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Keim’s face settled into a disapproving frown. “It’s after school hours.”
Toby clenched the edge of the desk hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Susannah flashed him a look that spoke volumes.
“We are working on preparations for the Christmas program.” Susannah gestured toward the half-finished candles. “Toby generously volunteered to work with the boys on some carpentry. We always need parents to help.” She looked at Keim expectantly, and Toby had to suppress a smile. Obviously the man didn’t want to help. Just as obviously he didn’t want to admit it.
Keim cleared his throat. “You know how I feel about this program of yours. But I’ll have Mary come help you. It will be more suitable than having the teacher alone in the schoolroom with a man.”
Clutching the desk wasn’t helping as his temper flashed, but he somehow managed to keep it under control. He had hurt Susannah once. The last thing he wanted was to cause trouble for her now. So he would say nothing, regardless of how much the man annoyed him. There was little he could do to make amends to Susannah, but at least he could do this.
* * *
Several days had passed, and although Susannah was pleased with the effect Toby’s presence had on his children, she still couldn’t entirely dismiss the implication of James Keim’s words. Were other people coming to similar conclusions about her and Toby? She’d hate to think so.
Mary Keim was staying after school to help every day, and Susannah suspected she had orders to report to her father everything that was said. Still, the girl seemed to be responding to the small responsibilities Susannah gave her, and when Mary relaxed, she had a nice way with the children.
Susannah drew her buggy to a halt at the back porch of Becky’s home and tried to dismiss the worries from her mind. It was time for the monthly get-together of the girls who’d been in her rumspringa group, an occasion for eating, talking and much laughter. She knew these girls as well as she knew anyone, and with them, she could relax and be herself. Even the fact that she was teaching many of their children didn’t seem to disrupt their bond.
Giving her buggy horse a final pat, she headed inside, already hearing the buzz of women’s voices, interrupted by laughter. They were all married with children, happy for an evening away from responsibilities, eager to chatter about everything that had happened in Pine Creek since they’d last met.
Susannah paused, her hand on the door. What were the chances they’d heard about Keim’s outrage over finding her working alone in the schoolroom with only a child to chaperone them? She shivered, as if a cold snowflake had landed on her.
With an annoyed shake of her head, Susannah opened the door. She would not let herself start imagining things. She stepped inside and was engulfed in a wave of warmth and welcome.
Over the supper Becky had prepared, the talk stayed general, and Susannah was able to join in the chatter about Christmas plans and holiday baking. She glanced around the table at the smiling faces. The eight of them hadn’t changed all that much since their younger days, had they?
Sara Esch caught her eye. “What are you thinking that makes you smile so, Susannah?”
“Ach, she must be smiling because Toby Unger is back in town.” Silence fell after Sally Ann’s comment. She’d always had a gift for blurting out what other people might think but not say.
“No, I was remembering the day we snuck off and had our picture taken. Sally Ann, you were so nervous you dropped your share of the money three or four times.”
Sally Ann grinned, her good nature never letting her take offense when teased. “I was imagining the bunch of us getting hauled in front of the church to confess. I was sure my parents would have a fit if they found out.”
“It was pretty hard to keep them from finding out.” Rachel Mast commented, sensible as always. “After all, there was the photo.”
It had been a fad for a time among Amish teens to have a professional photo made of their group during rumspringa, before any of them joined the church. The practice was frowned on by the older folks but generally accepted as part of growing up.
“Ach, the boys did far worse than that during their rumspringa,” Becky said. “They were no doubt glad that was all the mischief we got up to.” She rose from the table and moved to the oak cabinet against the wall, opening a drawer. “And here it is. We were a pretty good-looking bunch, ain’t so?” She passed the picture around the table.
“I don’t think we’ve changed all that much,” Susannah said, accepting the picture. She glanced down at the smiling faces.
The photographer had taken the picture of the group in a park, arranging the eight of them in various positions on and around a weathered picnic table. She’d thought it odd at the time, and it was only later that she realized what an artist he had been.
