The next morning, as Leah helped Mandy twist her braids into place for her first day at school, she couldn’t keep Ezra out of her mind. She should never have gone for that walk with him. Oh, how she wished she could go back to the time when she and Ezra were best friends and they could say anything to each other without worrying about a misunderstanding! Then he could put his hand on her arm, and it was nothing more than the amiable connection between two people who’d grown up next door to each other.
“Ouch!” complained Mandy. “You pulled my hair.”
“I’m sorry.” She loosened her grip on the braid. She’d become wound up and hadn’t noticed that she’d tightened her hold on it.
Suddenly sharp barking came from downstairs. A loud thump reverberated. She exchanged a glance with Mandy in the mirror, then tossed the brush on the freshly made bed. Her niece was right on her heels as she raced down the back stairs and into the kitchen.
She stared. Daed sat at the table, his hand pressed to his forehead. Blood seeped between his fingers. More crimson was streaked across the edge of the table. Mamm stood by the stove, the oatmeal ladle in one hand, the fingers of her other hand pressed over her mouth.
Without a word, Leah ran into the bathroom and got the first-aid kit. She opened it as she returned. Pulling out squares of gauze Mamm kept in the small metal box for times like this one, she shoved the box into Mandy’s hands. She offered the bottle of iodine and the gauze to Mamm, who shook herself out of her shock. Her mamm put down the ladle and stepped around the oatmeal that had dropped in thick globs onto the floor.
“Danki,” Mamm said as she asked Daed to lower his hand so she could clean the blood away enough to allow her to examine the cut on his forehead.
“What happened to Grossdawdi?” asked Mandy, fear sifting into her voice.
“Let’s get your grossdawdi fixed up first before we ask questions.” Leah smiled gently at her niece as she added, “Will you keep these supplies close by, so we have what we need?”
“Ja.”
Leah was startled at Mandy’s reply, but the girl had begun using other Deitsch words. Was it a sign her niece was willing to stay in Paradise Springs? God, please help me show her that her place is here with her family.
Her prayer was cut short when Daed yelped. She remembered when Mamm had used iodine on scrapes and small cuts she and her sisters and brother had ended up with after climbing trees or playing ball. It always stung.
Shep rushed around the table and sat beside Leah. She glanced at him, astonished. With the raised voices and tension in the kitchen, she’d expected he would continue barking and running around the room. Glad that he was behaving, she reached down to pat his silky head, and he lapped her hand quickly with his smooth tongue before giving her a proud doggie grin.
She recognized his actions. He’d learned them as part of his service dog training. Why was he acting as if he’d used his skills this morning? Maybe he believed he’d alerted her to Daed’s accident as he had to Johnny’s seizures.
Before she could give it much more thought, her daed said, “Enough! I am fine. I don’t need you fussing around me, Fannie.”
“You are not fine!” Mamm argued. “You stumbled hard, and you’ve got a lump the size of an egg on your forehead, as well as that cut. Fortunately, it isn’t very deep. For once, your hard head served you well.”
He started to reply, then winced. He remained silent while Mamm worked. When she stepped back, a small white bandage was taped over his left eye.
Mandy rushed to her grossdawdi and took his right hand in hers. He withdrew it, then grasped her hand with his left one.
“Are you all right, Grossdawdi?” she asked.
“Your grossmammi is right. I have a hard head. I’m fine.”
“But it must hurt.”
“Maybe it’s God’s way of reminding me to be more careful and watch where I step.”
Leah bit her lip as she heard how gentle her daed was with Mandy. Even if he hardly spoke to Leah, he had welcomed his granddaughter without hesitation. The little girl needed their love and patience as she became accustomed to living a plain life. Yet... Leah couldn’t help wishing that Daed would show her the same little signs of affection.
“But what happened?” Mandy’s question shredded Leah’s moment of self-pity.
