Читать книгу: «Healing Their Amish Hearts»

Chapter One

Starting a new job was never easy. But for Rebecca Graber, it seemed her first week as the interim teacher of the Amish school in Riverton, Colorado, might also be her last.

Standing beside her desk in the one-room schoolhouse, she picked up her McGuffey reader. Thirty old-fashioned wooden desks sat lined up in orderly fashion with a black potbellied stove at the front of the room. A wide chalkboard covered the front wall, topped with English and German penmanship charts and several pull-down maps and illustrations for lessons. Poetry, artwork and Amish proverbs dotted the other walls. Becca had plenty of paper, crayons and flash cards for the children to use. And sitting on her desk was a large handbell she rang when she called the children in from recess.

“First and second grades, please take out your reading books. All other grades will study quietly in their workbooks,” she said.

There was a slight rustling as the twenty-four scholars did as she asked. She didn’t have a lot of students but since this was her first week teaching here, it felt closer to forty. On Monday morning, her first day here, her lesson plans had mysteriously disappeared. On Tuesday, she’d sat on a tack that had appeared on her chair. And the day after that, she had to break up a fight during recess when Caleb and Enos were teasing Sam. Yesterday, she’d found a paper taped to the back of her sweater that said kick me. No wonder the children had snickered every time she’d turned away. If she couldn’t get control of her class soon, she had no doubt the school board would dismiss her as a complete and utter failure even before the first of May when school let out for the summer.

The room was tidy, with dark tan walls and wooden floors. The red log building had been a specially ordered kit that was built by the fathers of the scholars. Bike racks and a hitching post were situated out front in the graveled parking lot. A small barn stood near the outhouse where the children’s horses and ponies were kept until it was time to go home. A spacious dirt area served as a baseball field. Although the school possibly needed a couple of swings and teeter-totter, Becca couldn’t ask for more and wished this was a permanent position. But the regular teacher would return next fall, after she healed from the buggy accident that had crushed her pelvis and broken both her legs. The young woman was blessed to still be alive.

As she waited for the students to settle themselves, Becca glanced out the wide windows. The afternoon sun sparkled against the dusting of snow they’d received early that morning. The azure sky looked crystal clear but the February temperatures were downright frigid. Becca added another piece of wood to the fire, then called on a student to begin.

“Samuel King, would you please read out loud for us?” she asked with a kind smile.

Sam’s soft brown eyes widened in panic, then he looked down at his book, his hands folded tightly in his lap. Becca waited patiently but the six-year-old boy didn’t speak. Not a single word.

“Excuse me, Teacher Becca.” Andy Yoder, the bishop’s youngest son and another first-grader, held up his hand.

“Yes, Andy?” Becca asked.

“Sam don’t talk, teacher. Not ever,” Andy said.

“Sam doesn’t talk,” she said, correcting the boy’s grammar.

And she wasn’t willing to accept that. But first things first. She reached for a piece of chalk so she could write the correct sentence on the board. Finding no chalk, she pulled open the drawer to her desk...and quickly jerked back as a shrill cry escaped her throat.

A snake! In her desk drawer.

She stepped back so fast that her chair toppled to the floor. All the scholars gaped at her in surprise. A few snickered. Becca blinked, expecting the snake to move. But it didn’t. And after closer inspection, she realized it was made of rubber.

A toy snake! In her desk drawer.

With a quick twist of her hand, she flipped it out onto the floor. It landed near Caleb Yoder, the bishop’s eleven-year-old son. He scooped it up before shoving it into one of the girls’ faces. Absolute pandemonium erupted. The girl reared back and screamed as Caleb tossed the fake reptile to Enos Albrecht, who laughed and waved it in the air.

“Enos! Stop that,” Becca called in a stern voice, trying to restore order.

Screeching madly, little Fannie Albrecht jumped up on her chair, her fisted hands pulled to her face in absolute terror. Shrieks and shouts filled the air.

“Stop that!” Reuben Fisher cried.

Reuben was the son of Becca’s cousin and lived in the same house with her and her aunt Naomi. He tried to snatch the toy away from Enos but wasn’t tall enough. In the struggle, the fake serpent bounced against the boy’s hand and landed on the wooden floor in front of the door.

There was a loud gasp and the room went absolutely still.

Jesse King, Sam’s father, stood in front of the open door, holding his black felt hat in his hands. His gaze swept the room, his shrewd eyes showing that he understood exactly what had transpired. A corner of his mouth twitched and Becca thought he might laugh. But no. He looked too stern to find any humor in the moment. A chilly gust of wind accompanied his entrance and he pushed the portal closed with the point of his black work boot. Becca stared, thinking she imagined the man. When had he come inside? Probably during the chaos.

Oh, no! Why did he have to show up now? What must he think of her?

A moment of confusion fogged Becca’s mind. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. She watched as if in slow motion as Mr. King leaned down and picked up the rubber snake. It dangled from his large hand and Becca couldn’t contain a shiver of revulsion.

“Is this yours?” Looking directly at Becca, Mr. King spoke in Deitsch, the German dialect their Amish people used among themselves. His voice sounded low and calm and he seemed completely unruffled by the horrible snake.

Mortified beyond words, Becca hurried toward him. Her face heated up like road flares. The fact that one of the fathers of her scholars had witnessed this shameful moment almost undid her.

“No, but I’ll take care of it.” She spoke in perfect English, the language they used in the classroom.

She forced herself to take the toy snake between two trembling fingers. With disgust, she returned it to the front of the room and shut it up in her desk drawer again. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw Lenore Schwartz help little Fannie climb down off her chair and the children all took their seats. And just like that, order was restored.

Gathering her composure, Becca patted her white organdy prayer kapp and smoothed her lavender skirts before she faced Sam’s father again.

“Mr. King, was there something you wanted?” She lifted her chin higher, forcing herself to meet Jesse King’s solid gaze. For just a moment, she thought his eyes looked sad and...haunted.

This was the first time she’d met him, though she’d seen him from afar on several occasions. Since she’d only arrived in Riverton eight days earlier, she hadn’t had the opportunity to attend church yet but she’d tried to speak with him yesterday when he’d picked up Sam from school. He’d driven away before she could catch him and, if she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d been trying to avoid her.

Up close, she realized he was a tall man with dark brooding eyes, high cheekbones and a narrow chin. His black hair was overly long for an Amish man and curled against the sides of his face. His beard indicated he was married, though Becca had been told by a member of the school board that he was a widower. Becca figured there was no one at home to cut his hair for him. If only he would smile, she might find him ruggedly handsome. But just now, his angular face showed no emotion whatsoever and only his eyes indicated an active mind hidden beneath his tranquil exterior.

“I’ve come to pick up Sam,” Jesse said. His voice sounded low, his dark eyes unwavering.

Like her, Jesse and Sam were newcomers to this Gmay, their Amish community. They had moved here from Lancaster County in Pennsylvania just two months earlier. Apparently Jesse had lost his wife and two young daughters in a house fire a year earlier. The poor man. No wonder he looked so sad. And since that time, little Samuel hadn’t spoken a single word. Becca knew no more than that. But she kept giving Sam opportunities and hoping that one day he would surprise her and finally read out loud.

Trying to be professional, she glanced at the clock on the wall. “But school isn’t out for another twenty minutes. If you’d like to wait, perhaps I can speak with you afterward.”

Jesse inclined his head. “Ne, I’m afraid I don’t have time to wait. This afternoon, I need to move a boulder from my south field and won’t be finished before it’s time to return and pick him up from school. I’ll have to take him home now.”

Becca blinked. She was trying to be understanding. Trying to be a good teacher. But the truth was, she was highly inexperienced. Though she’d served four months as a teacher’s apprentice in Ohio, this was her first time teaching solo. It was bad enough to come into a classroom full of scholars she didn’t know but she had also entered this class midway through the school year. She wanted to do a good job. She really did. In fact, her future depended on it.

