Starting a new job was never easy. But for Rebecca Graber, it seemed her first week as the interim teacher of the Amish school in Riverton, Colorado, might also be her last.
Standing beside her desk in the one-room schoolhouse, she picked up her McGuffey reader. Thirty old-fashioned wooden desks sat lined up in orderly fashion with a black potbellied stove at the front of the room. A wide chalkboard covered the front wall, topped with English and German penmanship charts and several pull-down maps and illustrations for lessons. Poetry, artwork and Amish proverbs dotted the other walls. Becca had plenty of paper, crayons and flash cards for the children to use. And sitting on her desk was a large handbell she rang when she called the children in from recess.
“First and second grades, please take out your reading books. All other grades will study quietly in their workbooks,” she said.
There was a slight rustling as the twenty-four scholars did as she asked. She didn’t have a lot of students but since this was her first week teaching here, it felt closer to forty. On Monday morning, her first day here, her lesson plans had mysteriously disappeared. On Tuesday, she’d sat on a tack that had appeared on her chair. And the day after that, she had to break up a fight during recess when Caleb and Enos were teasing Sam. Yesterday, she’d found a paper taped to the back of her sweater that said kick me. No wonder the children had snickered every time she’d turned away. If she couldn’t get control of her class soon, she had no doubt the school board would dismiss her as a complete and utter failure even before the first of May when school let out for the summer.
The room was tidy, with dark tan walls and wooden floors. The red log building had been a specially ordered kit that was built by the fathers of the scholars. Bike racks and a hitching post were situated out front in the graveled parking lot. A small barn stood near the outhouse where the children’s horses and ponies were kept until it was time to go home. A spacious dirt area served as a baseball field. Although the school possibly needed a couple of swings and teeter-totter, Becca couldn’t ask for more and wished this was a permanent position. But the regular teacher would return next fall, after she healed from the buggy accident that had crushed her pelvis and broken both her legs. The young woman was blessed to still be alive.
As she waited for the students to settle themselves, Becca glanced out the wide windows. The afternoon sun sparkled against the dusting of snow they’d received early that morning. The azure sky looked crystal clear but the February temperatures were downright frigid. Becca added another piece of wood to the fire, then called on a student to begin.
“Samuel King, would you please read out loud for us?” she asked with a kind smile.
Sam’s soft brown eyes widened in panic, then he looked down at his book, his hands folded tightly in his lap. Becca waited patiently but the six-year-old boy didn’t speak. Not a single word.
“Excuse me, Teacher Becca.” Andy Yoder, the bishop’s youngest son and another first-grader, held up his hand.
“Yes, Andy?” Becca asked.
“Sam don’t talk, teacher. Not ever,” Andy said.
“Sam doesn’t talk,” she said, correcting the boy’s grammar.
And she wasn’t willing to accept that. But first things first. She reached for a piece of chalk so she could write the correct sentence on the board. Finding no chalk, she pulled open the drawer to her desk...and quickly jerked back as a shrill cry escaped her throat.
A snake! In her desk drawer.
She stepped back so fast that her chair toppled to the floor. All the scholars gaped at her in surprise. A few snickered. Becca blinked, expecting the snake to move. But it didn’t. And after closer inspection, she realized it was made of rubber.
A toy snake! In her desk drawer.
With a quick twist of her hand, she flipped it out onto the floor. It landed near Caleb Yoder, the bishop’s eleven-year-old son. He scooped it up before shoving it into one of the girls’ faces. Absolute pandemonium erupted. The girl reared back and screamed as Caleb tossed the fake reptile to Enos Albrecht, who laughed and waved it in the air.
“Enos! Stop that,” Becca called in a stern voice, trying to restore order.
Screeching madly, little Fannie Albrecht jumped up on her chair, her fisted hands pulled to her face in absolute terror. Shrieks and shouts filled the air.
“Stop that!” Reuben Fisher cried.
Reuben was the son of Becca’s cousin and lived in the same house with her and her aunt Naomi. He tried to snatch the toy away from Enos but wasn’t tall enough. In the struggle, the fake serpent bounced against the boy’s hand and landed on the wooden floor in front of the door.
