Lessons in Love
Lessons in Love KE LLY I RV I N
YOU are the reason we do what we do here at Barbour Publishing. We promise that we will always use our God-given talents to produce content with you in mind—and that we will remain biblically faithful, no matter what. Thank you for being the heart of our business. Lessons in Love © 2026 by Kelly Irvin
Print ISBN 979-8-89151-450-8 Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 979-8-89151-451-5 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher. Reproduced text may not be used on the World Wide Web. No Barbour Publishing content may be used as artificial intelligence training data for machine learning, or in any similar software development. All scripture quotations are taken from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental. Cover design: Kirk DouPonce, DogEared Design Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., 1810 Barbour Drive, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com Our mission is to inspire the world with the life-changing message of the Bible.
Printed in the United States of America.
To Tim, my friend, husband, caregiver, comforter Love always
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. 2 Corinthians 1:3–5
GLOSSARY OF PENNSYLVANIA DEUTSCH * aamen: amen ach: oh aenti: aunt Ausband: Amish church hymnal used in all church services bewillkumm: welcome bopli(n): baby, babies bruder, brieder: brother, brothers bu, buwe: boy, boys daadi: grandpa daed: father dat: dad denki: thank you dawdy haus: attached home for parents when they retire dochder, dochdre: daughter, daughters eldre: parents Englischer: English or non-Amish fraa, weiwer: wife, wives froh: happy gaul: horse gern gschehne: you’re welcome gickerigi: rooster Gmay: church district groossdaadi: grandfather groosseldre: grandparents groosskinner: grandchildren groossmammi, groossmammis: grandmother, grandmothers Gott: God guder daag: good day guder mariye: good morning gut: good gut nacht: good night hallo: hello 7
hochmut: pride hund, hunde: dog, dogs jah: yes kaffi: coffee kapp: prayer cap or head covering worn by Amish women kind, kinner: child, children kinnskind, kinnskinner: grandchild, grandchildren maedel, maed: girl, girls mamm: mom mammi: grandma mann, menner: husband, husbands mudder: mother narrisch: foolish, crazy nee: no neffyu: nephew onkel: uncle Ordnung: written and unwritten rules in an Amish district rumspringa: period of “running around” for Amish youth before they decide whether they want to be baptized into the Amish faith and seek a mate schwaegerin: sister-in-law schweschder, schweschdre: sister, sisters sei so gut: please (be so kind) suh, seh: son, sons tschabb: chap willkommen: welcome wunderbarr: wonderful *The German dialect commonly referred to as Pennsylvania Dutch is not a written language and varies depending on the location and origin of the Amish settlement. These spellings are approximations. Most Amish children learn English after they start school. They also learn High German, which is used in their Sunday services.
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CHAPTER 1
Finally. One hand on her aching back, Lenora Byler leaned on her mop. How could three adults and one baby make such a mess? She surveyed the clean—old but clean—checkered vinyl floor in the kitchen. She’d spent more than an hour sweeping and mopping floors from the kitchen, down the pinewood hallway floor, and out into the expansive living room that led to the front door. Autumn had descended with full force on her neck of the woods near Smicksburg, and an October rainstorm had turned the southwestern Pennsylvania’s farmland dirt roads to mud that everyone tracked into the house. No matter. Lenora could handle it. And then some. She might just be the sister-in-law-slash-housekeeper, but she was good at what she did. Which was keeping the Byler house from descending into a mess worse than a sow’s pen. Lenora’s nephew Caleb jabbered at his wooden farm animals in the playpen next to the table. The rugs were washed and hung on the line now that the sun had decided to peek from behind the clouds. Two peanut butter pies sat on the windowsill cooling, along with two loaves of sourdough bread on the table. Their aroma mingled with the lemony scent of Lenora’s homemade soap and the cheesy chicken and rice casserole in the oven. Finally, she had a few minutes to sit down and enjoy a cup of hot peppermint tea before it was time to get supper on the table. The back door swung open with a whoosh, bringing with it a gust of cool October air. The door slammed against the wall. Mena Miller shot into the kitchen. She had a black-spotted piglet under one arm and a 9
