A Hand to Hold (14 page)

She shoved the memory away and looked at her mother. “I’m fine. I didn’t hit my head again, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I thought for a minute you might have. You’re acting a bit dazed.”

Ruth frowned, then blanked her emotions. “Really, I’m okay. And I have
gut
news.” She told her mother that the school was ready, but left out the part about Zachariah working all night long. Even mentally acknowledging that piqued her feelings, something she didn’t need, not when she had to force herself not to think of him at all.

Emma planted a kiss on her cheek. “Your
daed
should be home soon. I think I’ll wait for him upstairs. One thing’s for sure,
dochder
. Your life hasn’t been boring lately.” She winked at Ruth and left the room.

Ruth sighed, plopping down on the couch. The lock of hair dislodged from behind her ear again, but she let it fall against her cheek. Her mother was right. Things hadn’t been boring lately. But she
liked
boring. She preferred predictable. And orderly. And ever since Zachariah had plowed into the school, her life had been a lesson in disorder.

Chapter 9

Y
ou’ve done a fine job, Zach.” Gabe Miller nodded as he strolled around the schoolroom. “A very fine job.”

Zach couldn’t hide his smile. He, Gabe, and his father had arrived at the schoolhouse a short while ago. As members of the school board, his father and Gabe were there to approve Zach’s repairs. If they did, Gabe would make an announcement tomorrow after church that the school would open on Monday. Zach hoped it would happen, not just for his sake, but for Ruth’s too.

But while Gabe seemed pleased with the results, his father had said nothing so far. The ride in the buggy to the school had been filled with silence. Zach even tried a few times to start a conversation, bringing up his work at the buggy shop. But he soon got tired of his father’s one-syllable answers and kept his mouth shut the rest of the way.

He stood by Ruth’s desk and watched his father stare at the new wall and stroke his beard. He couldn’t see his father’s expression, but from the way he had slowly walked back and forth, stopping at times to examine the floor or look up at the ceiling, Zach could guess what his father was thinking.

“There’s paint on the floor.” He marked the spot with his foot.

“Where?” Zach zipped between two of the rows of desks. He’d set them up in even rows, thinking Ruth might want them that way. If she didn’t, she could rearrange them. He reached his father and bent down to see the paint spots. They were more like paint flecks. He rubbed them off with his thumbnail. “There. Satisfied?” The biting words were out before he could stop them.

His
daed
turned to him, green eyes snapping. “Satisfaction comes from a job
well
done.”

Zach stared at his father. He’d spent almost two weeks working on the school, sweating in the heat, making sure he not only finished the job early, but that he did it well. And all his father could do was complain about a few stray paint flecks?

“I don’t see why we can’t open school Monday.” Gabe moved to stand between the two men. “Unless you have an objection, Gideon?”

Zach held his breath as his father continued to look around, taking his time before answering. Finally he said, “
Nee
.”

Gabe glanced at Zach, giving him a quick smile. With that one gesture Zach knew Gabe not only recognized what was going on between father and son, he also understood. He was glad someone did, because he certainly didn’t understand his father’s behavior.

Moments later they were on their way home. It had been overcast all day, and the scent of impending rain filled the evening air. Dusk cast a purplish haze on the grassy fields and on the white houses lining both sides of the road.

They were halfway home when Zach couldn’t take the silence anymore. “Why are you being so hard on me?”

His father remained silent.

Zach slid down in his seat, feeling like a kid of eight instead of an adult of eighteen. “I don’t understand. You said you wanted me to be responsible. To be a
mann
. And now that I’ve proven myself to you, you won’t acknowledge it.”

“You’ve done
one
thing, Zachariah. One small thing.”

“Repairing the
schulhaus
wasn’t a small thing!”

His
daed
gripped the reins. “It will take more than that to make you a
mann
.”

Anger surged through Zach. He clenched his fists until his fingernails dug into the palms of his hands. “Nothing’s ever
gut
enough for you, is it?”

“And you’ve never understood what I’ve been telling you all these years. Mostly because you haven’t listened.”

“I’m listening now!”

His father stared straight ahead but didn’t say another word.

Zach clenched his teeth. He couldn’t remember being this furious before. Couldn’t his father see he was trying? Did he even care? He seemed to think more of Johnny Mullet, the kid he’d hired to work in his shop, than his own son. More than once Zach heard his father say how pleased he was with Johnny’s work. Each compliment dug at Zach. When he was younger, his brothers had been praised by his father, and Zach had hoped one day he would be praised too. But after tonight, that seemed impossible.

“Are you sure you want to get here this early?” Stephen asked.

Ruth looked at her brother, who had agreed to give her a ride this morning. She frowned at him. Her nerves were already frazzled. “
Ya
. I want to get here this early.”

Stephen held up his hand, his expression wary. “Sorry for asking.”

She let out a long sigh. “
Nee
, I’m sorry.”

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

“Of course not.” She fumbled with her purse and her satchel, both of them slipping from her grip. She picked them up again. “Can you pick me up this afternoon?”

He nodded. “What time?”

“Four?”

“See you then.”

She got out of the buggy.

“Ruth?”