Just as well, because she had no right to feel sorry for herself. Nor should she blame Daed for being angry with her. Leah had broken her parents’ hearts when she vanished along with Johnny. She’d betrayed their trust in her to make the correct decision and to hold tight to what she knew was right. That she had made every effort to live a plain life in Philadelphia meant nothing to them. Somehow, she must earn her daed’s forgiveness for her foolish hopes that she could bring Johnny to his senses.
“It was that dog.” Daed pointed at Shep. “He was barking like he’d lost every sensible thought in his little head. When he jumped in front of me, I tried to move aside. I tripped over him. I don’t know why you had to bring that foolish creature here. He doesn’t belong in this house.”
“Because he’s my daddy’s dog!” cried Mandy, yanking her hand out of his. She ran over to the dog and scooped him up. With him held close to her heart, she moaned. “Shep is the only thing I’ve got left that belonged to my daddy. If you make him go away like you made Daddy go away, I’m going, too.” She burst into tears. “I wish we’d never left Philadelphia. I want to go home. Leah, can’t we go home?”
Putting her arms around her niece, Leah leaned her head against the top of Mandy’s. She saw her parents’ shocked expressions. She wondered exactly what Johnny had told his daughter about why he and Leah had left Paradise Springs. They’d had plenty of time to talk while she was out of the apartment, running errands. Whatever Johnny had revealed hadn’t soured the relationship Mandy had begun to build with Daed, but clearly he’d said enough for his daughter to know that he hadn’t been happy while he lived in his parents’ house.
Leah forced a happy lilt in her voice, hoping that it didn’t sound as insincere as it felt. “Today isn’t a day to go to Philadelphia. It’s a day to go to school. Why don’t you put Shep down and give him some milk?”
“But if they make him go away like they did Daddy—”
“Grossdawdi is hurt, and when we’re hurt, we can be angry and say things we don’t mean. Like you did when you dropped the iron on your big toe last summer.”
Mandy nodded but didn’t raise her head or release the dog.
“Why don’t we have our breakfast now?” Leah added in her far too perky voice. “You don’t want to be late for school.”
“But Shep—”
“He’ll be waiting for you when you come home.” Mamm put her hands on Mandy’s shoulders and turned her toward the table. “Come and sit. Your breakfast is getting cold.”
“You’ll give Shep some eggs, Grossmammi?” Mandy asked.
“Ja, and maybe a bite or two of sausage.”
That brought a smile to the little girl, and as quickly as that, it appeared all was forgiven. Leah hoped that was true.
As soon as Mandy was perched on her chair, Leah and Mamm took their own. They prayed in silence, then began eating. Mandy remained subdued in spite of Mamm’s efforts to draw her out.
Leah was never so glad to be done with a meal. After finishing her hair and setting her kapp on her head, Leah went to pick up her bonnet off the peg by the back door.
Mandy petted Shep’s head, told him to be a gut dog and ran outside to climb into the waiting buggy that was set to go. As soon as she left the room, Daed dropped his face into his hands. He gave a groan, but Leah couldn’t guess if Mandy’s words or banging his head against the table hurt him more. Beside him, Mamm was struggling not to cry. He said only that he’d be out in the barn as he pushed himself to his feet. His steps grew steadier as he walked to the back door, but his hands continued to shake.
“I’m sorry, Mamm,” Leah said as silence settled on the kitchen again. “It hurts to see your face when Mandy talks about going back to the city. Each time, it’s another reminder of how I caused you and Daed such pain by leaving like I did. It hurts me, too, but I can understand why God would punish me. I don’t understand why He would punish you because of my stupid mistakes.”
Mamm put her hands on either side of Leah’s face. Compassion filled her eyes as she said, “My dear kind, you know that isn’t how God is. We live according to His will, but He doesn’t punish us when we make mistakes. He loves us, in spite of our human failings, and He wants us to learn from our mistakes.”
“I’m trying to.”
