The Bridge of Peace
Read The Bridge of Peace Online
Authors: Cindy Woodsmall
Books by Cindy Woodsmall
A
DA’S
H
OUSE SERIES
The Hope of Refuge
The Bridge of Peace
(Book 3 coming in fall 2011)
The Sound of Sleigh Bells
S
ISTERS OF THE
Q
UILT SERIES
When the Heart Cries
When the Morning Comes
When the Soul Mends
N
ONFICTION
Plain Wisdom
(coming in spring 2011)
In loving memory of the best, most dedicated teacher in my life—my mom
.
You were strong, gentle, wise, and flawed. You taught me to read, write, and never give up on God. You taught me to cherish friendships, be stalwart in hardships, and take great pleasure in the little things life offers. I am grateful for everything you took time to teach me, and I’m grateful for everything I learned while you were simply being you. It was your passing that caused me to begin writing, for when I lost you, I lost a part of me. I’ll miss you forever
.
Contents
Cover
Other Books by this Author
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ada’s House Series: Main Characters
Glossary
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
One
Quiet hung in the air inside the one-room schoolhouse as the children waited on Lena’s next action. The curiosity she loved to stir in her scholars now filled their minds in ways she wished she could erase. The hush wasn’t out of respect or desk work or learning.
Staring into defiant eyes, she stood. “Return to your seat, Peter.”
With his back to the other students, he leaned across her oak desk. “Make me.” The threat in his voice was undeniable. She’d spoken to his parents about his behavior, but they’d believed that their son was only kidding and that she was taking his words and actions all wrong.
Nothing about the conduct of this six-foot man-child hinted at humor. He wasn’t teasing, but he was toying with her—like her barn cats did with field mice before killing their prey.
Feeling as unsightly as a wounded rodent was part of daily life for her. It even slipped into her dreams on a regular basis. But Lena was no mouse. When dealing with Peter, her will battled with her emotions. The teacher in her wanted to find a way to reach inside him, to get beyond the prejudices and surliness and find something of value. The rest of her simply wished he’d never moved to Dry Lake.
Still, she believed that most people had hidden wealth, good things within that made them more worthy than they appeared on the outside. For reasons that had nothing to do with Peter, she had to hold on to that belief.
She offered a teacher-friendly smile. “The assignment stands, and it’s due tomorrow. Take your seat, please.”
He slid her well-organized papers onto the floor and crawled onto her desk and sat. At fifteen he was the oldest student she’d ever taught—or
tried
to teach. He should have graduated sixteen months ago from an Amish school in Ohio, where he’d lived before moving to Dry Lake. Although she had no idea what happened to put him so far behind in his studies, he seemed to think
she
was the problem.
It would be easier to tap into his better self, or at least better behavior, if there was someone to send him to when he got this bad. During her
rumschpringe
, her running-around years, she’d used her freedoms to attend public high school. When her public school teachers faced a difficult student like Peter, they sent him to another teacher, a counselor, or a principal. If there was another adult nearby, Peter probably wouldn’t consider it a game to try to take control of her class. Maybe she needed to talk about this situation with her
Englischer
friend Samantha. Surely with her degree in psychology and her working this year as a school counselor, she would know some helpful tips.
“At your desk, Peter.”
“I’m not doing the work, and I better not get a zero.”
She swallowed and drew a breath, refusing the temptation to scream at him. “You have the right to decide your actions, or maybe a better word is
inactions
, but you do not have the right to insist on what grade I can give.” Hoping to continue with class, Lena walked around the desk and settled her attention on the first-grade students.
“Who has their penmanship papers done?” Her three first-grade scholars raised their hands. “Good.”
She could feel Peter behind her, seething with anger that had little to do with her. Wondering if she should face him or keep her focus on teaching, she took Marilyn’s spiral-bound notebook in hand and began looking over the young girl’s work. “To your desk, Peter,” she repeated as she made a smiley face at the top of Marilyn’s page.
His breath was hot on the back of her neck as he whispered, “You won’t win, so don’t even try.”
The threat unleashed her anger, and suddenly she became its slave. Even while telling herself to ignore him as he was finally making his way toward his desk, she spun around. “You’re a bully, Peter. Do you understand that about yourself?”
His face and eyes became like stone. “I’ll convince the school board you’re the problem. They’re already whispering behind your back about how to get rid of you. I bet they only hired you because they felt sorry for you. I mean, what else would someone like you do, marry?”
His personal attack caused a storm of insecurities about her looks to rise within. But that aside, she was sure he was wrong about the school board wanting to get rid of her. She’d made one good-sized error they’d not been pleased with, but surely …
He slapped the side of his face really hard and laughed. “Look, I’m making my face blotchy like Teacher Lena’s.”
The younger students looked horrified as he mocked her. Some of the older boys laughed, but most were clearly embarrassed for her. Peter kept smacking the side of his face, egging on the class to laugh at his antics.