“Of course.” She glanced at Sam, stepping over to help the boy gather his lunch pail and put on his warm winter coat.

For just a moment, Becca wished she was anywhere but here. She should be married and looking forward to raising a familye of her own, but that wasn’t possible now. Not since her ex-fiancé had broken off their engagement. She’d known and loved Vernon all her life, yet he’d chosen to wed another girl they’d grown up with. If Becca failed in this position, she’d be forced to return to her familye in Ohio in shame. She was hoping for a good job reference so she could go elsewhere. She couldn’t bear to go home and watch Vernon and Ruth marry and raise a familye together while she became a dried-up old spinster.

As she accompanied Sam to the door, she walked with him outside onto the front steps. “Mr. King, I really need to speak with you about Sam. Did you receive the letter I sent home with him two days ago?”

Jesse nodded. “Ja, I received your letter.”

“Gut. Then you know I’d like to discuss Sam’s problem...”

“Not now.” Without another word, Jesse placed his hat on his head and hurried down the steps. Sam trailed behind.

Becca shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Something hardened inside of her. She was Sam’s teacher and must look after his education. Determined not to be ignored, she followed Jesse.

“If not now, when? I’m concerned about Sam. He’s not speaking. I’d like to help,” she called to Jesse’s back.

Without a backward glance, the man climbed into his black buggy and closed the door. Sam scrambled into the buggy on the opposite side with a little difficulty. Becca helped him in, thinking it a bit derelict for a parent to let their six-year-old son fend for himself. She rounded the buggy, intending to confront the boy’s father.

“Mr. King, please,” she said.

Jesse took the leather lead lines into his large hands. Becca noticed several ugly, purple scars on his skin before he gave a little flick and the buggy lurched into motion. She had no choice but to step back or be trampled as he directed the horse down the muddy road. Within moments, they disappeared from view.

Well, of all the nerve! What a rude man.

Trying to hide her frustration, Becca turned and went inside. She was surprised to find the classroom so quiet. Every student had their head ducked over their books, the younger children studying their McGuffey readers while the older children wrote out vocabulary words.

No doubt the culprits of the snake incident must fear her wrath. She thought Caleb Yoder must be the ringleader. But without proof, she couldn’t accuse him openly. Still, after the events of the past week, this wasn’t the first time. And now there was a toy snake in her desk drawer. What would the school board say about that?

Being more cautious, she glanced at her chair before sitting down, then breathed a silent sigh of relief. Only ten more minutes and she’d be free for the weekend. Most of the children were bright, helpful and quiet. But Caleb and Enos had a penchant for causing enough trouble that Becca was seriously considering speaking with their parents. The only problem was that Caleb’s father was Bishop Yoder. And she hated the thought of approaching the bishop of her new Gmay about his wayward son. No, she must handle this on her own. She had to get control of the school. And fast.

Standing again, she was determined to say something to the students. After all, it was her job to correct poor behavior. Choosing her words carefully, she folded her hands in front of her starched white apron.

“Scholars, I must tell you that I’m ashamed of you today. When Mr. King came to our school, we showed him what poorly behaved children you are. You embarrassed yourselves and I have no doubt your parents will hear all about it.”

There. That was good. Maybe the fear of their parents finding out might make the children behave better. From the front of the room, Caleb slid lower in his seat. Perhaps the thought of his father hearing what had happened didn’t appeal to him. Good! Maybe he’d think twice before putting tacks on her chair or rubber snakes in her drawer again.

“I hope as you go home this afternoon, you’ll think about what your parents expect from you,” she continued. “And I hope you won’t let this happen again. Now, it’s time to go home. Please tidy your desks and get your coats on. School is dismissed.”

The students did as asked, hurrying toward the door. Out of her peripheral vision, Becca saw Caleb’s elder brother nudge his arm, a look of disapproval on his face. Karen, who was Caleb’s older sister, frowned as well.

Great! Becca wanted to cry out in victory. If Becca’s admonitions wouldn’t work, perhaps sibling pressure might help correct Caleb’s poor behavior.

The last student headed out the door. Through the wide windows, Becca saw several black buggies waiting. Since the school was situated in one corner of Bishop Yoder’s hay field, his farm was nearby. But this certainly wasn’t like her home in Ohio where everyone lived within walking distance of the school. Many of the children here in Riverton lived as many as nine miles away and needed a ride home. Some children brought a small pony cart to school, while others waited for their parents to pick them up with their horse and buggy.

Returning to her desk, Becca stared at the place where she’d stowed the toy snake. With a quick jerk, she pulled the drawer open and recoiled in anticipation. But there was no need. During the brief time when she’d been outside speaking with Jesse King, the snake had disappeared.

Hmm. No doubt one of the children had taken it. And honestly, Becca was happy to have it gone. Hopefully it didn’t make a reappearance. Because she desperately wanted the school board to write her a nice reference when she finished her assignment in May. She needed to serve as a substitute teacher for three full years before being eligible to teach at any Amish parochial school. As a teacher, she was a late bloomer. She hadn’t done any student teaching earlier, when she’d first achieved her certificate of completion from the Amish school she’d attended as a girl. She thought she’d be getting married, so she hadn’t even considered it at the time. But if she did well here in Riverton, she could get an Amish teaching job anywhere. This position was only a beginning, but she’d do almost anything to keep from returning home to Ohio.

Now, if she could just figure out a way to handle Jesse King and little Sam’s lack of speech, she might have a chance.

Jesse patted the side of his black-and-white Holstein and picked up the two buckets of fresh milk. Carrying them outside the barn, he noticed the skiff of snow they’d had that morning had almost melted off. It’d be dark soon. The afternoon sun was settling behind the Wet Mountains to the east. The fading beams of light sprayed the sky in creamy pink and gold, glinting off the jagged spikes of granitic rock. Jesse had been reading up on his new home. The Wet Valley sat at an elevation of just under 8,000 feet. With the cooler elevation and much shorter growing season, he’d never be able to successfully grow anything but hay, some barley and maybe some sugar beets. In his summer garden, the snap peas and carrots should do fine, but some other Amish farmers at church had told him not to bother growing celery and he’d have to cover his tomato plants at night or they’d freeze. But his farmland was fertile and located ten long miles outside of town. Because his new home was isolated and lonely, he’d gotten it for a cheap price. And the solitude was just what he wanted to soothe his broken heart.

Still holding the milk buckets, he paused, remembering the last time he’d shared a similar sunset with his sweet wife, Alice. Back then, they’d been living in the overly populated area of Lancaster County. They’d been walking from the barn to their house when he’d pulled her close as they’d admired the beauty of Gott’s creations. They’d heard about this new Amish settlement in Colorado and talked about moving here. It’d provide more opportunities for growth. A place where they could expand and their familye would have a better future. They were happy and filled with anticipation. Life was so good then.

Alice and their two daughters had died three days later, taking all of Jesse’s joy with them.

The rattle of a horse and buggy drew his attention. He turned and groaned out loud. Rebecca Graber, Sam’s schoolteacher, was just pulling into his graveled driveway.

He thought about rushing inside and pretending he didn’t know she was here. He could ignore her knock on the door. But no. He’d have to face her sooner or later.

Setting the buckets of frothy milk on the back porch, he tucked his thumbs into the black suspenders that crossed his blue chambray shirt and waited. Becca pulled up right in front of him and climbed out of her buggy. Wearing a heavy black mantle with a gray scarf wrapped around her neck, she tugged off her gloves. Taking a step, she tucked several golden-blond strands of hair back into her black traveling bonnet. Other than her bright pink cheeks and nose, her skin looked smooth and pale as porcelain. Her startling blue eyes sparkled with a zest for life, her heart-shaped lips creased in a tentative smile.

“Hallo, Mr. King,” she called.

“Hallo. What can I do for you?” he returned with little enthusiasm.

Slightly breathless, she joined him next to the back door. “I was hoping to speak with you briefly about Sam. I’m guessing you’ve noticed he doesn’t speak. I’d like to help. And I think if we team up, we can be more effective.”

