To Love and to Cherish (19 page)

When she didn’t respond, he sighed, a melancholy sound that mingled with the bullfrog’s concert. “For Eli and Rebecca’s sake, I must make very sure this is right, but in my heart, I already know. I know it’s you. The question is—do you know?”

Emma pressed her chilled hands to her warm cheeks. “I don’t want to do anything to hurt your children.”

“So you think it’s better not to try? That they remain motherless?”

Others would jump at the chance to be with Thomas and his children. “What about Helen? She’s a good mother to her own children. She’s shown by her actions that she cares for you.” Emma scooted to the farthest corner of the blanket. “Could you not give your heart to her?”

Thomas stood. “You’re matchmaking at a time like this?”

It was the closest Emma had ever heard him come to sounding angry. She popped up to face him. “No—”

“That’s your answer, then.” He settled his hat and snatched up the blanket. “After all he’s done to you, you would choose Carl.”

“I never said that. I—”

He slapped the blanket together in a haphazard wad. “We should go back. It’s late and tomorrow I have much work to do.”

Her cheeks burning, the muscles in her shoulders and neck knotted, Emma walked behind him, not bothering to try to keep up with his long strides. He glanced back. “Don’t dawdle. Be careful of the holes. Don’t step in one and twist your ankle.”

“I’m not one of your children.” Even though she sounded ten. She picked up her pace. “Don’t treat me like one.”

“Then don’t act like one.”

“I’m not! You’re just mad because…because…” Because he cared about her and she had hurt him somehow. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Without a word, he tossed the blanket on the floor of the buggy and held out his hand. She took it and he helped her in.

They rode in silence until the house came into view. Silent rides were becoming a habit. Thomas tugged on the reins and brought the buggy to a halt. “Decide what you want. I meant it when I said I would wait, but you have to decide.”

“Thomas.”

He shook his head. “We’re done talking. It’s time to think and then to do.”

She stood on the porch, watching him drive away until darkness cloaked the buggy. It was all she could do to keep from slamming the screen door. Twice she’d gone out in a buggy, twice she’d come home in a huff. Somehow she remembered courting as being much nicer than this.

E
mma strolled down the aisle between the desks watching the younger children cut pumpkins from construction paper. Her hands on her hips, she surveyed the real pumpkins and dried leaves the children had used to decorate the schoolroom. A shiny, sleek one sat on her desk, leaves strewn around it. The festive decorations lifted her spirits. Thanksgiving had always been her favorite holiday, and she was determined to count blessings as always. It would be the first big holiday without Mudder and Daed, but all the more reason to find joy in it. Lillie, Mary, and Mark needed the older brothers and sisters to lead them in the way of always finding something for which to be thankful.

She stopped to look over Mary’s shoulder at the pumpkin her sister was cutting from construction paper. “What a nice job you did cutting out your pumpkin.”

“It’s orange!”

She smiled at the little girl’s enthusiasm. November and Thanksgiving were such a lovely time of year, even if the events of the past year had been difficult. There was still much to be thankful about. “Yes, it is, very orange. What are you going to draw on it? What are you thankful for?”

Lillie wrinkled her nose. She tilted her head. “Hmm…I’m thankful my sister is my teacher.”

“That’s very sweet. Thank you, Lillie.”

One of the older boys snickered. “Teacher’s pet.”

Emma fixed him with a stern stare. “Do you need to spend some time writing an essay on how to behave oneself in school, Robert?”

The boy ducked his head. “No.”

“Then mind your manners and finish grading Rachel’s spelling test.”

“Teacher, look at my pumpkin.”

Emma turned her attention to Rebecca, who held up a neatly cut circle with a protrusion at the top. She’d used a crayon to color the stem brown.

“It’s lovely, Rebecca.” Thomas’s daughter had proven to be a bright, willing student who moved easily from Pennsylvania Dutch to English and learned numbers just as quickly. “What are you thankful for?”

The girl bent over her creation, the tip of her tongue peeking through her lips as she labored over her drawing. “Daed, Groossmammi, Groossdaadi, and Mudder in heaven.” She sniffed, her tone years older than her age. “I’m happy Mudder’s in heaven.”

