CATHY CHECKED THE schoolroom clock. Almost time for recess. Her scholars were already giving her expectant looks—they knew without checking when they were ready for a break. She began the process of sending the younger children to the restroom a grade at a time, knowing they couldn’t be counted on to interrupt their play for that necessity.
Her thoughts returned, as they so often did these days, to Michael and the difficult process of adjustment to his new life. Certainly Allie seemed to be happier, more confident, in the days since her father’s promise. But how difficult was he going to find it to keep that promise?
He hadn’t attended worship on Sunday at Mary’s house, although Verna had brought Allie. To questions, Verna had said he wasn’t ready yet. The answer seemed to satisfy most, at least for the moment. But people would have opinions about it, no matter what he did or didn’t do.
She brushed the thought away. Her concern was only with Allie, and how all of the surrounding factors affected her. Nothing else. It shouldn’t be this difficult to stop thinking about Michael.
A shuffling of feet drew her attention back to the schedule. “All right,” she said, smiling at the waiting class. “You may be dismissed for recess.”
No mad rush to the door, of course. The scholars might be eager, but they knew better than that. She inserted herself into the file of children so that she could keep an eye on Allie. So far there had been no untoward incidents, but the freedom of recess might lead someone to misbehave.
Cathy lingered for a moment in the warm sunshine of the porch steps. Spring, after teasing them with what seemed an unfair share of cold, dreary days, had finally come. There was less than a month of the school year left. Would the school board offer her a new contract or not? They’d have to decide soon, she knew.
Her momentary distraction had been a mistake. She spotted Ruthie and Allie with another of the third graders, Mary Louise Yost. Ruthie, hands planted on her hips, seemed to be confronting Mary Louise.
Cathy hurried her steps. She was in time to hear Mary Louise. “I just asked if Allie was really Amish, that’s all.” She glared back at Ruthie. “I want to know.”
Allie’s expression told Cathy something very clearly. She wanted to know that as well. Cathy’s heart seemed to wince. She opened her mouth to intervene, but Ruthie got in first.
“For sure she’s Amish. She’s my own cousin, and I’m Amish. So she’s Amish. See?”
“Oh.” Mary Louise pondered that for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Let’s go on the swings, yah?”
In a moment the three of them, hands linked, were running toward the swings.
Cathy’s laugh was a bit shaky. She had barely begun to try and figure out the proper response when Ruthie had taken the wind out of her sails. Her reasoning might not make it past a group of ministers and bishops, but it was enough to go on with.
Allie was not yet of an age to make a decision about baptism into the church. She was being raised in an Amish family now, so she was Amish. Michael might not agree, but it would certainly solve problems on the school yard.
Cathy gave an assessing glance around the school yard, looking for any place where her presence was needed. She often joined in the games, but first she liked to be sure all was as it should be.
Her gaze snagged on the glint of sunshine off metal. Eyes narrowing, she tried to make out what she was seeing. It looked as if someone had pulled a car off to the side of the road just beyond the schoolhouse lane, where the trees masked its presence.
Frowning, she strolled toward the perimeter of the school yard. There were probably a hundred innocent reasons for a vehicle to be pulled over at that spot, but it was unusual. She was the sole adult responsible for the forty-some children in her care—and the only one here today. Many days a parent or older sibling would be present, providing help in one way or another, but not today.
Her stomach tightened. She didn’t consider herself a nervous person, but bad things happened everywhere, as the Amish knew to their sorrow. She fingered the cell phone tucked into the pocket sewn onto the underside of her apron. It would connect her in an instant to the police or to the closest Amish business with a phone—the quilt shop run by her close friend, Joanna Kohler. Since someone was always in the shop during school hours, Joanna had agreed to serve as a message center for the school, contacting parents as needed.
Surely the mere presence of a vehicle parked along a public road didn’t call for an emergency reaction. If she saw someone—and then she did. A person—a man, she thought, though it could be a woman in pants—was just visible in the shelter of the trees. Her fingers tightened on the phone as the pulse in her neck began to throb.
Slowly, carefully, don’t alarm him... She moved toward the older children who were kicking a soccer ball. Forcing a smile, she beckoned the two oldest to her, thankful they happened to also be two of the most sensible.
“John, Caleb, I want you to start the kinder moving into the school. Don’t run or act alarmed—I know I can trust you to be calm.” Her own heart pounded against her ribs. “There is someone on the school grounds—no, don’t look around. Just do as I say and don’t alarm anyone.”
