Brightest and Best (22 page)

“Forbid him to go.”

“And if he goes anyway?”

“He’s my son, Jed. He’s going to the
English
.”

“Lindy went.”

“But my son! It’s different.”

David’s footsteps returned, heavier. Above his mother’s eyes, he caught Ella’s gaze.

She shook her head. David bent to kiss Rachel’s cheek and went out the front door with a duffel.

Younger men arrived to scramble up the ladders, hoisting shingles over their shoulders in a way that made James’s shoulders ache just watching them. Chester Mast had driven all the way to Chardon to order lumber and supplies. The school would be finished soon. Already, while the roof crew enclosed the top of the building, others sealed windows in their frames, whitewashed the walls and floor, hammered in shelves, and sanded the wall where the chalkboards would hang.

Today’s effort had been a sort of frolic among the men and any boys not in the
English
schools. Earlier progress came from a few men at a time turning up to do what they could between the long hours of their harvests, but all agreed that a frolic that brought nearly twenty men together would speed them to the finish line. The chalkboards would be the last large pieces to transport, once they arrived.

The women were at the Glicks’ with a promise to arrive with lunch for everyone when the hour came. James had dropped Miriam off with a crate full of ingredients.

With his hands crossed behind his back, James stood at the rear of the school and imagined the room alive with children. Gertie and Savilla. Hans and the other Byler children. All those Hershberger girls whom James couldn’t quite tell apart. The Glicks. The Borntragers. The Kings. Jed Hilty’s stepson. The names of others in the church district drifted through James’s mind.

Cristof Byler sidled up. “It will be a fine school.”

James nodded. “What do the
English
think?”

Cristof laughed. “Not too many
English
school authorities come out this way. Chester’s boys are in school—for now—so they have no reason to visit his farm.”

“Will you take your children out?”

“Just as soon as we have a teacher. I’m already keeping Hans home some of the time. Gideon says he’s working on finding a teacher.”

A new voice spoke. “James.”

He turned toward Isaiah Borntrager.

“The women sent a message,” Isaiah said. “Miriam collapsed.”

The pressure in his chest stopped James’s breath.

“They said you should come,” Isaiah said.

James gulped air. “Of course.”

He strode to his buggy, checked the hitch and reins, climbed to the bench, and put the rig in motion.

At the Glick farm, three women hovered over Miriam on the front porch, one fanning her, another urging her to sip water, another arranging a pillow behind her head in the deep Adirondack chair. James nudged his way past them and knelt in front of his wife.

“What are you doing here, old man?” Miriam said.

She grasped a glass of water, and James was relieved to see it did not wobble in her grip.

“What happened?”

“I felt a little tired, that’s all.”

“She nearly passed out,” Mrs. Borntrager said.

“I’ll take you home.” James put one hand behind Miriam’s back to help her up.

“I promised you lunch,” she said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’ll find something at home.”

“You’re going straight to bed.” He took the water glass out of her hand and handed it to Mrs. Borntrager.

As soon as they arrived home, James once again pulled a chair up to the side of the bed to insist that Miriam rest. He would have to talk to Gideon about expecting less from Miriam with the main house and children. Surely Gideon would marry Ella in a few weeks, and the pressure would ease on Miriam. And he would have to be more direct with Miriam. It was no sin to admit she was tired.

Forty-four years. James wanted forty-four more with his bride.

Saturday brought the men together again for a morning of finishing work. Gideon tied his horse to a tree and hefted his toolbox out of his buggy.

“Where’s James?” Cristof wanted to know. “I was hoping he would help us sort out what we need to build the desks.”

“He can’t leave Miriam,” Gideon said. “She’ll refuse to rest if he’s not there to make sure she does.”

“Then he is where he should be,” Cristof said.

“We should talk to Lindy Lehman about the desks,” Gideon said. “She’s a better carpenter than most people realize, and she’ll appreciate the need for simplicity.”

“I can’t get used to the idea of a woman carpenter. It’s not fitting.”

“You have one of her birdhouses in your yard.”

“That’s different.”

“Only in size.”

Joshua Glick broke into their conversation. “Gideon, I just heard that you took your children out of school.”

“That’s right.” Gideon gripped his toolbox with both hands and looked Joshua in the eyes.

Joshua gestured to the nearly finished school. “Someday we’ll have a school. In the meantime, though, we should obey the law.”

“In my mind,” Gideon said, “the question has become more complex.”

“Perhaps we should all pull the children out of the
English
schools,” Cristof said. “If we were united, it might send a strong message.”

“It would get more of us in trouble,” Joshua insisted. “Several men have already been fined.”

“It’s a small amount,” Gideon said. “The deputy is blustering more than anything.”

“The Bible tells us to live in submission to the government,” Joshua said. “Are the apostle’s words not clear?”

“They are,” Gideon said.

Cristof spoke. “Maybe the time has come for a church vote.”