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tabby kitten snuggled against her chest in the other. Her face was dirty, her dark-rimmed glasses perched precariously low on her nose, her sweater had a hole in it, and her sneakers’ soles were caked with mud. The odor of manure hit Lenora a second later. Not mud after all. “The goats are loose again,” Mena yelled. “Tizzy was chasing Naughty Ned, and they all followed him.” The little girl’s breathless words didn’t slow her down. Good thing, because the animals in question flooded through the doorway, shoving her forward. Every stinking, muddy, frisky one of them. Lenora hopped up. She waved her hands in the air. “Nee, Mena, nee, you’re letting them in!” The eight-year-old staggered. She let go of the piglet, who grunted and joined the chaos on short, fat legs. “Be careful, Oreo, they’ll step on you. Ach, the little beasts think I’ll feed them again.” Holding the kitten high, Mena zigged past a gray kid and zagged around a brown and white doe. Their companions, white, black, and a combination of both, dashed into the kitchen. Petunia knocked over a chair. Billy climbed onto the table. Bleating, he slipped and slid on the green tablecloth. Leaving behind mud, manure, and mangled bread, he hopped off and hoofed it after Ned, the ringleader. Lily jumped through the open window, her hooves connecting with one pie, then the other, sending them flying face down. “Ach, nee, out, out, out.” Lenora flapped her apron. She waved her arms. She shouted. “Get out of my kitchen. Get out of this house.” Her words were lost in the cacophony of goats bleating, Scooter barking, and Red, the rooster, crowing. The only animals lacking were the horses and milking cows. Lenora rushed to the back door. She slammed it shut, whirled, and grabbed a towel. Whipping it back and forth, she raced down the hallway after the little girl and the rampaging animals. The front door swung open just as Lenora skidded to a stop in the middle of the living room right behind Mena. Henrietta Byler flew through the doorway. “Schweschder, what on earth are you doing?” Despite her words, Lenora’s sister-in-law had a wide grin on her freckled face that matched the one on Mena’s. “I told you to clip their hooves, not let them go crazy.” “The hund was chasing a squirrel and barking, and Red started chasing him, and. . .” Mena huffed and puffed. “It all happened so fast.” 10
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“Enough, enough, I’ve had enough.” Lenora tried to summon a laugh, but all that surfaced were tears—silly tears of frustration and anger. Hen and her little sister were two of a kind. Mena was spending a lot of time here on the farm Nicholas inherited from Grandpa Moses when he died of complications from Alzheimer’s. Lenora had a good idea why, and she sympathized, but this couldn’t go on. She was tired of being the stuffy, upset housekeeper in a family of break-the-rules, or at least bend-the-rules, people who seemed to do what they wanted whenever they wanted. “You can feed yourself. You can mop the floors. You can bake the bread and the pies. Life doesn’t revolve around goats.” Or chickens or horses or pigs or cows or roosters or cats or dogs. Only, it did when your brother was a veterinarian assistant married to a woman who had two goat herds—one for her milk products, Hen’s Goat Goodies, and one small herd of Angora goats that were on track to produce wool in a new endeavor. Henrietta ran her business as well as any Amish man could. If only she cottoned to her wifely duties the way most Amish women did. “I’m sorry, Lenora.” Mena’s lower lip trembled. She pushed her glasses up her nose and studied her dirty sneakers. “I didn’t mean to make a mess.” “It was an accident, for sure and for certain.” Hen looked equally repentant. “Mena, get out there and round up those runaways before they get too far. And before Nicholas comes home and sees the havoc they wreaked. I’ll help you tidy up the house, Lenora.” “Jah, jah, I won’t let them get away from me again.” Mena grabbed a small end table next to the door and sat it upright. “Everything will be gut as new. I promise.” Hen must’ve seen the aggravation in Lenora’s eyes if she was choosing to help with the cleanup inside instead of rounding up the livestock. “The bread is ruined.” Lenora’s whiny tone grated on her own ears. She had a right to be angry. Why did she always feel guilty for admitting it? Hen worked hard. It wasn’t like she was sitting in a rocking chair in front of the fireplace, eating popcorn and studying the latest Specialty Livestock Ag magazine. But this was her house, her kitchen, and Caleb was her baby. Lenora had none of these things—not yet. She heaved a breath. “The pies are gone, trampled.” A baby’s angry wails floated down the hallway. Along with them came 11
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the odor of scorched food. “Caleb!” In her haste to turn around, Lenora dropped the dish towel. She squatted to snatch it up. “And my casserole. It’s burning.” “Just scrape the bottom. It’ll be fine. I’ll give Caleb his teething ring. He’ll be fine.” Hen, called the goat whisperer by her friends, could also go by the moniker of Hen the eternal optimist. “What’s going on here?” The deep male voice was unmistakable. Lenora halted. Hen’s grin disappeared. Still clutching her kitten, Mena drew closer to her older sister. Adam Miller, bishop of Smicksburg’s West District—also Hen and Mena’s father—stepped onto the welcome rug in the living room. Behind him, standing in the doorway, stood Malcolm King, who’d been chosen by lot as the new deacon only two weeks earlier. A man who looked like he’d suddenly lost too much weight in his baggy denim pants and blue work shirt, he also wore his usual unreadable stoic expression, along with a sweat-stained straw hat. “Dat.” Hen recovered first. “What are you doing here?” “The list of reasons is expanding as I stand here.” Adam’s nose wrinkled. The bishop-slash-father’s eyebrows rose and fell. His lips pursed. “But first, do I smell something burning?” “I hope you haven’t come for supper.” Henrietta brushed dirt from her jacket, only succeeding in smudging it further. “Lenora has burned the casserole.” “I—I—I. . . You—you—you. . .” Lenora threw the towel at her sister-in-law and fled.