John grasped Caleb firmly by the arm, as if to prevent him from running. “Yah. We’ll do just like you say.” Caleb managed to nod, but he looked scared.
She watched them move toward the others, seeming to overcome argument with a few words. Once they were on their way, she dared look toward the intruder again. Was he carrying something or not? She couldn’t be sure, but the horrific stories of school shootings forced themselves into her mind.
Another step or two, and she could be sure. There was something—something that gave a small metallic glint as he or she moved it. Cathy yanked the phone out, her heart pounding in her ears as she punched 911. She only got out a word or two before the dispatcher was shouting for the chief.
“Stay on the phone.”
Even as the order came through, Cathy turned, mind racing. The last of the children were through the door now. She started to run.
Get to the school, lock and barricade the door, get the children into the supply closet. That was the safest course. Did every teacher think this way when the moment came?
Her racing feet reached the door, where she paused for a quick look back. Nothing. The place where she’d seen the figure held only natural growth, but the branches moved lightly. In the next instant she heard the car’s engine and then the squeal of tires as it sped off.
Behind her, in the schoolroom, someone started to cry. But it was over now, wasn’t it?
A HECTIC HOUR LATER, the children had all been escorted home—Chief Jamison had insisted on that. Now Cathy sat in her desk chair, feeling oddly boneless. Grouped around her were several parents, a patrolman and Chief Jamison himself.
“It might have been chust a tourist.” Lige Esch spoke in his usual deliberate way. “Sometimes they hear we don’t like our pictures taken so they try to sneak one anyway.”
Lige’s calmness steadied her, and she considered it. “It might have been a camera the person held. I couldn’t see well enough to tell.”
“If you’d taken time to be sure—” That was Zeb Stoltzfus, cut off abruptly by Chief Jamison.
“Teacher Cathy did exactly the right thing. Get the children inside—call us. We’d rather come out a hundred times for a straying tourist than risk something bad happening.” He looked around the circle of faces. “I don’t need to spell it out to you. We all know that bad things can happen anywhere. That’s why we talk to everyone involved with the schools. That’s why Teacher Cathy was prepared and did exactly the right thing.”
Several people nodded in agreement, and there was a murmur of assent.
Chief Jamison stood, apparently satisfied that he’d gotten his point across. “We’ll be keeping an eye out for anyone showing too much interest in your school and the other schools in the area as well. Thank you.”
His tone made it clear he expected them to leave. After a moment’s hesitation, they filed out, leaving Cathy with the police.
When they’d gone, Cathy looked up at Jamison, expecting more questions.
His face crinkled in the beginning of a smile. “No, I don’t intend to badger you with more questions. You’ve already told us everything you saw and heard. I just thought you might want me to clear them out so you could get off home without answering silly questions.”
Cathy hesitated, not sure how she felt about it. “If the parents want to talk to me more, I should be available.”
“Maybe so, but not now. I’ll drive you home.” He took her elbow as she stood, then paused, frowning a little. “You did the right thing. Really. Don’t let anyone second-guess you, okay?”
She nodded, but it would be difficult. If the parents of her scholars doubted her, it wouldn’t matter what the chief thought.
When they reached the porch, she discovered that everyone hadn’t left, after all. Michael Forster stood, leaning against the side of his car.
Chief Jamison glared at him. “Teacher Cathy has answered enough questions. I’m taking her home.”
Michael straightened. “I don’t have any questions. And I came to take her home.”
For a moment the two stared at each other, as if each daring the other to blink. Cathy stepped between them. “Denke, Chief Jamison. If you need anything else...”
His face softened. “I know where you are.”
Cathy walked to Michael’s car and slid inside before he could open the passenger door. Without a word, he got in and started the engine. It was only when they’d followed the police car out to the road and turned that he glanced at her.
“Was I preferable to the police?”
She smoothed her skirt. “I thought you said no questions.”
“Just wondered.”
His mild tone seemed to encourage an answer. “I thought my mother might be slightly less upset if I came home in your car rather than a police car. Though she’ll have heard by now and...well, I’m her baby, I guess.”
“Are you all right?”
Cathy looked at him, startled. “Yah, I am. Allie and Ruthie?”
“Not as upset as I’d have thought. Ruthie strikes me as a kid who’d bounce back, and I guess she must be good for Allie.”