There was a loud gasp and the room went absolutely still.
Jesse King, Sam’s father, stood in front of the open door, holding his black felt hat in his hands. His gaze swept the room, his shrewd eyes showing that he understood exactly what had transpired. A corner of his mouth twitched and Becca thought he might laugh. But no. He looked too stern to find any humor in the moment. A chilly gust of wind accompanied his entrance and he pushed the portal closed with the point of his black work boot. Becca stared, thinking she imagined the man. When had he come inside? Probably during the chaos.
Oh, no! Why did he have to show up now? What must he think of her?
A moment of confusion fogged Becca’s mind. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. She watched as if in slow motion as Mr. King leaned down and picked up the rubber snake. It dangled from his large hand and Becca couldn’t contain a shiver of revulsion.
“Is this yours?” Looking directly at Becca, Mr. King spoke in Deitsch, the German dialect their Amish people used among themselves. His voice sounded low and calm and he seemed completely unruffled by the horrible snake.
Mortified beyond words, Becca hurried toward him. Her face heated up like road flares. The fact that one of the fathers of her scholars had witnessed this shameful moment almost undid her.
“No, but I’ll take care of it.” She spoke in perfect English, the language they used in the classroom.
She forced herself to take the toy snake between two trembling fingers. With disgust, she returned it to the front of the room and shut it up in her desk drawer again. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw Lenore Schwartz help little Fannie climb down off her chair and the children all took their seats. And just like that, order was restored.
Gathering her composure, Becca patted her white organdy prayer kapp and smoothed her lavender skirts before she faced Sam’s father again.
“Mr. King, was there something you wanted?” She lifted her chin higher, forcing herself to meet Jesse King’s solid gaze. For just a moment, she thought his eyes looked sad and...haunted.
This was the first time she’d met him, though she’d seen him from afar on several occasions. Since she’d only arrived in Riverton eight days earlier, she hadn’t had the opportunity to attend church yet but she’d tried to speak with him yesterday when he’d picked up Sam from school. He’d driven away before she could catch him and, if she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d been trying to avoid her.
Up close, she realized he was a tall man with dark brooding eyes, high cheekbones and a narrow chin. His black hair was overly long for an Amish man and curled against the sides of his face. His beard indicated he was married, though Becca had been told by a member of the school board that he was a widower. Becca figured there was no one at home to cut his hair for him. If only he would smile, she might find him ruggedly handsome. But just now, his angular face showed no emotion whatsoever and only his eyes indicated an active mind hidden beneath his tranquil exterior.
“I’ve come to pick up Sam,” Jesse said. His voice sounded low, his dark eyes unwavering.
Like her, Jesse and Sam were newcomers to this Gmay, their Amish community. They had moved here from Lancaster County in Pennsylvania just two months earlier. Apparently Jesse had lost his wife and two young daughters in a house fire a year earlier. The poor man. No wonder he looked so sad. And since that time, little Samuel hadn’t spoken a single word. Becca knew no more than that. But she kept giving Sam opportunities and hoping that one day he would surprise her and finally read out loud.
Trying to be professional, she glanced at the clock on the wall. “But school isn’t out for another twenty minutes. If you’d like to wait, perhaps I can speak with you afterward.”
Jesse inclined his head. “Ne, I’m afraid I don’t have time to wait. This afternoon, I need to move a boulder from my south field and won’t be finished before it’s time to return and pick him up from school. I’ll have to take him home now.”
Becca blinked. She was trying to be understanding. Trying to be a good teacher. But the truth was, she was highly inexperienced. Though she’d served four months as a teacher’s apprentice in Ohio, this was her first time teaching solo. It was bad enough to come into a classroom full of scholars she didn’t know but she had also entered this class midway through the school year. She wanted to do a good job. She really did. In fact, her future depended on it.
“Of course.” She glanced at Sam, stepping over to help the boy gather his lunch pail and put on his warm winter coat.
