The Amish Teacher's Gift

by Rachel J. Good

  “I ordered them from one of the catalogs you showed me. And this table can be used for sand, beans, and water, so”—he knelt and pointed under the table—“you can open it under here to drain the sand or water into this container.”

  Ada longed to kneel beside him to study how it worked, but she didn’t dare get that close. Her heart was already beating double time. Instead, she waved a hand that encompassed all the equipment. “You did all this?”

  “No, no, two of my coworkers helped.” He got to his feet.

  Ada backed up a bit to increase the distance between them. “And your company paid for all this too?” she asked, her voice shaky. The company’s generosity and Josiah’s nearness both overwhelmed her.

  He shuffled, and color crept up his neck and spread across his cheeks. “They paid for some, but most came from another donor.”

  “Who? What a generous gift! I’d like to thank him. Or her?”

  Josiah didn’t meet her eyes. “He prefers to remain anonymous.”

  He seemed to be hiding something, but Ada had no time to find out. “Please convey my thanks. I’ll have the children write thank-you notes. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to deliver them.” She could barely breathe with him in touching distance. They’d been in the schoolhouse together much too long. “We should go.”

  Josiah only nodded.

  As they reached the door, Ada turned for one last look at the newly furnished room. First the playground, now this. Everything she’d dreamed of having for her students. Her eyes blurred. “Thank you,” she whispered, although the words proved inadequate to express all the gratitude in her heart.

  * * *

  Ada’s soft words touched Josiah, constricting his chest in exquisite pain and longing. He forced himself to wrap his fingers around the doorknob, and the cool metal warmed rapidly from the heat of his hand. He determined not to look at her as he opened the door, but as she passed, he lost the battle. Her gaze locked on his, and he drowned in the crystalline blue of her eyes.

  A click startled them. Josiah jumped in front of Ada to shield her from the photographer and held a hand in front of his face. The camera clicked again.

  “Please,” Josiah said, turning his back. “Don’t photograph us.”

  Josiah stood inches away, so close he feared she could hear the rapid staccato of his heart. So close the swift fluttering of her breath lifted the hairs of his beard. So close he could sweep her into his arms. Her wide eyes reminded him of a doe startled by a hunter.

  More clicks propelled him into action. He reached for her and turned her so her back faced the camera. Then sheltering her with his arms and body, he gently guided her into the building and slammed the door.

  Still breathing hard, he released his hold. “I’m so sorry. I thought all the photographers were gone for the day.”

  “Don’t blame yourself.”

  But he did. For this and for her trembling. It was his fault the photographer had startled her like this. “I should never have submitted that grant application without checking all the requirements.”

  “I’m still glad you applied,” she said, her words unsteady. “If you hadn’t, the scholars wouldn’t have all this wonderful new equipment.”

  “That’s true.” But was it worth the problems he’d created? “Why don’t you stay in here, while I try to reason with the photographer?”

  Tilting his hat as far forward as he could and blocking his face with his hand, Josiah slipped out the door and approached the young man. “The photo shoot was this morning.”

  “Yeah, I know. I accidentally deleted some of the photos I took when I tried to send them.”

  “You’re welcome to take as many pictures as you’d like of the playground, but please don’t take any pictures of us or use the ones you’ve already taken.”

  “Aren’t you being hypocritical, dude?” the photographer asked. “You let them photograph the kids this morning.”

  “Those children weren’t…” He’d promised Lyle he wouldn’t tell anyone.

  “Oh, wait a minute, I get it. It isn’t the photos you’re worried about.” The young man leered. “That girl in there isn’t your wife, is she?”

  The question caught Josiah off guard. “No, no, she’s not.”

  “So you’re cheating on your wife?” At Josiah’s shocked look, he continued, “I live around here, so I know what your beard means. You’re married.”

  In truth, Josiah was cheating on his wife, but not in the way the photographer meant. Everything he thought and felt when he was around Ada violated his mourning period. “It’s not like that.”

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say. When someone else does it, it’s evil. But when you do it, it’s somehow different.” He shook his head.