The eight of them looked so much more natural than they would have lined up in a row. She studied their youthful faces. They’d all been eighteen then.
Her gaze was arrested by her own face gravely smiling back at her, and her heart gave an odd thud. She’d said they hadn’t changed much, but the face of the younger Susannah had had a sweetness and an innocence that she wouldn’t find if she looked in the mirror now. She’d been a girl then, looking forward to marriage, secure in Toby’s love. She handed the photo on to the next person, happy not to spend any more time staring at her younger self.
Rachel pushed her empty pie plate away, sighing. “The kinder seem happy to have two new students in the school. Although from what I hear from Simon, young William is a bit of a handful.”
“Just like his daadi was.” Sally Ann grinned. “Remember when he put a whoopie pie on the teacher’s chair and she sat on it?”
The resulting laughter had a slightly nervous edge, as if her friends weren’t sure how she’d react to mentions of her old love.
Well, she had to let them see that it didn’t bother her in the least. “Luckily for me, William hasn’t thought of that trick. I just hope nobody mentions it to him.”
“We won’t tell,” Becky said. “More snitz pie, anyone?” She held the knife poised over yet another dried-apple pie, but she didn’t get any takers.
“So I hear Toby is spending a lot of time at the schoolhouse.” Sally Ann’s blue eyes twinkled, but there was an edge to her voice. Clearly there had been talk.
Well, maybe she could use the Amish grapevine to her advantage. “Toby’s kinder are finding it difficult to adjust to losing their mother and then moving to a new place. I thought it would help them feel more comfortable if their daad was around for a week or so, and helping with the Christmas program seemed a perfect way of doing so.”
There was a general murmur of approval. Good. The reason for Toby’s presence would be passed along, and hopefully, other people would be equally understanding.
“And it gives the two of you time together, too, ain’t so?” Sally Ann was irrepressible. “Take advantage of it, and you might have Toby falling for you all over again.”
Susannah’s smile froze. Several women started up their chatter again, obviously thinking Sally Ann had gone too far this time.
It wasn’t malicious, Susannah knew, glancing at Sally Ann’s ruddy, cheerful face. But it hurt, anyway, and the way her stomach was twisting made her think she shouldn’t have had that last piece of dried-apple pie.
Which was worse—to have people thinking, like Keim, that she was acting improperly? Or to have them assume she was trying to snare Toby into marriage again?
Chapter Five (#ulink_36f2ce6b-7907-53d4-9196-26e569c993e9)
After a week of having Toby working at the schoolhouse every afternoon, Susannah had begun to feel that all her fretting had been foolish. Whatever the girls from her rumspringa gang thought, she hadn’t noticed that people were gossiping about her and Toby.
The previous day, during Sunday worship and the simple lunch served afterward, she’d been on alert for any hint of interest. But she hadn’t intercepted any knowing glances or been asked any awkward questions. Surely, if folks were gossiping, she’d have sensed something.
Susannah forced her attention back to her younger scholars, who were rehearsing their part in the program. Apart from an inability to hold up their battery-powered candles and recite their lines at the same time, they were improving. As was Mary Keim, who was directing them. To Susannah’s surprise, Mary had come through, once she was trusted with the responsibility for a task.
The kinder came to the end of their recitation, and Mary glanced anxiously at Susannah.
“Gut work, all of you.” There were grins and waving of candles at her words. “Now put your candles in the box on the desk. It’s almost time to go home.”
As the young ones hurried to obey, Susannah touched Mary’s shoulder. “You are doing very well with the young ones. I’m pleased with your work.”
Mary’s thin face flushed with pleasure. “Denke, Teacher Susannah.” She hesitated for a moment. “I...I just try to do what I think you would.”
The words touched her. “That’s how we learn, ain’t so? Keep this up and you can be a gut teacher, if that’s what you want.”
The girl looked away. “I’m not sure,” she muttered. Before Susannah could respond, Mary scurried away to help the younger ones with boots and jackets.
