Amish Country Box Set: Restless Hearts\The Doctor's Blessing\Courting Ruth (63 page)

“I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“
Ya,
but what I want is not important. You’re old enough to make up your own mind what your life will be. You must decide. You aren’t like Miriam. You’ve joined the church.”

“I feel awful, Mam. We never argue. I don’t want to upset you.”

“And I don’t mean to be harsh with you, but it’s time you act like a grown woman.”

There was silence for a moment, except for the clippity-clop of the horse’s hooves, before Hannah spoke again. “Look into your heart, daughter. Your path will become clear.”

“I want to do what God wants,” Ruth said.

“You have only to listen. He will tell you.” She pulled a pocket watch from her apron and her expression softened. “Lunch break should be over.” She took a black lunch box from under the seat, opened it, retrieving a sandwich.
“Have half of this,” she offered. “It’s your favorite, chicken salad.”

Ruth took her section of the sandwich, heading up the lane to the school. “I haven’t heard the bell yet,” she said between bites.

Mam folded the waxed paper and put it back in the lunch box to use again tomorrow. “I left Elvie in charge of the little ones,” she explained. “She might be so busy making eyes at Elmer over her lunch that she didn’t notice the time.”

Ruth couldn’t help smiling. “Elvie and Elmer? She’s too young to be thinking of boyfriends yet, isn’t she?”

“Elmer is more interested in Eli’s motorbike than girls, but Elvie has always liked him, and he could do worse. Her parents are good church members and solid, God-fearing people. Besides, Elvie is the oldest, and she has no brothers. She’ll inherit land.”

“Don’t tell me you’re matchmaking your eighth graders.”

Mam laughed. “Not me. But Elvie knows her own mind. Mark my words, when he turns eighteen, Elmer will be trailing after Elvie like a fly on jam. And we’ll be going to a wedding.”

By the time they reached the school yard, Ruth had acknowledged to herself the truth of her indecision. She
had
been vacillating, whipping in the wind, not knowing what direction she was going. It was just that Eli had confused her. The way he made her feel when he was close confused her. He made her doubt her decision to remain unmarried.

But it was clear what Mam thought and wanted. Ruth would pray, but obviously her duty was to her family. Mam was no longer a young woman. She’d reached her
mid-forties, and she needed the care and devotion of a daughter.

It would never work out with Eli, anyway, Ruth told herself. He was too handsome for her, too good a catch to really be interested in her. He didn’t really want to court her. He was just pursuing her because she’d told him she wasn’t interested.

Ruth needed to just let the whole thing go. She wasn’t meant to be a wife. And in time, her deep attraction to Eli would pass. The happiness and well-being of those she loved most must come ahead of any personal desires.

It seemed like the right thing to do, but Ruth’s heart felt heavy. Never to marry…It would be a sacrifice, maybe a greater one than she’d ever expected, since Eli came into her life. The heaviness in her chest turned to an ache in the pit of her stomach and spread through her. Resolutely, she pushed back the image of Eli’s face and the sound of his voice. She would be strong…she would do what was right…what God wanted.

As she reined the horse into the drive that led alongside the school, Ruth saw that Mam had been right. The students were still at recess that followed lunch, some playing ball, others on the swings, and a few still finishing their lunches. Lydia’s Abraham, a gangly nine-year-old, was walking the top rail of the split-rail fence with his lunch bucket balanced on top of his head. Elvie, who was supposed to be in charge, was nowhere in sight.

“See, what did I tell you?” Mam said. “Recess should have been over ten minutes ago.”

Eleven-year-old Herman came running around the school, saw the buggy and shouted, “Teacher’s back!” As children hurried toward the building from all directions, Abraham lost his footing and tumbled off the fence. The boy rolled and came up on his feet laughing, none the worse
for wear. One of his brothers had reached the steps and was ringing the cast-iron bell to signal the start of classes.

Mam got out of the buggy. “I don’t see Samuel,” she said. “He must have walked home. Can you take the rig back to his barn?”

Ruth nodded. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Let it be for now. But think on what I said. You have decisions to make.”

“I think I already have, Mam. Don’t worry. I’d never do anything to shame you or my sisters, I promise.”