She turned and looked at him. He gave her a smile. “
Gut
luck. You’ll do a
gut
job with the
kinner
. If anyone was born to be a teacher, it’s you.”

She nodded and managed a smile as Stephen drove away. Despite her brother’s vote of confidence, she felt a stab of doubt. She’d spent most of her life preparing for this day, and she’d prayed over each and every one of her students last night before going to bed. Yet in spite of that, it felt like a hundred butterflies were dancing a jig inside her stomach. She reassured herself that everything would go smoothly today. She had formulated a contingency plan for every problem she could think of, and her lessons were ready. As long as nothing unexpected happened, everything would be okay. Yet she couldn’t get rid of those annoying butterflies.

As Stephen drove off, Ruth balanced her purse and the heavy satchel on one arm and fished for her schoolhouse key. The weight of both bags threw her off balance. Her purse and satchel fell off of her arm, hitting the ground. The satchel had been fastened shut, but the contents of her purse were scattered on the small concrete stoop. She squatted and placed everything neatly back inside. Once everything was where it belonged, she grabbed her bags and stood up, reached for her key—

Oh no!
Where was her key?

She dropped her satchel and riffled through her purse. It wasn’t there. She knelt and searched the ground where she’d dropped her things. The key must have bounced off the concrete and fallen in the nearby grass. She ran her hands through the blades on both sides, expecting to see a glint of gold winking at her. When she didn’t, panic set in, and she searched again, frantic this time. Fifteen minutes later she stood up. Her key was nowhere to be found.

Surely she hadn’t left it at the house. She racked her brain as she mentally went through her evening and morning rituals. Last night she had cleaned out her purse, something she did every Sunday evening. Was the key in there at that time? Her hands pressed against the sides of her head. Why couldn’t she remember?

Over and over she went through her routine, but nothing jogged her memory. How could she be so thoughtless? How could she have not paid attention to where she put the key to the schoolhouse?

She started to pace, trying to figure out what to do. Maybe she could climb in a window. She couldn’t believe she was even contemplating it, but she was desperate.

Ruth walked to the window on the side of the small white building. Hopefully Zachariah hadn’t locked it after finishing his repairs yesterday, which is what she would have done. She hadn’t seen him since the runaway horse incident, and she’d spent the last few days preparing for school and trying to forget about him. She had nearly succeeded, but last night he’d had the nerve to pop up in her dreams. When she woke up, she couldn’t remember the specifics of the dream, only that he had again slipped into her subconscious.

She shook her head to clear her mind. Why was she thinking about Zachariah at a time like this?

She stretched her arms up and tried to shove open the window. At five foot four, she couldn’t reach it easily. On her third try, she managed to lift the sash enough for her body to squeeze through. Now she just had to figure out a way to crawl in.

She looked around for something to stand on, but there was nothing in sight, not even an old pail or a large rock. Somehow she’d have to scramble inside on her own. Gripping the window ledge, she counted to three, then jumped and pulled up her body. Leaning forward, she stuck her head through the opening, only to bump it on the bottom of the sash.

“Ow!” Several drops of perspiration ran down her face. It might be morning, but it was still hot, even during the beginning of September. Her dress started to cling to her skin in the heat. Ruth breathed in and steadied herself.
Lord, I promise I will never, ever forget my key again! Just help me get through this window!
Ducking her head further, she started to climb through when she felt something land on her back, pinning her against the ledge and knocking the wind out of her. “Oof.”

She gasped, then shifted and tried to open the window by bowing her back. The
dumm
thing wouldn’t move. Then she tried to climb the rest of the way through the window, but the sash pinned her in place. A bead of sweat trickled down her nose.

Panicked, she tried to budge the window again, but no matter how she twisted her body, it wouldn’t move. She was wedged in tight. Kicking out her legs, she searched for leverage on the outside of the building, but the rubber soles of her shoes slid right off the wood siding.

Her face was aflame. Soon her students would show up, and she couldn’t let them see her with half her body hanging out of the window. This was not the way to make a professional impression on her class.

But her students were the least of her problems; the pressure from being sandwiched between the window and ledge was putting a strain on her back and stomach. Becoming more desperate, she tried everything she could think of to break free. She kicked, pulled, arched, flexed, groaned, grunted, and nearly burst into tears as she tried to move the window resting on her back. Nothing worked, and now she could barely breathe. Light-headed and gulping air, she ended up doing the only thing she could. Cars and buggies traveled up and down this road all the time. Closing her eyes, she started to pray that someone would see her and come to her rescue.

“Ma!
Ma
!”

The sound of Will’s voice brought Deborah out of a heavy sleep. She opened her sticky eyes and squinted at her son across the room. He was standing in his new crib, gripping the side and looking at her with an expectant expression. “Ma!”

“All right,
sohn
, I hear you.” She sat up in bed, and her long braid tumbled over her shoulder, the end landing in her lap. She blinked a few times, struggling to wake up. She’d gone to bed early last night, at the same time as Will, suffering from a pounding headache. Thankfully, her head didn’t hurt anymore. Glancing at the window, she saw a bright ray of sunlight streaming through the glass. She frowned. There wasn’t a clock in the room. How long had she slept?