A Springtime Heart Read online

  “Whatever for? Our school does a perfectly good job for the kinder. If this is about me . . .”

  “No, no,” he said as fast as he could. “It’s about all those repairs we have to do, mostly. And the fact that we don’t have all that many scholars right now, so there’s a thought we could sell the property and come out ahead.”

  “That’s foolishness,” Mamm said, with more spirit than she’d shown about much of anything except the baby. “Where would little Will go to school? He couldn’t walk all the way over to Oak Creek. And what would happen to your sister if they close the school?”

  She was more amused than anything that Mamm had put her second behind little Will, who had years before starting school. But this was no laughing matter. Her teaching career would be over if they closed the school.

  “I don’t see why this is needed,” Levi said, maybe moved by the mention of his son. “We always take care of the school repairs.”

  “Don’t tell me,” Lemuel said. “I agree. But I’m just repeating what some folks are saying. It’s a shame we didn’t get the work done over the winter. Everyone’s so busy now with their farms that it’ll be hard to find time to work on it. Besides, there’s the cost of wood and shingles. That storm caused a lot of damage.”

  “The storm just happened a month ago,” Dorcas pointed out, trying to stay calm. “So we couldn’t have done the repairs last winter. It’s nobody’s fault that freak windstorm swept through.”

  Levi nodded. “We all had damage, not just the school.”

  They’d called the problem straight line winds, but it might as well have been a tornado, given the damage it had done.

  “You’re not going to vote to close the school, Lemuel.” Mamm frowned at him with a look as commanding as Daad’s used to be.

  “No, Mammi, for sure I won’t, but I can’t speak for the rest of the board. I just thought you . . . well, especially Dorcas, would want to know.”

  He looked so stressed that Dorcas couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

  “There’s nothing I can do, since I’m the teacher,” she pointed out. “But I hope the rest of you will do your best.”

  “For sure,” Levi said, and the others nodded. Even Betsy, distracted from her baby for once, agreed. “We’ll talk to everybody we can. It’s a foolish notion.” For him, that was a long speech, and Dorcas appreciated it.

  Her family would do what they could, and she didn’t really believe most parents would want to send their young ones to the Oak Creek school. But somebody did, or they wouldn’t be talking about it.

  She resisted the temptation to ask Lemuel who it was, knowing that would put him in a difficult spot. But she knew she’d be looking around her classroom tomorrow, trying to figure out whose parents would want to see her school closed.

  As if she didn’t have enough to worry about, there was still the mystery of Thomas. Why on earth had he decided to come back now?

  * * *

  —

  True to his word, Thomas let his little sister unharness the buggy horse, keeping a watchful eye on her as she moved around the mare easily. With a final pat she turned the mare into the paddock and returned to hang the harness on the appropriate peg and push the buggy back against the wall.

  “Gut job,” he said, and she responded with a smile that crinkled her cheeks.

  He was frankly surprised at Esther’s grown-up competence. He’d missed a lot in the past seven years. Funny that he hadn’t realized how much while he’d been away. He’d thought that the frequent letters back and forth had kept all of them up to date, but there were things a person had to see for himself.

  Had it worked the other way, too? Maybe the family was surprised at the man he was now. In the flurry of greetings and getting settled in his old room, he couldn’t be sure, but he guessed he’d figure it out by the way they responded to him once they were past the first few awkward days.

  Esther was hurrying on into the house, apparently intent on that after-school snack she’d talked about, but he didn’t see anyone else around. A moment’s thought gave him the answer. It was about milking time. They’d all be in the milking shed. He’d gotten out of the rhythm of life here.

  He headed toward the milking shed behind the barn, wondering what kind of reception he’d get. Daad’s greeting the previous day hadn’t been quite what he’d hoped—certainly not the equal of Mammi’s hugs and tears. Not that he’d expected outright enthusiasm. Daad wasn’t one to show his feelings.

  But Mamm had led him to believe that Daad was as eager to have him back as she was. Maybe she had overstated his reaction in her own enthusiasm to have her oldest son back. Or it might just be that it would take some time for him and Daad to relax with each other again.

  Not that he’d ever felt that relaxed around his father, but he’d become used to the criticism after a few years. He’d heard that parents were usually stricter with the first child, but Daad had added on the additional burden of being a minister’s son and expected him to be an example.

  Aside from Mammi, Esther was the only one who’d welcomed him back with enthusiasm. He had to smile, thinking of how eager she’d been to lead him right past her friends—showing him off, from what he could tell. Daad and his brothers seemed cautious. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t all that surprising, given the time that had passed and the way they’d parted.

  Well, he’d have to take this one step at a time; that was all. And he’d start by helping with the milking.

  No one noticed him when he paused in the doorway, taking in the scene. Daad, Jonas, and Adam each sat on a milking stool, leaning against the warm flank of a cow, hands moving rhythmically. The scent of hay, the rush of milk into the metal pails—all of it was so familiar and yet strange . . . strange because he wasn’t a part of it.

  He stepped inside, making enough noise to ensure they’d look up. “Looks like I’m just back from the school in time. I’ll grab a pail and get started.”