“I know you are.” She kissed Leah’s cheek, then stepped back. “Hurry and get Mandy to school, or she’ll be late on her very first day there. Don’t forget to ask Esther how her family is doing today.”
“Daed—”
“I’ll keep an eye on him and on Shep. Stop worrying, Leah. It’ll be fine.”
Leah wished she shared her mamm’s optimism. After she tied her black bonnet under her chin, she went outside. She heard Shep’s anxious whine when she shut the door, but she didn’t want to make it a habit to have the dog in the buggy. Daed had already complained about cleaning dog hair off the seats.
She had a smile firmly in place by the time she climbed into the buggy and sat next to Mandy. Feeling the smooth rhythm of the horse’s gait through the reins and listening to the whir of the metal wheels on the asphalt as they turned onto the road soothed Leah. She’d become accustomed to taking a bus, and the crowded, noisy, smoke-belching vehicle hadn’t been as satisfying as the steady clip-clop.
She glanced at Mandy, who was chewing on one of her kapp strings. Gently, Leah drew it out of her hand and let it fall back against her niece’s new black dress. Like Leah, Mandy would wear only black dresses and capes for the next year as they mourned for Johnny.
“Maybe I should go another day,” Mandy said in little more than a whisper. “I’m sorry I upset Grossdawdi. I need to tell him that.”
“He’ll be glad to hear your apology after school.”
“I’ve never been the new kid in school before. What if they don’t like me?”
Leah stroked her niece’s arm. “How could they not like you? And it’s not like there will be only strangers there. Esther Stoltzfus will be your teacher.”
“I like Esther. She makes gut cookies.”
“You know her niece Deborah Stoltzfus,” she said, hiding her smile at Mandy’s response, “and I saw you playing with the younger Burkholder girls—Anna and Joyce—at church yesterday. I suspect you already know all the girls who sit in your row in the school.”
“That’s only three!”
“Someone mentioned there are twenty scholars attending school this year.” She smiled. “That’s what we call the kinder who are in school. Scholars. You are a scholar now, too.”
“There are only twenty kids in my class?”
Leah shook her head, realizing anew how great the changes were that her niece was facing. When Leah had arrived in Philadelphia, she had been astounded at every turn by the ways that were different in the city. She had gratefully left, bringing Mandy with her, without understanding that the life they lived in Paradise Springs would be almost as alien to the little girl as the city had been for Leah. Some things Mandy knew about because Leah had tried to live a plain life even in the city, but how much did the little girl truly comprehend?
“There are twenty scholars,” she said in the gentle voice she’d found worked best with Mandy when pointing out differences in their lives in Paradise Springs, “in the whole school.”
“Only twenty kids from kindergarten to twelfth grade?”
“Our scholars attend school only until the eighth grade.”
Mandy’s scowl depended. “Then they go to high school in the village? Isn’t that the big brick building we passed when we went to drop off your quilts at the grocery store?”
“Yes, that’s the Englisch school, but Amish scholars don’t go there.”
“Then where do they go?”
“After eighth grade, our kinder take an apprenticeship, learning a trade or working beside their parents on the farm.”
“But I don’t want to be a farmer or a...a p-p-prentice.” She flushed as she fought to say the unfamiliar word.
Leah quickly explained what an apprentice was. “Deborah’s older brother Timothy works as an apprentice at his daed’s buggy shop.”
“But I want to be a nurse.”
“You do?” Leah was sure she hadn’t heard Mandy talk about that before.
“Ja, and how can I get to be a nurse if I don’t go to college? When I asked a couple of Daddy’s nurses and physical therapists about doing what they did when I grew up, they told me that the best thing I could do was go to college to learn everything I need to know. They thought I would make a gut nurse. Daddy thought so, too.”
Leah was shocked into silence by how her niece mixed Deitsch words with Englisch plans for her future. She sent up a silent prayer of gratitude when the schoolhouse came into view. That saved her from having to find an answer to Mandy’s comments.