“When you came to take them home, I thought...” She let that trail off. She’d thought he looked furious, to be honest. And she’d assumed that the anger was directed at her as the person who should be keeping his child safe.
“I was frantic—we all were.” He wasn’t looking at her, so she felt free to watch his face. He stared at the road ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “It’s a parent’s worst nightmare.”
“A teacher’s, too.” Her throat tightened, remembering. “I thought maybe you were regretting putting Allie in our school. Feeling we should have done more to keep the kinder safe.”
For a moment he didn’t respond, and her heart sank. If he took Allie away now, what would the result be? She couldn’t help feeling responsible, whatever his decision.
“When I came back to the school, I intended to tell you I was taking Allie out. Putting her someplace that had locks and security guards and alarms. They were still inside talking, so I waited, but I could hear the whole thing.” Another long pause.
“The chief was right,” he said finally. “All the locks and alarms in the world aren’t the answer. Human beings are the ones who protect the children.” He glanced at her. “No one could have done any better than you did.”
Her heart warmed, and some of the tension eased out of her.
“All I could do was remember what Chief Jamison said when we had a meeting back before school started. He told us then to memorize every step we should take—either inside the school or outside—because if it happened we wouldn’t have time to think, just act. And he was right.”
“Yeah.” His face was grim again, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He made the turn into Daad’s lane before he spoke. “We should be able to give our children safety. That was in my mind when I brought Allie here—to the most peaceful place I know. But there isn’t any peace.”
“Don’t think that.” She spoke impulsively, reaching out to touch his arm. It was like an iron bar under her fingers. “I know, evil can be anywhere. But peace—peace is inside us.” She wanted so much to let him see it as she did. “There’s nothing magic about living Plain. We’re in the same world as everyone else, good and bad. But this place—it’s better than most, I think.”
The car drew up to the house then. There wasn’t time for anything more. If she hadn’t said the right things, it was too late.
But as she opened the car door, he spoke again. “Maybe.” His face twisted as if in pain. “I’d like to believe that. Anyway, Allie will be at school in the morning.”
BY THE END of the day the community seemed to have come to grips with what happened, at least from what Michael heard. Lige stopped by in the evening to give them the latest.
“So we’ve set up for Teacher Cathy to have a helper there every day, instead of just a few days a week. And we’re scheduling fathers to check the school grounds several times a day.”
He shook his head to a piece of apple crumb pie that Aunt Verna held out to him. “Denke, but we just finished supper.”
“I’ll send some home with you, then.” She began transferring several slices of pie to a plate.
Ignoring the byplay, Michael went to the heart of the issue. “I want to be in on that. Just tell me when to go.”
He half expected an argument, but Lige nodded. “I said we’d do it tomorrow. I’ll take Ruthie to school and walk the grounds then, and you can do a midmorning check, okay?”
Michael nodded. At least it was something positive to do about the situation.
“Seems like mostly folks are saying it was probably a tourist.” Lige shrugged his shoulders in an irritated gesture. “I guess we’ve got to hope that’s all it was and not some crazy person with a grudge against schools. Or against us.” They all knew that prejudice against the Amish existed.
“Yah.” Aunt Verna handed him the wrapped plate. “And pray.”
“For sure.” He turned, and Michael walked out with him, holding the door.
Once they were down the steps, Lige raised his eyebrows. “Sure I’m not taking pie you had your eye on?”
“Certain sure.” He hesitated. “Do you think it’s enough? Not the pie. I mean, checking the school grounds and having a helper there most of the time?”
Lige sobered. “Who can say? It’s doing something anyway. Cathy has a phone always with her and a good head on her shoulders. She did fine with just the two boys to help her. Besides, what else could we do?”
“I don’t know.” He didn’t—that was the trouble. It was another area where he felt helpless. He hated that feeling. A man should be able to keep his family safe. Hadn’t he been telling himself that since Diana’s death?
Lige gripped his shoulder for an instant before climbing into the buggy. “Yah. Me either.”
The moment of shared concern heartened him, and he watched while Lige drove out the lane and turned onto the blacktop. Then he started back inside, but before he’d gone a few steps, he’d spotted a car turning into the driveway.
He stood where he was for a moment before walking toward the plant stands. In theory they closed at five, but it wasn’t unusual for someone to stop by afterward. Aunt Verna never liked to disappoint a customer, no matter how inconvenient.
