about leaving you.”
Ada’s face heated. If only that’s what the commotion had been about. “I wish that were so.”
“You didn’t need to use the first aid kit I packed you, did you?”
“Um, no.” Ada didn’t tell her she’d been so overwhelmed, she’d forgotten to bring it with her. She’d have to remember it tomorrow. At least they hadn’t needed it today. That was a blessing.
“I did wonder if that daed was hurting his son.”
“You mean Josiah? Ach, no, when his son arrived today—”
Leah held up a hand. “Stop by the store tomorrow afternoon to tell me about it. I need to take Lizzie now.” Coming closer to Ada, she whispered, “Her mamm’s in labor.”
Ada nodded. Although her friend usually worked in her family’s health food store, she also often assisted the Mennonite midwife during deliveries. “I’ll pray all goes well.”
Leah swooped down, wrapped a friendly arm around Lizzie’s shoulder, and then ducked as Lizzie jerked and her arms spasmed. “Sorry, Lizzie. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
When the little girl glanced up with puzzled eyes, Leah flashed her a reassuring smile.
“Your mamm sent me to get you,” Leah said. “We need to hurry home. Your mamm will soon have a surprise for you.”
After Leah hurried the little girl out the door, Ada rubbed her forehead. Her own day had been filled with surprises, some gut and many not so gut. If she were alone in the classroom, she would have slumped at her desk, head in hands, but instead she blinked back the dampness in her eyes and straightened her back.
* * *
Josiah flipped Nathan so his son’s back was against his chest, directing his kicks outward and defusing their impact. It was harder to kick backward, which spared Josiah’s legs a battering. He wrapped his arms tightly around his son’s body, pinning Nathan’s arms at his sides so he couldn’t claw or hit, but he couldn’t stop his son’s animal-like shrieks.
Two young girls, one bawling and the other scolding, had brushed past him, ignoring Nathan’s fit. Josiah barely had time to catch a fleeting glimpse of their faces, but the older one, with her golden hair, resembled Nathan’s teacher. They must be her sisters. He hoped they weren’t bringing more trouble; that poor teacher had already had a rough day, and his son had been responsible for most of it.
Josiah sighed. The girls had pulled their pony cart close to his buggy and left the reins dangling. Ordinarily, an untied pony cart wouldn’t be a problem if the animal was well-trained, but Nathan’s screeches might startle even a placid pony.
As Josiah hesitated, unsure whether to approach, a girl hurrying into the parking area slowed and examined him with narrowed eyes. Her wide, generous smile suddenly pinched into tightly pursed lips. An older woman stepping out of her buggy on the other side of the playground stopped and stared.
I’m not hurting him, he wanted to assure them, but from Nathan’s yelling and flailing, what else could they assume but that his son was being mistreated by a cruel parent?
Josiah turned away, but the fury of the girl’s gaze heated his back and flushed his face. With a few long strides, he reached the buggy as she pulled her horse to a halt and jumped out of the wagon. He would put Nathan in the driver’s side to avoid startling the pony, and then go around and tie up the cart.
The girl started walking in his direction. Josiah set Nathan in the buggy and shut the door. His son’s wails rocked the buggy, and the girl shook her head. She pivoted and rushed into the schoolhouse. Rubbing his forehead, Josiah skirted his buggy, heading for the pony cart. As he rounded the buggy, Nathan slammed himself against the inside with an ear-splitting yell. The impact rocked the buggy sideways toward the pony cart.
His own horse, used to Nathan’s rants, only whinnied and stamped, but the pony snorted and shied, turned wild eyes toward the noise, and bucked. Before Josiah could grab fo
r the cart, the pony galloped down the hill beside the school.
“Halt!” he yelled, dashing after the runaway.
Josiah slipped and slid down the slope, choking and sputtering in the dust cloud kicked up by the horse’s hooves. The scorched, dry earth puffed around his heavy work boots as he churned up clods of shriveled weeds and desiccated grasses.
As Josiah thrashed along behind, the pony quickened her gait, flapping the reins against her back, whipping her into a frenzy. Josiah, his lungs burning, spurred himself faster and calculated the arc of the swaying cart. It swung in his direction. Closer, closer…
He’d have only seconds. If he missed…
Closer. Almost.
Now!
Diving forward, arms outstretched, Josiah grabbed for the seat back and hung on. Wind whistled past his face and tore his straw hat from his head, sending it sailing as the pony dragged him along. He dug in his heels and leaned back, struggling to keep his grip on the wood, but the pony tugged harder, sending them hurtling faster downhill, his heavy work boots ripping up divots of earth and grass.
The tip of one boot caught on a rock, mashing his toes and jerking him to a stop. The pony’s forward movement wrenched his arms, and he pinched his lips together to hold back a cry of pain as he was catapulted forward, feet off the ground. Kicking wildly, he struggled to regain his footing as they crossed a narrow driveway at the bottom of the hill. With all his might, he pulled back on the cart and forced his heels down until they touched the ground. His boots slid across the driveway, scattering sprays of gravel.
With one final full-strength tug, Josiah yanked the cart sideways, forcing the pony to veer off course and slow to a trot. Another yank brought the reins flying in his direction. Panting, he grasped for them and turned the pony in a tight circle until she stopped.
Then, hand over hand, he eased his way along the reins until he reached the bridle. All he wanted to do was collapse on the ground to catch his breath and rest his burning muscles. But first he needed to soothe the pony. Her flanks were heaving, and her coat was lathered in sweat.
The Amish Teacher's Gift Page 3
