Brian's Choice Page 3

  After that the morning passed so quickly that Katie barely had time to worry she would do something wrong. She led the students in the morning songs, which was easy enough. Though she didn’t have a wonderful voice, it was clear and strong, and the children had no trouble following her.

  Brian had written arithmetic assignments on the board for each grade. After the singing, he briefly went over the school rules, and then textbooks were pulled out and students began to work on the math problems. Katie worked with the youngest students, which included her nephews. Brian walked up and down the rows, occasionally pausing to comment on a child’s work or help when one seemed perplexed by a problem. If they ever ended up on the same row, he promptly turned and walked off in the other direction. His behavior seemed a bit odd, but who was she to say? She’d never been a teacher’s helper before.

  Math was followed by reading. Katie taught the four lower grades, and Brian worked with grades five through eight. She’d warned him to only spend ten to fifteen minutes per grade, and he’d answered with, “What can I teach in ten minutes?”

  “You’re not teaching so much as explaining the assignment and then helping the ones who are a bit lost.”

  “So they know how to read?”

  “The older students certainly do. The younger ones will need more help, but I taught my little bruder to read, so I can handle that.”

  “What about my students?” He frowned at her and then quickly looked away. “What if they have trouble with the text? How much do I help? Do I pull them into a smaller group away from the others? I’ve never taught reading before, only…only theory and composition.”

  “We’ll help one another.” She reached out and put a hand on his arm to assure him that all would be fine, but he quickly stepped away. “The students are used to this way of learning, Brian. You’ll see.”

  He glanced at her skeptically, and then he nodded once and walked away. He actually did better than expected moving between the grades. She kept her eye on him in case he needed help, but he seemed to slip into the role of teacher well. The morning passed quickly, and Katie was surprised and relieved when Brian called for recess.

  She longed to stay inside to ask him about his previous life and why he was spending his time in a one-room Amish schoolhouse. She didn’t, though. He’d turned his back to her as soon as the children began traipsing outside. He couldn’t have made it clearer that he wanted to spend his lunchtime alone, so Katie followed the students outside. She helped them find the equipment needed to begin a game of softball, dusted off one of the younger girls when she fell off the seesaw, and watched for any disagreements between the students.

  When she overhead three of the older girls discussing their new teacher, she distracted them by suggesting they fill a pail with fallen leaves for decorating the classroom.

  Once she glanced up and saw Brian staring out the window. She offered a little wave, but he turned away without waving back. Perhaps he hadn’t seen her, or maybe he was being purposely aloof.

  Regardless of the reasons for his demeanor, Katie found that she enjoyed her new job. She had worked plenty of jobs in the past—as a baker’s assistant, in a quilt shop, and even at a dry goods store. Always the person who hired her tried to be patient and teach her what she needed to know, but her mind would dart here and there. She had trouble focusing on what the person said, and when she was left alone she had no idea how to complete her task. The results had been disastrous.

  Somehow, being in a schoolroom felt natural. Maybe because she’d grown up in one. Or maybe because her nephews kept smiling at her, even William, who was often very serious.

  It was also possible she felt less intimidated by this job because her boss was so obviously out of his depth. She wasn’t exactly sure what Brian had taught in his Englisch world, but his students obviously hadn’t been small children. She also didn’t know why he seemed so stiff and formal with her. Because they had never met before this morning and she’d not had time to offend him in any way, she assumed his cold manner had nothing to do with her. Perhaps he was uncomfortable around women.

  If they were to work together until Christmas, she’d have to find a way to break down the defensive barrier he’d carefully placed around himself. That wouldn’t be easy, but if there was one thing that Katie liked, it was a challenge.

  SIX

  The next two weeks passed quickly.

  Katie was thrilled at how smoothly things were progressing. Not only were the students behaving well, but Brian seemed to have relaxed somewhat around her. He still kept an almost laughable physical distance between them, as if she might have some contagious disease, but he had stopped avoiding her company.

  For instance, they now ate lunch together at the picnic table under a maple tree. For Brian this seemed to be a concession of some sort, as if the temptation to be outside in the wonderful fall sunshine was too great. The cost was that he had to sit by his helper because there was only the one table—though he was careful to sit at the opposite end. Katie found such things amusing, but she didn’t worry about it any longer. She’d discussed Brian’s odd behavior with JoAnna, who had smiled and suggested she give him time.

  She’d done exactly that, being careful not to touch him or stand too close. The result was that he’d edged out of his shell, like a turtle hoping the world might be safe.

  Because they ate their lunch outside, students always joined them—in particular the older girls, who seemed to have something of a crush on their new teacher. But as soon as they were finished eating, off they would go in a flurry of giggles and whispers. The younger students had to be convinced to finish their lunches. They preferred running and playing as children should.

  “Classes are going well,” he said.

  “Yes, but it’s best to be realistic.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Students are students and the same everywhere. Never let your guard down.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  Katie had mentioned the lunches to her sister, and JoAnna had asked if she was going sweet on Brian. A ridiculous suggestion. He was eight years older and showed no interest in courting her, at least none she could hang her bonnet on.

