A Marriage for Meghan (38 page)

“Where’s Catherine? Why are you here alone?” Thomas glanced around the room as though a grown woman might be hiding somewhere.

“She left an hour ago. It was my turn to stay after to grade papers and start the students final report cards.”

“Haven’t you looked outside lately? It’s snowing.”

Meghan rolled her eyes. “Yes, that happens sometimes, even in April. I have a pair of rubber boots out in the hall. It’s just snow.” She refocused on the arithmetic paper.

Thomas walked to the window shaking his head. “Come here and look outside, young lady. It’s a blizzard, to be exact.”

She remained right where she was and picked up her red pen. “I’ll see it soon enough, but I must finish grading these papers. You’re not the only one with an important job to do, Agent Mast. I want to write each parent a detailed report of his child’s progress this year.” Then she added in a soft voice, “Considering the turn of events in my life, I had better keep my job.”

“What happened?” he asked, having heard her muttering. “Why are you chained to the teacher’s desk at great peril to your life and health?” He sat down on the windowsill with his back to the storm.

Meghan considered how much to divulge to this
Englischer
. Pouring out your heart to anybody who’d listen wasn’t the Amish way, yet she needed advice from somebody, and a male perspective might help. She couldn’t turn to James or John. They would only laugh or, worse, pat her on the head.

She took in a deep breath to summon her courage. “My former boyfriend gave me the cold shoulder at our school fund-raiser. And when I went to the last social event, he took someone else home afterward—one of my old friends, no less.”

“Ouch. That hurts.”

“You’re telling me. With my future as a wife and mother in doubt, I’d better be so good at my job that the school board will jump at rehiring me.”

Thomas appeared to be biting his tongue. “You’re only nineteen, Meghan. I wouldn’t give up hope for romance yet.”

“I’m almost twenty. That might be young in
your
world, but plenty of girls are engaged at that age in mine.”

“I believe I met Jacob in his blacksmith shop. Care to tell me how he ended up your ‘former’ boyfriend?”

“I told him I wanted some space and didn’t want to get serious. That I needed to concentrate on my job.”

“And he took you at your word?” he asked softy.

“
Jah
, but I thought he’d wait around for me since I was so
incredibly irresistible
.”

“Men can be insensitive louts at times.”

His teasing wasn’t helping, despite his good intentions. “Tell me something, Thomas. After you broke up with your girlfriend, did you miss her? And think about her all the time?”

He wasted no time answering. “No and no. I breathed a sigh of relief.”

“After I told Jacob to stop pestering me, I thought about him more than I ever did before. And I starting missing him too.”

“What exactly do you miss?”

“How he would laugh at my jokes and listen to my stories. How he made me feel good about myself. Jacob never made me feel second or third place—I was always first place in his life.” Meghan stared down at an eighth grader’s homework, feeling ashamed and juvenile as her eyes filled with tears. “I ruined my life, didn’t I?”

“Seldom are things irrevocable.”

“That means unchangeable, right?”

“It does, Miss Yost.” His face was filled with compassion.

She stood and walked to the other side of the room as tears ran down her cheeks. “I notice you said ‘seldom’ instead of ‘never.’”

“Explain to me why you didn’t think you could handle courting Jacob and learning how to teach?”

She pulled a tissue from the popup box and blew her nose. “If you knew me better, you wouldn’t ask such a question.”

Thomas checked out the window. The snow hadn’t let up. If anything the storm had escalated to full blizzard status. He should take her home before roads became impassable, but her misery tore at his heart. “Tell me what you mean, Meghan.”

“You’ve never met my sister Abby. She can juggle six balls in the air and still deliver a healthy baby. She’s a midwife, in case you hadn’t heard. And then there’s Cat—the most organized person in the world. She can grocery shop without a list and not forget a single thing we need. Her memory for detail is remarkable. She remembered every child’s name the first time she heard it. I was calling Joshua Albert, and vice versa, for weeks.”

“Different people have different talents,” he said, lifting his shoulders.

Meghan turned her back to him. “I’ve never been as smart or as talented as my sisters, so I thought I shouldn’t juggle even two balls in the air.” She shivered from the draft off the window.

“In that case, you thought wrong.” His voice reverberated in the empty room.

She pivoted to face him. “Thomas, I’m not saying this to fish compliments from you. I’m way beyond needing meaningless flattery.”

He slipped off the sill to his feet. “Good, because I’ve never been known to flatter anybody. You’re just as smart and talented as Catherine, but your gifts lie in other areas. Somehow, you got this notion that Catherine’s talents are more valuable than yours. Even without a photographic memory, you’re every bit as good a teacher.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked, feeling a rush of pleasure.

“I watched you both at the auction. The children seem to like you better and listen more when you talk to them.”

“You noticed that? I’ve thought so at times, but assumed I was imagining things.”

“You’re not imagining things. You just need to have faith in yourself. Only with self-confidence will you master whatever you still need to learn.”

“Thank you, Agent Mast.” She felt her face blush. “I wish my family saw me through your eyes. They still see a mischief-making little girl who once kicked away the ladder playing hide-and-seek. I was stuck in the hayloft for hours before someone found me.”

He laughed. “Family members are always last to forget our embarrassments, but you’re probably wrong about their opinion of you.” He walked toward her desk. “But right now we should leave before they start to worry. Take those papers home, because this storm might last for a couple days.”