Something hardened inside of Jesse. Who did this woman think she was? Coming to his home to tell him how to raise his son.

“How old are you?” he asked.

She blinked at his odd question. “I’m twenty-two. But I don’t see what that has to do with Sam’s reluctance to speak.”

Hmm. She was just four years younger than Jesse. Since age eighteen was the norm for schoolteachers, he thought her quite old. And he couldn’t help wondering why she wasn’t already married. A pretty little thing like her should have no trouble finding a willing groom. Especially here in Colorado, where Amish women were scarce. But he told himself he didn’t care. It wasn’t his business and he had bigger problems on his mind right now.

“I’m a fairly new teacher but I do know my subjects quite well. I just want to help,” Becca said.

“I doubt anything can be done for Sam,” he said, trying to keep his voice even and calm. “He’ll speak again once he’s gut and ready.”

Becca shook her head. “I don’t think so, Mr. King. When did Sam stop speaking?”

A rush of sad memories flooded his mind and he looked away. Her question seemed too personal. The pain was still so raw that it felt like it had happened just yesterday. “It started the afternoon of his mother and sisters’ funeral.”

She made a sad little crooning sound, like the coo of a dove. “Ach, I’m so very sorry. I have no doubt that was traumatic and difficult for both of you.”

She didn’t know the half of it. Sam had started the fire. It was his fault his mother and sisters had died. His fault they were now alone in this cold, ramshackle house. But Becca’s compassion was more than Jesse could stand. Over the past year, so many people had expressed their condolences. Then they’d introduced him to another eligible woman, as if anyone could take Alice’s place in his life. And that was just the problem. He didn’t want another wife. He didn’t want to ever marry again. He just wanted to be left alone. That was the whole reason he’d relocated to Colorado in the first place.

“I really don’t think there’s anything you can do for Sam. It’d be best if you just leave him alone and he’ll start to speak again when he’s ready.” Jesse turned to go inside but she stopped him, placing a gentle hand on his arm for just a moment.

“I don’t think so, Mr. King. I’m sure there are things we can do to help,” she said.

“Ne, I’ve already had two doctors take a look at him and there’s no physical reason he can’t speak. He’s just decided to stop talking,” Jesse insisted.

“It’s gut that you’ve had him visit some doctors but there’s obviously something wrong. Though I’ve never dealt with a traumatic problem, I worked with a couple of special needs children in Ohio and I believe Sam needs some extra help.”

So. She wasn’t going to let this go. Though Jesse was a new member of the Gmay here in Riverton and had attended Sunday church meetings, he’d stayed apart and hadn’t yet developed any real friendships with the other Amish families. Instead, he’d buried his heartache in hard work. Easy to do, considering the dilapidated condition of his new farm. Since he’d moved here two months earlier, he’d spent every waking moment mending the house, barn and broken fences. He still needed to repair the leaky roof and build furniture for his cold, ramshackle home. Having lost most of his possessions in the house fire, he’d had to start from scratch. And amidst all of that, he’d had to look after Sam, driving the boy back and forth to school, preparing meals, washing laundry and a myriad of other chores his wife used to do. There’d been a lot to deal with on his own.

Thankfully, he’d been able to sell his smaller farm in Pennsylvania to a neighbor, which had allowed him to purchase this new, bigger place in Colorado. And right now, he needed to get back to work.

The screen door on the back of the house clapped closed as Sam came outside. Jesse barely glanced at the boy, trying to think of something to say that would make Becca Graber go away and leave him alone. Instead, she smiled at Sam, so brightly that Jesse could only stare at her for several seconds. Bending at the waist, she looked the boy in the eyes.

“Hallo, Sam. How are you?” she asked.

The boy’s eyes widened, his face creased with worry. He shuffled his feet, looking anxious. A few gurgling sounds came from the back of his throat but he couldn’t seem to get any words out. Finally, he jabbed a finger urgently at the house and Becca gasped.

“Gucke! Something is burning,” she cried.

Jesse turned and saw billows of black smoke rushing from the open doorway of the kitchen. Oh, no! The pork chops. They must be burning. He’d completely forgotten all about them.

“Stay here,” he commanded as he raced into the house.

A thick fog of black smoke emanated from the metal frying pan sitting on top of the gas stove and filled the kitchen. As a certified firefighter, Jesse knew what to do. He reached into the cupboard beneath the sink and pulled out a Class B kitchen fire extinguisher. Aiming the nozzle, he blasted the burning pan with a fog of fire retardant. Then, he picked up the metal lid and, angling it to protect his face, slid it over the top of the pan to snuff out the grease fire. Lastly, he switched off the burner and slid the pan away from the source of heat.

A light tapping came from the open doorway and Becca poked her head in. “Is it safe to come in now?”

She stood there holding Sam’s hand, waiting for Jesse’s permission to enter. He nodded, wishing she’d go away. This had been a simple grease fire but it had brought the past right back for him. The night Alice and their two daughters had been killed, he was off fighting a house fire somewhere else. If only he’d been home that night, he might have saved them. It was his fault they were gone. It had been his job to protect them. His job to keep them safe.

And he’d failed.

His body trembled as he stood looking at the charred remnants of the four pork chops. He’d put the meat on the lowest heat, thinking they’d be fine until he returned from the barn. Now, he had nothing to feed Sam for supper.

He glanced at Becca and saw her gazing at his hands. Reddish-purple scars covered his skin, extending up both of his forearms. A cruel reminder that he’d run into a burning house to try and save his wife and daughters.

He folded his arms, hiding the ugly scars. Without speaking, Becca quietly opened all the windows and doors, allowing the chilly breeze to clear the house of smoke. As if from a distance, Jesse watched her silently. No matter how hard he clenched them, he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking.

Becca directed little Sam to put on his coat until the room could be warmed up again. With rapt attention, the boy followed her every move as she built up the fire in the potbellied stove.

She glanced at Jesse and hesitated. From her sympathetic expression, he was certain she could see the truth inside him. That he was upset. Shaken by the grease fire. He felt suddenly exposed. The moment was too personal. Too private. Because it hit too close to home. A reminder of what had happened a year earlier when he’d lost everyone in his familye, except Sam. And he didn’t want Becca Graber to see that. Or to know what he tried so hard to hide.

“You should leave,” he said, feeling grouchy.

“You’ll need something else for supper.” She spoke in that soft, efficient voice of hers.

Without permission, she stepped over to the cupboards and opened the doors, peering inside. He knew she would find them as empty as his broken heart. She opened the fridge before lifting her eyebrows in a dubious expression.

“Is this all the food you have in the house?” she asked, gesturing to the skimpy remnants of a ham and a small chunk of Swiss cheese.

“That and the milk.” Jesse retrieved the two buckets and set them on the counter by the sink. Having a chore to do helped soothe his jangled nerves.

Alice had always made their butter and cheese. Jesse knew the process but didn’t have time to sit and churn milk into curd. And the few times he had done so, it didn’t taste right when he finished. Something was missing.

Alice, Mary and Susanna were gone.

Pulling the ham and cheese from the fridge, Becca set them on the counter. She paused for just a moment, looking at the sink filled with dirty dishes. Without recriminations, she picked up a horse harness he had been mending and carried it to set beside the back door. Then, she rolled up her sleeves and quickly washed two plates and glasses.

“I noticed you have a coop but it doesn’t look like you have any chickens on your place, so you don’t have any eggs.” She spoke as she worked. “Maybe in the spring you can get some baby chicks. But this will do for tonight.”

Yes, he planned to buy some chickens next week. He also wanted to buy pigs, draft horses and another milk cow once the weather warmed up. But for now, he’d have to make do. A trip to the grocery store in town was definitely on the agenda for the morning. He’d stock up so this didn’t happen again.

