The Nanny's Amish Family

by Patricia Johns

  “Thank you, but we’ll be fine,” he said.

  Another time, when Rue was more settled maybe. When she’d picked up some German and saw what kind of behavior was expected of the kinner here. He’d wait until the people wouldn’t judge her harshly, because while there would be kind people who wouldn’t, there would be others with less patience of an Englisher child, and he wasn’t sure which would be which just yet.

  Thomas had been looking forward to seeing Patience today, to spending a little time with her... But maybe it was better to go early. People would start jumping to conclusions, and it would only complicate things. Besides, he wasn’t going to be able to hide his feelings for her—he was too tired to manage it. Patience deserved a chance to settle into the Redemption community, free from the taint of the Wiebe men.

  “Where are we going, Daddy?” Rue asked as he carried her toward the buggies.

  “We’re going home,” he said.

  “How come?”

  “Because—” He looked over at her, wondering how to explain the tumble of emotion, his fears, his caution, his exhaustion... “Because I want to.”

  “Okay.” It seemed to be a good enough answer for her, but it wasn’t a good answer. Amish looked to their communities to help them through difficult times, and he was pulling back, much like his mamm had done when her husband passed away and she’d needed support the most. Was he more like his mamm than he liked to admit, too?

  The problem was, he didn’t want the community’s support—he was longing for one woman, and he knew better than to allow his ever-so-observant neighbors to witness that.

  Gott, make me a better father. I feel like I’m failing already.

  Chapter Eleven

  Patience saw Thomas leave the service, and she followed him with her gaze until he disappeared outside the tent. She shouldn’t feel so drawn after Thomas and Rue—they weren’t hers to worry over—but she couldn’t help it. Did he need help with Rue? Should she go out and see?

  But there were several women on the bench between her and freedom, and she’d only draw more attention if she had to get past them. So she tried to focus on the service and waited to see if Thomas would come back.

  He never did. One sermon turned into singing, and then there was a second sermon. And she did her best to listen to the preachers expound upon scripture, but her heart wasn’t in it... It was following after Thomas and his little girl.

  Gott, this isn’t a good sign if I can’t even worship because I’m thinking about him. He isn’t for me! I know that. Help me to stop feeling this...

  With that kiss, things had changed between them. For her, she felt even more drawn to the man, and his mother’s arrival had made that attraction more dangerous. Thomas was a man without the same deep roots that she had—his mamm had jumped the fence, and now Rachel was back in time to help with an Englisher child. Nothing here was easy or straightforward, and maybe that was Gott’s way of showing her that Thomas wasn’t for her. She might know it logically, but sometimes Gott had to “bapp her over the head with it,” as her mamm would say. So Patience had to admit that Thomas was right in keeping his distance.

  Sitting on the bench, her back straight and her thoughts refusing to settle, Patience felt tears welling up inside her. Sunday service wasn’t supposed to be about Thomas Wiebe, and she wouldn’t let it become that, either. She fixed her mind onto the preacher’s words, and tried to find the peace that normally came with worship.

  * * *

  The next day, Patience had Samuel Kauffman give her a ride to the schoolhouse. She hadn’t heard from Thomas after service, and all she could assume was that he had things under control. He was Rue’s father, after all. He was the one raising the little girl, and it wasn’t like there weren’t three men in that house to pick up the slack when Mary wasn’t able to keep up. Among Thomas, Noah and Amos, they’d figure things out, she was sure.

  That was what she told herself, at least. His absence stung, even if she didn’t have a right to feel the rejection. They’d talked this over—more than friendship wasn’t going to work, so she had no right to expect him to come by just to see her.

  The schoolhouse was located on the corner of two rural roads. A field of young wheat rippled across the road from the school, and it was flanked by farmers’ fields on either side. Outside, there was some play equipment and some hitching posts in the parking lot. The schoolhouse itself was a squat, white building with a small bell tower on top.

  Patience let herself inside with the key she’d been given when she first arrived, and Samuel helped her to unload the school supplies that the community had provided for her.

  “Would you like me to stay and help at all?” Samuel asked. “It looks like a lot of work.”

  “Oh, you’re too kind, Samuel,” Patience said. “But I’ll be fine. Thank you for the offer. I’d rather just putter about on my own and figure out how I want my classroom. It might take me some time to figure out.”

  Samuel gave her a nod. “No problem. If you need anything, just ring the bell. We can hear it from our place.”

  The schoolhouse was walking distance—a long walk, mind, but it was doable. When Samuel left, Patience set to work with some cloths and cleaning supplies, scrubbing the room from top to bottom.

  Back in Beaufort, she and her mamm had shopped for some classroom decorations—paper birthday balloons for each student’s birthday, some hangable signs with multiplication tables, some math equations, some sight words for new readers that they had picked up at the dollar store... She would be teaching everything from the first grade through to the eighth, and while she had books to show her what information needed to be covered for each grade, it was daunting, to say the least.

  Patience wiped down the last windowsill, cleansing away dust and a few dead flies, leaving the entire room smelling of Pine-Sol and possibilities. Just as she wiped off the last windowsill, there was a knock at the front door, and she startled. She wasn’t expecting anyone.