“Really?” she asked, feeling miffed. “Why didn’t you say so? I thought it was just a passing cloudburst.” She hurried to her desk and began stuffing papers and the lesson plan book into her tote bag. While Thomas banked the coals in the stove, she gave the plants a quick drink.

“We’ll see how good my car does in the snow.” He followed her to the outer hallway, buttoning his coat to the neck along the way.

She shrugged into her coat, tied her outer bonnet snugly beneath her chin, and pulled on her high rubber boots. When Thomas pulled open the door to blowing, drifting snow, they both stared at an approaching pair of twin bug-eyes. “A snowmobile,” she exclaimed as the sputtering machine stopped in front of the steps.

The driver, wearing a fully insulated jumpsuit, was covered with a layer of white. “How ’bout this weather, eh?” he asked, removing his full-face helmet.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Wright?”

“I’ve come to get you, Meghan. Your sister sent me. Catherine didn’t want you walking home in this blizzard.” He wiped his face with a gloved hand. “My wife’s mad as a hornet—all her tulips and daffodils were blooming along the walkway.”

Meghan grinned, remembering how fond Jennifer Wright was of her flower garden. “Maybe the cold won’t last and they can be saved. Daffodils need a hard freeze to lie down and not get back up.” She glanced at Thomas, who stood watching the conversation without proper hat or footwear. “I’m sorry you came out in this awful weather. This is Agent Thomas Mast of the FBI. He’s our tenant in the
dawdi haus
for a while. I can ride home with him, but thank you so much, Mr. Wright.”

Thomas stepped forward. “How do you do, sir? Pleasure to meet one of the neighbors of the Yost family.” The two men shook hands. Then Thomas turned to her. “I think you should probably ride home on the snowmobile, Meghan. It’s not that far.”

She stepped closer to him in the blinding snow. “Are you crazy? I’ll get soaking wet and cold. I’d rather ride inside your car where I’ll stay warm and dry.” She glanced at her neighbor. “No offense, Mr. Wright.” She blinked as snow collected on her eyelashes.

“No offense taken, dear. Your family didn’t know that your tenant would be stopping by. I’ll just—”

“Could you give us just one minute, Mr. Wright?” interrupted Thomas. “I need to speak to Meghan, but it won’t take long.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the building, closing the door against near gale force winds.

“What’s the matter with you? You’re going to my house anyway. Why should I ride on an open snowmobile instead of in a closed car?”

“Because your father would be happier if you came home with Mr. Wright instead of me.” Thomas leaned against the door, his face wet from melting snow.

“Why would my
daed
care if you gave me a ride?”

He peered up at the ceiling before answering. “Because he’s afraid you’re becoming too interested in me and my way of life.”

“Interested in
you
? That’s ridiculous.”

“I know. That’s what I told him, but he didn’t believe me. And you know how fathers can be. With so much on his mind, let’s not give him anything else to worry about. Okay, Meghan?”

“
Fine
, Agent Mast,” she agreed. “I’ll ride home in a whiteout…in a skirt…with a half-length coat, because my
daed
thinks I’m interested in an
Englischer
…who’s practically thirty. I don’t know which of those characteristics is worse.” She winked before reaching for the door handle. “Lock up behind you.” Meghan opened the door and headed toward the snowmobile. Mr. Wright had already started the contraption and pointed it toward the road.

“I’ll be right behind you two,” called Thomas. “I’m not sure I can find my way home otherwise.” His words carried through the cold night air.

Mr. Wright waited until he had started his car and fallen in line behind them. Then they began the slow crawl down an invisible roadway.

A blizzard
, Meghan thought,
when I’ve started to plan the end-of-year picnic. Doesn’t it just figure?

Catherine paced the living room from one end to the other, pausing every couple minutes to gaze out the window at a wall of falling snow. Not that she could see anything. The blizzard obscured everything beyond their family’s front porch. She hoped she hadn’t erred in sending Mr. Wright to the schoolhouse. Meghan hated being treated like a child. And she had more than proven herself these past months as a capable woman in every way…except maybe in matters involving the heart.

When Meghan discovered Jacob was courting someone else, Catherine had witnessed her sister’s pain and had been impressed with her maturity. She’d shown no ill will toward her friend Rachel. Meghan and Catherine had even ridden home that night in the Goodall buggy. Meghan had politely chatted with Rachel’s sisters despite her anxiety and discomfort.

Should I have pushed Meghan to mend fences with Jacob a long time ago? Should I have spoken to Jacob myself about the true nature of my sister’s affections? Or would my interference simply made thing worse?

Until meeting Isaiah, Catherine hadn’t had much success in the romance department either.

“Daughter, you’re wearing out the rug,” Gideon said from the doorway. “I’ll tell James to hitch up the sleigh so you can stop fretting. This weather has turned too foul for your
schwester
to walk home.”

Catherine stopped pacing. “No need. I went to the neighbors and asked Mr. Wright to check on Meghan and bring her home.”

“You sent him out in his van?” Her father look appalled.

“He bought a new snowmobile after Christmas this year. Jennifer said he loves driving the thing. In his new insulated snowsuit, weather is no deterrent.”

“You shouldn’t have bothered him when we own a perfectly good team of Percherons that love the snow.”

“Oh,
daed
, I see headlights in the driveway.” Catherine pulled back the muslin curtains so he could see too. “They’re back. Thank goodness.”

Gideon leaned so close to the pane his breath left a ring of vapor on the glass. “Looks like there are two pairs of headlights. I wonder who would come out on a night like this?” They both hurried to the door to the porch.