Then the car drew up beside him. He stared in surprise as he recognized the driver. Alan Channing, their neighbor back in Harrisburg. Alan and his wife had been the only ones to offer sympathy and help in the days after Diana’s body was discovered, taking care of Allie, helping him find an attorney. He’d quickly found how rare that was—most people he’d considered friends greeted him with a muttered word and then hurried away.
“Alan, what on earth brings you here?” He extended his hand as Alan got out of the car and felt it grasped in a firm grip. Alan’s open, friendly face was a welcome sight. Here, at least, was a reminder of his previous life that wasn’t horrible.
“Came to see you, of course.” Alan brushed tousled blond hair back with a familiar gesture. In his pressed khaki pants and striped dress shirt, Alan always looked as if he could pose for a magazine ad.
Too handsome, that had been Michael’s first impression of him, but he’d soon found a friendly, self-effacing human behind the glossy exterior.
“All this way for us?” He raised an eyebrow, and Alan grinned.
“I realized my sales route went not far from here, so I headed this way after my last call of the day.”
Alan was a sales rep for his father-in-law’s pool and spa business—the top salesman, he always insisted.
“Whatever brought you, I’m glad to see you. Allie is tucked up in bed already, but come inside and meet my aunt.”
“Sure, but...” He hesitated, glancing toward the house. “First, tell me how you’re doing while we’re by ourselves. Beth and I have been concerned about you—both of you.”
He couldn’t hold back a grimace when he thought of the past few days. “Ups and downs,” he said. “Allie has settled in well. My sister’s girl is just her age, so they’ve become fast friends.”
“Good, good.” His voice was just a shade too hearty. Apparently he’d picked up on Michael’s ambivalence. He glanced around, taking in the greenhouses and the rolling farmland beyond. “This is far from what she’s used to.”
“True. But here we both have family to rely on.” At least, some family. His thoughts flickered to his father. “And she loves her new teacher.”
“That’s fine.” Alan hesitated, looking a little uncomfortable. “We were afraid...well, that it might be worse here, because Diana was from here, too.”
His initial reaction was to keep his problems to himself. But Alan had proved to be a good friend, despite the fact that their backgrounds were as different as they could possibly be.
“There’s some feeling against me,” he said finally. “I guess that’s bound to happen. But weighing it all, this was about the best choice I could make. The legal bills about wiped me out.” He forced a light note. “My aunt doesn’t charge us rent. And she’s about the best cook I ever met.”
“So you feel like you’re settled here? I only ask because I heard of something that might suit you. A job with a guy I knew in college. He owns a construction business, along with a few other things, and he’s looking for someone to manage it for him. He’d treat you right, and it would pay enough to help you get on your feet again.” He glanced around, as if looking for evidence of prosperity. “I don’t know what you’re making here...”
“Room and board.” Michael grimaced. He knew his help was needed and welcomed, but it still felt wrong not to be earning his living.
Alan’s expression said it all. He couldn’t imagine that, no matter how natural it might feel here. Michael found himself looking at it through the world’s eyes, instead of Amish ones...looking and judging.
“This job,” he said abruptly. “Where is it?”
“Out in Arizona. Jason has a lot of business interests in the Phoenix area.”
“Arizona,” he repeated. Not just a long way in distance, but a completely new way of life. He could do it, but what about Allie? What about his promise to her?
It felt like burning a bridge, but he knew what his answer had to be. “I couldn’t do it, Alan. It sounds terrific, but Allie—well, Allie’s really started feeling secure and happy for the first time since Diana’s death. I can’t uproot her again.”
“You sure?” He raised an eyebrow.
Michael nodded, more than a little regretful. “I’m sure. But, man, I appreciate it. Other than family, you’re the only one who’s held out a hand to me. I won’t forget it.”
“It’s nothing.” Alan turned away, looking embarrassed to be thanked. “You’d do the same for me.”
If he were in a position to, he would. But he didn’t have the advantages that Alan did, with his Ivy League education and his wealthy father-in-law’s business. Still, he knew he’d do what he could if their positions were reversed.
“Anyway, thanks.” He clapped Alan on the shoulder. “Now, come on inside. If I know Aunt Verna, she’s already making coffee and slicing the pie.”
“Sounds great.” Alan followed him to the door. “But don’t forget. I think the job will be open for a time, so you can let me know if you change your mind.”
“I won’t.” He couldn’t. Allie needed to know she could trust him...that if he promised a thing, he’d deliver. He might not have been the greatest of parents in the past, but from now on, Allie came first.