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When Brian started to protest, the bishop held up a hand. “You lived with me a year, son. I know what you are and aren’t good at. Not to say you won’t learn, but I’m suspecting you didn’t grow enough crop to make any money.”

  “And it seems your tractor is broken,” Joseph added.

  “Perhaps it is Gotte’s wille that you are in a place where your skills are needed.” Luke dared him to argue. No doubt the man was waiting to put a mark against his name.

  “I have my first harvest, though it’s not as big as I’d hoped.” He glanced at Levi, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to be offended. “Additionally, this place isn’t ready for winter, as you can see.”

  Levi waved away his concerns. “We’ll help with all of that. You teach the children. We’ll take care of what needs to be done around here.” As an afterthought he added, “And the salary will help you financially, son.”

  The number he named almost caused Brian to laugh. It was a fraction of what he’d earned in California, but what had he expected? Cash was scarce on a farm, and the parents wouldn’t be able to pay much. There was no question he could use the income. He’d spent what was available in his trust fund to purchase the thirty-five-acre place.

  “How many students?” Brian asked weakly. He knew there were a lot of them and all grades were taught in the same room.

  “Forty, last count.” Levi stood and pushed in his chair. “Our district is growing. Gotte is blessing us for sure and for certain.”

  Brian stared at the three men and wondered how he could say no. How could he make them understand he hadn’t been that kind of teacher? He’d taught literary theory and Greek literature. He’d lectured with PowerPoint presentations and given computer-generated exams.

  Perhaps this was another type of penance. Maybe God was working through his past, creating a completely new creature in him.

  As they walked back out onto the front porch, he heard himself say he’d do it.

  The three men nodded in approval. Then they waved goodbye, unhitched their horses, and drove their buggies back down the lane. Brian sat on the porch and watched the sun make its way toward the horizon. There were a dozen things he should be doing, but suddenly he only wanted to sit there. He wanted to soak in the quiet and the peace.

  Fear and regret fought against that peace, but he sat and he waited, and eventually his emotions settled.

  He’d found a rhythm on the farm, finally, and now this.

  He was starting over—again.

  He shook his head, attempting to scatter feelings of desperation. He’d only be serving for a few months. Levi had assured him they would have a replacement by January. How bad could it be?

  THREE

  Katie Smucker checked her bag one last time as the children darted back and forth, gathering their school things.

  “You’ll do fine, Katie. There’s no need to be nervous.”

  “Of course I’m nervous. Do you know how many jobs I’ve lost?” Katie stopped and studied her sister.

  JoAnna always looked so calm and together. She looked like the perfect image of an Amish woman—properly dressed, freshly laundered kapp covering her brown hair, a little on the heavy side with a baby on her hip and three more readying for school.

  Why couldn’t she be more like her sister?

  “It’s a new day, Katie. Don’t be staining it with regrets from the past.” JoAnna shifted baby Noah from one hip to the other. “The boys will help you if you have any questions today.”

  Stevie, Tom, and William had spilled out onto the front porch and were attempting to catch one of the kittens that had raced over from the barn. Out the window, Katie saw her brother-in-law, Jesse, walking toward the house. He was a bear of a man and quiet in the way of most Amish. No doubt he was wanting to wish the boys a good first day of school.

  “I’m so unsettled, is all. To think my first school assignment is under a new teacher, and he’s not even Amish!” Katie smoothed her apron and grabbed her lunch pail off the counter.

  “He is Amish, as I assured you yesterday. He joined the church a month ago. If the bishop says he’s Amish, then he’s Amish.”

  “He won’t know anything about our ways of schooling.”

  “Then you’ll teach him.”

  “I’ve never taught anyone anything.” Katie pushed through the screen door and out onto the porch. The September sun was splashing across the eastern field, and the sight of it calmed her nerves.

  JoAnna followed her outside. “He seems like a nice man—”

  “But he’s going to be depending on me. I’ve never had anyone depend on me before.”

  “I am certain you will do a gut job.” JoAnna switched the baby to her left shoulder and hugged Katie with her right arm. “Chin up, and we’ll see you this afternoon.”

  Chin up, indeed. Katie hurried down the path in an attempt to catch up with her nephews. At six, seven, and eight years old, they were big boys like their father and had the perkiness of their mom. Or maybe that was simply their age. Perhaps all Amish men started out talkative and carefree as children but became reticent as they grew older and accepted the responsibilities of farm life. Maybe that was why all the boys who had courted her back in Ohio had left her feeling as though she were sitting in the buggy beside an uncle. They had all seemed so old, and she still felt impossibly young at twenty-four.

  Not young.

  Not in the Amish world. She should be married with children already, not trying out a new job.

  “What do you think about us having a new teacher?” Stevie clutched his lunch pail with one hand and Katie’s fingers with the other. It was his first year at school, which explained his wariness.

  “Why does it matter to you?” William asked. The oldest at eight, he didn’t seem worried about the new school year, though he had grumbled the night before about having to go the next day. William loved to fish more than anyone Katie had ever known. He was clearly mourning the end of summer, and his attitude showed it. “You didn’t even know last year’s teacher.”