  To justify his actions would be hochmut, but he couldn’t allow Ada to suffer for his mistakes. “Please don’t print any pictures of Ad—the teacher.”

  “Ah, so she’s the teacher. Pretty great set-up you have going.” In a falsetto voice, he mocked, “Sorry, honey, I have to work late on the playground tonight.”

  “That’s not—”

  “Save it.” The young man raised his hand. “Besides, I don’t have any say on which ones they’ll print. That’s the layout department’s call.” He walked off, leaving Josiah buried under a load of guilt.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The next morning when Mamm came home from baking desserts at the restaurant, she marched over to where Josiah was mucking out the horse stalls.

  Slapping a newspaper against her hand, she demanded, “What is this?”

  The rake slipped from Josiah’s hands and clattered against the side of the stall. Pictures of him—and Ada—were splashed across the front page of the local newspaper. Having their pictures taken was bad enough, but what those photos showed was even worse. Ada exiting the schoolhouse while Josiah held the door, their eyes locked. Josiah facing Ada to shield her, making it look as if they were in an intimate embrace.

  “Where did you get this?” Josiah asked.

  “At Linda’s restaurant. I picked up the bundle of daily newspapers she has delivered for her customers, and those”—she stabbed a finger at the offending pictures—“were on top.” Mamm skewered him with a look that demanded an explanation.

  Any explanation he gave would be incriminating. But Ada deserved no blame. “I know what they look like, but our meeting was innocent.” Well, maybe not on his part, but for sure and certain on Ada’s. The angle of the photographer’s shot, though, made it appear they’d both been gazing longingly at each other. Only a trick of the light.

  “Please tell me you weren’t alone in that schoolhouse with her,” Mamm said, “so I can at least stop some of the gossip.”

  “I wish I could say we weren’t.” The nausea in his stomach increased. He’d ruined Ada’s reputation. “I only wanted to show her the new equipment and give back the key.”

  “Oh, Josiah.” Mamm passed a shaky hand across her forehead. “You do realize it’s not quite ten months since…”

  “I know.” His words sounded sharper than he’d intended. He shouldn’t be taking his guilt out on Mamm. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “It’s not you who’s making me upset.”

  His main concern was Ada. Had she seen this yet? If she hadn’t, he wanted to warn her, but going to her house on a Saturday would only add to the gossip. Perhaps not many people would see it. Most of the g’may read the Amish newspaper, Die Botschaft, but some also took the Englisch paper. Those who read the Englisch paper would condemn them both.

  Mamm threw the offending newspaper in the trash, but Josiah fished it out when she wasn’t looking. Alone in his room, he pulled it out and allowed himself to fantasize that Ada gazed at him with the same intensity as he’d stared at her. No wonder the Ordnung forbade photographs, calling them a form of idolatry. Pictures also posed another danger. Josiah lost himself in daydreams of his lips on hers. He forced himself to bury the newspaper under some clothes in his dresser
drawer and tried to forget the images, but they haunted him.

  * * *

  “Ada, Ada, wake up!”

  Still groggy, Ada waved a hand to stop Mary Elizabeth from shaking her and to prevent the images of Josiah from disappearing. She’d spent the last two nights in the dreamland of his arms. They were outside the schoolhouse with no photographer, only Josiah’s arms around her, his head bent close, their lips…

  “We’re going to be late for church!” Mary Elizabeth shrieked.

  With a groan, Ada let the picture of Josiah fade and rolled out of bed. She followed her sister downstairs to rush through breakfast. Then she and Sadie sat the girls facedown at the table one by one to pull their hair back into neat bobs and pin on their prayer kapps.

  Despite their late start to Ada’s morning, they arrived at Leah’s house early, and everyone but Sadie tumbled from the buggy to watch the goats.

  “Don’t get dirty,” Ada warned. “And come inside in a few minutes.”

  With a pained expression, Sadie trudged toward her siblings. “I’ll watch them. I’m sure you’ll want to help Leah get ready for the service.”