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CHAPTER 2
A woman who couldn’t manage supper without burning it might not be the best choice to replace the district’s teacher, who had left this very day because of a family emergency. “I don’t know, Adam.” Mac shifted his work boots on the muddy pieced rug lying on the Bylers’ floor in front of the door. A futile move. Muddy footprints—many of them of the hoof and paw variety—marred the hardwood floor as far as his gaze traveled. “Maybe we should come back another time.” “Nee, nee.” Adam’s stern gaze skipped from Henrietta to Philomena. Hen had tagged her little sister as Mena from the get-go, saying no one that small should lug around a name that big. “I think this is perfect timing. I have a feeling Lenora is tired of being a housekeeper in a house overrun by livestock. Where is your mann, Hen?” “Nicholas is taking care of a geriatric horse with laminitis, poor thing. The horse, not Nicholas.” Hen took the kitten Mena was cradling, held it up to her cheek, and rubbed its fur against her skin. “It’ll be late before he gets home, I reckon. Shall I tell him you came by, or do you want him to stop at your house on his way home? I can call his cell phone.” The district allowed Nicholas Byler to have a cell phone to communicate with his boss, one of a few veterinarians in the area, but he wasn’t to use it for other purposes. Mac was used to dealing with school-related issues as a member of the school parents’ committee since Patty started first grade, but enforcing the Ordnung as the district’s deacon was a whole new world. Why God had chosen Mac through the lot to be the district’s deacon baffled him. He could barely get out of bed in the morning. “We 13
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didn’t come to talk to your mann.” His voice sounded surly in his own ears. Mac worked to soften it. “We wanted to talk to Lenora.” “Lenora?” Frowning, Hen stroked the kitten. “Why?” “It would be better if we spoke with her about it.” He stepped past Adam and headed for one of the sofas in the living room. The sooner they talked, the sooner he could go home to the children. If the ruckus and the mess at the Byler house were any indication, Lenora Byler was not the person to teach his children. As much as his faith demanded that they—and he—accept their loss and move on, all three of them had floundered. Schoolwork didn’t seem that important since their mother’s death. Mac swallowed hard. Over a year now, and the memories still stung at the slightest touch. Stay in your box! “Ask her to come back out here.” “Maybe we should follow her to the kitchen.” Lingering on the rug, Adam tugged at his dark beard streaked with gray and silver strands. “I know Henrietta’s not the one doing the cooking. We can interview Lenora while she puts supper on the table. Philomena, you should be back home now, helping Tilly fix supper for the buwe. Isn’t that the agreement we made? You could come here for a few hours—not all day?” “I didn’t know what time it was. The goats got out.” Mena edged toward the door even though her father blocked her exit. “The dog was chasing a squirrel. The rooster was chasing the dog. Oreo and Sunbeam needed my help not getting run over.” Which animals were Oreo and Sunbeam? Did it matter? The girl was so earnest in her caring for livestock. How could Adam resist her sweet explanation? “No excuses.” Easily, it seemed. “It’s not her fault, Dat.” Hen slid closer to her sister. “I needed her help more than your housekeeper. Besides, Tilly does nothing but criticize how Mena—” “While you do nothing but criticize Tilly.” Listening to a family argument that was nothing new killed what little appetite Mac had. He didn’t relish the idea of making conversation over a meal anyway. “We shouldn’t invite ourselves to supper.” Especially when the meal was burnt. “No worries. Lenora won’t mind at all.” Hen put an arm around 14