The entrance to Samuel’s lane was only a few hundred yards south of the schoolhouse. Once Mam had her lunch box and notebook, Ruth guided the horse in a circle, preparing to drive out of the yard. But as she turned right, she noticed two boys wrestling on the ground next to the shed. “Hey, you two,” she called. “Recess is over. Didn’t you hear the bell?”

Irwin scrambled to his feet, grabbed his hat off the grass and shoved something into his pocket. The top button was missing off his shirt, and one suspender hung off his shoulder. Weeds were tangled in his scarecrow hair. The other boy, Samuel’s son Peter, had more guilt than dirt on his face, and his shirttail was out, but he seemed to have gotten the best of the tussle.

“Were you two fighting?” Ruth demanded. She got down out of the buggy and walked toward them. “Irwin, what did you put in your pocket?”

Peter’s face blushed a deep red, and he looked as though he were about to burst into tears.

Irwin hung his head and stared at his bare feet.

“Well, Irwin, I’m waiting.”

“What’s wrong?” Mam came up behind her. “Why are you boys out here when everyone else has gone inside?”

“I think they were fighting.” Ruth dropped her hands to
her hips. “Irwin put something in his pocket, and he won’t show me what it is.”

“Were you fighting?” her mother asked.

A tear rolled down Peter’s cheek.
“Ya,”
he squeaked. “We was.”

“I’m ashamed of you both.” Ruth looked from one boy to the other. “Peter, what would your father say?”

“There is a better way to solve problems than violence.” He mimicked Samuel’s deep baritone voice so well that it was all Ruth could do not to smile.

“Your father is right,” Mam said. “Fighting is not our way. You both are old enough to know better.” She held out her hand. “Irwin? What do you have?”

He took a step backward and reluctantly dug into his pocket and produced a pack of matches.

“Is this what you were fighting over?”

More tears streaked Peter’s face as he nodded.

“Are these yours, Irwin?” Mam took them from him.

He didn’t answer.

“Peter, do you have anything you want to say about this?”

The boy shook his head.

“Very well. Peter, you take your father’s horse and buggy home and come right back. Tell him that you will be staying after school today. You will both write,
‘There is a better way to solve problems than violence,’
two hundred times in your best cursive. And you will both stay after tomorrow afternoon to scrub the schoolhouse floor, wash the blackboards and the windows. Is that clear?”

“Ya,”
Peter said.

Irwin nodded.

“I will keep the matches.” Mam tucked them into her apron. “If I ever catch either of you with matches again, you
and
your father, Peter—and in your case Irwin, Lydia and
Norman—will answer to the school board. Now, off with you. Irwin, I hope you remembered your math homework today.”

Both boys ran.

Ruth watched the boys go. “Something has to be done about Irwin before someone is seriously hurt.”

“Something has to be done all right, but I have a feeling there’s more to this than they’re telling. You see the look in Peter’s eyes? You, of all people, Ruth, know things aren’t always what they appear. I’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise you.”

“I just hope it’s not too late. He’s on our farm all the time. What if he burns our house down?”

“He isn’t going to burn the house down or hurt any of us. He’s an unhappy child, and we have to find a way to help him.”

“He’s a bully. You saw him trip Rudy at the picnic. He’s always shoving or—” Ruth sighed in exasperation. “Mam, you’re too easy on him. He’s a real troublemaker. And he seems to have it out for Samuel’s twins. He picks on them the most.”

“And why is that, do you suppose?”

Ruth stared at her mother.

“What do Rudy and Peter have that Irwin doesn’t?”

“A father, but—”

“A father who adores them.” Hannah started across the grass toward the schoolhouse, and Ruth walked with her. “Their own ponies. New shoes and new lunch buckets.”

“But Lydia and Norman are good to him. It’s Irwin that makes people dislike him,” Ruth said.

“He has a good heart, daughter. And if we can find a way to reach it, Irwin will return the love we give him twofold.”

“I think you’ve already given him too many chances.”

“Doesn’t the Lord do that with us? No matter how many times we fail Him, His love is always there for us. We must try to do as much for Irwin, Ruth. If we can’t give him hope and a sense of belonging, he will be as lost to us as his family is to him. And that I couldn’t bear, as a teacher or as a mother.”