Rebecca dropped the brown crayon and picked up the black. She peeked at Emma without raising her head. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Emma debated. Did secrets between a teacher and her scholars present any problems when the child was Thomas’s daughter? She was only six, after all. “Of course you may.”

She leaned down, and the girl’s warm breath touched her ear. “I’m happy Mudder’s in heaven, but I really wish she were here so we could make a quilt together. And bake bread. And she could teach me to sew dresses. Is that bad, that I wish she were here?”

Emma straightened and patted the girl’s shoulder. “I understand why you feel that way, but you know that your mother is in a special place with our Heavenly Father. That is a good place to be.”

“I think Daed wants her to be here, too.”

Emma stiffened. Therein lay the problem with confidences from a little girl who was the daughter of the man she might be courting. Thomas had visited her only once since that first night and then had stayed only a short while, pleading concern over Eli being sick. He
had made no mention of their earlier walk along the pond. He was waiting for her to make a decision. To do that, she had to figure out what to do about Carl. Forgive him and move on. That’s what she needed to do, somehow. Then she’d be able to cast away the fear the thought of making herself vulnerable to Thomas brought every time she entertained it.

She must not take advantage of Rebecca’s confidences. Yet children could be so observant, much more than adults realized. Curiosity reared its ugly head. Emma fought it back into its corner. “Your father is a strong, faithful man. He’s fine, Rebecca.”

The little girl sighed. “Then why does he look so sad? Today I showed him the rip in my hem, and he was very sad. I think it’s because he doesn’t have Mudder to sew it.”

Or do all the other things wives do for their husbands and children. “You know how you can help him?”

“By being good and working hard and making breakfast?”

Emma nodded. “And by learning to mend those rips yourself.”

The girl frowned, making tiny little lines between her eyes. She looked so much like Thomas. “Aunt Molly is teaching me, but I’d rather bake pies.”

Emma forced a smile. “Me, too, but we must all do things we don’t necessarily like. And think how helpful it will be when you can sew clothes for your father and your brother. Now finish coloring your pumpkin.”

“Yes, schweschder, finish coloring your pumpkin,” Eli piped up. “I want you to learn to sew, too. I need some new pants.” He pointed to his pants, which were very obviously too short. The boy grew like a weed, just as Mark, Lillie, Mary, and Leah’s boys did. “Think you can do that?”

Rebecca made a face, then grinned. “I can. I know I can. I’ll ask Aunt Molly to help me learn faster.”

“Good, because I look like I’m going wading in the pond.”

The children laughed. Emma shushed them. “Finish your pumpkins.”

They were sweet children. Surely Thomas’s sisters and his mother were keeping up with the needs that he could not handle. Even though they had their own families, they would make every effort to fill in the gaps for Thomas. Sadness a mantle around her shoulders, she moved on to the older children, who were working on arithmetic problems. She glanced at the battery-operated clock that sat on her desk. “It’s time, boys and girls. You may get your lunch boxes and coats and return to your seats.”

Their faces bright at the thought of the two free days ahead, the children chattered loudly as they gathered their books and donned coats before returning to their seats. The girls covered their kapps with bonnets to keep their heads warm. “You are dismissed.”

They maintained the expected decorum, leaving their seats row by row until they reached the door, where it was a mad dash down the steps and away. They all had chores to do when they arrived at home, just as they had before coming to school, but still there would be games to play and fun to be had. They needed to spend time running around in the snow, chopping wood, ice skating, hunting—anything but sitting and reading in tortured English or doing multiplication tables until they could do the nines without faltering.

Emma straightened her desk and made sure the fire was out in the stove. She took her time, sweeping the floor and cleaning the blackboard. She enjoyed this part of the day, the quiet, the letting go of that sense of needing to be in control. Whatever formal education these children received came from her. She served as their only teacher. She took that honor and privilege very seriously.

Her feet tired from standing all day, Emma closed the door behind her and started down the steps. A blessed silence enveloped her. She needed to work, the kind of physical work that made her muscles burn. She increased her pace, intent on a lovely walk home through the snow, brisk, clean air that smelled of evergreen trees filling her lungs. A movement caught the corner of her eye. She wasn’t alone after all. A child who didn’t want to walk home alone? “Who is that? Mark, is that you?”

