Sounds of a scuffle came from the kitchen. “I can do it myself, Sadie,” Mary Elizabeth yelled.
Ada jumped up. “I’ll be right back.”
Josiah rose too. “I should be going.” But he followed Ada to the kitchen, where Mary Elizabeth was trying to wrestle a knife from Sadie.
“Stop!” At Ada’s sharp command, both girls froze.
When Sadie noticed him behind her sister, crimson flooded her cheeks. “I didn’t want Mary Elizabeth to cut herself.”
“I see. That was wise.” Sadie beamed, but Mary Elizabeth glowered.
Josiah couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. He knew what it was like to have older siblings. Somehow the younger ones always landed in trouble.
Ada turned to Mary Elizabeth. “I chopped vegetables when I was your age. There’s no reason why you can’t, but for now, I only want you to do it while I’m supervising. Why don’t you wash the vegetables, and Sadie can chop.”
Mary Elizabeth looked slightly mollified. Then she smiled at Josiah. “Are you eating dinner with us?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been here too long already.” He met Ada’s eyes and her disappointed expression. He felt the same, but if Betty had anyone monitoring their behavior, he needed to leave.
“Yes, we don’t want another reprimand.” Ada turned to her sister. “Can you run up and get Nathan?”
When Nathan came down, David walked him out to the buggy, and Ada helped him into the backseat before Josiah got in. It was such a relief to not have his son screaming.
“Thank you,” Josiah said to her.
“It was a pleasure.” Her broad smile seemed genuine. “Why don’t we plan to do this twice a week? I’ll teach Nathan after school, and then I can share the signs with you when you pick him up?”
“Jah, that sounds good. Do you think we should do a bit at school so Betty doesn’t get suspicious?” He wanted to learn as much sign language as possible, so he could communicate with Nathan. If he were honest, though, spending more time with Ada was also a motivating factor.
“That makes sense. Maybe it would be a good time to review. I have trouble thinking when Betty’s staring at me.”
“I do too.”
Josiah’s heart sang as he drove home. For the first time in a long time, he had hope that he could establish a relationship with his son. They’d come a long way, thanks to Ada. And he’d get to be with her every day.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Here’s what we have planned for the media events.” Lyle Anderson eyed Josiah. “I scheduled everything on a Friday or Saturday, so I don’t want to hear any excuses.” In a falsetto tone, he mocked Josiah, “I can’t miss church.”
Marcus nudged him. “Just ignore him, man.”
“I’m fine,” Josiah assured his friend. Plenty of people made fun of the Amish for their beliefs and old-fashioned dress, so he was used to it. But being singled out or having the whole schedule rearranged to suit him made him uncomfortable. He was grateful, though, they’d eliminated any Sunday plans.
“So here’s the schedule.” Lyle passed out half sheets of paper. “As you can see, this Saturday our publicity department will do a photo shoot of the empty playground and equipment from different angles. Then they’ll take pictures of the crew. You all need to be here at eleven a.m. for that.”
Josiah stared at the paper in his hand, his stomach queasy. He hadn’t realized the publicity department intended to take photos. Should he speak up now or wait and talk to Mr. Anderson privately?
“What’s the matter, man?” Marcus whispered. “You look sick.”
“I can’t do this.”
Marcus’s eyes grew round. “You can’t defy him on this or else…” He sawed his hand back and forth under his chin.
“I know.” Josiah decided approaching Anderson afterward would help the boss save face in front of the crew, but the roiling in Josiah’s stomach increased as the owner detailed the rest of the plans.
Anderson waved his half sheet in the air. “Listen up,” he yelled, staring at Marcus and Josiah. “Friday, we have statewide media coverage for the grand opening. They’ll take pictures of the children using the equipment.”
Marcus groaned. “Oh, man.” He closed his mouth when Anderson scowled in his direction, but as soon as the boss looked away, he muttered, “You guys don’t believe in pictures, do you?”