At the sight of the small, white building with two windows on each side and a porch on the front, her niece hunched back against the seat as if she could make herself too small to be seen by the scholars playing on the swings. Others ran around where the ground was worn from their ball games.
Leah turned the buggy onto the road that led to the school. She halted it under a tree. In front of them, another smaller building with a pair of doors was the outhouse. A propane tank was set away from the school, but its brightly colored flexible pipes snaked to the building and the single stove that kept the scholars warm. Neither the stove nor the kerosene lamps that hung from the ceiling inside would be needed now that spring had banished the winter’s cold and early darkness.
A shadow moved on the roof, and she realized someone was up there working. The winter had been harsh and the snow heavy, so some of the shingles might have come loose when the snow was shoveled off to keep the roof from capsizing.
Her attention was caught by two girls who were running toward the buggy. She saw they were Deborah Stoltzfus and Anna Burkholder. They shouted for Mandy to come and join them on the swings.
Looking up at Leah with fearful eyes, Mandy whispered, “You’ll come with me, won’t you, Aunt Leah?”
“Ja. Today.”
The little girl looked ready to protest, but she quickly acquiesced and jumped out of the buggy.
Following, Leah lashed the reins to the hitching post, and then she held out her hand to Mandy, who clutched it as if it were a life preserver.
Esther came out on the porch and pulled the rope hooked to the bell by the door. Its clang, which muffled the sound of enthusiastic hammering up on the roof, was the signal that the school day was about to begin. The kinder were laughing and teasing each other as they ran to line up at the base of the porch steps. Leah knew that upon entering the school they would place their insulated lunch boxes on the shelves above the pegs for their hats and coats.
“Mandy,” Esther said as Leah led her niece up the steps, “I’m glad you are joining us. Today you can watch and listen and see how we do things. I think you’ll find we’re not that different from Englisch schools.”
“Aunt Leah?” The little girl gave her a frantic look and tightened her hold on Leah’s hand.
“Your aenti is welcome to join us for a short time.” Esther slid her arm around Mandy’s shoulders. “Why don’t you both come with me, and I’ll show you where you will be sitting? Our other fourth-grade girls have been looking forward to having you join them.”
Mandy’s head swiveled as they walked into the single room, but for Leah, it was like stepping back in time. She had spent eight years there. The blackboards at the front of the room behind the teacher’s desk didn’t seem quite as high as she remembered. Each desk had a chair hooked to the front for the scholar in the next row. The same darkly stained wainscoting covered the walls beneath the windows, and similar posters, urging gut study habits and outlining the values that were central to their community, hung on the walls. Only the potbellied stove at the front was different.
As soon as Mandy was seated at a desk with Deborah on one side and Joyce Burkholder on the other with Anna Burkholder right behind her, Esther went to the front of the room. She picked up her well-worn Bible and opened it to the Book of Luke and read the parable of the lost sheep, the story of how heaven rejoices when a single lost lamb returns to the flock.
Leah wondered if Esther had chosen it especially for her and Mandy. Hearing that familiar parable beneath the steady hammering on the roof made her feel welcome. It must have done the same for her niece because Mandy was holding both of her friends’ hands when the kinder rose to sing their morning song. Again, whether by chance or not, it was “Jesus Loves Me,” a song she’d taught Mandy.
The kinder opened their workbooks and bent over them. Mandy leaned across the aisle to look at Deborah’s. Leah murmured a prayer of gratitude that her niece was fitting in well and quickly.
Esther came to the back of the room where Leah stood. “She’s going to do fine.”
“I hope so.”
“Then why do you look as uneasy as she did when she arrived?”
Lowering her voice and turning her back so none of the scholars could discern her words, Leah said, “Mandy told me she wants to go to college to be a nurse. I didn’t know what to say to her. She has faced many changes already, and I want her to be as happy as possible.” Her voice threatened to break when she added, “Johnny told her that he thought she’d make a gut nurse, so now she sees the choice in part as a tribute to him.”