  Patience went to the door and pulled it open, and she couldn’t help but smile when she saw Thomas standing there with Rue at his side. Rue had her hands folded in front of her and an excited smile on her face.

  “Hello, Rue!” Patience said, then she looked up at Thomas. “Hi, Thomas...”

  A smile tickled the corners of his lips. “We wanted to see if you needed help.”

  So he’d come to see her after all, and she felt a sudden rush of relief that whatever they’d shared wasn’t completely changed and forgotten. But then another possibility occurred to her—this was Monday, after all. Was he here for a favor?

  “Do you need me to watch her while you work?” she asked.

  “No, I took the day off,” Thomas replied. “With Rue settling in still, Amos and Noah said they could handle things on their own for today.”

  “I would have offered to watch her,” Patience said. “I did agree to help you out. It’s just... I thought you...were finished with me.”

  “Finished—” Thomas swallowed. “No, not at all. I just—”

  They stared at each other, without the words to capture it all, then Rue broke the moment by brushing past Patience and heading toward one of the boxes of supplies that sat on a desk. She stood up onto her tiptoes to look inside.

  “Rue, do you want to play with some of that modeling dough?” Patience asked. “You can take it to one of the desks, if you want to.”

  Rue liked this idea, and she grabbed a pot of red dough and went to a desk on the far side of the room next to the teacher’s desk.

  “Daddy, I’m in school!” Rue announced.

  Thomas smiled in his daughter’s direction, then turned his gaze back to Patience. “I didn’t mean to seem like I was pushing you off. It’s just been complicated lately, and I’m trying not to take advantage of our friendship here. I’m sure there are other men you’d like to meet.”

>   “Not really,” she admitted.

  “Fine, then other friends you’d like to make. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off as...a jerk.”

  Patience shrugged. “Of course not.”

  Obviously, they both had been afraid of overstepping, and knowing that helped.

  “So, you wanted to help?” she asked.

  “Yah. That was the plan.”

  Patience pulled out a box of supplies. “I need to get these organized in the bins up there at the front. I’m thinking I can have all the markers, glue and scissors in those bins, and when the kinner need them, I can pass them out.”

  “Sure.” Thomas easily lifted the heavy box.

  “I could have helped you during the service, you know,” Patience said as they headed toward the front of the classroom.

  “I felt like I should do it myself,” Thomas said. “After I kissed you, I mean. I know I ruined things there, and I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage or...”

  “I don’t think that,” she said.

  “Are we becoming more to each other?” Thomas asked, turning toward her. He put the box down on a desktop.

  “Maybe we are,” she admitted.

  “The thing is,” he said quietly, “I’m the one at fault here. I’m feeling things I shouldn’t. You’re beautiful, and I’m attracted to you. I’m just trying to pretend that I’m not. I think it’s the smart thing to do. It just gets a bit awkward sometimes.”

  Patience felt warmth hit her cheeks. He’d called her beautiful again... No other man had told her that before. Even Ruben had called her “good-looking” and “strong.” Not beautiful. Beautiful was different... It came from a different place.

  “I’ll never have my own kinner, Thomas,” she reminded him. “I’d be happy to help out with Rue. She needs someone who can love her for who she is, and one of these days soon, if I stay in Redemption as a teacher, I’ll have her in my classroom. So, don’t be afraid of taking advantage. Really, you’re just giving me a chance to be more than a teacher to one little girl. I won’t have that offer very often.”

  “Yah?” His gaze softened. “You sure about that?”

  “Positive. I can be your friend, Thomas. I’m going to be the old maid schoolteacher, so I’ll need friends.”

  “Don’t say that,” he chuckled.

  “I’ve very nearly made my peace with it,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll get there.”

  “There might be a widower—” he started, but Patience shook her head, and he fell silent.

  “I tried that once,” she said. “It didn’t work for me, and I’m not in a rush to embarrass myself or a good man in that way again.”

  “Just tell me if I’m overstepping, or asking for too much when it comes to Rue,” he said. “Because I don’t want to ruin the friendship we have. You mean a lot to me.”

  “Okay.”

  She’d try to keep her feelings in line with her rational expectations. She’d stop hoping to hear from him when he didn’t need her help with something. She could be reasonable when she needed to be.

  Patience filled the first bin with markers, and the second with rulers and protractors for the higher grades’ math. And when she turned for the box again, she nearly collided with Thomas. He was pulling out a bundle of rulers, and they both froze.

  Thomas was so close that she could feel the fabric of his shirt touch her dress—that soft scrape of cotton against cotton. She sucked in a breath, and he smelled musky with a hint of shaved wood. That smell had seeped into her over the last while—a scent she associated with this carpenter daet—and it made her heart ache.

  She felt his work-roughened hand brush against hers, and he moved one finger up her skin in a slow line. Her breath caught, every fiber of her being focused on that one place on her body. She knew she should move back, move her hand at the very least... But she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. She lifted her fingers toward him, and he twined his through hers. They didn’t move—not toward each other, and not away, just standing there breathing the same air, their hands clasped.