Becca shivered and Jesse placed another stick of wood in the potbellied stove. His home wasn’t much to look at. The walls were dingy and scarred, the rooms devoid of furniture. Upstairs in the bedrooms, he’d laid two mattresses on the bare wood floors for him and Sam to sleep. No chairs. No chests of drawers. No armoires, curtains, rugs or wall hangings. The house had been uninhabited for six years. He’d been told the previous owner was Englisch and couldn’t make a go of the place. But Jesse was willing to work hard and didn’t need much to earn a simple living for him and Sam. He’d bought the farm cheap from a foreclosure sale and was glad to have it.

Becca set out the last six slices of his store-bought bread and layered them with wedges of ham and cheese for sandwiches. It’d be a dry meal but they could wash the food down with plenty of milk.

Watching her slender hands work, he thought about how much he missed Alice’s homemade breads, biscuits, pies and cakes.

“Here you go.” Becca set the two plates on the table and directed Sam to sit.

The boy gave her a questioning glance, his eyes wide, his little face so sweet and innocent. Jesse dearly loved his son. He truly did. But Sam was a constant reminder of all that they’d lost. Because Sam had set the fire. And though Jesse knew it wasn’t right, he couldn’t help blame the boy. He’d tried to forgive his son just as he’d tried to forgive himself. He really had. But he hadn’t been able to do so. Not yet, anyway.

“Ahem, will you join us?” Jesse asked, trying to be polite but wishing she’d go now.

“Ne, I’ll eat when I get home. This is for you,” Becca said.

Surprised by how she seemed to have taken over his home, Jesse joined Sam at the table. Within a few moments, they had bowed their heads and blessed the food. Jesse didn’t know what else to do. While Becca poured his son a glass of milk right from the pail, Sam immediately picked up his ham sandwich and took a big bite.

“I’m going to head home now.” Becca spoke to Jesse. “It’s getting dark outside and the roads will turn icy. I think you and I should speak more in depth at another time when you aren’t so...indisposed.”

Jesse nodded eagerly. “Ja, another time, perhaps.”

But she didn’t move. Didn’t take a single step toward the door. Instead, she closed the windows above the sink, seeming satisfied that enough smoke had dissipated from the house. Since it was wintertime, the days were shorter and it was already getting dark outside. She lit two kerosene lamps. The wicks flickered, sending eerie shadows to chase around the room. He could see her curious gaze as she peered into every corner. A feeling of mortification washed over him. He was highly conscious of the run-down condition of his home. And more than ever, he missed Alice’s home bottled beans, corn, peaches and tomatoes. She’d cared for their children and kept their home running with methodical order. But like everything else, it had all gone up in smoke.

“I... I’ve been kinda busy. I haven’t had time to go into town to the grocery store. And I haven’t had time yet to repair and paint some of the holes in the walls.” He sat there, his thumbs looped through his suspenders.

She brushed past him. He caught her scent...a clean, citrusy smell that he kind of liked. “I understand completely. It must be difficult being on your own in a new place with a little boy to raise. But don’t worry. You’ll get things in order soon.” She spoke in a cheerful, positive voice as she picked up the pair of gloves she’d set aside earlier when she’d prepared their supper.

Finally. Finally she stepped toward the outside door. Jesse stood and followed, breathing a silent sigh of relief. She was really leaving this time. But she stopped at the door and turned, catching him unaware. As he gazed down into her beautiful blue eyes, he couldn’t help comparing her to Alice. The two women were so different. Alice had been filled with inner strength but she’d been shy, quiet and unassuming. So different from Becca, who was rather bossy, outgoing and quick to take matters into her own hands.

“Mr. King, until we can make a more formal plan of action, I’d like to suggest that you read to Sam each evening. Try to get him to read to you as well. I really think that would help for the time being,” she said.

Read to Sam? Jesse didn’t have time for such nonsense but didn’t say so. He wasn’t interested in taking advice from an inexperienced schoolteacher like Becca Graber, no matter how attractive she was. But he nodded.

He accompanied her outside but didn’t help as she climbed into her buggy. He didn’t think it would be appropriate to touch her. With a wave of her hand, she bid him farewell and her horse took off at a jaunty trot.

Jesse stood there, watching her go. And as she turned onto the main county road, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. He couldn’t help feeling as if a tornado had just swept through his home. Rebecca Graber. What a dynamo. Jesse chuckled, thinking that another fire wouldn’t dare invade his new house. Because if it did, Tornado Becca would just sweep it away.

Chapter Two

Becca pulled another dusty book off the shelf and promptly sneezed. Flipping through the front table of contents, she read each topic, searching for anything that might help Sam King. After a few moments, she added this text to her growing pile. She had chosen at least six good books on vocabulary and selective mutism and how to help children who wouldn’t speak.

Standing inside the town library, she perused a bulleted list on a tip sheet, her mind churning. The little bit she’d learned that morning was not what she’d expected. Not at all. Selective mutism wasn’t a problem where a child refused to speak in order to get attention. Nor was the child acting naughty. Rather, such children had an anxiety disorder wherein they couldn’t speak because their apprehension was so severe they were actually scared silent.

Flipping to a chapter on treatment, she braced the book against the shelf and continued reading. It was Saturday morning and she’d taken advantage of the clear weather to come into town and see what she might find. She could check out library books, as long as they magnified Jesus Christ. Jakob Fisher, her first cousin, had driven her here but she’d have to walk back to his farm. She lived with Jakob, his wife and three children, her aunt and grandfather. If she found some help for Sam today, the nine-mile walk home would be worth it.

An hour earlier, she’d paid a quick visit to Caroline Schwartz, Sam’s permanent teacher. The poor girl was still in the hospital, her legs and hips in traction. If Caroline hoped to walk again, she’d be restricted to bed for the next four months. At barely eighteen years of age, Caroline seemed even more inexperienced at teaching than Becca. And since the accident had happened about the same time Jesse and Sam had moved to the area, Caroline hadn’t yet been able to do anything about the boy’s problem. She’d explained to Becca that she’d ordered a newsletter written by Amish parents of special needs children titled Life’s Special Sunbeams. That might be of some help but Becca doubted it. Still, she had the address of the national publication and planned to subscribe as well.

Caroline had also tried to speak with Jesse King but the man had terrified her with his offish manner. No surprise there. Jesse didn’t seem to like anyone. But Becca wasn’t about to let the oafish man scare her off. She was determined to do something to help Sam, with or without his father’s cooperation. She believed Sam’s unwillingness to speak had everything to do with his mother and sisters’ deaths.

Lifting the pile of books, Becca carried them back to the open area of the library. Her mind buzzed with a number of techniques she’d like to try with Sam. Ritual greetings every morning at school, including him in activities even if he didn’t speak and some other techniques to reduce his anxiety while at school. She had some flash cards she could use but thought she might need to spend extra time working one-on-one with Sam when the other children weren’t around to distract or startle him. And she wasn’t sure how to build that time into the school curriculum. It wouldn’t be prudent to ignore the other children’s needs because Sam required so much extra attention but she’d figure it out.

Making her way back to the table where she’d been jotting down notes, she thought of a possible solution...and promptly bumped into someone.

“Oof!”

She looked up and blinked. “Mr. King.”

He stared down at her with widened eyes, seeming just as surprised as she was. “Hallo, Miss Graber.”

“Wh...what are you doing here?” she asked, thinking how nonsensical she sounded.

He shifted his weight and she saw that he held a book in his hand. He quickly lowered his arm, shielding the text behind his thigh. From his nervous gesture, she thought he was trying to conceal it from her. But he didn’t know her very well. Reaching behind him, she took the book from his hand and read the title out loud.

“The Silent Child.”

His face flushed red as a sugar beet. Ah, he wasn’t as withdrawn from his son’s problem as he made it appear. In fact, it looked as though he was actually trying to do something to help Sam. And right then and there, Becca’s opinion of Jesse King improved just a tad. Up to now, she’d had little respect for the man but realized he wasn’t the uncaring, brutish father he appeared to be. But why did he have to be so difficult about it? Why did he have to hide his concern? It seemed as though he were fighting against himself. As though he didn’t want to care about Sam, yet he did. Very much.