  Jonas, his next younger brother, frowned at him. “No need. We’ve got this.”

  “Like Daad always says, nothing like another pair of hands at milking time,” Thomas said easily.

  “We’re almost done.” No one could miss the tart tone in his brother’s voice.

  Thomas looked at Jonas with a sinking feeling. What had happened to Jonas, six years younger than he, always so eager to do whatever his big brother was doing? Seemed like that hero worship was long gone. He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was left standing there feeling as if his little brother had thrown a bucket of cold water in his face.

  Something rattled behind Thomas, and he turned to see Adam, the fifteen-year-old, holding out a bucket.

  “Here you go.” He grinned, freckled face flushing a little. “You can take the place next to me. I’ll race you to see who can fill a bucket the fastest.”

  “You’re on.” Thomas couldn’t help smiling in return, grateful for any hint of a welcome. “But you ought to give me a head start since I’m so out of practice.”

  “Doesn’t Onkel James have any dairy cows?” Adam asked, sounding surprised. Around here, most families had one or two, even if they didn’t sell to a dairy.

  “The whole family is so busy with the construction business that they get their milk from the next farm over. Even our cousin Alice works alongside the boys. You should see her shingling a roof.”

  Adam’s expression said he wasn’t so sure of that, but he shrugged. “Different, I guess. You’re all working away from the farm, then.”

  “Yah, during construction season we were. If there was a big job on hand, we’d be gone until sunset.”

  It had taken Thomas a couple of minutes to find the rhythm, but then the milk began to flow. He relaxed into the process, liking the warmth of the creature and the placid way she accepted him.

  “What jobs does James have coming up this s
ummer?”

  Thomas nearly lost his tempo in surprise. He hadn’t realized that Daad had come up behind him. Well, if he’d wanted to check that Thomas knew what he was doing, he ought to be satisfied. After all, Daad was the one who’d taught him.

  “They’re working on some new houses that are going up a couple of miles down the road,” he answered. “It was a big company from away that got the contract, but they subcontracted some of it to Onkel James. They’re putting a lot of fancy houses on what used to be fine farmland.”

  Daad nodded slowly. “Yah. It’s happening all over.” His face tightened, if that was possible. “Hate to see good farmland lost.”

  “Onkel James feels that way, too,” Thomas hurried to add, sensing a criticism. “But the houses are going up no matter how anybody feels about it. It’ll get him more known among the Englisch and maybe bring him more work. He hopes so anyway.”

  Daad didn’t say anything—just nodded and moved on, leaving no hint of how he felt. Well, at least they’d actually exchanged a few words without Mamm prompting them. Maybe that was progress.

  Adam leaned sideways, tilting his milking stool to the edge of gravity, it seemed. “I’m surprised you wanted to leave. There’s good money in construction work.”

  Thomas shrugged. “There’ll be construction work here, I imagine. I’d like to get started on my own. Onkel James thought it was a good idea. I’ll have to start with small jobs I can do on my own, but that’s how any business builds.”

  He grinned as Adam’s stool slipped under him, with his young brother saving himself only by a complicated acrobatic maneuver. “Take it easy. You’ll scare the cow.”

  “Not Daisy.” Adam patted the cow’s hip. “Nothing ruffles her. Just keeps on producing no matter what.” He glanced around. “Looks like we’re the last ones done. That means we get to clean up.”

  “Sounds fine by me.” Thomas got up, stretching. “I see the dairy herd is quite a bit bigger these days.”

  Adam nodded. “That’s because of Jonas. Nothing will suit him better than to take on the farm from . . .” He stopped suddenly, turning red from his chin to the tips of his ears. “I mean . . .”

  “That’s okay,” he said, wondering if that was the cause of Jonas’s reluctance to let him help with the milking. Did Jonas imagine Thomas was going to try and oust him from the place he obviously wanted? “I’m interested in construction, not dairy farming. I just want to pull my weight while I’m here. Soon as I can pick up some business, you won’t see me milking cows.”

  “If you do . . .” Once again Adam stopped in midstream, flushing again. Must be something about being fifteen that made boys constantly say the wrong thing.

  “If I succeed, you mean?” He shrugged. “I won’t know until I try, will I?”

  Adam, maybe deciding he’d better stop talking, turned to hose off the cow. Thomas wouldn’t ask the question in his mind, but he did wonder. Who had been doubting that he would find any work here? Adam wouldn’t have come up with that on his own.

  Was it Jonas? Or Daad?

  That didn’t hurt, did it? Why should he be hurt if Daad didn’t think he’d have it in him to make a success of a business? But it did seem hard if Daad couldn’t see beyond a few reckless years to the man he was now.

  * * *

  —

  Dorcas rushed out the door early the next morning, headed for the school. This way, she’d be able to have a good look around at the damage to the stable. She’d been awake too much of the night, her worries bouncing back and forth between the school and the return of Thomas.

  Grossmammi always said to give your troubles to God and stop fretting. She’d tried, so many times. She was pretty good at turning them over, but unfortunately, she promptly picked them up again.