For just a moment, Becca wished she was anywhere but here. She should be married and looking forward to raising a familye of her own, but that wasn’t possible now. Not since her ex-fiancé had broken off their engagement. She’d known and loved Vernon all her life, yet he’d chosen to wed another girl they’d grown up with. If Becca failed in this position, she’d be forced to return to her familye in Ohio in shame. She was hoping for a good job reference so she could go elsewhere. She couldn’t bear to go home and watch Vernon and Ruth marry and raise a familye together while she became a dried-up old spinster.
As she accompanied Sam to the door, she walked with him outside onto the front steps. “Mr. King, I really need to speak with you about Sam. Did you receive the letter I sent home with him two days ago?”
Jesse nodded. “Ja, I received your letter.”
“Gut. Then you know I’d like to discuss Sam’s problem...”
“Not now.” Without another word, Jesse placed his hat on his head and hurried down the steps. Sam trailed behind.
Becca shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Something hardened inside of her. She was Sam’s teacher and must look after his education. Determined not to be ignored, she followed Jesse.
“If not now, when? I’m concerned about Sam. He’s not speaking. I’d like to help,” she called to Jesse’s back.
Without a backward glance, the man climbed into his black buggy and closed the door. Sam scrambled into the buggy on the opposite side with a little difficulty. Becca helped him in, thinking it a bit derelict for a parent to let their six-year-old son fend for himself. She rounded the buggy, intending to confront the boy’s father.
“Mr. King, please,” she said.
Jesse took the leather lead lines into his large hands. Becca noticed several ugly, purple scars on his skin before he gave a little flick and the buggy lurched into motion. She had no choice but to step back or be trampled as he directed the horse down the muddy road. Within moments, they disappeared from view.
Well, of all the nerve! What a rude man.
Trying to hide her frustration, Becca turned and went inside. She was surprised to find the classroom so quiet. Every student had their head ducked over their books, the younger children studying their McGuffey readers while the older children wrote out vocabulary words.
No doubt the culprits of the snake incident must fear her wrath. She thought Caleb Yoder must be the ringleader. But without proof, she couldn’t accuse him openly. Still, after the events of the past week, this wasn’t the first time. And now there was a toy snake in her desk drawer. What would the school board say about that?
Being more cautious, she glanced at her chair before sitting down, then breathed a silent sigh of relief. Only ten more minutes and she’d be free for the weekend. Most of the children were bright, helpful and quiet. But Caleb and Enos had a penchant for causing enough trouble that Becca was seriously considering speaking with their parents. The only problem was that Caleb’s father was Bishop Yoder. And she hated the thought of approaching the bishop of her new Gmay about his wayward son. No, she must handle this on her own. She had to get control of the school. And fast.
Standing again, she was determined to say something to the students. After all, it was her job to correct poor behavior. Choosing her words carefully, she folded her hands in front of her starched white apron.
“Scholars, I must tell you that I’m ashamed of you today. When Mr. King came to our school, we showed him what poorly behaved children you are. You embarrassed yourselves and I have no doubt your parents will hear all about it.”
There. That was good. Maybe the fear of their parents finding out might make the children behave better. From the front of the room, Caleb slid lower in his seat. Perhaps the thought of his father hearing what had happened didn’t appeal to him. Good! Maybe he’d think twice before putting tacks on her chair or rubber snakes in her drawer again.
“I hope as you go home this afternoon, you’ll think about what your parents expect from you,” she continued. “And I hope you won’t let this happen again. Now, it’s time to go home. Please tidy your desks and get your coats on. School is dismissed.”
The students did as asked, hurrying toward the door. Out of her peripheral vision, Becca saw Caleb’s elder brother nudge his arm, a look of disapproval on his face. Karen, who was Caleb’s older sister, frowned as well.
Great! Becca wanted to cry out in victory. If Becca’s admonitions wouldn’t work, perhaps sibling pressure might help correct Caleb’s poor behavior.