Chapter Fourteen

M
orning sales at Spence’s were so busy that it was one o’clock by the time Ruth felt she could leave Miriam. She’d made plans to have lunch at the Amish Market with Dorcas and two of their girlfriends, and the girls were waiting impatiently to go. Charley’s sister Mary and her cousin Jane had already sold all their cut flowers and herbs and packed their wagon for the trip home.

“Go on.” Miriam waved them away. “I’ll be fine. John said he’d bring me back a sandwich and lemonade.”

Jane whispered something to her cousin, and the two giggled.

“I see how it is,” Mary teased. “Miriam wants to get rid of us so she can talk to the cute new vet.”

“Dr. Hartman is a friend of the family,” Miriam corrected, but Ruth noticed how merrily her sister’s eyes twinkled. Mam had called John, who had recently joined his grandfather’s large animal practice, to help deliver a calf that spring, and he and Miriam had hit it off. He often stopped to see Miriam at Spence’s when he grabbed lunch between appointments.

“Remember, your aunt Martha has her eye on you,” Jane
warned. “Don’t do anything with that Mennonite boy that I wouldn’t.”

“It’s lemonade,” Ruth defended. “They just talk horses.”

“
Ya
. Horses.” Mary rolled her eyes. “You know what they say about those Mennonites. She just better keep her
Kapp
on.”

Dorcas laughed, too, although Ruth wasn’t certain she got the joke. Dorcas wasn’t exactly slow, but neither was she as quick-witted or as daring as Charley’s sister or Jane. Ruth often thought that Dorcas acted and, worse, appeared closer to forty than twenty.

It didn’t help that Aunt Martha, who made all of Dorcas’s clothing, was frugal and not the most skillful seamstress. Dorcas’s dresses usually were made over from secondhand ones Aunt Martha acquired when someone passed away. It was a shame, really. Although no one could accuse Dorcas of being anything but Plain, she did have nice eyes.

Mam thought that clothing that fit her niece better would improve her appearance and attitude by leaps and bounds. It might even help Dorcas to find a husband. The truth was, there were always more available young Amish women than marriageable Amish men, and Dorcas’s chances were hardly better than Anna’s.

Together, the four girls walked past a table laden with dusty glass knickknacks and tattered paperback books. There were stands selling DVDs and records and even used children’s clothing, as well as fruit and vegetables. Tables of toys stood side by side with those lined with belts and wallets. One booth was hung with robelike dresses from the far side of the world. An Amish boy from another church district stood amid the garments, fingering one and talking to the proprietor. He seemed to be attempting to get the
man to lower the price, but what the boy would do with the foreign-looking dress, Ruth had no idea.

She liked coming to Spence’s, and she enjoyed spending time with Mary, Dorcas and Jane. She was the eldest of the four, but they always had fun together. Even Dorcas rarely whined or fussed when Jane and Mary were a part of the group. The cousins were too upbeat and full of fun to put up with Dorcas’s sullen moods.

“So,” Jane said, clasping Ruth’s hand and smiling up at her. “Tell me. What is Eli like? Have you ridden on his motorbike?”

Mary laughed. “Has he tried to steal a kiss?”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” Ruth’s tone sounded sharper than she’d intended. She didn’t want to offend her friends, but Eli wasn’t a subject she was willing to discuss right now. Maybe not ever.

Jane must have realized that Eli was a sensitive subject because she quickly turned the jest on her cousin. “Maybe you should ask Mary why she’s so interested in kissing.” She linked her arm through Mary’s. “Charley said she was awfully friendly with that Kentucky boy who’s visiting at Silas Troyer’s. Charley said she served him three slices of strawberry pie and four cups of coffee at dinner after services on Sunday.”

“He needed the coffee after all that ham
you
served him,” Mary said. “And he likes pie.”

“I’ll admit he wasn’t hard to look at,” Jane said.

“And he was really nice,” Mary defended. “Silas said…”

As the girls walked, Ruth’s thoughts drifted. She spotted an English woman in her thirties, with the same round face and distinctive eyes as Susanna’s. She was carrying a shopping bag of vegetables for an older woman who had to
be her mother, and the two were laughing as they walked between the stalls.

Ruth thought about an incident at dinner the night before. Susanna had been carrying a bowl of steaming potato soup to the table and had tumbled and spilled the soup over herself, burning one wrist and her ankle. By the grace of God, her dress, apron and stockings had protected her skin from serious burns, but her wrist had taken the worst of the spill.