She met his gaze, noticing the irritated glint in his eyes. She could tell that he didn’t like meeting her here. She held the book out to him and he took it reluctantly.

“It looks like you’re reading up on Sam’s problem.” She spoke the obvious.

“Ja, I thought maybe...” He didn’t finish the sentence. “What are you doing here?” he asked instead.

She held up several books on the same topic. “The same as you. Looking for ways to help Sam.”

He snorted. “I doubt it’ll do any gut. I’ve already tried everything I can think of and Sam still won’t talk. He hasn’t said a single word in almost a year.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged and looked away but not before she saw the pain written in his eyes. Her heart gave a painful squeeze. The poor little boy. And the poor man too! This couldn’t be easy on Jesse either.

“But we have to try, don’t we?” she asked.

He glanced at his son, who sat a short distance away at another table, poring over several children’s books. The boy’s lips were moving and Becca got the impression he was reading to himself. She’d seen him do this in school before but what it meant, she had no idea.

“It appears that he can read,” she observed.

“Ja, his mudder taught him. She...she used to read to all our kinder all the time. Sam can definitely read.”

Hmm. Was that why Jesse seemed so against reading to Sam each night? Because it was something his wife had done before she died? Or was it simply because he was busy and thought reading to his son was a woman’s job? Well, it was time to teach him differently. Fathers could read to their kids just as well as mothers.

“Are you planning to read to Sam each night, as we discussed?” she asked.

“I... I don’t have a lot of extra time. By the time I finish my barn chores, Sam’s usually half-asleep. And I’ve been trying to make us some furniture in the evenings,” he hedged.

Becca didn’t argue. She sensed that she couldn’t push Jesse King any more than she could little Sam. But still, Jesse had come to the library to check out some books. That was a good start.

“Any idea how well Sam can read?” Becca asked.

He shrugged those unbelievably wide shoulders of his. “Ne, I have no idea. I just know he can read. He was always a bright little fellow before...”

Before his momma died. That was good. If they could just get Sam to speak again, it could open up a whole new world for the boy. And possibly open the world again to Jesse King too.

He sidestepped her, edging toward his son. “Um, we were just leaving. We have to get home soon.”

“But I was hoping to meet with you at length. Is there a time when you and I can sit down and develop a plan of action for Sam?”

He shook his head. “Not today.”

“But, Mr. King!” She took a step after him.

“Shh!” The librarian appeared out of nowhere, pressing a finger to her lips. From the stern lift of the woman’s eyebrows, Becca realized she must have spoken too loudly.

Without another word, Jesse turned and hurried over to Sam. The man’s black felt hat sat on the table top and he picked it up and placed it on his head. Becca watched in frustration, longing to go after him. Wanting to make him listen to her. But she knew she couldn’t force him to do what he didn’t want to do. And that’s when something else occurred to her.

Sam didn’t speak because he was traumatized by the deaths of his mother and sister. But Jesse King was just as traumatized in his own way. And he obviously didn’t want to talk about it. She could empathize with the man. Losing his wife and daughters must have scarred his heart as much as it had Sam’s. And that’s when she decided to give Jesse some space. He’d been reluctant to help, yet he’d come to the library on his own. With a little more time, maybe he would seek out her assistance as well. But for Sam’s sake, she hoped Jesse didn’t wait too long.

“Come on, Sam.” Jesse spoke low as he took the boy’s arm and tugged gently.

Sam had no choice but to follow and he reluctantly left his books behind. As they headed toward the front door, he looked back at the texts with such longing that Becca knew he wasn’t finished with them yet. She couldn’t help wondering why Jesse seemed so antisocial. Every time she tried to talk to him, he acted skittish, like he wanted to get away. Or was it just her he didn’t like? She wasn’t sure but it seemed to her that Jesse fought against himself. Some inner strife seemed to wage a battle inside of him. She figured it all must relate to his deceased wife and daughters.

She watched as they hurried out of the library without a single book in tow. Even Jesse had abandoned the text he’d been holding. It was such a shame. Both the father and son could benefit greatly from those texts. Becca decided to do something about it. Stepping over to Sam’s table, she scooped up most of the plethora of books the child had been reading and carried them over to the checkout counter with her own selections. She added Jesse’s book to the pile. No matter how hard he tried, Jesse King was not getting rid of her.

Jesse flicked the leather lead lines at his horse’s rump and settled into his seat. After leaving the library, he’d taken Sam over to the grocery store and stocked up on numerous cases of canned and boxed goods. Soup, chili, corn, string beans, peaches, pears and oatmeal. Now, even if he did burn their supper, he’d have something in the house to feed his son. It wasn’t that he didn’t have money to buy food but rather he had too many chores to carry alone. He needed his wife and daughters back. He needed Alice more than ever.

The buggy-wagon swayed gently as he turned the horse off Main Street and headed along the county road. The clop of the horse’s hooves hitting the black asphalt soothed his jangled nerves. He didn’t know why he’d gone to the library in town. Sam had been delighted. Though the boy didn’t speak, Jesse could see his pleasure written across his face and in the little skip in his stride. It had been a lapse in judgment and Jesse had been mortified to be caught there by Becca Graber. Having been raised by a strong, domineering father, Jesse didn’t like feeling out of control. And that’s how Sam’s problem made him feel. Out of control.

Sam sat silently beside him on the front seat. Jesse knew his son wasn’t happy to leave his books behind. Maybe he should have checked them out for the boy. Even if he didn’t read to Sam, there was no reason to keep the child from reading on his own. They both already lived such a lonely, isolated life. The books might open up the world to Sam. They might help him speak again.

Maybe on Monday, Jesse could make another quick trip into town and check out the books for Sam. Wouldn’t the boy be excited when he came home from school and found a pile of texts waiting for him?

The thought made Jesse go very still. He’d been so angry at Sam for so long now that it was a novelty for him to want to make the boy happy. But he did. In fact, Jesse longed to hear his son’s laughter again. How he wished his son would speak.

At that moment, Sam lifted an arm and pointed. Jesse could just make out a lone figure, walking ahead of them on the side of the road. From her plain dress, black tights, heavy shawl and bonnet, he could tell she was Amish. She carried a heavy bag in each hand. Probably walking home after shopping in town. But then he saw a flash of purple skirts and knew exactly who she was.

Becca Graber.

His shoulders tensed and he thought of driving on by without acknowledging her. But that would be too rude, even for him.

As his buggy-wagon neared, she glanced over her shoulder and moved a safe distance off the road so she wouldn’t be trampled. He instantly regretted making her move as he watched her sidestep the muddy ground.

When he pulled up beside her, she stopped and nodded, her hands too encumbered by the heavy bags to wave.

“Hallo! Fancy meeting you out here on the road,” she said.

Her voice held a happy lilt and he wondered vaguely if anything ever got her down.

“Ja, fancy that. You look as though your arms are quite full. Can we offer you a ride home?” Though his voice held little enthusiasm, Jesse forced himself to say the words, knowing it was the right thing to do.

She hesitated, glancing at the long road ahead. “Are you sure it’s no trouble?”

He’d heard that she lived with the Fishers, who were her relatives. Dawdi Zeke, the eldest member of the Gmay at ninety-six years, was her grandfather. They lived nine miles outside of town and Jesse would pass right by their farm on his way home. Ironically, the Fishers were his neighbors. A fact that made it much too easy for Becca to drive over to their place whenever she wanted. He just hoped she didn’t make a habit of popping in during the supper hour.

“Ne, of course not. We pass by your place on our way home. Climb in.” The moment he made the invitation, he regretted it. He didn’t want to give Sam’s schoolteacher a ride home. He wanted to be left alone.

“Ach, danke so much. I didn’t realize how heavy these books would be when I was sitting in the library.” She handed the bags to him and he set them on the floor of the back seat.

