LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

the scholars, as school-aged children were known, when they climbed the stairs of the two-room schoolhouse where she herself had been taught as a child.

      Doris Hooley, the statuesque redheaded teacher who taught the upper-grade classes, stood on the landing, fanning herself with her hand. “It’s so hot today, you probably wish Bishop Amos and the school board decided to combine your class with mine immediately instead of waiting until late October.”

      “Neh,” Hannah replied, thinking about how desperately she and her grandfather needed the income she earned as a teacher. “I’m grateful they extended my position a little longer. It’s been a blessing to teach for the past eleven years, and I’m truly going to miss the scholars.”

      “Jah,” Doris agreed. “Such a shame so many young women from Willow Creek left when they married men from bigger towns in Lancaster County. Otherwise, enrollment wouldn’t have dwindled. Not that I blame them. Willow Creek isn’t exactly overflowing with suitable bachelors. That’s why I’m so eager to meet John Plank’s nephew from Ohio. Not only is he a wealthy widower, but I’ve heard he’s over six feet tall!”

      Hannah cringed at her remarks. Thirty-six-year-old Doris never exercised much discretion about her desire to be married, a trait that eventually earned her the nickname of “Desperate Doris” within their small Pennsylvania district. As an unmarried woman of twenty-nine years herself, Hannah thought the term was mean-spirited, although if pressed, she had to admit it was fitting in Doris’s case.

      “I believe John’s nephew is coming here to help with the harvest—not to meet a bride,” Hannah contradicted as a cluster of children trod barefoot across the yard, swinging small coolers in their hands.

      “That kind of pessimistic attitude is why you’re still unmarried,” Doris retorted, craning her neck to spy the first buggies rolling down the lane. “It isn’t every day the Lord brings an eligible man to Willow Creek, and I, for one, intend to show him how wilkom he is here.”

      Hannah gave her slender shoulders a little shrug. “I intend to show his kinner how wilkom they are,” she emphasized. “It can be difficult for young ones to start school in a new place. Besides, if it weren’t for their increasing the size of my class, there would have been no need for the school board to keep me on. You could have managed the rest of my scholars yourself.”

      As the children approached, Hannah considered whether Doris was right. Was she being pessimistic about the prospect of marriage? Or was she merely accepting God’s provision for her life? After all, she’d scarcely had any suitors when she was a teenager; her grandfather had seen to that. So what was the likelihood she’d find love in their diminishing district now, at this age?

      Even if she did meet someone she wished to marry, her grandfather was incapable of living alone and too stubborn to move out of his house. She couldn’t leave him, nor could she imagine any man being willing to live as her husband under her grandfather’s roof and rule.

      To her, it seemed only realistic to accept that no matter how much she may have yearned for it, her life wasn’t meant to include the love of a husband. And she had come to believe God wanted her to be content with teaching other people’s children rather than to be bitter about not having children of her own.

      In any case, she figured she had more urgent priorities than pursuing a stranger who was only visiting their community—like figuring out what she’d do to support her grandfather and herself once her teaching position ended.

      She shook her head to rid her mind of worrisome thoughts. The Lord will provide, she reminded herself. When Eli and Caleb Lapp said good-morning, a genuine smile replaced Hannah’s forced one.

      “Guder mariye,” she returned their greeting enthusiastically as they clambered up the steps.

      After all the older students were accounted for, Doris sighed. “I guess the wealthy widower isn’t showing up today after all. Perhaps tomorrow.”

      She ducked into the building while Hannah waited for the final student to disembark her buggy. It was Abigail Stolzfus, daughter of Jacob Stolzfus, one of the few men Hannah had briefly walked out with when they were younger. But when he proposed to her almost nine years ago, she’d refused his offer.

      “One day, your pretty face will turn to stone,” he had taunted. “You’ll end up a desperate spinster schoolmarm like Doris Hooley.”

      She knew Jacob’s feelings had been hurt when he’d made those remarks, and she had long since forgiven his momentary cruelty. But this morning, she was surprised by how clearly his words rang fresh in her mind. Watching Jacob’s daughter, Abigail, skip along the path to the schoolhouse, Hannah couldn’t help but imagine what her life might have been like if she—instead of Miriam Troyer—had married him.

      Granted, she never felt anything other than a sisterly fondness for Jacob, so a marriage to him would have been one of convenience only, which was unacceptable to her, even if her grandfather had permitted it. But might it have been preferable to being on the brink of poverty, as she was now? Thinking about it, she could feel the muscles in her neck tighten and her pulse race.

      She chided herself to guard her thoughts against discontentment; otherwise, it would be her heart, not her face, that turned to stone. God had brought her through greater trials than losing her classroom. She trusted He must have something else in store for her now, too.

      She reached out and patted Abigail on the shoulder, smiling reflexively when the child grinned up at her and presented a jar of strawberry preserves.

      “Denki, Abigail. You know I have a weakness for strawberries!” she exclaimed, bending toward the girl. “Did you help your mamm make this?”

      “Jah,” Abigail replied. “I picked the berries, too.”

      “I will savor it with my sweet bread.”

      As the girl continued toward her desk, Hannah reached to shut the door behind her.

      “Don’t!” a deep voice commanded.

      Startled, Hannah whirled around to find a tall sandy-haired man holding the door ajar with his boot. His broad shoulders seemed to fill the door frame, and she immediately released the handle as if she’d touched a hot stove.

      * * *

      “Excuse us,” Sawyer Plank apologized in a softer tone. He stepped aside, revealing three towheaded children who each looked to be about seven years old. “Sarah, Samuel and Simon are to begin school today.”

      He watched the fear melt from the woman’s expression as she surveyed the triplets. “Wilkom. I’m Hannah Lantz,” she said, as much to them as to him.

      “Guder mariye,” the three children chorused.

      “I’m Sawyer Plank,” he explained. “Nephew of John Plank.”

      “Of course.” She nodded, tipping her chin upward to look at him. He couldn’t help but notice something sorrowful about her intensely blue eyes, despite her cheerful tone. “We’ve been expecting you.”

      “I apologize for being late,” Sawyer said. Then, so quietly as to be a whisper, he confided, “I had to fix Sarah’s hair myself, and it took longer than I expected.”

      Hannah narrowed her eyes quizzically.

      “I’m afraid my hands are better suited for making cabinets than for arranging a young girl’s hair.” He held out his rough, square hands, palms up, as if to present proof.

      Hannah’s eyes darted from them to Sarah’s crooked part. “You’ve done well,” she commented graciously, although he noticed she was biting her lip. “Sarah, please take a seat next to Abigail Stolzfus, at the front of the class. Samuel and Simon, you may sit at the empty desks near the window.”

      Sawyer thrust a small paper bag that was straining at the seams in Hannah’s direction. “It’s their lunch,” he explained, still speaking in a low tone so as not to be heard by the children.

      “My

Скачать книгу