The last student headed out the door. Through the wide windows, Becca saw several black buggies waiting. Since the school was situated in one corner of Bishop Yoder’s hay field, his farm was nearby. But this certainly wasn’t like her home in Ohio where everyone lived within walking distance of the school. Many of the children here in Riverton lived as many as nine miles away and needed a ride home. Some children brought a small pony cart to school, while others waited for their parents to pick them up with their horse and buggy.
Returning to her desk, Becca stared at the place where she’d stowed the toy snake. With a quick jerk, she pulled the drawer open and recoiled in anticipation. But there was no need. During the brief time when she’d been outside speaking with Jesse King, the snake had disappeared.
Hmm. No doubt one of the children had taken it. And honestly, Becca was happy to have it gone. Hopefully it didn’t make a reappearance. Because she desperately wanted the school board to write her a nice reference when she finished her assignment in May. She needed to serve as a substitute teacher for three full years before being eligible to teach at any Amish parochial school. As a teacher, she was a late bloomer. She hadn’t done any student teaching earlier, when she’d first achieved her certificate of completion from the Amish school she’d attended as a girl. She thought she’d be getting married, so she hadn’t even considered it at the time. But if she did well here in Riverton, she could get an Amish teaching job anywhere. This position was only a beginning, but she’d do almost anything to keep from returning home to Ohio.
Now, if she could just figure out a way to handle Jesse King and little Sam’s lack of speech, she might have a chance.
Jesse patted the side of his black-and-white Holstein and picked up the two buckets of fresh milk. Carrying them outside the barn, he noticed the skiff of snow they’d had that morning had almost melted off. It’d be dark soon. The afternoon sun was settling behind the Wet Mountains to the east. The fading beams of light sprayed the sky in creamy pink and gold, glinting off the jagged spikes of granitic rock. Jesse had been reading up on his new home. The Wet Valley sat at an elevation of just under 8,000 feet. With the cooler elevation and much shorter growing season, he’d never be able to successfully grow anything but hay, some barley and maybe some sugar beets. In his summer garden, the snap peas and carrots should do fine, but some other Amish farmers at church had told him not to bother growing celery and he’d have to cover his tomato plants at night or they’d freeze. But his farmland was fertile and located ten long miles outside of town. Because his new home was isolated and lonely, he’d gotten it for a cheap price. And the solitude was just what he wanted to soothe his broken heart.
Still holding the milk buckets, he paused, remembering the last time he’d shared a similar sunset with his sweet wife, Alice. Back then, they’d been living in the overly populated area of Lancaster County. They’d been walking from the barn to their house when he’d pulled her close as they’d admired the beauty of Gott’s creations. They’d heard about this new Amish settlement in Colorado and talked about moving here. It’d provide more opportunities for growth. A place where they could expand and their familye would have a better future. They were happy and filled with anticipation. Life was so good then.
Alice and their two daughters had died three days later, taking all of Jesse’s joy with them.
The rattle of a horse and buggy drew his attention. He turned and groaned out loud. Rebecca Graber, Sam’s schoolteacher, was just pulling into his graveled driveway.
He thought about rushing inside and pretending he didn’t know she was here. He could ignore her knock on the door. But no. He’d have to face her sooner or later.
Setting the buckets of frothy milk on the back porch, he tucked his thumbs into the black suspenders that crossed his blue chambray shirt and waited. Becca pulled up right in front of him and climbed out of her buggy. Wearing a heavy black mantle with a gray scarf wrapped around her neck, she tugged off her gloves. Taking a step, she tucked several golden-blond strands of hair back into her black traveling bonnet. Other than her bright pink cheeks and nose, her skin looked smooth and pale as porcelain. Her startling blue eyes sparkled with a zest for life, her heart-shaped lips creased in a tentative smile.
“Hallo, Mr. King,” she called.
“Hallo. What can I do for you?” he returned with little enthusiasm.
Slightly breathless, she joined him next to the back door. “I was hoping to speak with you briefly about Sam. I’m guessing you’ve noticed he doesn’t speak. I’d like to help. And I think if we team up, we can be more effective.”
Something hardened inside of Jesse. Who did this woman think she was? Coming to his home to tell him how to raise his son.
“How old are you?” he asked.