As she climbed up to sit with Sam in between them, Jesse saw her glance back at the wagon. It was filled with boxes and bags of groceries, shingles and other roofing supplies, as well as a large crate of live chickens. The hens had fluffed their feathers and huddled together for warmth as they clucked with impatience. He didn’t get into town often and had made the best of this trip.

“I see you’ve been to the grocery store and got some hens too,” she said as she settled herself.

“Ja.” He flicked the leads at the horse’s rump and they lurched forward.

“That’s gut. At least you’ll have fresh eggs to eat if you burn the pork chops again.” She laughed, the sound high and sweet. There was no guile in her voice but simply a gentle sense of humor.

Jesse would have smiled but he still couldn’t decide if he liked this woman. She was definitely likeable, if he weren’t still missing Alice so much.

“Sam, I have something special for you.” She reached around and rummaged inside one of her burlap bags before pulling out the pile of books the boy had abandoned at the library.

Sam made a happy sound in the back of his throat and took the books onto his lap.

“And this is for you.” She pulled out the book Jesse had been perusing and held it up for his inspection.

Jesse went very still. He wasn’t sure if he should be happy or sad. He’d wanted to check out the book but he didn’t want it forced down his throat by the pretty schoolteacher.

“I know you were in a big hurry to get home, so I thought I could check them out for you,” she said.

Hmm. Interesting how she was making this easy for him, as if he’d been indisposed so she’d done him a favor.

“I had planned to bring them to you at church tomorrow. Now you can read this evening. But you’ll only be able to keep them for two weeks before they’re due back at the library,” she warned.

She smiled and spoke so happily that Jesse didn’t have the heart to scold her for being presumptuous. Her gesture was kind and he realized she only had their best interests at heart.

“Danke.” He spoke low, forcing himself to say the word.

“You’re willkomm.”

Turning in her seat, she perused the clear but chilly day. The afternoon sun had done its best to melt off the snow but slushy spots on the road would soon ice up as evening came on and he was eager to get home. Driving a horse and buggy at night was not safe. Cars and trucks traveled way too fast and might come upon them without seeing their reflective lights. He’d heard that Caroline Schwartz, the regular schoolteacher, had been driving a buggy at night when she was hit from behind. The accident had nearly killed the poor girl and they’d had to put her horse down.

“Isn’t it a nice day?” Becca asked, then gave an exaggerated shiver. “But brrr, it’s so cold. Still, it could always be worse. At least it isn’t snowing again.”

Jesse agreed but didn’t answer. He just listened as Becca talked on and on about inconsequential things. The weather. Their church meetings tomorrow. The end-of-year program she was planning for the school. The box social fund-raiser she’d been asked to coordinate so they could purchase playground equipment for the school. He glanced at her pretty profile, thinking once again that she was like a whirl of wind. And he wasn’t sure he liked that.

“Did you walk into town this morning?” he asked.

“Ne, my cousin, Jakob, gave me a ride. He needed to buy supplies too. But I wanted to stay longer and told him I’d walk home this afternoon. Since the weather was clear, he agreed.” She gazed out at the damp countryside. “I think at that time, I underestimated how cold it is outside. I walked everywhere when I lived in Ohio but I’m still not used to the colder weather in Colorado. And everything is so spread out here. My cousin’s farm is much too far from town to walk in the cold and I won’t make that mistake again.”

He agreed. If she had been his cousin, he would not have let her walk nine miles on such a cold winter’s day. And though he would never admit such a thing, it kind of upset him that Jakob Fisher had been so derelict in her care. Since he’d lived here for a number of years already, the man should have known better.

“I’m sorry. I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” she said suddenly.

Yes, but he didn’t say so. He would never admit that he liked her incessant chatter. It had been so long since he’d listened to a woman talk about everything and nothing and it filled up the lonely void of the ride. With Sam not speaking, Jesse’s life had become overly quiet and he realized he was hungry to talk to someone. Anyone! Even if that someone happened to be Sam’s pushy schoolteacher.

Before he knew it, they had arrived at the turnoff to the Fishers’ farm. Jesse wasn’t about to make Becca walk the muddy road leading to the house and he turned the horse down the lane. The two-story log structure looked just the same as his, except that it was in pristine repair. So was the large, red barn. The tidy property was outlined by long barbed wire fences and fallow fields waiting for spring plowing. Black-and-white milk cows stood in a corral, chewing their cud. Several draft horses stood together near a cluster of barren trees. In the summertime, he had no doubt the place would be burgeoning with green life.

One day soon, Jesse hoped his own farm looked in this good a shape but he knew it would take time and lots of hard work for it to prosper. But he intended to do just that. Bishop Yoder had offered to coordinate a work frolic to help with some of the repairs but Jesse had politely refused. He’d come here for isolation and didn’t want a lot of people around his place asking a lot of questions about Alice and their girls. For now, he wanted to be left alone.

“Danke for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow at church.” Becca hopped out after he pulled the horse to a stop in front of the house.

She reached up as Jesse handed her the bags. Their fingers brushed together for just a moment and he felt the warmth of her soft skin against his. Sam waved, but Jesse didn’t speak. He didn’t want to see Becca Graber again. And yet, he did. Not because he was interested in her as a woman. But rather, she was so different from Alice. So filled with ideas, so talkative and bright, like a shiny new button. Becca Graber was a novelty to him. A glimpse of normalcy that he hadn’t enjoyed in a long, lonely time. And no matter how hard he tried not to, he liked her.

Chapter Three

Jesse awoke slowly, pulled out of a deep sleep. Opening his eyes, he blinked into the darkness. It was way too early to get up for morning chores. Over the past year, he hadn’t been sleeping well. Tonight was no exception. He’d gone to bed late after working on another chair to go with the kitchen table. After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, he’d fallen into a dreamless sleep. So, what had awakened him?

He rolled over, pulling the warm quilt with him. He gazed through the shadows at the empty pillow next to him. How he missed Alice and her warm, gentle touch. Just knowing she was there, lying beside him, had brought him joy. But now, the house felt cold and empty. He must have forgotten to stoke the fire in the stove before he went to bed. But honestly, he’d become skittish about adding kindling at night for fear it might start another house fire. Although he’d lost his previous home because Sam was playing with matches, he’d become overly cautious when it came to fire.

There! The sound came again. A low cry from the outer hallway followed by muffled crying. Sam must be having another nightmare.

Throwing back the covers, Jesse sat up and placed his bare feet against the chilly floor. Alice wasn’t here to make one of her large rag rugs to cover the bare, scarred wood. He’d resisted buying one, trying to conserve his funds until the priority expenses had been met, such as repairing the leaky roof and buying more livestock. His future livelihood depended on him making this farm prosper and he intended to do just that.

Standing, he reached for his discarded shirt and pulled it over top of his undershirt. Raking a hand through his disheveled hair, he walked out onto the landing at the top of the stairs. He paused beside the door to Sam’s bedroom and listened. Another scream and then pitiful weeping came from the room and he raced inside. Sam lay upon the mattress, his arms and legs tangled in the bedding. His eyes were closed in sleep but he thrashed around, as if he were trying to escape some unknown predator.

Definitely another nightmare. The boy had been having such bad dreams ever since the fire, though their occurrence had diminished once they’d arrived in Riverton. Over time, Jesse had hoped the bad dreams would disappear entirely.

He pulled the covers away and rearranged them before lying on the mattress with his son. Blanketing them both against the frigid night air, he pulled Sam into his arms, aware that the boy had awakened and was silently weeping. His slim body trembled, his shoulders quaking. Holding the child against his chest, Jesse rubbed his back the way Alice used to do whenever one of their children was sick or upset about something.

“Shh, Daed is here now. You’re safe. It’s going to be all right,” Jesse soothed, copying her words.