“It’s me.” Carl sauntered across the yard, his boots making a squelching sound in the slushy snow. He had a stack of firewood in arms so big, he staggered under its weight. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“I expected no one.” She tightened the strings of the wool bonnet she’d placed over her kapp. “If you’re looking for your nieces, you’re late. They’ve already gone.”

Carl dropped the wood in the wood box next to the front door. “My sister said it was our turn to bring wood. She also said to tell you they would be happy to host the next school singing at their house.”

Not wanting to appear ungrateful, Emma waited until he clomped back down the stairs. “Tell your sister I said danki. The children are almost ready with the songs in Deitsch, but the English ones still need work.”

“Whenever they’re ready.”

His gaze made her want to squirm. She forced herself to move toward the road. “I best be getting back to the house. I have papers to grade.”

“I thought I’d give you a ride home.” He flung an arm toward his buggy. “You must be tired.”

Time alone with Carl was the last thing she wanted right now. She had too much on her mind, and she couldn’t think straight with him so near. Uncertainty scampered up her spine and wrapped itself in a knot around her throat. “The walk will do me good.” She straightened her shoulders and quickened her stride once again. “I’ve been cooped up inside all day. My mind is full of cobwebs.”

“Then let me walk with you.”

“And leave the buggy here? It’ll be a long walk back. I reckon you have work to do.”

“I chopped wood first thing this morning. I spent several hours mending the fence to keep the cattle from breaking out again.” Carl scratched his nose with a gloved finger. “I also repaired the chicken coop door and cleaned the stalls in the barn. Until it’s time to feed the animals again, I’m done.”

Despite her thick shawl, the cold seeped into Emma’s bones. She pulled it tighter around her shoulders. “Why are you here?”

He shook his head, his expression bleak. “I came to pick you up the other night. I shone the flashlight. You never came out.”

Heat seared her face. She breathed in and out. “I didn’t know. I didn’t see you.”

“I’m surprised Annie or Catherine didn’t tell you.”

“They’re heavy sleepers.” Or they didn’t want her to resume courting Carl. “Besides, they couldn’t come down in their…at night to talk to a man outside the door.”

“Even if it’s to ease his troubled heart?” His hand caught hers. “Even if it’s to save him a night of regretting all he’s done to push the woman he loves away?”

She tugged at her hand. “Don’t! You don’t touch a Plain woman who is not your wife. You’re a Plain man.”

He stopped walking. She halted beyond his reach. His breath came in hard spurts. His eyes shone with unshed tears. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? I came back here to be with you, and you’re seeing another man. I might as well leave again.”

Emma closed her eyes against the memories of turmoil and anguish Carl had caused her. If she didn’t start over with him, he might lose his faith. She would be responsible for that. “Don’t do that, Carl. Don’t leave. Don’t make that decision based on what I do. Make the decision based on your faith.”

“If you truly forgive me, you’ll give me another chance.”

That wasn’t fair. “I want to forgive you. I
should
forgive you. I know that. I want to make amends.” She fought a sudden wave of nausea. “But that doesn’t mean we can start over. I grew up while you were gone. I value different things now. I want different things in the man I marry. Stay in Bliss Creek and find a fresh start with a girl who will love who you are now.”

“I don’t want a girl—”

A shout in the distance cut short his response. Emma shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun on the drifts of snow the boys had
shoveled from the road. Luke hurtled toward them in the buggy, the horse at a full gallop. Too fast for Emma’s taste. She lived in fear of another buggy accident. He needed to slow down. Nothing could be that important. Another sickening thought hit her. What would he think about her being out here alone with her former beau?

“Emma!” He halted the buggy a few feet from where they stood. His face a dark, wind-whipped red, he gasped for breath as if he’d been running. “It’s Josiah. Something has happened to Josiah.”

E
mma grabbed the handle and hoisted herself into the Carmichaels’ van. It still had an odor of leather and plastic that she only smelled in cars. She’d ridden in one like it before, when her parents had taken them on a family outing to the Wichita zoo. This time no feelings of anticipation crowded her, only fear. “What did Sarah’s father say? Did he tell the bishop’s wife if Josiah was badly hurt?”