  Church benches lined the barn, and only one other buggy stood in the lot. The Troyers’. Ada headed for the house and found Leah and her mother scurrying around the kitchen.

  Instead of her usual cheery smile, Leah frowned when she spotted Ada. “Betty’s waiting in the living room. She wants to speak with you before the service.” From Leah’s pained expression, Betty’s summons wasn’t for a friendly conversation.

  Ada’s stomach roiled as she entered the room, where Betty sat stiff and upright, frowning at a newspaper in her lap.

  “I’m disappointed you didn’t heed my advice.” Betty tapped her fingers on the paper. “If my previous Biblical warning to avoid ‘all appearance of evil’ didn’t influence you, perhaps this one will: ‘Be sure your sin will find you out.’”

  “I—I don’t know what you mean.” Or maybe she did. Betty couldn’t know about the schoolhouse, though, unless…The newspaper? Josiah had asked the photographer not to print those shots.

  “Perhaps this will refresh your memory.” Betty shoved the newspaper under Ada’s nose.

  Oh, no! Ada’s shaky legs refused to hold her. She sank into the nearest chair, the paper rattling in her trembling fingers. She closed her eyes, hoping to block out the images, but every detail of the pictures had been burned into her mind and memory. In the photo, she’d been staring at Josiah as if…Did he see these? How can I ever face him again?

  Betty’s scolding came to her through a haze of shame. Having their pictures in the paper was bad enough, but even worse, the photo had captured her longing. Surely Josiah had seen it. And now, so had the rest of the community. Or they would soon. This paper would circulate through the g’may as rapidly as the gossip.

  Leah poked her head through the doorway. “The service will be starting shortly.” After Betty left, she shot Ada a look of sympathy.

  The women, who congregated in the kitchen before services, had already headed to the barn. Ada hurried from the room before Leah could question her. Then keeping her eyes downcast, she crossed the parking area to gather her siblings. She couldn’t bear to look anyone in the eye as she herded her family together and started toward the barn.

  David tugged on her apron and pointed to Josiah’s buggy just pulling into the parking lot. Ada wanted to hustle him along, but David had been helpful at keeping Nathan quiet during church. She shouldn’t allow her own embarrassment to stop her brother from helping others.

  Other than the clip-clopping of hooves and rattle of wheels, Josiah’s buggy was silent. Either Nathan had fallen asleep, or he’d stopped fighting his daed. Ada nodded for David to meet his friend, but she kept her back turned and pretended to watch the goats with Mary Elizabeth while she waited for Nathan to join them.

  Ada couldn’t resist one peek at Josiah, who stepped aside so David could crawl into the wagon. Josiah’s gaze swept the parking lot, and when it rested on her, he tensed and his jaw clenched. He pivoted so his back faced her.

  Ada’s spirits plummeted. He’d seen the pictures and realized how she felt about him, putting him in an awkward position. If only she’d stayed outside the schoolhouse, this never would have happened.

  Nathan still stayed far away from his father, but he no longer screamed. Once David and Nathan had joined her, Josiah strode off toward the circle of men without once glancing at her. After a brief nod in Ada’s direction, Josiah’s mamm trailed behind David and Nathan. Ada’s face flamed. What must his mamm think of her?

  Ada slid onto a bench on the women’s side with Mary Elizabeth on one side of her and David on the other. Nathan sat beside him, and Josiah’s mamm took a seat at the end of the row. Ada stole a quick glance across the room to find out where Josiah was seated. He was directly across from her on the men’s side facing her. Though she yearned to study him, she avoided looking in that direction. Throughout the sermons, she fixed her gaze on the ministers who spoke. When Bishop Troyer talked about sin, Ada squirmed, wondering if he was directing his message toward her and if his wife had any input in the topic.

  After the service, Ada went to the kitchen with the other ladies. She took a job in the back corner of the room slicing snitz pie instead of serving the tables in the barn. But she couldn’t help hearing the whispers behind her, and conversations stopped when she passed by to hand full platters of pie slices to the servers.