Now, what was that about? Perhaps Mary didn’t share her father’s intent for her, although despite her earlier doubts, Susannah felt that the girl had begun to show an aptitude for teaching.
When Mary opened the schoolhouse door, Susannah saw a light snow was falling. She had to smile at the children’s reactions. They walked sedately at first, double file, across the narrow porch and down the steps as they’d been taught. When they reached the ground, they erupted like young foals, prancing and running delightedly through the white flakes.
Mary pulled on her own jacket, looking as eager as the kinder. “I’ll go out and watch until they’re picked up.”
“Denke, Mary.” Susannah closed the door after the girl, shutting out the chill December air, and then had to open it again as Anna came scurrying from the cloakroom with the twins, always the last to get their coats on.
“We’re going to make a snowman,” Anna announced. “Will you come and look at it when we’re done, Teacher Susannah?”
“I surely will,” she said, doubting that they’d have time to finish before Becky came to collect her daughters.
She closed the door again and realized that Toby was watching her, a tentative smile on his lips.
“Anna is doing better, ain’t so?” He seemed to want reassurance, as any worried father would.
“Much better.” Susannah touched the last of the tall candles he’d been constructing with the older boys. A coat of paint and they’d be ready. “She put her hand in the air this morning when I asked for volunteers to read aloud. That’s real progress from the first few days, when I couldn’t get her to say anything.”
Toby’s expression eased. “You’ve been wonderful gut with her, Susannah. Denke.”
“It’s my job.” Yet she couldn’t help sharing his pleasure. “As for William...”
Toby’s eyes darkened. “What has he done now?”
“Nothing so bad.” She hastened to assure him. “A few scuffles on the playground, that’s all.”
“I was afraid of that.” Toby’s shoulders hunched, and for a moment, he looked like an older version of his son. “I was hoping you’d be able to get through to him. I’m certain sure not doing it.”
The bitterness in his voice shook her. “I’m sorry, Toby. You and he seemed to be talking while you were working together. I prayed things were better.”
Toby shrugged, running his hand down the plywood candle. “Sometimes we start talking like we used to. But then it’s as if William puts a wall up between us.” His jaw tightened. “He’s my own son, and I can’t reach him.”
Susannah longed to deny it, but she’d seen it for herself. William was holding his father at arm’s length, and she didn’t have a guess as to why. Pity stirred in her heart.
“When did things change between you and William?” The question might seem prying, but if Toby wanted her help, she had to ask it, even if it touched on the subject of his wife.
Toby frowned. “It’s related to Emma’s death. It must be. He’s older, so he understood a little better what was happening.”
Her heart twisted. “Ach, Toby, you couldn’t protect him from the pain of his mother’s dying, no matter how much you wanted to.” Any more than he could control his own grief at the loss of his wife.
An unexpected rush of resentment washed over her, and Susannah was horrified. Toby had jilted her and married another woman, and now he expected her to help him deal with the aftermath of her death. She shouldn’t let the resentment have sway—it was unkind and unchristian.
Toby swung away from her with an abrupt movement. “Sorry.” His voice roughened with emotion. “I shouldn’t be talking about Emma, not to you, of all people.”
Shame engulfed Susannah. How could she think of herself in the face of his grief and that of his children?
A prayer formed in her thoughts. Father God, forgive me. Give me a heart clean of pain and jealousy so that I can help them.
She drew in a long, steadying breath. Then she reached out to touch his arm. “Toby, don’t think that. You can talk to me. No matter what else happened between us, we have been friends from the cradle. You can tell me anything.” Her fingers tightened on his arm. “Anything.”
For a long moment she thought he wouldn’t respond. Then his gaze met hers, and she felt as if his expression eased just a little. “Ach, how many mistakes I’ve made in my life. Mistakes other people had to pay for.” He shook his head, as if trying to shake off the pain. “William... I’m afraid that somehow William felt I didn’t love his mammi the way I should.”