Tight-lipped, Josiah replied with a terse no. Anderson would go ballistic when he discovered the children couldn’t be photographed.
“So remember, Saturday at eleven here at the playground. Wear decent clothes, but something you could work in and your hard hats.” He shot a sour look at Josiah. “And you,” he said, singling out Josiah, “the publicity department wants some individual shots of you with the equipment because this was your idea.” His disgruntled expression made it clear he didn’t agree with their plan.
As the men were dispersing, Josiah whispered a prayer for courage before he approached the boss. “Mr. Anderson, we have a problem with the photo shoot.”
Anderson held up a hand. “You’re not going to blow this. We have it all set to release to media outlets across the country. They even have some TV commercials lined up. The company has put a huge amount of money into this project, so they’re expecting big returns.”
Josiah clutched his suspenders. “The Amish don’t believe in having their pictures taken. So neither the children nor I can be at the photo shoot.”
“I don’t care if you’re in the pictures or not,” Anderson said through gritted teeth. “But those children had better be there.” He got into his pickup. “That’s all I have to say.” He slammed his door, cutting off Josiah’s protest.
“They won’t be.” Josiah stood staring after the pickup as it zoomed away. He had to find a way to stop the photo shoot.
His first stop on the way home from work was Ada’s house. Protecting her and the children was his main priority.
Ada came to the door, a kerchief tied on her head. She must have been cleaning. Seeing her, all words fled.
“Josiah?” For a moment she stood there as if stunned, then she said, “Come in, come in,” and opened the door wider.
He could do this better if he weren’t facing her, staring at her. He passed her and headed toward the sofa. “I have a problem, a big problem, and wanted to let you know first.”
Ada sucked in a breath and lowered herself into the wooden rocking chair across the room from him. “Nathan? Something’s happened to Nathan?”
She looked so distressed, he wanted to reach out and comfort her, put his arms around her, hold her close. Clenching his hands in his lap, he forced himself to study the rag rug on the floor. “Nathan’s fine. He’s with Mamm.”
“So what is it?” Ada sat on the edge of her chair, leaning forward.
“It’s about the playground,” he started.
“Oh, no, was there an accident?”
“No, everyone’s fine.” Everyone but him, that is. “The company wants to do some photo shoots of the playground.”
“That’ll be nice,” she said. “It’s looking wonderful, and maybe it will help other special schools with ideas.”
“No,” he said, his voice tight. “They don’t want to just shoot the equipment. They want pictures of the children using it.”
Her sharp indrawn breath increased the ache in his chest. He should have taken more time to find out the company’s plans before he submitted the application.
“I’m heading over to talk to the bishop now. The company intends to send photographers to the school next Friday.” Josiah stood. “I’ll stop back to let you know what the school board suggests.”
“Why don’t I go with you?” Ada suggested.
As the teacher, she should be there. But Josiah hesitated. Sitting so close to her in the buggy would be torture. A torture he longed for but needed to avoid. “Maybe we should drive separately.”
“Jah, of course.” Ada appeared as flustered as he was. “Let me
tell Sadie, and I’ll follow you.”
* * *
Ada went in search of Sadie. “I need to go talk to the bishop about the playground,” she told her sister. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but you may need to start dinner if I’m not back in time.”
Her sister grumbled under her breath.
“Please, Sadie, Josiah’s waiting. He has a problem we have to figure out how to solve.”
As soon as Ada mentioned Josiah’s name, Sadie sat up straighter, and her pinched-up expression smoothed out. “If it’s to help Josiah, I’ll do it.”
“I appreciate it.” So Sadie would help Josiah, but not her own sister?
Instead of leaving while she was gone, Josiah had hooked up her buggy and parked it in the driveway behind his. She called out a thank-you, and he waved. As they drove, he slowed at all the turns to be sure she was following. When they reached the bishop’s house, Josiah waited for her to accompany him to the porch.
