The Teacher's Bride

by Kathleen Fuller

  “I prefer English.”

  Odd. Then again, she already knew he was seltsam. But that didn’t mean he was wrong to be offended by what she did. She had snuck up on him. She’d stared at him while he slept. She did peruse—what an interesting word—the cover of his book. He had the right to be upset with her, which made her hang her head a little. “I owe you an apology, then. I’m sorry I perused.”

  His lips twitched at the corners. “Apology accepted.”

  She turned and looked at the tree. “I can see why you like to come here,” she said, touching the bark again. “This tree is beautiful, and the land around it is untouched. I imagine you get a lot of praying and reading done here.”

  “Ya,” he said, putting on his yellow straw hat. “I do.”

  Ruby looked at him, puzzled. “Now you’re speaking Dietsch?”

  He shrugged. “Does it make you feel more comfortable when I do?”

  “Did you learn that in yer book?”

  “Page twenty-five. A man should always make a woman feel comfortable.”

  Strangely enough, she was feeling comfortable, but not because he was speaking Dietsch. It didn’t matter to her which language of the two he spoke, since she was fluent in both. But for some reason she wasn’t tripping over her words or feeling nervous around him, which sometimes happened when she talked to men. All right, it always happened when she talked to men, particularly ones her age. “What else did that book tell you?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.” He scratched behind his ear. “I fell asleep.”

  “Must be scintillating reading, then.”

  His right brow arched. “Excellent vocabulary use.”

  “Thank you. I do know a word or three.”

  Chris frowned as if he didn’t understand what she said. Then he straightened his hat. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be returning home.” He started to walk away.

  “Wait.” She froze. Oh no, what was she doing? But her mouth ignored that question as she announced, “I can teach you more than a book can.” So much for thinking before speaking.

  Slowly he turned. “Are you offering to tutor me?”

  “Ya.” Nee. Why couldn’t she stop talking? She didn’t owe Chris Ropp anything, much less a tutoring lesson. Yet it seemed a bit sad that he was going to a book for advice. “Don’t you have a schwester?”

  A shadow passed over his face. “I do, but I fail to see what she has to do with tutoring.”

  Ruby got the impression things weren’t all that great between him and Selah, which explained why he needed the book. She drew in a breath. “If you want to learn about women, I’ll help you.”

  Chris tilted his head. “And why would you do that?”

  That was exactly the question running through her mind. “Because . . . because I’m a woman.”

  He looked her up and down, but not in a leering way. It was more like an intellectual observation. “Obviously.”

  Goodness, he was irritating. “You know, never mind.” She turned and marched away from him. She should have never brought it up in the first place. “I try to do something nice—”

  “Ruby.”

  She took a few more steps before she whirled around. “What?”

  He touched his ear again. “I would be most appreciative if you would share your knowledge with me.”

  That brought her up short. Not only was he taking her up on her offer, but she saw something in his eyes that gave her pause. Desperation? No, that couldn’t be it. She couldn’t imagine this calm, cool, collected, and more than a little off-kilter man desperate about anything. He had a confidence about him that contradicted the entire idea. Still, she couldn’t stop the thought that if he were desperate—and that was a big if-—he would never show it. At least not in public.

  “All right,” she found herself saying in agreement. It was her idea, after all. “I’ll tutor you.”

  “We need to set up a time to meet.”

  “Of course,” she said. “I’ll have to put you on my schedule. I am quite busy.”

  Chris smirked. “Of course. Next Saturday if—”

  “The weather permits.”

  He nodded. “Do you think you can accommodate that?”

  She tapped her finger on her chin, as if she were mentally checking her calendar. Which was untrue, since she didn’t have a calendar. “I’ll pencil you in.” His expression remained impassive. She did have her work cut out for her. This would probably end in disaster, as most things in her life did, but she’d already given her word. She always kept her word. “One o’clock?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “I’ll see you then.” She turned and started for home, remembering that she hadn’t told Patience she was leaving. Her sister-in-law was probably wondering where she was. That wasn’t good, since Ruby had promised not to cause any problems. She quickened her steps.