“No.” Alarm spurted through Gideon’s gut. “Asking for a vote would only inflame matters further.”

Joshua kicked at the dirt. “People look up to you, Gideon. You should set an example.”

“Perhaps I am,” Gideon said.

“I mean an example of doing the right thing,” Joshua said.

“Perhaps I am,” Gideon repeated.

“That’s right,” Cristof said.

Gideon began to wish Cristof would go find something else to do.

“Joshua,” Gideon said, “you are in favor of running our own school, aren’t you?”

“I am—when it’s legal.”

“That may take some time.” So far Gideon had not been able to persuade the superintendent to grant him an appointment to discuss the matter calmly. He was quite sure cooperating to make an Amish school part of the district had not entered Mr. Brownley’s mind.

“We have to go through the proper procedures,” Joshua said. “While we wait, the children should be in school.”

“And what becomes of our children in the meantime?” Gideon said. Gertie’s self-portrait took form in his mind, along with the frivolous novel Savilla had been assigned to read. How would a book called
The Secret Garden
prepare Savilla for a quiet life on an Amish farm?

Ella happened to glance out the window of her second-story bedroom and saw the automobile before she heard it. She dropped her dust rag on the small desk and leaned toward the windowpane. Three seconds later, she pivoted and flew down the stairs.

“Rachel! Rachel!”

“In the kitchen,” came the answer.

“Where’s my
daed
?” Ella burst into the kitchen, where Rachel held a long wooden spoon and stirred coffee cake batter.

“I’m not sure. He left right after breakfast.” Rachel tilted her head in question. “What’s so urgent?”

“The deputy’s car is coming down the lane.”

Rachel dropped her spoon, spattering batter on table and floor, and raced out the back door calling her husband’s name.

The knock came on the front door. Ella smoothed her apron and focused on not hunching over as she answered it.

“Hello,” she said, stepping out onto the porch.

“It’s a fine Monday morning,” Deputy Fremont said.

Superintendent Brownley was with him this time. His gloomy scowl was the only expression Ella had ever seen on his face.

“We are thankful for each day God gives,” Ella said.

“Is your pa here?” Deputy Fremont asked.

“My pa?”

“Or whatever you people call your father. Jed Hilty. I need to speak to Jed Hilty.”

“It’s a large farm and it’s harvesttime,” Ella said. “I’m not sure I can say where he is just now.”

Rachel came around the corner of the house, her faced blanched but her spine extended, her shoulders back.

Good for you.
Ella liked seeing determination in Rachel.

“Are you Mrs. Hilty?” Fremont asked.

“I am. May I be of assistance?”

“Can you tell us where your husband is?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Mr. Brownley muttered.

Rachel returned his stare but said nothing.

Brownley cleared his throat. “Would you give your husband a message?”

“Of course.”

“We’re pleased he has cooperated and we see David Kaufman in school, but his attendance has been erratic.”

“I’m certain it will improve,” Rachel said.

“I understand you are the boy’s mother.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then you can appreciate the gravity of the situation.”

Gravity?
Ella thought. That seemed a severe word.

“Your son’s attendance borders on truancy. He’s often late or leaves the building early without authorization.”

“As I said, I believe you will see improvement,” Rachel said.

“Your husband has the opportunity to be an example of cooperation that other parents can emulate.”

“I’ll tell him you said so.”

“Thank you.”

Ella stood on the porch and watched the two men retrace their steps to the deputy’s automobile, crank the engine, and roar off the farm.

Only then did Jed appear.

“
Daed
!” Ella met her father’s eyes. Had he been there all along?

“I couldn’t find you anywhere,” Rachel said. “The horses were all here. I thought you must have walked out to one of the fields.”

Ella believed Rachel had looked diligently for her husband. Surprise burned its way through Ella’s chest. Jed had not wanted to be found. Had he seen the car coming even before she did?

Rachel gave a rapid account of the conversation.

“I have half a mind to take Seth out of school,” Jed said.

“But he’s only twelve,” Ella said. “Seventh grade.”

“They wanted David and now they have him,” Jed said. “Are we also going to give them Seth?”

Why should Seth be a pawn to trade with the school district, one boy for the other? Ella’s father had backed down so easily at the moment of David’s ultimate defiance, but now he would take a sweet, earnest, contented boy in exchange? Ella pressed her lips together to keep disrespect out of her words.

“Other families are teaching their children at home. Your Gideon, for instance.”

Ella swallowed.

“If you can teach Gideon’s girls, you can teach Seth.”

Ella found her voice. “I’m not even sure I can do a good job with the girls. Seth’s lessons would be more advanced. It might be too much.”

Jed looked again at the empty lane where the car had been before pacing across the yard to the barn.

I
n church the following Sunday, Gideon mulled over the reality that so far the bishop had not publicly addressed the education of Amish children. He supposed the
English
would call it the “elephant in the room.” By now any member in church could look around the congregation and know which decision each family had made, including his.