  Leah’s mamm tapped her shoulder. “I’ll finish the pies. Could you take another platter of meat and cheese out to the barn? Leah said they’re running low.”

  Ada longed to make an excuse to stay in the kitchen. Instead she ducked her head to acknowledge Anna’s request and picked up the tray. Keeping her head down, Ada trudged toward the barn.

  * * *

  Throughout the service, Josiah gripped the Ausbund and concentrated on reading each word whenever they sang. Then he gave each minister his undivided attention. Not looking at Ada during the service was difficult. He avoided glancing at Nathan for fear people would mistake the direction of his gaze.

  Afterward, while he helped Leah’s daed convert the church benches into tables, Josiah allowed his tense muscles to relax. Ada had gone into the kitchen with the other women to prepare the meal, so he didn’t have to be vigilant again until she brought out the food. Once she started serving, he’d need to be careful not to look at her. He took a seat with his back to the buffet table, but each swish of a passing skirt behind him invited him to swivel his head.

  One of the school board members, Merv Fisher, set down a plate filled with pickles, red beet eggs, and a thick Lebanon bologna and cheese sandwich. Taking a seat across from Josiah, he asked, “So how is the playground coming along?”

  All the chatter around them fell silent, and most men’s eyes fixed on Josiah. Evidently Merv hadn’t seen the newspaper story. Josiah ignored the raised eyebrows on either side of the table.

  Josiah cleared the thickness from his throat to answer the innocent question. “It’s finished now,” he told Merv. “You should stop by to see it. The sand table and therapy swings are also set up inside the schoolhouse.” His words conjured up the memory of Ada’s surprise—and joy—as she’d seen them, and Josiah had trouble bringing himself back to the conversation.

  Merv smiled. “I expect Ada is happy with the improvements.”

  Ada’s name hit Josiah with a jolt. He could only return a sickly grin.

  One of the men nearby snickered. “I’d say she appeared overjoyed.”

  The snide comment brought suppressed chuckles, but Merv missed the undercurrents. Heat flooded Josiah’s cheeks.

  “Oh, gut, gut,” Merv said. “I read more from those articles you gave us about how the playground equipment would help the students, and I think we—the whole school board—made the right decision.”

  Josiah mumbled a thank-you and shoved the last bite of his Lebanon bologna sandwich into his mouth. He stood
so abruptly the bench rocked. “I need to check on Nathan.” Though he could flee from the table, he couldn’t escape the speculative looks or the embarrassment.

  In his haste, he nearly barreled into Ada. She squeaked out a breathless sorry, and the tray in her hands tipped. He grabbed it to keep the meats from tumbling to the ground. Fighting the urge to look at her, he steadied the tray, and their fingers brushed. A tingle shot through him. He lost his inner battle and lifted his gaze. Once again, her eyes mesmerized him.

  Long seconds passed before he managed to break their gaze. By the time he did, they were caught between the men streaming past and the women heading to the barn for the second seating.

  Any denial he’d make now about the newspaper photographs would ring hollow. In ten seconds he’d undone all the damage control he’d tried to accomplish during the three-hour church service. Tight-lipped, he turned his back and searched the yard for Nathan, but his mind and body remained focused on the softness of Ada’s fingers and the beauty of her eyes.

  * * *

  Ada returned to the kitchen, her legs and hands still trembling from running into Josiah.

  Before she could compose herself, Leah sidled up to her. “I want to talk to you later.”

  The last thing Ada wanted was to discuss the newspaper photos and her feelings for Josiah. “Once we’ve eaten, I should get my brothers and sisters home.”

  Hands on her hips, Leah asked, “Are you avoiding me?” When Ada didn’t answer, Leah said, “It’s a lovely day outside. The children will be fine playing or watching the goats after the meal.”

  “I know.” Ada bit her lip.

  Leah laid a hand on Ada’s arm. “I’m your friend, remember?”

  To Ada’s relief, Leah’s mamm called her to take another platter of desserts to the barn.

  After everyone had eaten, Ada helped with the dishes and redding the kitchen. She turned to leave, but Leah blocked her way.