She blinked at his odd question. “I’m twenty-two. But I don’t see what that has to do with Sam’s reluctance to speak.”
Hmm. She was just four years younger than Jesse. Since age eighteen was the norm for schoolteachers, he thought her quite old. And he couldn’t help wondering why she wasn’t already married. A pretty little thing like her should have no trouble finding a willing groom. Especially here in Colorado, where Amish women were scarce. But he told himself he didn’t care. It wasn’t his business and he had bigger problems on his mind right now.
“I’m a fairly new teacher but I do know my subjects quite well. I just want to help,” Becca said.
“I doubt anything can be done for Sam,” he said, trying to keep his voice even and calm. “He’ll speak again once he’s gut and ready.”
Becca shook her head. “I don’t think so, Mr. King. When did Sam stop speaking?”
A rush of sad memories flooded his mind and he looked away. Her question seemed too personal. The pain was still so raw that it felt like it had happened just yesterday. “It started the afternoon of his mother and sisters’ funeral.”
She made a sad little crooning sound, like the coo of a dove. “Ach, I’m so very sorry. I have no doubt that was traumatic and difficult for both of you.”
She didn’t know the half of it. Sam had started the fire. It was his fault his mother and sisters had died. His fault they were now alone in this cold, ramshackle house. But Becca’s compassion was more than Jesse could stand. Over the past year, so many people had expressed their condolences. Then they’d introduced him to another eligible woman, as if anyone could take Alice’s place in his life. And that was just the problem. He didn’t want another wife. He didn’t want to ever marry again. He just wanted to be left alone. That was the whole reason he’d relocated to Colorado in the first place.
“I really don’t think there’s anything you can do for Sam. It’d be best if you just leave him alone and he’ll start to speak again when he’s ready.” Jesse turned to go inside but she stopped him, placing a gentle hand on his arm for just a moment.
“I don’t think so, Mr. King. I’m sure there are things we can do to help,” she said.
“Ne, I’ve already had two doctors take a look at him and there’s no physical reason he can’t speak. He’s just decided to stop talking,” Jesse insisted.
“It’s gut that you’ve had him visit some doctors but there’s obviously something wrong. Though I’ve never dealt with a traumatic problem, I worked with a couple of special needs children in Ohio and I believe Sam needs some extra help.”
So. She wasn’t going to let this go. Though Jesse was a new member of the Gmay here in Riverton and had attended Sunday church meetings, he’d stayed apart and hadn’t yet developed any real friendships with the other Amish families. Instead, he’d buried his heartache in hard work. Easy to do, considering the dilapidated condition of his new farm. Since he’d moved here two months earlier, he’d spent every waking moment mending the house, barn and broken fences. He still needed to repair the leaky roof and build furniture for his cold, ramshackle home. Having lost most of his possessions in the house fire, he’d had to start from scratch. And amidst all of that, he’d had to look after Sam, driving the boy back and forth to school, preparing meals, washing laundry and a myriad of other chores his wife used to do. There’d been a lot to deal with on his own.
Thankfully, he’d been able to sell his smaller farm in Pennsylvania to a neighbor, which had allowed him to purchase this new, bigger place in Colorado. And right now, he needed to get back to work.
The screen door on the back of the house clapped closed as Sam came outside. Jesse barely glanced at the boy, trying to think of something to say that would make Becca Graber go away and leave him alone. Instead, she smiled at Sam, so brightly that Jesse could only stare at her for several seconds. Bending at the waist, she looked the boy in the eyes.
“Hallo, Sam. How are you?” she asked.
The boy’s eyes widened, his face creased with worry. He shuffled his feet, looking anxious. A few gurgling sounds came from the back of his throat but he couldn’t seem to get any words out. Finally, he jabbed a finger urgently at the house and Becca gasped.
“Gucke! Something is burning,” she cried.
Jesse turned and saw billows of black smoke rushing from the open doorway of the kitchen. Oh, no! The pork chops. They must be burning. He’d completely forgotten all about them.
“Stay here,” he commanded as he raced into the house.