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Mena. The two appeared to have forgotten how to dress themselves. “She’ll whip something up. She’s very efficient when it comes to cooking and housework. Usually. Like Mena said, today things got a little out of hand with the livestock—” “It’s my fault the goats got out.” Her voice quivering, Mena leaned against her sister. “Lenora’s mad.” “She’ll get over it.” Hen plucked a thistle from her sister’s hair. “She always does.” So this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. “Maybe if you spent more time helping Lenora clean house, cook, bake, and sew, she wouldn’t have burned supper. If you aren’t learning those skills at home, you need to learn them somewhere.” Adam cocked his thumb toward the hallway. “And what about Caleb, Hen? Wasn’t he the one fussing? When did you last check on him?” All this sounded like jobs for the wife of the house, not Nicholas’ sister, Lenora Byler, a single woman with no children of her own. Hen was taking advantage of her. Mac’s wife Emily had known Hen better than Mac. She was, in Emily’s words, an odd bird who loved animals so much she almost didn’t marry Nicholas. Her animals came first. Maybe Adam was right. Maybe they should head to the kitchen. Mac rose. “If we’re going to talk with Lenora, let’s get on with it. The division of labor here is an issue for the head of the house.” As it was at the bishop’s house. “True.” Adam moved away from the door. “Philomena, round up the goats. Then get back here and help with the cleanup. Henrietta, tell your sister-in-law we’d like to talk to her. We can sit in the kitchen while you help her put supper on the table. Maybe you can rustle up some kaffi for us.” Mac followed him into the kitchen. It reeked of burned food and manure. The offending casserole sat in the sink. The remains of a peanut butter pie had been deposited on the counter. Although the faint scent of homemade bread lingered in the air, none could be seen. A wet mop stuck in a bucket full of dirty water sat in the middle of the room. Caleb stood on stubby legs in his playpen, his face red from crying. No sign of Lenora. Hen gestured toward the bucket. “See. I knew Lenora had the cleanup handled—” 15
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“Ask her to come out here.” Adam stuck his hat on the rack by the door. “Tell her the bishop and deacon wish to speak with her about a teaching job.” “A teaching job? But Lenora takes care of the house, cooks, and babysits Caleb. She plants the vegetable and flower gardens.” Hen settled the kitten on the floor next to the woodburning stove, then proceeded to scoop up Caleb, who was busy gnawing on a wooden cow. She seemed in no hurry to do as she was told. “She loves Caleb, and she loves helping with Hen’s Goat Goodies. The only thing she’s lacking is a beau. I’m sure I can remedy that situation, given enough time.” Something about Hen’s tone and the tiny smirk she sent his way sent a flush through Mac. Surely she didn’t think. . . She didn’t mean. . . Matchmaking was frowned upon, but that didn’t keep folks— especially women—from sticking their noses where they didn’t belong. He pushed back his chair and stood. “I should go. I have chores to do, and the kinner will wonder where I am. We can do this at your house later, Adam.” It happened so often, Patty and Finn wouldn’t actually notice if he didn’t show up for supper. They enjoyed eating with their grandparents. Besides being a much better cook, his mother had a soft touch that Mac lacked. A way with words he’d lost somewhere along the way between the accident and the funeral. Nee, nee, don’t. His mind tightened the ropes that bound the box of memories. Stay put, sei so gut. “We don’t have time for that.” Adam used his bishop voice. Mac sat. When his bishop spoke, he knew to acquiesce—unlike the man’s daughter. “We need a teacher Monday morning, or have you forgotten?” He hadn’t. His own children would be among the schoolmates sitting at their desks waiting for Miss Caroline when the new week started. She was on a train to Virginia, well on her way home by now. “I’ll get her for you.” Smiling as if she’d just thought of the idea herself, Hen traipsed from the kitchen. “You’ll see. She loves it here.” She threw the words over her shoulder like a gauntlet. His expression a mixture of resignation and exasperation, Adam chuckled. “My dochder always must have the last word, but I’m certain she’s wrong this time. I have it on good authority from Nicholas that Lenora loved teaching in Bird-in-Hand and only gave it up because their daed sent them here to care for their daadi.” 16
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It had been over a year since Moses Byler succumbed to the ravages of Alzheimer’s disease. Somehow Nicholas and Hen had convinced Lenora to stay in Smicksburg. Maybe she did like her role in the Byler household as much as Hen seemed to think. Mac inhaled the acrid sent of burnt cheese. He leaned back in the chair to keep manure from getting on his jacket sleeve. “I hope you’re right.” Otherwise, they wouldn’t have a teacher come Monday. Then who would help Finn and Patty?