  “Ruby,” Chris called out.

  “What?” she said, not turning around or slowing her gait.

  “For the record, I don’t think you’re stupid.”

  She smiled as she kept walking.

  CHAPTER 4

  Christian scratched his head, trying to figure out what had just happened. One minute he was reading the book he’d picked up from the library earlier this week—a rather silly book, and judging by the writing style and vocabulary, most likely written by a teenager—and the next he was looking into the blue-gray eyes of Ruby Glick. That was most unexpected, as was her offer to tutor him. He’d been stunned when she said she would help him learn about women, and more than a tad bit embarrassed. It was bad enough he had trouble talking to Martha. He didn’t need Ruby knowing about it. Too late for that.

  Why he took her up on her offer he had no idea. But maybe gaining insight directly from a woman would be a better investment of his time than to keep reading books about female psychology—or pseudo-psychology, as the case seemed to be.

  He tucked the book under his arm and headed back to the house. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the nap had been sustaining. When he arrived home, he found a note on the kitchen table.

  Went to Martha’s.

  No signature, but it was Selah’s handwriting. Hmm. Maybe he should go over to Martha’s, too, on the pretense that he needed to speak to Selah. Or he could tell Martha that his sister was needed at home. He could figure out something to say, perhaps even solicit an invitation to stay for coffee. Anything to put him in her proximity.

  Before he could ponder the idea further, his palms grew damp. He grimaced. This happened every single time he thought about talking to Martha. He couldn’t go over there, not when he was at risk of making a bumbling idiot of himself. Even he knew that wasn’t the way to woo her. Then there was the added issue of Selah, who wouldn’t appreciate Christian using her to get to her friend. Plus, he didn’t want to see Martha under false pretenses.

  He’d have to wait for the singing tomorrow. Hopefully Martha would be there. He expected her to be, since unlike him, she seemed to enjoy mingling with people. She was the only reason he was attending. He’d rather stay home than go through the excruciating process called socializing.

  He spent the rest of the afternoon doing light housekeeping chores. The dishes from breakfast and lunch were still in the sink, and thick dust was on the furniture in the living room. Dusting needed to be done at regular intervals during the warmer weather months since the windows were open all the time. Selah knew this. She’d been a good housekeeper back home. At least he thought she was. In all honesty he hadn’t paid much attention to what she did or didn’t do. Maybe she’d always been this sloppy. Maybe their mother did all the cleaning. Yet that didn’t sound right either.

  He didn’t mind doing chores, but since Selah didn’t have a job and was at home most of the time, she had no excuse for not completing this work.

  By the time he’d washed the dishes, dusted, swept the downstairs floors, and scrubbed away two spots he’d noticed on the floorboards, it was nearly six. When Selah
still hadn’t arrived home at six thirty, he decided to start making supper. By seven fifteen the casserole was done and cooling on the stove. At seven thirty he was a little concerned. Selah should have put a time when she was coming back on her note. That would have been the courteous thing to do. Did she enjoy making him worry? At eight o’clock he decided to go to Martha’s. He had a legitimate reason now—to tell Selah it was time to come home.

  He was marching toward the barn when he saw Selah walking up the driveway in the dusky sunlight. “Where have you been?” he said in Dietsch as he hurried over to her.

  “Martha’s. I left you a note.” She pushed past him.

  “For the whole afternoon and evening?”

  “It’s not that late, Christian.” She stopped at the bottom of the porch steps and faced him. “I’m not a little maedel anymore. I don’t need a curfew.”

  “You do if you continue to be irresponsible like this.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not mei vatter:” She scowled. “And when did you start caring, anyway?” She whirled around and stormed into the house.