  It was always better to do something than to sit and worry. That was another of Grossmammi’s favorite sayings. Since the weather had warmed up, she’d been walking to school, so she hadn’t been using the stable. Still, that wasn’t an excuse for not having looked over the damage herself. She should have thought of it sooner, so that she’d be prepared to talk about it instead of being taken by surprise, the way she had been yesterday.

  One good thing about walking to school—she couldn’t help but cheer up when she saw the signs of spring all around her. The evergreens still wore their dark green coats, but against them, a haze of pale yellowish green surrounded the other trees, promising blossoms and leaves to come.

  The air was crisp and still, especially this early, but her sweater was warm, and the sunlight filtering through the trees hinted that it would be another nice day. Her scholars would be happy, and so would she. Nobody liked it when they had to have indoor recess.

  In sight of the school, Dorcas hurried her steps. Dropping her books and papers on the small porch, she headed for the stable.

  There were two stalls in the front part of the building—one for the teacher and one for any parent who came to help. The one on the left seemed fine, just as she’d left it after the last use. The one on the right, though . . . She stepped inside it and looked more closely at the floor. It had been two days since they’d had rain, but a definite damp spot reflected the light coming in from the window.

  That wasn’t good. She looked up, trying to see where it was coming from, but the roof looked normal to her. Maybe . . .

  “Are you looking for a sign?”

  Dorcas jerked around at the sound of a voice behind her. Not just any voice—Thomas Fisher’s.

  “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “I didn’t expect anyone to be here this early, that’s all.” She tried to compose herself, reflecting that it had been years since Thomas left, and he had never caused her any trouble. So he wouldn’t be likely to start now.

  “I have some things to do in town for Mamm,” Thomas said, “So I told Esther I’d drop her off as long as she didn’t mind being early.”

  She looked past him, scanning the schoolyard. “Are you sure you didn’t forget her?”

  Thomas chuckled, low in his throat. “I said she could walk the mare around a little as long as she didn’t go near the road. She’s been itching to drive something bigger than the pony cart. Seems like it’s a sore point that Adam started driving the family buggy when he was just a little older than she is now.”

  “That’s what it’s like to be the youngest. Believe me, I know. Mothers always try to hold on to their babies.”

  A corner of his mouth lifted. “Their babies don’t often listen, do they?”

  Was he hinting at her teenage episodes or not? If she could be sure, she’d confront him about it. But she couldn’t, so there was no point in reminding him.

  As she started to move, Thomas put out a hand to detain her. “Seriously, why were you staring so intently at the roof? Is there a problem?”

  “See for yourself.” She stepped back, making room for him to get into the stall.

  He frowned at the floor and then knelt to put his palm on it, seeming to measure the wet expanse with his eye. Then, like her, he looked up.

  “It’s coming from somewhere up there, but I can’t quite tell where. We had some damage in a storm about a month ago, but I guess I didn’t realize how bad it was.” The worry came and sat on her shoulder again.

  “Better get the school board on the job to fix it.” He was still staring at the ceiling, not at her. Maybe that’s why she went on.

  “They know. But at least one family is balking at the cost of what needs to be done. They’re even talking about shutting down the Orchard Hill school and sending our scholars over to Oak Creek.”

  “What?” Thomas was hearteningly upset at the idea. “They can’t do that. Our families have always gone here. Are there so few children now?”

  “No, not really. It’s a bit of a low year, but that happens. In a year
or two, there will be more younger ones starting again.”

  He was looking at her face now, studying her expression, it seemed to her. It made her nervous, and she shrugged.

  “Never mind. It’s not your worry.”

  “You forget,” he said. “My sister goes here. It is my worry, and I’d like to have a closer look.”

  Before she could stop him, he’d climbed up the stall bars. Reaching up to grab a crosspiece, he pulled himself up in a quick, easy movement. Then he was balancing on the two-by-four, surveying the roof.

  “Thomas, don’t.” She put her hands up as if she could pull him back down again. “You’ll fall.”

  He looked down at her, laughing. “You think so? I’ve been working construction for nearly seven years. You have to have a head for heights in my business.”

  “I’m sure you do, but please come down. I’m responsible, and if you get hurt, the board is sure to ask why I didn’t stop you. Please.”

  “Since you asked me,” he said. He swung himself down, hung by his hands for a second, and then dropped to the floor, inches away from her.

  She gasped, reaching out for him. “Don’t do that. Promise me. You scared me.”

  He smiled again, a little too close, a little too intimate, for comfort. “Like I said, since you asked me.”

  For a moment she couldn’t move. She could only look at him, too aware of how close they were to each other.

  Then the clamor of children’s voices intruded, and she stepped away quickly. “I . . . I have to go.”

  She scurried out of the stable, well aware that she was blushing, and that Thomas would have seen it.

  What was wrong with her? After all these years of being happy without a man in her life, why should she be ambushed by feelings now?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dorcas could only be thankful that the next few days passed without trouble. No one mentioned moving the school—at least not in her hearing—and she didn’t see Thomas again. Even Sunday happened to be the off-Sunday, when they didn’t have worship in their community.