A thick fog of black smoke emanated from the metal frying pan sitting on top of the gas stove and filled the kitchen. As a certified firefighter, Jesse knew what to do. He reached into the cupboard beneath the sink and pulled out a Class B kitchen fire extinguisher. Aiming the nozzle, he blasted the burning pan with a fog of fire retardant. Then, he picked up the metal lid and, angling it to protect his face, slid it over the top of the pan to snuff out the grease fire. Lastly, he switched off the burner and slid the pan away from the source of heat.
A light tapping came from the open doorway and Becca poked her head in. “Is it safe to come in now?”
She stood there holding Sam’s hand, waiting for Jesse’s permission to enter. He nodded, wishing she’d go away. This had been a simple grease fire but it had brought the past right back for him. The night Alice and their two daughters had been killed, he was off fighting a house fire somewhere else. If only he’d been home that night, he might have saved them. It was his fault they were gone. It had been his job to protect them. His job to keep them safe.
And he’d failed.
His body trembled as he stood looking at the charred remnants of the four pork chops. He’d put the meat on the lowest heat, thinking they’d be fine until he returned from the barn. Now, he had nothing to feed Sam for supper.
He glanced at Becca and saw her gazing at his hands. Reddish-purple scars covered his skin, extending up both of his forearms. A cruel reminder that he’d run into a burning house to try and save his wife and daughters.
He folded his arms, hiding the ugly scars. Without speaking, Becca quietly opened all the windows and doors, allowing the chilly breeze to clear the house of smoke. As if from a distance, Jesse watched her silently. No matter how hard he clenched them, he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking.
Becca directed little Sam to put on his coat until the room could be warmed up again. With rapt attention, the boy followed her every move as she built up the fire in the potbellied stove.
She glanced at Jesse and hesitated. From her sympathetic expression, he was certain she could see the truth inside him. That he was upset. Shaken by the grease fire. He felt suddenly exposed. The moment was too personal. Too private. Because it hit too close to home. A reminder of what had happened a year earlier when he’d lost everyone in his familye, except Sam. And he didn’t want Becca Graber to see that. Or to know what he tried so hard to hide.
“You should leave,” he said, feeling grouchy.
“You’ll need something else for supper.” She spoke in that soft, efficient voice of hers.
Without permission, she stepped over to the cupboards and opened the doors, peering inside. He knew she would find them as empty as his broken heart. She opened the fridge before lifting her eyebrows in a dubious expression.
“Is this all the food you have in the house?” she asked, gesturing to the skimpy remnants of a ham and a small chunk of Swiss cheese.
“That and the milk.” Jesse retrieved the two buckets and set them on the counter by the sink. Having a chore to do helped soothe his jangled nerves.
Alice had always made their butter and cheese. Jesse knew the process but didn’t have time to sit and churn milk into curd. And the few times he had done so, it didn’t taste right when he finished. Something was missing.
Alice, Mary and Susanna were gone.
Pulling the ham and cheese from the fridge, Becca set them on the counter. She paused for just a moment, looking at the sink filled with dirty dishes. Without recriminations, she picked up a horse harness he had been mending and carried it to set beside the back door. Then, she rolled up her sleeves and quickly washed two plates and glasses.
“I noticed you have a coop but it doesn’t look like you have any chickens on your place, so you don’t have any eggs.” She spoke as she worked. “Maybe in the spring you can get some baby chicks. But this will do for tonight.”
Yes, he planned to buy some chickens next week. He also wanted to buy pigs, draft horses and another milk cow once the weather warmed up. But for now, he’d have to make do. A trip to the grocery store in town was definitely on the agenda for the morning. He’d stock up so this didn’t happen again.
Becca shivered and Jesse placed another stick of wood in the potbellied stove. His home wasn’t much to look at. The walls were dingy and scarred, the rooms devoid of furniture. Upstairs in the bedrooms, he’d laid two mattresses on the bare wood floors for him and Sam to sleep. No chairs. No chests of drawers. No armoires, curtains, rugs or wall hangings. The house had been uninhabited for six years. He’d been told the previous owner was Englisch and couldn’t make a go of the place. But Jesse was willing to work hard and didn’t need much to earn a simple living for him and Sam. He’d bought the farm cheap from a foreclosure sale and was glad to have it.