  Christian flinched as the screen door bounced shut behind her. Again, she was overreacting. He was the one who should be angry, not her. He was the one who’d been worried. And what did she mean about him not caring? He always cared about her. It was true that they didn’t have much in common. She was two years younger than him and female. They had different interests and different goals. He’d worked for years studying to be a teacher, increasing his education not just for professional reasons but also personal ones. She had . . . well, he supposed she had spent time with her friends. That’s what most women did, right?

  He rubbed his left eyebrow. While he didn’t know how she spent her time, he did care about her. They were siblings. What he couldn’t do was understand her.

  Christian went inside and headed for the kitchen. Selah was standing over the sink, slathering peanut butter and jelly on a piece of white bread.

  “I made chicken and rice,” he said. “It won’t take long to warm up in the oven.”

  “I’m not that hungry.” She slammed another piece of bread on the one she’d prepared and left the kitchen—without looking at him and without cleaning up her mess.

  Should he go after her? He was tempted, but according to the adolescent psychology books he’d read, he should give her space. After she cooled off, he would express his expectations— whenever she left home she had to tell him both where she was going and when she would be back. He wasn’t her father, but she was only nineteen, and he felt responsible for her. Besides, she always knew where he was—either at school, church, or under the tree near the empty pasture.

  As he put the lids back on the peanut butter and jelly jars, he sighed. His relationship with his sister was deteriorating, and he didn’t know why. All he’d wanted was a little courtesy tonight and in the future. That wasn’t too much to ask. Selah apparently felt otherwise.

  Ruby smoothed the sides of her kapp and licked her lips before she climbed the steps to the Yoders’ front porch. Freemont and his wife, Mary, were hosting the singing in their basement, so she knew Seth would be there along with his brother Ira. Judah, their younger brother, was still school age and wouldn’t be expected to attend. The beating of her heart sped up as she knocked on the door, wanting Seth to answer it, and then again, not wanting him to. She didn’t feel prepared to see him or any of the other young men tonight, even though she’d been looking forward to this all day. A ball of nerves ping-ponged in her stomach.

  Fortunately, Mary answered the door, giving her a few more seconds before she had to see Seth and everyone else. “Hello, Ruby.” She smiled and opened the door wider. “Come in. I’m glad you could join us. Everyone is in the basement, and feel free to make yerself at home. There’s plenty to eat, so don’t hesitate to fill up a plate, or two.” Her smile widened. “I knew we had to provide a lot of food for the buwe to agree to attend.”

  Ruby chuckled, Mary’s good humor slightly relaxing her. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Or so I’ve heard.”

  “You heard correctly. That’s how I got Freemont. Now, geh on downstairs and enjoy yerself.”

  She thanked Mary and headed down to the basement. She paused at the bottom of the stairs and surveyed the room. She almost clapped with glee. Eight young men were standing near a table laden with various snacks and several jugs of apple cider. But where were Martha and Selah? She didn’t want to be the only girl in the room.

  She hesitated, and then she seriously considered dashing back up the stairs to go home. She’d make up some excuse to tell Mary. Yes, she knew she was being a chicken and probably blowing a big chance to get Seth’s attention, but she wasn’t sure she could go through this alone. Just knowing other females were there would make her feel a little less outnumbered.

  Then she saw Martha waving at her from across the room. Thank goodness. Selah stood next to her, her hand curled as she studied her fingernails, looking as if she’d rather be anywhere than the Yoders’ basement.

  “I’m glad you came,” Martha said when Ruby reached them. “I thought you might be scared off by all the buwe here.”

  “Me?” Ruby scoffed. “I wouldn’t let something like that bother me.” She inwardly cringed at the fib, and then she twisted one string of her kapp as she looked around the room, pretending she hadn’t scoped it out already. Great. She’d barely started her husband-hunting and she was already being deceptive.

  “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had, but you don’t have to worry.” Martha gestured to one corner of the room, where Freemont kept a watchful eye on the group.

  “It’s not like any of these buwe would do anything wrong anyway,” Selah said. “They’re all so nice.”

  “That’s a gut thing, Selah,” Martha insisted.

  “If you say so.”