  “I did know her, kind of. She used to help with our games after church.”

  “Well, she’s gone now,” said Tom, in a practical tone. Over the summer his mother had learned that the child’s eyesight was quite poor. He was sporting new glasses, which his mother had reminded him to take care of, especially during the recess times.

  Tom added as an afterthought, “I heard she moved to Montana.”

  “It doesn’t matter where she moved to.” Katie increased her pace. They were quite early, but then she should be early, shouldn’t she? Things needed to be done before school began—though she had no idea what those things might be. Did Brian Walker know? The name felt odd tumbling around in her mind. Walker. She’d never known an Amish person with the last name of Walker. Even his name set him apart.

  She smiled encouragingly at the boys. “Last year is in the past. What matters is today and what you make of it.”

  “You sound like our mamm.” Tom pushed up his glasses.

  “Our teacher is Brian Walker, and he’s newly Amish.” William picked up a stick and began whacking it against the ground.

  Tom spotted a mockingbird in a tree they passed under. He stuck two of his fingers between his lips and whistled what sounded like a cardinal’s song. The mockingbird answered in kind.

  Its song followed Katie as they made their way out onto the lane and walked half a mile down to the schoolhouse. She would be arriving plenty early, and the boys could help to set up the room. They should have taken care of many things the week before, but Katie had arrived on Saturday, thinking the old teacher would have everything in place.

  The old teacher was gone.

  And from what JoAnna said, the church leadership had struggled to fill the position. They had offered the job to Brian Walker only the week before. What would he have been able to do in a few days? Would he even have a clue where to start?

  She doubted it.

  Katie expected that when she walked int
o the schoolhouse she would find chaos—Amish/Englisch chaos.

  FOUR

  Brian had arrived at the schoolhouse well before the sun crossed the horizon, which had been pointless. He’d worked in the one-room building all of Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. He would have worked Saturday as well, but he needed to do his laundry.

  Most Amish women did their laundry on Mondays, but that wouldn’t be an option for him. He’d be teaching on Mondays. So he’d spent the day running his few sets of clothes through the gas washer, wringing them out in the rinse water, and then hanging them on the line. It had taken him a full year to grow accustomed to this way of doing things, and he still stared at the Cody’s Creek Laundromat with fondness whenever he passed it in town. In his opinion there were few advantages to the Englisch lifestyle, but the Laundromat was one.

  Today he’d risen well before the sun, eaten a light breakfast, and hurried to the school. The place gleamed from the work frolic the Friday before. He’d met quite a few of his students then, not that he would remember even one of their names, but the place was sparkling and ready for classes. The yard had been mowed, the playground spiffed up, and the outhouses thoroughly cleaned. He had parents to thank for all of those things, as the school didn’t hire a janitor. Weekly cleanings would be up to him and his students.

  Now he sat at the teacher’s desk drinking the coffee he’d brought in a thermos. Staring at the empty seats in front of him, he tried to imagine them filled with squirming, restless scholars. He couldn’t. All he could see were the faces of students he had lectured—sometimes three hundred and fifty to a class when he’d first begun teaching and had the freshman literature/composition classes. As he’d shouldered his way up the academic ladder, those classes had reduced in size until he’d found himself teaching graduate students—usually an even dozen scattered around a long table that had been pulled into an old classroom.

  They had hung on his every word. He had reigned supreme.

  Always memories of those days were followed by flashes from the accident, of Bridgette in rehab, of his parents and the legal wrangling that ensued. He absentmindedly reached up and fingered the scar along his hairline. The skin was taut. The wound had healed long ago, though it seemed that Brian’s mind and emotions insisted on repeatedly going over days he couldn’t change.

  He stood and brushed those thoughts aside. Too many days began that way for him, focusing on the past instead of the present. Today the present would be filling the rows of seats—old-fashioned desks like the ones he’d seen in a photo of his grandmother and her fellow students in northern Illinois. His family had left their roots behind, going from humble beginnings to West Coast excess in one generation. His mind had trouble processing how fast American education had changed. One hundred years, and the classroom had become an entirely different place.

  Not here, though. Here, the students would learn the same way their parents and grandparents had.

  He studied what he’d written on the chalkboard—yes, a real chalkboard. No whiteboards or computer projectors for them—when he heard the sound of stomping feet at the door.

  A young woman entered, followed by three boys.

  She stood for a minute, staring at him, and then she hurried down the middle aisle.

  “I’m Katie. Katie Smucker. I’m your teacher’s helper.”

  Brian tried to think of something to say. This was Katie Smucker? He’d expected someone sixteen or seventeen, a young girl who was working a year until she would be married. Katie wasn’t a young girl—that much was plain. Her hair reminded him of the honey he’d spread on his morning biscuit. She was a head shorter than him, probably five feet six, and she was much thinner than most Amish women he knew.

  Brian nearly groaned. The last thing he needed was to be working around a lovely young Amish woman—a single lovely young Amish woman. He couldn’t back out of the job now, but perhaps he could convince her that her help wasn’t necessary.

  But of course it was. He doubted he could handle forty children on his own.

