Chapter Eight
On Wednesday afternoon, Lydianne gazed around her classroom with a heady sense of excitement. She’d stashed the extra desks downstairs in the storage area, behind the pegged wall where the scholars would hang their coats. Textbooks of the appropriate grade levels sat on the desks in front of her, along with cheerful name placards she’d made for each of her scholars. Colorful posters and instructional materials were arranged on the walls and above the whiteboard. Near the windows, where the yellow curtains Martha Maude had sewn fluttered crisply in the breeze, sturdy tables provided room for the first two class projects she was planning. She’d also cleaned the restroom building, which sat behind the schoolhouse.
As she stood at her desk, Lydianne couldn’t stop smiling. The new classroom was ready for her eight students, and she was eager to see their bright smiles and hear their voices filling the fresh, welcoming space. Some of her favorite memories came from her years in school, and now it was her turn to create a caring, vibrant environment for the children she would nurture each day. In a week and a half, Lydianne would be living her new dream—and secretly playing a vital part in her daughter’s upbringing and education.
Thank You, Lord, for fresh starts and answered prayers. Help me to use these gifts in the way You intended.
She sat down and slipped a spelling book from the row of texts arranged on the left edge of her desk. Except for being a new copy, it was the same book she’d used as a seventh grader, so Lydianne felt she was visiting an old friend as she opened it to the first lesson. She’d learned her weekly spelling lists by copying each word on notebook paper, writing its definition, and then using it in a sentence—and that was the method she would use with her four older students.
As she jotted notes in her planning book, Lydianne savored the peacefulness that surrounded the schoolhouse. Except for Saturdays, when The Marketplace attracted hundreds of shoppers, the property was vacant—which made it the perfect place for her scholars to learn. For morning and afternoon recess, bins of new balls, bats, jump ropes, and other playground equipment awaited them downstairs. They would play outside on the new ball field, or on the swings and seesaws, or at the volleyball net.
In her mind, Lydianne could already hear the girls’ sing-song chant of jump rope rhymes, and the crack of a bat followed by the boys’ jubilant cries as they encouraged a batter to run the bases.
The clatter of an approaching horse-drawn wagon jarred her out of her daydreams, however.
When she looked out the window, the sight of picnic tables made her suck in her breath—but when she saw the expectant smiles on Glenn’s and Billy Jay’s faces, her heart sank.
You really should be grateful to God that Glenn’s moving through the sorrow he feels for his wife—and be thankful for the gift he’s bringing, too.
Lydianne sighed. There was no escaping Glenn’s attention, because the open door and windows announced her presence. The wagon had barely come to a halt beneath the trees before Billy Jay hopped down and made a beeline for the schoolhouse.
“Teacher Lydianne, is that you in there?” he called out. “Look what we brung ya!”
Putting on a bright smile, she walked to the doorway—and was nearly bowled over as Billy Jay threw his spindly arms around her waist.
“And what brings you out here to the new school?” She rubbed his shoulders and then gently eased away from his embrace. His dark blue shirt was faded but neatly pressed. The black pants fluttering several inches above his shoe tops suggested that he was going through a growth spurt. “Would you like to see the new schoolroom now that it’s all set up? Maybe find your desk?”
For a few moments, the boy gazed around the classroom with wide eyes, but then he seemed to quickly recall his original mission. “Come and see what Dat made!” he said, grabbing her hand. “Now we can have a picnic every day, if we want to!”
As she stepped outside with her exuberant student, she couldn’t miss the wide smile on his father’s face. Glenn’s hair was still damp from a shower, and the dark beard framing his face appeared freshly trimmed.
“Gut morning, Glenn,” Lydianne said as she followed Billy Jay toward the trees. “That’s an intriguing load on your wagon.”
After his gaze lingered on her for a few moments too long, Glenn looked at his son. “Remember how I told you that you’re not to cling to Teacher Lydianne?” he said gently. “She’s your teacher, not your mamm—and she’ll have other scholars who need her attention during the school day.”