Becca set out the last six slices of his store-bought bread and layered them with wedges of ham and cheese for sandwiches. It’d be a dry meal but they could wash the food down with plenty of milk.
Watching her slender hands work, he thought about how much he missed Alice’s homemade breads, biscuits, pies and cakes.
“Here you go.” Becca set the two plates on the table and directed Sam to sit.
The boy gave her a questioning glance, his eyes wide, his little face so sweet and innocent. Jesse dearly loved his son. He truly did. But Sam was a constant reminder of all that they’d lost. Because Sam had set the fire. And though Jesse knew it wasn’t right, he couldn’t help blame the boy. He’d tried to forgive his son just as he’d tried to forgive himself. He really had. But he hadn’t been able to do so. Not yet, anyway.
“Ahem, will you join us?” Jesse asked, trying to be polite but wishing she’d go now.
“Ne, I’ll eat when I get home. This is for you,” Becca said.
Surprised by how she seemed to have taken over his home, Jesse joined Sam at the table. Within a few moments, they had bowed their heads and blessed the food. Jesse didn’t know what else to do. While Becca poured his son a glass of milk right from the pail, Sam immediately picked up his ham sandwich and took a big bite.
“I’m going to head home now.” Becca spoke to Jesse. “It’s getting dark outside and the roads will turn icy. I think you and I should speak more in depth at another time when you aren’t so...indisposed.”
Jesse nodded eagerly. “Ja, another time, perhaps.”
But she didn’t move. Didn’t take a single step toward the door. Instead, she closed the windows above the sink, seeming satisfied that enough smoke had dissipated from the house. Since it was wintertime, the days were shorter and it was already getting dark outside. She lit two kerosene lamps. The wicks flickered, sending eerie shadows to chase around the room. He could see her curious gaze as she peered into every corner. A feeling of mortification washed over him. He was highly conscious of the run-down condition of his home. And more than ever, he missed Alice’s home bottled beans, corn, peaches and tomatoes. She’d cared for their children and kept their home running with methodical order. But like everything else, it had all gone up in smoke.
“I... I’ve been kinda busy. I haven’t had time to go into town to the grocery store. And I haven’t had time yet to repair and paint some of the holes in the walls.” He sat there, his thumbs looped through his suspenders.
She brushed past him. He caught her scent...a clean, citrusy smell that he kind of liked. “I understand completely. It must be difficult being on your own in a new place with a little boy to raise. But don’t worry. You’ll get things in order soon.” She spoke in a cheerful, positive voice as she picked up the pair of gloves she’d set aside earlier when she’d prepared their supper.
Finally. Finally she stepped toward the outside door. Jesse stood and followed, breathing a silent sigh of relief. She was really leaving this time. But she stopped at the door and turned, catching him unaware. As he gazed down into her beautiful blue eyes, he couldn’t help comparing her to Alice. The two women were so different. Alice had been filled with inner strength but she’d been shy, quiet and unassuming. So different from Becca, who was rather bossy, outgoing and quick to take matters into her own hands.
“Mr. King, until we can make a more formal plan of action, I’d like to suggest that you read to Sam each evening. Try to get him to read to you as well. I really think that would help for the time being,” she said.
Read to Sam? Jesse didn’t have time for such nonsense but didn’t say so. He wasn’t interested in taking advice from an inexperienced schoolteacher like Becca Graber, no matter how attractive she was. But he nodded.
He accompanied her outside but didn’t help as she climbed into her buggy. He didn’t think it would be appropriate to touch her. With a wave of her hand, she bid him farewell and her horse took off at a jaunty trot.
Jesse stood there, watching her go. And as she turned onto the main county road, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. He couldn’t help feeling as if a tornado had just swept through his home. Rebecca Graber. What a dynamo. Jesse chuckled, thinking that another fire wouldn’t dare invade his new house. Because if it did, Tornado Becca would just sweep it away.