  What was it about this man that made her do this? Why did something as simple as standing this close to him, or touching his hand, feel like it could stop the entire earth from spinning?

  But then Thomas did what she wasn’t strong enough to do on her own, and he let go of her hand and took a deliberate step back. She released a shaky sigh.

  “We have to be more careful,” she whispered.

  “Yah...” He cleared his throat.

  She missed him—even standing right here next to him, she missed his fingers twined through hers—and all she could think about was the feeling of his lips, his arms around her, the tickle of his stubble against her face... But she had to stop this. Whatever they were feeling had no future. Why was she punishing herself like this?

  “Why don’t I get those chairs from the corner? That’s across the room.”

  She smiled at his dry humor. “Maybe a better idea.”

  He caught her gaze with an impish grin.

  “I made a family,” Rue announced from her seat at the desk. There were four blobs of modeling dough lined up. “They’re Amish. You can tell because they have a rooster named Toby.”

  “Yah?” Thomas said. “And who else is there?”

  “That’s a mammi,” Rue said. “And that’s a daet.”

  Patience looked over at Thomas, her heart suspended in her throat. Rue had used the Amish words for a grandmother and father... And it was her representation of a family. She saw that Thomas’s eyes misted.

  “And who is the other one?” he asked, his voice catching.

  “That’s just me. I’m next to Toby.”

  “Yah, I can see that,” he said. “Right next to Toby.”

  “He’s part of the family, Daddy,” Rue said seriously. “I just want you to remember that we don’t eat family.”

  Thomas burst out laughing. “No, we don’t.” He turned to Patience with a rueful smile. “I’m stuck with that rooster until it dies of old age, you know.”

  And he was, Patience had to agree, all because a little girl loved a scruffy, bad-tempered rooster. It was amazing what the love of a little girl could do.

  * * *

  That evening, after Rue was already asleep in her little bed with the curtains pulled shut to block out the last of the summer sunlight, Thomas sat on the steps of the house, a piece of wood in his hands, and he whittled away at it. Rue had given him an idea, and he was now working on some little wooden Amish people—a mammi, a daet and even two uncles. But right now, he was working on the mammi. Wood curled as his knife pared away another slice of wood, and he blew on it, scattering the shavings into the summer wind.

  The funny thing was, as he worked on what was supposed to be the mammi, the figure was turning more slender, more lithe and much more like a mamm in a family... He didn’t carve a face, but the figure was one he recognized—this looked very much like Patience. Would anyone else notice that? What was it about this woman that had crept into his head, coming out in his work?

  Because he couldn’t stop thinking about her... And that was wrong, because he had to put his daughter first. She hadn’t asked to be born, and yet here she was, thrust into a world that must seem incredibly foreign to her. She was trying to adjust—he could see that—but the burden couldn’t rest on those tiny shoulders. He was her daet, and he had to smooth the way for her.

  A buggy turned into the drive, and he looked up in the lowering light. He recognized Bishop Glick with the reins in his hands, and he was alone. The sun was near setting, and the shadows were long and soft. Thomas put down his carving, then rose to his feet and headed toward the bishop’s buggy.

  “Good evening, Bishop!” Thomas said, as he ambled over. “How are you doing tonight?”

  “Well, I’m enjoying this dry weathe
r,” the bishop replied. “After all that rain last month, it feels good to have dry feet.”

  “Yah, it does,” Thomas said with a nod. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well... This affects both you and your brother, so maybe I should discuss it with the both of you.”

  “Mamm?” he asked.

  “Yah.” The bishop tied off his reins and hopped down from his buggy. “Your mamm came to speak with me, and... I thought it best to come see you about it.”

  Thomas led the way inside, and Amos and Mammi both greeted the bishop with smiles, but when his intention to talk with Thomas and Noah was made clear, they excused themselves and left the three in privacy.

  The sitting room was lit by a kerosene lamp hanging on a hook overhead. There was another reading lamp between the couch and a chair, and the bishop took the chair, his expression solemn.

  “Our mamm came to talk to us,” Noah admitted.

  “Yah, I understand that,” the bishop agreed. “And she did come see me. She wants to return.”

  “A little late,” Noah muttered.

  “Are you angry still, then?” Bishop Glick asked.

  “You could say that,” Noah admitted.

  “And now that she’s wanting to come back,” the bishop said, “will you give her a home when she returns?”

  “Yah,” Thomas interjected. “I will, at least. Of course.”

  “Can you forgive her, though?” the older man asked. “Both of you. Can you offer her your sincere forgiveness for her past mistakes?”

  Thomas looked over at his brother and they exchanged a silent, miserable stare. Forgiveness wasn’t quite so easy to deliver.

  “We’ll try,” Thomas replied after a beat of silence.

  “You left the service early on Sunday,” the bishop said. “I wanted to ask you why. The sermon was about forgiving others, and—”

  “It wasn’t because of the sermon topic,” Thomas replied. “Rue isn’t used to worship, yet. Bishop, I’m doing my best. She hasn’t been raised in our community from babyhood. There is a lot for her to learn—for both of us. We’ll need a little grace.”