  “Our students are like superheroes,” he said, studying the apple he was slicing.

  “Superheroes?”

  “You know Batman, Catwoman, Iron Man—”

  “A man made of iron?”

  Brian glanced up from his apple and laughed. “My Englisch upbringing is showing.”

  “Ya. I guess so. We have no men made of iron.”

  “It’s a cartoon. You know, a fictional book with pictures.”

  “I’ve seen cartoons.” Katie rolled her eyes at him. Did he think the Amish were completely sheltered? Everyone had seen cartoons.

  Much of their lunch discussions followed this pattern. He would let slip inconsequential details of his past life, and she would ask questions. Twice now he had asked her about Ohio and growing up Amish. They never spent lunchtime discussing lesson plans. Brian claimed their brains needed a break from the heavy task of educating munchkins. Yes, he’d actually used the word munchkins, though he’d said it fondly so she supposed it was a compliment.

  “I just mean our students are excellent scholars. They’re better behaved than some of the college students I taught.”

  “Perhaps, but remember what I told you. They have been on their best behavior the first few weeks. I expect trouble any minute.”

  “Are you a pessimist, Katie?”

  “Nein, but I remember what it’s like being a child. It hasn’t been that long since I was in school. They wait for teachers to let down their guard.”

  At that moment there was a chorus of screams from the vicinity of the girls’ outhouse.

  “Speaking of letting down our guards—”

  They both jogged toward the gathered children.

  Little Edna Eberly was sitting in the dirt surrounded by the other girls. Katie noticed that the bo
ys were standing off to the side, and two of the older boys in particular were stifling giggles.

  “What is it, Edna? What’s wrong?” Brian knelt beside the girl in the dust. He left the teaching of the young students to Katie, but he often watched them curiously. Little children seemed to fascinate him, as if he couldn’t quite conceive how they changed from child to teenager. He’d admitted a few days earlier that he was an only child.

  Edna threw her arms around his neck and began sobbing. All Katie could make out were the words snake and outhouse and scared.

  Three of the older girls—Stella, Paige, and Suzanne, stood at a distance, their eyes locked on Brian. Stella turned to the other girls, whispered something, and then looked at the boys who were lurking a few feet away.

  Katie understood immediately what had happened and almost walked over to the two oldest boys—John and Curtis—to confront them. They were standing near the back of the group, snickering and covering their mouths with their hands.

  She needn’t have worried.

  Brian dried Edna’s tears with his thumbs before motioning for Katie to come and sit with her. Then he stood up, brushed off his trousers, and walked toward the boys.

  She had wondered about this moment. How would he react to trouble? She’d had all manner of teachers growing up. Some had been overzealous about discipline and others had been terribly lax. The week before she had asked him his opinion on disciplining students. His response had caught her off guard, for it seemed to reveal more than all of their lunch conversations combined.

  “Do you believe in grace, Katie?”

  “Ya, of course, but—”

  “And should we offer one another grace, even when a person does something very bad?”

  She’d avoided his eyes and murmured, “I suppose.”

  He’d changed the subject then, but she’d had the distinct impression he was about to tell her something about his past, maybe even why he’d chosen to become Amish.

  She thought of that conversation as she watched him speak with John and Curtis. She couldn’t hear what he said to them, but they glanced at each other and then at the ground before walking toward the schoolhouse.

  Brian picked up a branch that had fallen during a rain storm three days before. He opened the girls’ outhouse and stepped inside. When he backed out, he was holding the stick at arm’s length, and a rather large rat snake was curled around its end.

  “William, would you mind returning this fellow to the woods?”

  “Sure, Brian.”

  William carefully accepted the stick. The group of boys and even some of the girls followed him as he walked toward the edge of the school lot.

  Katie looked back toward Brian and he signaled her with ten fingers. She knew instantly that he wanted her to keep the other children in the schoolyard for another ten minutes.

  In the meantime, he would deal with the hooligans in the schoolhouse. Superheroes, indeed.

  SEVEN

  Brian and Katie spent twenty minutes preparing for the next day’s lessons at the end of each day. There was no cleaning to do. The students took care of it before they left. It was something that still surprised Brian.

  Stella Stutzman lingered at the back of the room, pretending to look for something in her cubby. Katie nodded her head toward the girl and raised her eyebrow.

  “I’ll handle it,” he said quietly. Brian had dealt with starry-eyed students before. He understood it was less about him and more about stages a girl went through. He walked to the back of the room, asked Stella if she needed anything, and then pointedly said, “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “She seems attached to you,” Katie said when he returned to his desk.

  He simply shrugged, which was his way. Brian Walker was not one to talk when a shrug would do. Or it could be that they were both exhausted at the end of every school day, but especially one involving critters in the outhouse.

  “So you gave the boys an extra reading assignment?”

  “I allowed them to choose, actually. I told them I could speak with their parents, or they could accept an extra assignment.”

  “I’m amazed they chose to do extra classwork.”