Alice had always known what to do, what to say. Her kind, quiet nature had brought him comfort whenever he was worried about something too. She was the most caring, prim and proper woman he’d ever known. So different from Becca Graber’s outgoing nature. And yet, Becca seemed no less kind and giving. She just went about it in different ways.

Sam’s back and shoulders trembled, his tears wetting Jesse’s neck. The boy curled his tiny hands into the folds of Jesse’s shirt, as if he were clinging to a lifeline. Jesse continued to reassure the boy, speaking sentiments of comfort.

How he wished he could believe what he said. That everything would be all right. That the painful ache lodged inside their hearts would somehow ease and go away. But it hadn’t. Not one bit. Because Alice, Mary and Susanna were all gone. And Jesse couldn’t bring them back. He thought that relocating his son to Colorado would diminish the tender memories they each suffered from. That somehow, they could forget. But it was still there, raw and painful. Haunting them every day.

Jesse had been taught all his life to accept Gott’s will. That he should be accepting of where divine Providence had placed him. It wasn’t right for him to question Gott’s motives in anything. But he did. He couldn’t help asking why Alice and his little girls had to die. Why?

Now, Jesse had only his faith to rely on. The belief that Gott had taken his familye into His hands and would love and care for them until they could all be reunited once more.

“Gott verlosst die Seine nicht.” Jesse spoke the phrase softly, trying to believe that God would never abandon them.

Sam didn’t respond. Didn’t move a muscle or say a single word. But Jesse knew he heard and understood. Now, if only they could both believe his words, they might have some hope of healing.

An hour later, Jesse still lay there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if it had been a good choice for him to bring Sam to Colorado. It was what he and Alice had talked about. What they had planned for some time. Their home and familye in Pennsylvania was gone and he’d thought to give them a fresh start somewhere that didn’t remind him and Sam of all they’d lost. But even here, in a house that Alice and his girls had never lived in, Jesse still saw them every day in his mind and in his heart. The memories haunted him. And he realized then that they were such a part of him and Sam that neither of them could ever forget. Jesse couldn’t seem to let them go. He could run and hide but they’d still be with him. He longed to run away, but he couldn’t run from himself. So, how could he overcome the pain and regret and live again? He must have faith! He knew that without a doubt. Yet, it was so hard to put his beliefs into action.

Sam gave a little shudder, his breath coming slow and even. They lay there together, both suffering in their own different ways. But Jesse was Sam’s father. He must set a good example for his son. To show him that he truly believed Gott rules over all. That no matter what trials came their way, they could overcome anything through faith and obedience to Gott’s will. Surely the Lord hadn’t abandoned them.

Or had He?

In the wee hours of the night, Sam finally slept. Jesse felt the boy’s body soften, his little chest rising slowly with each breath. But there was no peace of mind for Jesse.

Ever so gently, he eased away from his son and stood looking down at the boy. Dried tears streaked Sam’s pale cheeks. He looked so innocent. So pure and defenseless. And an overwhelming urge to protect him flooded Jesse with deep and abiding love. He was Sam’s father and owed it to the boy to care for him. To help him any way he possibly could.

Sam shivered and Jesse reached to tug the covers higher over his child’s slender shoulders. Turning, Jesse walked out of the room. The stairs creaked beneath his weight as he went to stoke the stove and warm up the house. Morning would be here soon. They’d get busy with their activities and it would ease the tension for a time...until nighttime fell and they once again were tortured by their painful memories.

He stared out the dark windows, seeing the faint golden light of sunrise. The mountains were beautiful here, reminding Jesse just how small and insignificant he really was. And yet, he knew Gott loved him. Surely He would care for him and Sam.

It was Church Sunday and he must soon awaken his son for morning chores. They would drive seven miles to Bishop Yoder’s farm where they would listen to the Lord’s word and worship Gott. That must never change. Jesse’s beliefs had become his anchor in life. He could never abandon his faith. If he did, he knew Alice wouldn’t approve. She was counting on him to teach Sam. To show their son how to be a good man of faith.

Becca Graber would undoubtedly be at church too. Maybe Jesse should speak with her about Sam. Perhaps he should swallow his pride and ask the pretty schoolteacher for advice. Maybe she had some good ideas that might help Sam.

In the kitchen, Jesse sat on one of the hard, wooden chairs he’d made with his own two hands. Hours of working late into the night as he strived to create a warm and welcoming place for him and Sam to live. In the past, he had enjoyed such work. Especially when he showed his new creations to Alice. She would smile with approval and reward him with a gentle hug and kiss. Now, she wasn’t here and he wondered why he even tried. What did he have to live for anymore?

Sam!

The boy’s name came to his mind as if in a shout. He must forgive and forget and keep striving to better serve others. As a father, he owed that to his little boy. He owed it to Alice and to his Gott too. He must not quit. Not now, not ever. The Savior would want him to forgive and keep going. Surely Sam would start to talk again on his own. If they just left him alone, the boy would figure it out and speak again. Wouldn’t he?

Feeling overwhelmed by his convictions, Jesse leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He stared at the growing light of day until the sun became a golden ring of light and his eyes burned and his vision blurred. And then, as the grief washed over him in a fresh wave of pain, he bowed his head, cupped his face in his hands, and wept.

He was watching her again. Becca felt Jesse King’s eyes on her even before she turned and looked at him. Sitting on the hard, backless bench, she tried to concentrate on what the minister was saying. It was Sunday morning, a bright, crisp day that was perfect for worship services. For several minutes, she focused on the preaching. Quoting Psalms 127, Jeremiah Beiler’s voice was filled with emotion as he described children as a heritage from God who should be loved and cherished.

Looking up, Becca saw Jesse gazing intently at the minister. Jesse’s forehead was furrowed in a slight frown, his eyes crinkled in thought. Hmm. Maybe he should remember that Sam should be valued instead of being brushed off as a bother.

At that moment, Jesse tilted his head and his eyes clashed, then locked with hers. She looked away, her face heating up with embarrassment. She’d encouraged him to let her help with Sam’s speech problem and he’d refused. She’d do what she could for the boy during school hours but she couldn’t force Jesse to listen to her. He had to take the next step. She just hoped that was soon before Sam was too old and set in his ways to start talking again.

“What’s going on between you and Jesse King?” Naomi Fisher asked Becca later as they cleaned up after the noon meal.

Naomi was Becca’s aunt and had helped her get this teaching position in Riverton. Knowing how Becca’s heart had been broken by Vernon, Naomi had written her in January to ask if she might like to stay with her and work as the teacher until the school year ended in May. Longing for a chance to escape Vernon and Ruth’s happy preparations for their marriage, Becca had jumped at the chance.

“What do you mean?” Becca asked.

Standing in the kitchen at the bishop’s home, she washed another plate and set it in the dish drain. Aunt Naomi promptly picked it up to dry with a long, white cloth.

“I saw you two looking at each other during the meetings. You are lovely and he is a handsome widower. I’m not surprised he might be interested in you,” Naomi said.

Becca snorted. “Believe me, Jesse King is far from interested. I’ve simply offered to assist Sam with his speaking problem and the man refuses to be helped.”

Though she spoke low so the numerous other women working around them wouldn’t hear her words, Becca couldn’t prevent a note of irritation from entering her voice.

“I’m sure he’s still hurting,” Naomi said. “You know he lost his wife and two young daughters in a house fire a year ago.”

“Ja, I know all about it. But it’s no excuse to ignore Sam’s needs,” Becca said.

“Ach, did you also know it was Sam who started the fire?”

Becca gasped and turned to stare at her aunt. “Ne, I didn’t know that. Are you sure?”

Naomi shrugged and set the clean plate aside before picking up another one to dry. “Since I wasn’t there, I’m not sure of anything. But that’s what Sarah Yoder said.”

Sarah was the bishop’s wife and would be privy to such private information like that.

“I’m surprised Sarah would tell you something so personal. It sounds like gossip to me,” Becca whispered low.