As the boy obediently dropped her hand, Lydianne was pleased that Glenn had mentioned this matter even as she felt very sorry that Billy Jay was so hungry for her attention. She smiled at the boy—although she wondered if Glenn was using his son’s neediness to inspire her affection for him.
Focusing on the picnic tables, which were cocoa colored with very smooth boards, Lydianne approached the loaded wagon. “These tables look different from most I’ve seen,” she remarked. “They’re not made from wood, are they?”
Glenn smiled as though she’d made a very astute observation. “Nope. I latched onto some composite materials a lot of English use for decks these days,” he replied as he lifted one of the benches off the wagon bed. “These tables should last for years because they won’t deteriorate like wood, and they won’t need paint to keep them looking nice.”
Lydianne noticed the ease with which Glenn continued removing the tables, which surely had to weigh more than wooden ones. “Can I help you steady—”
“Oh, no—I’ve got this.” As he set the last table on the ground, his short-sleeved shirt strained taut against his muscular shoulders and arms. “If you could lift the other end, though, you could show me where you want—”
“I’m your helper, Dat—remember?” Billy Jay piped up as he scrambled to the other end of the table. “Where do you want this one, Teacher Lydianne? Under this shade tree?”
“That would be perfect,” she replied. It wasn’t at all unusual to see fathers and sons working together, yet she had the sense that Glenn and Billy Jay were orchestrating this task to impress her.
And what will they expect in return?
It was an uncharitable thought, and it made Lydianne uncomfortable. Glenn Detweiler was an industrious fellow with a pleasant disposition, and from all outward signs, he’d provided Dorcas a happy life.
But I can’t encourage his attention. It would be dishonest and unkind to let him believe I’m the untainted schoolteacher everyone thinks I am.
By the time Glenn and Billy Jay had positioned three full-sized picnic tables and one that would seat about eight little children, Lydianne’s thoughts were spinning in a tight spiral. “Denki so much for the time and money you spent on this wonderful-gut gift for the schoolyard,” she said nervously. “I’m sorry I don’t have any water or lemonade to offer you—”
Glenn had apparently been waiting for just such an opening. “I was hoping we might go into town for lunch—maybe pick up some sandwiches at the deli and take them to the park,” he said with a hopeful smile.
“Jah, and I could play on the swings and the jungle gym!” Billy Jay exclaimed.
As the boy hopped up and down in his excitement, Lydianne felt trapped. She didn’t have a legitimate excuse—but if folks in town saw the three of them sharing lunch in the park, the grapevine would be afire with the news that she and Glenn were seeing each other.
“I appreciate your offer, but—”
At the sound of an approaching horse and buggy, Lydianne turned and almost cheered. Bishop Jeremiah was driving toward the schoolhouse. As he waved at them, his expression told her he was assessing the situation between her and Glenn. He pulled his rig up to the hitching post, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.
“So these are the tables you were talking about?” the bishop called out as he slid out of his rig. “I’m glad you’re here, Glenn. If you’ve got a minute, you and Billy Jay can help me position the four bases on the ball diamond. Works better if two people are pacing off the distance between bases and pulling the rope between them to keep the baselines straight.”
If Glenn was irritated by the bishop’s interruption, he did a fine job of covering it. Lydianne wondered if Jeremiah had originally intended for her to be his helper—or had he found out the Detweilers were coming to the school today? Either way, it was the opportunity she’d been praying for.
“I have to be going, so I’ll leave you fellows to your work,” she said, carefully avoiding the mention of her destination. “Denki for all your help getting the school and the yard ready for our scholars.”
Before either man could detain her, Lydianne hurried into the building, gathered some texts, and shut the windows. As she closed the door behind her, she realized Glenn and Jeremiah might sense she was running from them, but she didn’t let that slow her down. She waved at the trio carrying the bases toward the ball field, hitched up her horse at the pole barn, and drove toward the road without looking back.
How could she convince Glenn and the bishop that she didn’t want to date either of them, without giving them the real reason why?