  Brian’s laugh amazed her, but she found herself liking the sound. She liked to see him happy, and he seemed to be growing more so with each week that passed.

  “I was a little amazed myself, but apparently their parents would have given them a harsher punishment than reading.”

  Katie finished placing sharpened pencils on each desk and plopped into the first chair in the first row. “Amish parents rarely have a need to discipline, but when they do it’s meant to impress the lesson on the child.”

  “Were you ever disciplined, Katie?”

  She tried to still the blush flooding her face. “Ya, a time or two.”

  “For?”

  “I have always been a bit scatterbrained. When I was ten I left the gate open on the chicken coop and my mamm’s hens escaped. We found all but one, which we later learned was killed by the neighbor’s dog. Dat assured me it wasn’t the dog’s fault, only its nature.”

  “What was your punishment?”

  “Six weeks cleaning out the chicken coop, plus the watering and feeding I normally did. My bruder was happy, as it released him from the chore.”

  “And did the punishment work?”

  “Ach. I don’t know.” She reached up and straightened her kapp. “I was no less scatterbrained in general, but I remembered to close the coop gate after that.”

  “I suppose I could have had John and Curtis clean out the outhouses for six weeks.” Brian sighed as he sat down at one of the desks. As usual, he left an empty seat between them. “I was hoping for a more permanent change in their behavior. Something that would make an impression on their impulsiveness.”

  “And reading To Kill a Mockingbird will do that?”

  “It might. Have you read it?”

  She shook her head.

  He stood, walked over to his desk, and picked up a copy. Then he walked to her desk and held it out to her. She accepted it, her fingers brushing against his and causing another blush to creep up her cheeks.

  “Try it. Harper Lee’s book is one of the best American novels ever written—in my opinion.”

  “Will it help me to be less scatterbrained?”

  “I haven’t noticed that being a problem.”

  “Because with children you have to watch them every single minute.” She gathered up her lunch pail and a teacher’s sack she’d sewn from leftover fabric. Together they walked toward the schoolhouse door. “Should my attention lapse, they may overpower us and lock us in the outhouse with several snakes.”

  Instead of responding in the same teasing tone, Brian pulled her bag of school supplies from her arms and walked with her toward her sister’s house. This was something he’d done once or twice, and Katie was wondering when he’d do so again.

  “Harper Lee’s story is about two children—Jem and Scout. It’s a story of innocence lost, but also of the need to understand that most people have both good and bad qualities. It’s how we react to those qualities, what we choose to embrace, that matters.”

  “And you think that John and Curtis need this lesson?”

  “I think we all do.” Brian stopped and leaned against the fence bordering the road. “There was a time in my life when I never thought about such things, never even considered them. When I had to confront the evil qualities in myself, I didn’t know how. I was lost and adrift.” He glanced sideways, studying her reaction. “What John and Curtis did today was a little thing, and I’m sure they meant no harm, but our actions can harm others even when they are unintentional.”

  He stepped away from the fence, and they continued walking. “I’m hoping by reading the book that they’ll stop to consider their actions and how they can affect others.”

  “That’s a lot to learn from a story.”

  He grinned at her. “I believe in the power of the pen. Read the boo
k and let me know what you think.”

  Then he handed her the bag of school supplies, met her gaze briefly, and turned toward his home. She stood at the entrance to her sister’s place, watching him and thinking of all he had said.

  Evil qualities in Brian?

  Lost and adrift?

  None of that sounded like the man she knew, the man she was beginning to genuinely like. But he thought they did, which suggested he harbored scars he still wasn’t willing to talk about.

  EIGHT

  Brian found himself whistling as he prepared his breakfast of hot oatmeal, bread, and coffee. The bread was a gift. He hadn’t learned to make it yet, and he didn’t have money to purchase things he didn’t absolutely need from the local grocery store. The bishop’s wife provided it. She sent a new loaf to school, with one of her grandchildren, at least twice a week.

  The community was like that—anticipating the needs of their members and helping out. True to their word, Joseph and Luke had brought a work crew to his place and harvested his small crop. They had also fixed the tractor he hadn’t had time to look at, and they had put his barn in good shape for the winter.

  Brian didn’t own a horse yet. He’d put off buying one, opting instead to walk to the bishop’s and catch a ride with him and his wife to church meetings. For trips to town, he drove the tractor—though he rarely needed to go to the store.

  Most of his days were spent in one of two places—home or the schoolhouse. He’d fallen easily into the routine and found he liked the rhythm of teaching all day and then returning to his quiet, peaceful home at night.

  His life was lonely at times, but he found that the injured places deep inside him were beginning to heal. Katie’s face popped into his mind as he sipped from the too hot coffee. She was a sweet girl, and he’d grown to depend on her.

  No, it was best to be honest with himself.

  He’d grown to like her. She was pleasant, eager to help, good with the children, and always looking for ways to make his job easier. He wouldn’t have made it through the first few weeks without her. And though he had spent many days trying to remain aloof, he hadn’t been able to maintain that distance.