  Ruby didn’t comment. She agreed with Martha, and it was obvious that Selah was in a bad mood. But Ruby wasn’t going to let that bother her. She was on a mission. She turned around and searched for Seth. It didn’t take long to find him. He was talking to another young man who was almost as tall as he was.

  She brushed her palms over the skirt of her dress. Now was the time to make her move. “Here we geh,” she whispered as she walked toward Seth and his friend.

  “Where are you going?” Martha called out.

  But Ruby didn’t stop. She felt bad for ignoring Martha, but she had a goal to attain, and she’d put off pursuing it for long enough.

  “Hi,” she said when she reached Seth. “I’m Ruby.” Uh-oh. Judging from his startled expression, she’d said that a little too loudly.

  “Uh, hi.” Seth regarded her for a minute. “Have we met before?”

  “Oh ya,” she said, slapping her knee. “But it was several years ago.” She laughed. “You were much shorter back then.”

  He nodded slowly. “Okay.” He gestured to the young man next to him. “This is Zeb Bontrager. I don’t think you two know each other.”

  Zeb swallowed a bite out of the large chocolate chip cookie he was holding and looked straight at Ruby. “We don’t. I would have remembered you, for sure,” he said.

  She didn’t know if that was supposed to be a slight. Preferring to be optimistic, she looked at Zeb. Not bad. Black hair, blue eyes, nice smooth voice. Definitely a contender, although Seth still had the edge. She turned her attention back to him. “What are you two talking about?” she said, moving closer to him.

  “Fishing.” Seth took a step back.

  “Really? I love fishing!” Good grief, why couldn’t she keep her voice down? She glanced around the room and saw a few people looking at her, including the bishop. “I mean, I love fishing,” she whispered. Oh, that was too much. Suddenly she let out a giggle and then hiccupped. Oh nee. Not the hiccups. Not now.

  Seth and Zeb exchanged an amused look. “So you like fishing,” Seth said, his lips twitching.

  “Ya.” Hiccup. “Timothy”—hiccup—
”and I used to”—hiccup— “fish all the”—hiccup—”time.” Hiccup!

  Seth and Zeb burst out laughing.

  She wanted to crawl into a hole. This was awful. How could she make a good impression when she couldn’t stop hiccupping? Or yelling? Or whispering? And of course the hiccups weren’t delicate. They were more like a cross between a cough and a belch.

  “Here.” Chris Ropp appeared at her side, holding a red plastic cup.

  Ruby looked up at him, a little surprised.

  “It’s been proven that quickly drinking water can extinguish hiccups. Of course, the evidence is anecdotal, but it’s worth a try.” He thrust the cup at her, giving her little choice but to take it.

  Seth and Zeb were still chuckling, and she knew from experience that attempting any further conversation with them was a lost cause. She walked away, still hiccupping, her face as hot as a fire poker. Instead of going to Martha and Selah, she went to the basement door, grateful to find it unlocked. She escaped outside and drained the water in one gulp.

  Please let this work . . . for once.

  “Better?” Chris asked.

  Hiccup. She turned and faced him, surprised he’d followed her. “Nee.” Hiccup.

  “Have you seen a doctor about those?”

  She glared at him. “Nee.” Hiccup. “They’ll geh”—hiccup—”away soon.” Hiccup.

  “Perhaps some sugar would help.”

  “It won’t.” She looked down at the ground and hiccupped three more times. She didn’t get these often, thank goodness, but when she did they were horrible. And embarrassing, as she’d already proved to everyone, including her husband prospects. “I have to”—hiccup—”wait for them to pass.” Hiccup.

  “All right.” He didn’t move, and the two of them stood in the Yoders’ backyard, the sky streaked with beautiful shades of peach, lavender, and pale yellow as the sun set. Normally she would pause and enjoy the view, but her chest started to ache from the hiccups. She didn’t know how long it took for them to subside, but they finally did. When the hiccups became softer and more spread out, she looked at him again. Why hadn’t he gone back inside? “What are you doing?”