Naomi drew her shoulders back, her expression filled with dignity. “She wasn’t gossiping at all, I can assure you. I accidentally overheard her talking to Bishop Yoder about it right after Jesse and his son moved here to Riverton. She didn’t know I was there listening and I haven’t spoken about it since. I have only told you because you’re my niece and I think the information might help you to resolve Sam’s problem. The poor child. Losing his mamm and sisters so young. No wonder the little lamb doesn’t speak. And no wonder Jesse is so sullen all the time. I feel bad for him, having to carry such a horrible burden on his shoulders.”

Yes, no wonder. But knowing that Sam had started the house fire changed everything and nothing. He still needed help. And soon. Was it possible that Jesse was angry with his son for starting the fire? Did Jesse hold a grudge against his own son? Oh, it was too cruel. No wonder Sam didn’t speak. Knowing what he’d done, he must be wracked by guilt. And living with a father who blamed him for what happened must be more than Sam could bear. No doubt Jesse fought against his own guilt as well.

“Ahem, excuse me, ladies. I’m sorry to interrupt your work.”

Becca looked up, surprised to see Jesse King standing in the open doorway to the kitchen. And for the umpteenth time that day, her face flamed hotter than a bonfire. Had he overheard her and Aunt Naomi talking about him? Did he know how curious she was?

The room went deathly quiet. Sarah Yoder stepped away from the gas-powered oven and nodded pleasantly. Since this was her home, she was their hostess and responsible to see that everyone was comfortable.

“Hallo, Jesse. What can we help you with?” she asked.

His gaze drifted past the sea of smiling faces until it landed on Becca.

“I was hoping to speak with Miss Graber for a moment,” he said.

Someone gave a breathless laugh and Becca wished the floor would just open up and swallow her whole.

“It’s about Sam,” Jesse continued, as if sensing the other women’s interest.

A pulse of energy shot up from Becca’s toes. He wanted to talk to her about Sam. Maybe he was finally ready to make a plan with her to help the boy. Everyone knew she was the schoolteacher and that Sam didn’t talk. Not even to his school friends. She was duty bound to help the child in any way possible. What could be more natural than for Jesse to want to confer with his son’s teacher about the boy’s problem? But Jesse’s timing couldn’t be worse. Becca hated the thought that everyone in her Gmay might think there was something romantic going on between them. Because there wasn’t. No, not at all.

“Of course! I’d be happy to discuss Sam with you.” Giving an efficient nod, she quickly dried her hands and set the towel aside.

As Becca made her way over to the door, Lizzie Stoltzfus and Abby Fisher, her cousin’s wife, ducked their heads together to share a whispered comment. Even Julia Hostetler, who had been Englisch before her recent conversion and marriage into their faith, was grinning like a fool. Only old Marva Geingerich, who was almost ninety years old, was frowning with disapproval.

Had they all lost their minds? Becca had no romantic interest in Jesse King. None whatsoever. She hated the indifferent way he treated Sam. Even if he was handsome and tall as a church steeple, his brusque manner made it difficult for Becca to like him.

He lifted a hand for her to precede him as she stepped out into the sunshine. As she stood beneath the barren branches of a tall elm tree, the frosty wind sent a shiver through her that made her gasp and wish she’d grabbed her warm shawl on her way outside. Before she knew what was happening, Jesse had doffed his warm frock coat and swept it over her trembling shoulders. She instantly caught his scent, a warm clean smell of hay, horses and peppermint. He was gazing at her lavender dress and she looked down, wondering if she had spilled something on it.

“That’s a nice color on you. I’m sorry to bring you out here on such a cold day. I’ll try not to keep you very long,” he said.

She stared up at him, blinking in stunned amazement. All rational thought skipped right out of her head and she didn’t know what to say. Had he actually paid her a compliment? Maybe her ears had deceived her. “I, um, danke, but that really isn’t necessary.”

She forced herself to hand his coat back to him. Though she really was freezing, a glance at the house told her that Aunt Naomi and Sarah Yoder were both staring out the kitchen window at her. To make matters worse, they had most certainly watched as Jesse offered her his coat. No doubt it would be all over the Gmay by early evening that she and Jesse King were an item. And having been the focus of romantic gossip back in Ohio, that was the last thing Becca wanted here in Colorado.

Seeing the smiling women at the window, Jesse inclined his head and seemed to understand her dilemma. “I’m sorry if I’ve created trouble for you. That wasn’t my intention. I only wanted to ask if you know what is wrong with Sam.”

She folded her arms tightly as he put his coat back on. Licking her dry lips, she tried to concentrate on the subject at hand. “I’m not an expert but I believe he has what is called selective mutism.”

She briefly explained what she knew about the disorder and that she didn’t think Sam had any choice in the matter.

“His anxiety is so strong that he is literally scared silent. He’s not trying to be rude or mean or cause you problems. He couldn’t speak even if he wanted to,” she said.

Jesse frowned. “You think he’s too frightened to talk?”

She nodded. “Exactly. I know it must be a sensitive subject but I believe something about his mother and sisters’ deaths has created so much apprehension in Sam that he literally cannot talk anymore.”

Jesse looked down at the ground, scuffing one toe of his black boot against a small rock. “I was afraid of that. When I was in the library yesterday, I came across a couple of books on this topic but I haven’t yet had the opportunity to read much about it. I was planning to start reading the book you checked out for me later this evening.”

So. Maybe he really did want to help his son after all.

“From what I understand about the disorder, such children usually talk at home, where they feel more comfortable,” she said. “But at school or in other social situations where they feel uncomfortable or nervous, they are silent. And punishing the child or making him feel guilty for not speaking would only exacerbate the problem.”

Jesse’s forehead curved in a deep scowl. “But Sam doesn’t speak at home either.”

He sounded so forlorn that Becca didn’t have the heart to point out that Sam obviously didn’t feel comfortable inside the walls of his own house. She figured that was possibly Jesse’s fault. The boy must fear his own father. And whether that was because Sam felt guilt over his mother and sisters’ deaths or for some other reason, Becca couldn’t say.

“If you’re amenable, there are a few techniques we can try to help Sam.” She then launched into a rapid description of what those methods were. Last night, she’d done a lot of reading on the topic and put a great deal of thought into how they both might assist Sam with his problem. She’d even written up a plan of action last night. Things each of them might do to help Sam and techniques to measure Sam’s improvement. She was eager to share her ideas with Jesse in detail and hoped he wouldn’t refuse.

He listened politely to her explanations but made no comment.

“That all sounds like a huge time commitment on both our parts,” he said.

She nodded. “Ja, it will take a lot of time. But I think Sam is worth it.”

He hesitated, looking skeptical. “I do too but I’ll have to think about it. I want to make sure I’m doing the right things for my sohn.”

“I understand but I’d like to get started as soon as possible. The longer we delay, the worse the situation might become. It would be ideal if Sam could stay an extra hour after school several days each week so I could work with him one-on-one,” she said.

Jesse frowned. “Since I’m alone and have to pick up Sam from school, that might not be possible. I’ve got my hands full already. Couldn’t you just send extra homework home with him? I can make sure he does it.”

She shook her head, thinking Jesse didn’t understand. “More homework won’t help Sam talk. He needs some intense interaction with other people. He needs to feel comfortable around us so we can help him speak and we need to provide opportunities to teach him how to speak again.”

Jesse stood there looking down at her, his eyes unblinking as he considered her ideas. She didn’t interrupt, allowing him time to digest and mull it all over in his own mind.

“I understand what you’re asking. Let me think about it. And danke for your help. I appreciate your efforts.” Turning, he walked away, heading toward the barn where the other men were lounging and visiting after their noon meal. Bishop Yoder and Dawdi Zeke hailed him over.

And just like that, Jesse was gone. Becca longed to call him back or chase after him to make him agree to her proposal. But something held her back. She felt almost desperate to help Sam. As if an unknown force were pushing her forward and her future happiness depended on it. But Jesse would have to decide. And she resolved then to offer a prayer to Gott that Jesse made the right decision.