Betty opened the front door, and her eyebrows rose when she saw the two of them together.
“We need to talk to Laban,” Josiah said.
She looked at him askance. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“It’s about the playground.”
“Oh.” She flushed and stepped back. “Come in and have a seat. He isn’t home yet.”
Ada and Josiah sat on opposite ends of the couch. Betty’s eagle-eyed scrutiny kept Ada from even glancing in Josiah’s direction. She clenched her hands in her lap and concentrated on the pattern of a quilt draped over a nearby chair to avoid thinking about Josiah.
When the bishop arrived, Betty waved in their direction. “Josiah and Ada are here to see you.”
Bishop Troyer took a seat opposite Josiah as Betty exited the room. He nodded at both of them. “So what brings you here?”
Josiah explained about the photos of the playground and the children.
“Ach, vell,” the bishop said, stroking his beard, “we can’t deny them access to the playground or school building because all the equipment belongs to them. It was built with their money and supplies.”
“Right,” Josiah agreed. “And their whole purpose was for an advertising campaign, so not having the children will be a problem. I wish I’d understood more about their plans before I submitted the application.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Ada blurted out. She wished she could erase the lines around his eyes and mouth. That led to a desire to glide her fingers along his strong cheekbones, to stroke his beard…Ach.
“I thought,” Josiah said, “you and the school board might give the children a day off that Friday.”
Laban leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t want one school to have a day off and not the other.”
Forcing her thoughts from the softness of Josiah’s beard to the conversation, Ada said, “Most schools take field trips to visit other classrooms. Could my students visit the other school that day?” The thought of taking trips with her scholars had never occurred to her. They were only beginning to adjust to the classroom, which meant they might have meltdowns in a new environment.
Bishop Troyer tapped a finger against his lip. “Hmmm…That might work. I’ll contact Rebecca.”
Ada regretted her hasty suggestion. “I should have thought about Rebecca and the disruption to her school day.”
“I’m sure she’ll be happy to help. Most of your students have brothers and sisters in her classroom who can assist.” The bishop smiled at Ada. “A good solution to our dilemma, but”—he turned to Josiah—“that doesn’t solve your company’s advertising problem.”
“I know.” Josiah leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “I’d better contact them to let them know.”
“That would be wise.” Laban rose. “I’ll speak with the school board and talk with the parents.”
The next morning at work, while Josiah explained the situation to Ralph, Marcus passed them and stopped short.
He swatted Ralph on the arm. “Man, you look like you’re about to toss your cookies.” He gave Josiah a questioning look and flicked his head in Ralph’s direction. “You say something to him to make him look so sick?”
Ralph only groaned.
Then Marcus studied Josiah. “Actually, you don’t look so good yourself. You OK?”
“It’s the photographs,” Josiah muttered. “I need to let the advertising department know our schoolchildren can’t be photographed.”
“Oh.” Now it was Marcus’s turn to look worried. “That bites. Wish I could help.” He gave Josiah’s shoulder a squeeze and walked on past. A few yards away, he halted and turned to Josiah. “Here, man.” Marcus tossed him a cell phone. “You can use my phone to call.”
Josiah caught it. “Thanks.”
Ralph dug through an accordion folder stashed behind the backseat of his truck. “I’m guessing you don’t want to call Lyle direct.”
Josiah winced. “I’d rather not. Is there someone in advertising I can talk to?”
“Here ya go.” Ralph handed him a tattered paper. “This is a list of all the departments at corporate.” He tapped a finger on a number. “Want me to read it to you?”
“Could you put it in for me?” Some of the men in his community secretly used cell phones, but Josiah never had.
Ralph snorted. “You don’t know how to use one of these?” He tapped the screen multiple times, then held it to his ear. “It’s ringing. When you’re done, hit this.”