Susannah tried to absorb the impact of his words. That was the last thing she’d expected to hear. Hadn’t Emma been the love he’d been looking for when he’d left Pine Creek?
“I don’t understand.” She took a breath, knowing she needed to hear the truth. “Is William right?”
Toby’s jaw tightened. “You thought I left because of you, ain’t so?”
She could only nod, bewildered.
For a long moment, Toby was silent. Then he spoke. “I should have told you this years ago. You deserved to hear the truth from me, and instead I ran away.” He grasped the plywood candle so hard that his knuckles whitened. “I panicked, that’s the truth of it. The closer our wedding came, the more it seemed to me that I was missing out on something.” He frowned down at his hands. “I don’t even know what I expected to find. I longed to experience something more than Pine Creek—to see other places, meet other people.”
She felt the sudden urge to shake him. “Toby, you could have told me. Don’t you know I would have understood? I would have given you whatever time you needed.”
His lips twisted. “I could always be honest with you, Susannah. I know. I didn’t want to face it. I was ashamed to tell you—to see the hurt in your face.”
He sounded almost angry. At himself? At her? She wasn’t sure, and she’d always thought she could read his every mood. He’d been feeling all these emotions, and she’d never even had a hint of it at the time. Had she been too busy filling her dower chest and giggling with her girlfriends at the time?
She tried to zero in on what was important now. “We were young, maybe too young. We both made mistakes. The kinder are what’s important now.”
He nodded, seeming to look past her at something she couldn’t see. “At first all I could think after I went West was how different everything was. There were all these people, and I hadn’t known them from the day I was born. Everyone was a mystery to me. Including Emma.”
“You loved her.” Susannah willed her voice to be steady.
“I fell in love.” His lips twisted in a wry smile. “That’s how it felt. I had grown into love with you, but with Emma it was more like falling from the barn roof and landing with a thud. So we got married, and then I realized that we hardly knew each other at all.”
“You were married.” That was the important thing. The Amish married for life, not like the English world, where people seemed to change mates as often as they changed clothes.
“We tried. I think Emma was happy. But then she got sick. It should have brought us closer together, but it didn’t.”
She knew, without his putting it into words, what he felt. Guilt. He accused himself of not loving Emma enough, and her dying made his guilt all the heavier.
“Toby—”
He cut her off with a sharp movement of his hand. “William was devoted to his mammi. Nothing has been right between us since she died.”
“I’m sorry, Toby.” Focus on the child, she ordered herself. “Have you talked to William about his mother?”
“I’ve tried.” Anger flashed in his face, and she suspected he was glad to feel it after opening his soul to her. “I’ve tried so many times. But William won’t talk about it. He’s slipping away, and I can’t seem to hold on to him.”
She couldn’t be angry with him when she knew the depth of his pain. “I understand. We’ll keep trying, ain’t so? It will get better.” The words sounded as hollow to her as they must to him.
“Ach, Susannah, you sound as if I’m one of the kinder, coming to you with a scraped knee.” His tone was harsh. “This is big and real, and you tell me it will get better.”
Her own anger spurted up. “What else can I say, Toby? You have to have hope. There’s no magic answer. Just keep loving William, that’s all.”
He swung toward her, grasping her wrists. “You...” Whatever he was going to say seemed to get lost as his eyes met hers. She could feel her pulse pounding against his palms.
“Susannah,” his voice deepened. “I’m such a fool, spilling all this to you. You ought to tell me to go away and solve my own problems.”
“I couldn’t do that.” She tried to smile but failed.
“No.” Everything changed in an instant. His gaze was so intense it seemed to heat her skin, and the very air around them was heavy with emotion. “You couldn’t.” He focused on her lips, and her breath caught in her throat.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. She could only wait for his lips to find hers.
His kiss was tentative at first. Gentle, then growing more intense as her lips softened under his. His hands slid up her arms, and he drew her closer. She was sinking into him, unable to feel anything but his strong arms, his warm lips—