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CHAPTER 3
Fighting the urge to stuff the nightgown willy-nilly into her suitcase, Lenora folded it neatly and laid it on top of her favorite dress in her open suitcase. “It’s over. I’m done.” “What are you talking about?” Caleb balanced on one hip, Hen grabbed the nightgown, shook it out one-handed, and hung it back on its hook. “You love it here. After Moses died, you said you wanted to stay.” “That’s because I was courting with Ruben, and you know it.” The usual sour feeling surfaced in the pit of her stomach. Lenora grabbed the nightgown and refolded it. Ruben, who asked her to go for a ride not once but several times, then announced he’d met a woman from another district who “captured his heart.” His pitiful expression flashed in Lenora’s mind’s eye. Like she should feel sorry for him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. It just did.” “It wasn’t my lifelong dream to spend my youth serving as your and Nicholas’ housekeeper. That’s for sure and for certain.” “That’s harsh, and you know it.” Hen tugged at the nightgown. Lenora refused to let go. Hen rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. I know this isn’t how you thought things would go, but you’re not the housekeeper. You’re my sister-in-law. You’re family. You contribute to this family with the work you do.” “I don’t want a pat on the back.” What did she want? Fulfillment? Such arrogance. A Plain woman didn’t clean house for fulfillment. She did it because it needed to be done, and it was her job. Therein lay the rub. This wasn’t Lenora’s house. Caleb wasn’t her child. 18
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She wanted her own husband, her own house, and her own family. If it isn’t too much to ask, Gott. “I was happy to help. I am happy to help. But I’m never going to find my. . . the right man if I’m busy scrubbing floors and changing Caleb’s diapers—as much as I love taking care of him.” “That’s not true. There’s plenty of opportunities to mix at social events.” Hen swayed back and forth as if dancing with Caleb. The toddler flailed and reached for Lenora. She backpedaled. Caleb needed to get used to being with his own mother. Lenora’s heart winced at the thought, but she wasn’t doing him any favors playing substitute mommy. Hen took Caleb’s hand and danced around the bedroom. “You really haven’t tried since Ruben dumped you.” The fact that it didn’t hurt that much was a thermometer indicating her feelings for Ruben had been, at most, lukewarm. “I’ve been too busy cooking and cleaning, in case you haven’t noticed.” “I’ve noticed. Of course I’ve noticed. If I haven’t said it enough, I’m saying it now. I love having you here. Your bruder loves having you here. Not just because you do so much work. But because you’re my friend as well as my sister-in-law. I like sitting down to meals and seeing your sweet face across the table. And what about your neffyu?” Hen danced up to Lenora. Caleb reached for her again. “Caleb loves his aenti. What will he do with you gone all day long?” “I love my neffyu.” Lenora bypassed his chubby arms and planted a kiss on his cherry-red cheeks. “With all my heart. We’ll still see each other. It’s Bird-in-Hand, not South America.” “What about Mena?” Hen was relentless when she wanted something. Not this time. No giving in. “What about Mena?” “She needs you. You’re like the best version of a big sister. You’re not like me.” “That’s not fair, and you know it. You’re her sister. You need to step up and be the big sister.” “I’m not gut at the things she needs to know.” “Like what things?” “You know, girlie things.” “Ach, Hen.” Lenora rubbed her throbbing forehead. “Your daed wants her to learn those things from Tilly. That’s why you should send her home 19
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before lunch instead of letting her stay here all day.” “She doesn’t like Tilly.” Hen’s stubborn expression matched the one on Mena’s face whenever Lenora suggested she should go home and help the housekeeper make meals for Adam and her three brothers who hadn’t left the nest yet. “She’s bossy, and she acts like the house belongs to her when she’s paid to take care of it.” “That’s not a very Christian attitude. You’re old enough to know better. So is Mena. It was kind of your daed to hire her. She needs to be able to provide for her kinner.” Tilly Lapp was a widow who lost her husband in a farming accident. Tilly had four children under the age of twelve. “And your daed needed the help. Mena is too young to manage the house on her own, and I don’t see you pitching in. Or Ruby, for that matter.” To be fair, the middle Miller sister had a toddler and a newborn. Ruby couldn’t be expected to resume charge of the household she’d left when she married. “I have my business—” “I know, I know. Your precious goats.” Lenora laid her comb, brush, and packet of hairpins on top of a stack of aprons. “Did Adam and Mac say why they came? I can