Esther put a gentle hand on Leah’s arm. “If you want my advice...”
“Ja, I do,” she replied, though she couldn’t help finding it strange to be seeking the advice from someone who had been Mandy’s age the last time Leah lived in Paradise Springs.
“My advice is do nothing but listen when she talks about her plans. There is nothing else you can do now other than what you’ve already been doing by being a gut example for her. She has this year and four more at this school. When I was nine, I was sure I wanted to join the circus and ride around the ring on white horses like the ones I read about in some storybook I picked up at the market in Lancaster while Mamm was selling cookies and Daed’s wooden shelves that the Englischers loved.” She smiled, her eyes crinkling as Ezra’s did.
Leah hadn’t seen Ezra’s smile enough since her return. Now and then, but mostly he was somber around her. More than she’d expected, she missed the ease they’d once shared.
As she reached for the doorknob, she said, “I should go. I’ve taken up too much of your time already.”
“The kinder are doing their silent reading.” She glanced up as the hammer struck the roof again. “Or almost silent reading. He should be finished soon.”
“Oh, Mamm wanted to know how your family is doing,” Leah said as she opened the door.
“If you mean Isaiah and Rose, he stopped by this morning on his way to work to let us know she is calmer today.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“If you mean Ezra...”
“I know he’s worried about Isaiah and Rose,” she quickly said.
“And you’re worried about him?” Esther didn’t give her a chance to answer. “I am, too. I’m sure you can see the changes in him.”
“Ten years is a long time.”
“True, but even those of us who have been here all along can see that Ezra isn’t like he was before...Daed died.”
Had she been going to say since you left? Leah couldn’t be sure, and she was glad Esther had chosen the words she had.
“How is he different?” she asked.
“Unless he’s with one of us, he spends all his time working on the farm. Not just chores, but working on his plans to create several flavors of cheese that he can sell at the farmer’s market in Bird-in-Hand. He’s not interested in anything else.”
“That’s enough to keep him busy.”
“Ja, but it’s more than that. Joshua joined the Paradise Springs Fire Department years ago. When Amos and Jeremiah joined, they asked Ezra to volunteer along with them. He’s always calm in an emergency, so they knew he’d make a gut firefighter. He said he didn’t have time for the training. When we were kinder, he used to talk about volunteering with the fire department as soon as he could.”
“I remember.”
The first time he mentioned it, she had urged him to consider it seriously. Being a volunteer fireman would enable him to help others, and, at the time, doing that had seemed as important to him as it was to her.
“And you know what the oddest thing is?” Esther went on as if Leah hadn’t spoken. “When the fire department began talking about raising money for more training for their volunteers, Ezra offered our barn. He didn’t wait to be asked. He told Amos and Jeremiah to let the fire chief know that they could use our barn for the mud sale that’s being held next Saturday. The field in front of it would be fallow this year, so tables could be set up there to sell food and whatever else anyone had to sell as long as some of the money was donated to the fire department. I had hoped, once I heard you were back...” She clamped her lips closed and looked past Leah toward the door.
At the same moment, Leah heard, “Esther, I...”
As Ezra’s voice trailed away, Leah faced him. His light brown hair was plastered to his brow by sweat. Though she and Esther had been talking about how he’d changed from the boy he’d been, there was no question that he was a man. He wore the sweat of a man’s honest labor on his forehead, and the square line of his jaw tightened as their gazes collided and held.
She broke that link as she recalled how his sister and the scholars were watching. “I didn’t realize the person up on the roof was you, Ezra.”
“My big brother has been kind enough to do small repairs around the school.” Esther’s smile seemed strained, and Leah guessed Esther had sensed the unspoken tension between her and her brother. “The farm is closer than my other brothers’ shops in Paradise Springs, so he’s the one I call.” She laughed, but the sound was as taut as her expression.