  Her clothes were typically Amish—a dark blue dress covered by a light gray apron. Sparkling blue eyes under finely shaped brows glanced up at him and then away. She seemed to be waiting for him to say something. In fact, all three of the boys were staring at him.

  He cleared his throat, reminding himself of Luke and mentally slapping his forehead. “I’m Brian. Brian Walker.”

  “Ya, I know. Are we ready? I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner to help. I only arrived on the bus Saturday, and I’ve never served in a school before. I really have no idea what to do.”

  “Then we’ll learn together.” Brian’s reply came out before he considered the words. He sounded as if he wasn’t nervous at all—as if he had a handle on the situation. He didn’t. And he didn’t want to sound friendly. He wanted to discourage her, not make her feel at home.

  “There’s nothing on the board except your name,” William said.

  “Well, I wasn’t exactly sure how you start your day.”

  The boys looked at one another, and Brian added, “I know I’ve seen you at our church meetings, but I’m afraid I don’t remember your names.”

  “I’m William—third grade. These are my bruders. Tom is in second grade.”

  Tom pushed up his glasses.

  “And Stevie is just beginning this year.”

  Stevie offered a little wave.

  “Good to meet you, William, Tom, and Stevie. Since you’re my first students today, I’m going to be counting on you to help me out.” Katie had cocked her head and was watching him. He avoided her gaze and focused on the boys.

  Stevie giggled. “You’re the teacher. How can we help?”

  “You could start by telling me how the first day of school usually goes. I found some lesson plans in the desk, but the first day only said…well, it said first day. Not much help, I’m afraid.”

  Katie smiled. “That’s because the first day is generally about establishing rules and procedures. Haven’t you ever taught before?”

  “Yes. Yes, I have, but it was…different.”

  “Englisch?” William asked.

  “It was.” Brian left it at that. No need to drag out his experiences in a college classroom. While that may have impressed his old friends, the four youngsters—correction, three youngsters and one woman—standing in front of him couldn’t care less about such things.

  “We’ll help you,” Tom said. “But we’d better get to it. The other kids will be here any minute.”

  Brian smiled weakly at Katie and then glanced away as he remembered he should try to be unapproachable.

  Together, the five of them made a quick lesson plan for the day. He’d also found some workbooks in the desk, but he had no idea what to do with them. William was able to tell him the general timetable for lessons. Tom found the supplies they would need, and Stevie eagerly placed pencils and paper on each desk.

  Katie added their schedule to the left-hand side of the chalkboard. Brian had to admit her handwriting was much better than his, and he felt better having another adult in the room. It was silly to be intimidated by children, but then there would soon be so many of them, no doubt in all shapes and sizes.

  Katie turned and gave him a reassuring smile, which he ignored. No doubt she would think he was rude, but that was the least of his worries. He couldn’t spend the next four months working with a young, beautiful woman. The memory of Bridgette jumped into his mind again, but he pushed it away. He was living a new life now, and he was not going to repeat the same mistakes. He wasn’t going to allow even the possibility of putting someone else in danger.

  Which was ridiculous. What danger could she be in working in a schoolhouse? That wasn’t the point, though.

  He didn’t want to be working with a young woman. He didn’t need the sharp reminder of Bridgette and how he had ruined her life. Perhaps Katie would marry soon, and then she would quit. He could learn to handle a classroom of forty, especially with the boys’
help.

  But he’d never actually been in a classroom with so many children. As they entered the schoolhouse, placing lunch boxes near the coatracks at the back and jostling for seats, he realized he was completely out of his depth. He’d never been afraid of lecturing. He’d always enjoyed sharing what he knew about Shakespeare and Milton and Yates. If only this were so simple.

  Taking a last sip of his coffee, he stood and walked to the front of the room.

  FIVE

  Katie watched Brian standing at the front of the room and wondered what she’d gotten herself into. She’d expected an elderly man, someone wrinkled with gray hair. He was older, yes—close to thirty if she guessed right—but his hair wasn’t gray. It was red. She’d never known anyone with red hair before.

  He’d had it cut traditionally, what the Englischers called a bowl cut, and he wore Amish clothing, but was he Amish? What had caused him to seek out their way of life? What about the family and friends he’d left behind? And why did he avoid looking at her? The questions tumbled through her mind until she realized she should be helping, not sitting in a corner staring at the poor man.

  After introducing himself, Brian picked up the Bible off the teacher’s desk. Tom had found it tucked in a bottom drawer.

  “Katie tells me I’m to read to you from the Scripture each morning, but because I didn’t know that—” he waited for the giggles to subside. “I didn’t pick anything out ahead of time.”

  A young boy on the second row raised his hand. “We could start at the beginning.”

  “A fine idea.” Brian opened the Bible, which fortunately was a German-Englisch parallel text, and began to read from the first chapter of Genesis, verse one.

  Whatever his shortcomings were as a teacher, he was certainly a fine reader. His voice resonated with each word—deep and full and almost musical. Katie had never heard Scripture read like that before. In their church services she barely paid attention, and at home they always read their Bibles silently. She rested her chin on her palm and listened as Brian read about the beginning and the creation.