Josiah nodded and pressed the phone to his ear. When a voice answered, he stammered out his problem. They connected him with someone else, who passed him on to another department. Josiah listened to tinny music while he waited. It was a wonder Englischers got anything done if they spent all this time waiting. Better to do it the Amish way—face to face.
By the time he finally spoke to the person in charge of the project, he’d almost forgotten why he called, and he’d lost an hour of work. The man spent the first few minutes yelling and threatening, but when Josiah returned a soft answer for wrath, the advertising executive calmed down.
“We need kids,” the executive insisted. “Amish kids. That was the hook we used to reel in the media. It’s a big part of our SEO.”
Josiah had no idea what SEO was, and the word hook made it sound like the man was going fishing, but Josiah could see how advertising was like fishing. Both had the same goal: to trap the unsuspecting.
“Are you still there?” the man demanded.
“Yes, I am. I’m so sorry to upset your plans.” Josiah wished he could suggest an easy solution to the problem. “But we can’t allow the children to be photographed.”
“I get it, I get it. It’s just that I didn’t need another headache with this project.” He was silent for a moment. “We’ll have to hire models. Borrow or buy clothes.”
Josiah didn’t know how the bishop would feel about loaning clothing to Englischers who didn’t follow their faith. It seemed a mockery of their religion. But he couldn’t stop the advertising executive from purchasing clothing from local resale stores to dress up children. Would the community be upset with him for the false advertising?
“Josiah?” the man said. “Thanks for the heads-up. We’ll run way over budget on this. Costumes, model fees, and who knows what else.” He blew out a breath so loud it hurt Josiah’s ear. “But at least we won’t get there to find a deserted building.”
Josiah apologized again before hanging up.
“Everything OK?” Marcus asked when Josiah returned the phone.
“I guess. I’m not sure the bishop will appreciate Englisch models impersonating our community in front of the school building, but I imagine he’ll say we can’t judge others.”
And thankfully, when Josiah told Laban later that day, he echoed Josiah’s words.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Josiah pulled into the schoolhouse parking lot on Thursday afternoon, hoping to catch Ada before she took Nathan and David home. Gut. She was still here. He
strode to the door and knocked to alert her to his presence before opening it a crack.
“Josiah?” Ada pressed her clasped hands against her chest. “You startled me.”
No doubt that explained the pinkness of her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I knocked to let you know I was here.” Josiah clutched at his suspenders to keep from reaching out to soothe her. Soothing her is all you had in mind?
“What are you doing here?” Ada shot him a questioning look.
Hoping to see you, spend time with you. Josiah tamped down his wayward thoughts. “I, um, need the key to the schoolhouse for the photo shoot tomorrow.” He could have asked Laban for the key, but he’d make any excuse to see her again.
“The key?” Her voice almost squeaked.
Had he frightened her that badly? “I need the key so I can let the media inside for pictures.” He had an ulterior motive, but he wanted to surprise her. He’d already cleared it with the bishop.
“I—I wasn’t sure if they’d be coming inside, so I’ve been redding up.” Ada turned her back and gathered her cleaning supplies.
She brushed past him on the way to the cloakroom, and Josiah gripped his suspenders even tighter and fought the overwhelming urge to take her in his arms.
“Yes, they’ll be coming inside.” When she passed the cardboard boxes he’d helped her bring in earlier in the week, he asked, “Should we move the cardboard hideaway into the cloakroom?”
Her voice muffled, she said, “I guess that would look better for pictures.”
He couldn’t tell if his suggestion had hurt her. He hadn’t meant to, but he did need the boxes out of the way for his surprise. “It’ll make more room. I have no idea how many reporters will come.”
“True.” Ada emerged from the cloakroom with her hair smoother, her kapp straighter, her skirt brushed clean of dust, and her cheeks even rosier.
Josiah wished she’d preened for him, but she most likely would have done it even if he hadn’t been here. “Let me help you with that,” he said as she dragged the boxes across the floor.
The Amish Teacher's Gift Page 20