“The roof shingles are secure,” he said in a flat voice. “You shouldn’t have any more water leaking through the ceiling. But if you do, send one of the scholars for me immediately.” He shoved the hammer in his belt and turned toward the front door. “See you later.”
Before she quite realized what she was doing, Leah followed him outside. She closed the door behind her, then spoke his name.
He stepped off the porch but glanced back over his shoulder in surprise. She was shocked, too, that she had chased after him, but what she had to say needed to be said straightaway.
Coming down the steps until her eyes were level with his, she said, “Ezra, danki for stopping.”
“I know you. You would chase after me until I did stop and listen to what you have to say.” There was a hint of humor in his voice, but he tipped his hat so she didn’t have as clear a view of his face.
She considered moving down another step so he couldn’t hide his expression from her. She resisted. They weren’t kinder having an argument over whether a ball had been fair or foul. They were two people who were trying to find their way through a maze that seemed to have no discernible pattern.
“What I have to say, Ezra, is that we need to make it clear to everyone how we understand it’s not easy for anyone, including ourselves, to know how to act after all this time. We can’t have everyone around us acting as if they’re walking on eggshells.”
“I’m not sure what you expect me to do to change other people’s perceptions.”
“I expect you to stop behaving like Mandy does when she can’t get her way.”
* * *
Ezra swallowed his gasp of surprise at Leah’s sharp words. He saw the flash of dismay on her face and knew something was bothering her. Something more than his terse words inside the school. Was it because he’d overstepped yesterday by the beaver pond? She had every right to be upset with him when she’d trusted him enough to walk with him through the woods.
“Ezra, I’m sorry,” she said before he could find the words to defuse the situation.
“Don’t apologize,” he said with a sigh. “You are right. I’m acting like a boppli.”
“No, you aren’t acting like a baby.” She stepped down to the ground, and he moved aside to leave space between them. “It’s wrong of me to take out my uncertainty on you.”
When she walked toward her family’s buggy, he followed. There was much that needed to be said between them, but he wasn’t sure where to begin. He suspected she felt the same, because she didn’t say anything until she reached the buggy.
“Don’t let Esther dump her silly worries on you,” he said.
She turned to face him, and he saw his disquiet mirrored on her pretty face. “They aren’t silly. You have changed.”
“I should hope so. I was a foolish kid the last time you saw me. I would hope I’m a little less foolish now.” He shook his head as he fought his fingers that wanted to slip around her slender waist and guide her into his arms. “It seems that I’m as dumm as I’ve always been.”
“No, you aren’t stupid, but something is clearly wrong. What is it?”
For the briefest second, he considered telling her that the first thing he thought of in the morning was holding her. The last thing he saw at night before he fell asleep was an image of her smile. Until he knew for sure that she wasn’t leaving again, he couldn’t risk his battered heart again.
“One of my cows is acting strangely,” he replied. It was the other worry on his mind.
“Mamm Millich?”
He nodded with a sigh, not a bit astonished that she had guessed the truth easily. She knew some aspects of him too well. “This is her first calf, and she seems listless. I don’t know if that’s normal with Brown Swiss cows or not.”
“Have you sent for the veterinarian?”
“I will if I don’t see any improvement by tonight.”
She looked away as she said, “I should return home. This is the day Mamm does the laundry and makes bread. She’ll appreciate my help.”
“All right.” He untied the reins from the hitching post as she climbed into the buggy.
He handed her the reins, then quickly pulled back his hand. He hoped she didn’t notice how the simple, chance brushing of her fingers had sent a jolt through him and left his fingers quivering. But the quick intake of her breath warned him that she had.
As he had the previous day, he stepped back and watched her drive away. Would she keep going one of these days and never come back?
Lord, he prayed, give me the courage to ask that question before it makes me crazy. And, Lord, stand by me if she tells me she’s not staying here. I’m not sure I can watch her leave another time.