only imagine what they thought of the mess. At least they didn’t see the kitchen. I’d better go clean it up before Nicholas gets home. He can drive me to Pittsburgh tomorrow to catch the bus to Bird-in-Hand. We’ll have to make sandwiches with the leftover roast beef for supper tonight.” Guilt flitted across Hen’s face and disappeared. “What? What?” A horrible thought hit Lenora. “Don’t tell me you’ve left the bishop and the deacon alone in the living room while you’re in here trying to convince me not to leave.” “Actually. . . they’re still waiting for you.” Hen hunched her shoulders and ducked her head. “At least I think they are. Sorry.” “Sorry?” Lenora groaned. She plopped her extra prayer cap and the plastic coffee container that helped it keep its shape back on the dresser. “They must think we’re awful hostesses. Why are you in here talking to me instead of in the kitchen fixing them food? They probably got disgusted and left.” “It doesn’t seem likely.” “What does that mean?” 20
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“They want to talk to you about taking over as the district’s schoolteacher.” Lenora froze. Her mind tried to make sense of her sister-in-law’s words. Teacher. A teaching position. For her. The school year had begun in September. It was only October. Why would they need a new teacher so suddenly? Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart squeezed in her chest. The image of fresh-scrubbed faces full of curiosity, staring up at her, waiting for her instructions, floated across her mind’s eye. The last time she’d been truly happy was in that one-room schoolhouse two hundred–plus miles and three years away. “Why didn’t you say so?” Patting her prayer cap to make sure it was still properly in place, Lenora shot past Hen. “If they’ve left already, I’m making you go get your dat while I clean up the house and make sandwiches.” “They seemed pretty set on staying.” Hen followed along with Caleb, who jabbered about something indecipherable. “And by the way, they’re not in the living room.” “The kitchen? Ach, Hen!” “I know, I know, but—” “Just hush!” Lenora raced ahead. Sure enough. They hadn’t left. They sat in the rubble that was once Lenora’s pristine kitchen. Adam nodded at her and lifted his coffee mug to his lips. Mac didn’t move. Lenora rushed to the sink and grabbed a washrag. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Hen, put Caleb in the playpen. Throw the carcass of a casserole in a plastic trash bag. The pie and bread too. I hope you don’t mind a simple meal of sandwiches, pickles, chips, and canned cinnamon-spice apples.” Both men nodded without speaking. Good. She still had a chance at the teaching job. Maybe. Adam’s expression was good-natured, almost fatherly. Mac’s implacable expression hadn’t changed. The man had lost his affable smile when his wife died. He’d never retrieved it. His dark brown eyes held a hint of unrelenting sadness that never failed to touch Lenora’s heart—even if there was nothing she could do to assuage it. He would be the one she had to convince a burnt casserole and dirty house had nothing to do with her ability to teach. The next couple of hours would decide if she stayed or if she went. 21
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CHAPTER 4
This woman, whom Mac had only met in passing at Sunday services, was take-charge. That was good. He studied her. Even after the day she’d had, her prayer cap was crisp and straight, her hair tucked in neatly. She wore a clean apron. She was full of words, though, wasn’t she? Like Emily, the social butterfly who’d never met a person she couldn’t engage in a conversation—even if it was only about the weather. Stop it. This Lenora was nothing like his wife. Emily was blond, blue-eyed, tiny-boned, and so short she was mistaken for a student when she took Patty to school on her first day. When they were first married, Mac sometimes carried his wife around on his back in their new home, both of them giggling like kids. Stop it. Lenora had chestnut hair and unusual green-gray eyes. She was tall for a woman. She and her brother could’ve been twins. She talked like a teacher, like she had command of the room. When she wasn’t flustered. “A simple meal is best, especially at night. Less indigestion when I go to bed.” Adam motioned toward Mac. “I imagine you don’t mind either, Mac. While we eat, we can talk more about the situation at the school.” No, Mac didn’t mind. His mother would mind that he’d missed another meal with his children, but she would understand. Whether Finn and Patty would was another issue. Lenora took the washrag from Mena, rinsed it, and wiped the table down again with vigorous strokes. The pleasant scent of soap replaced the 22
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earlier odors. Within minutes, she had plates bearing roast beef sandwiches, pickles, and homemade chips in front of them. “Hen, bring Caleb to the table. I made him some pureed peas and carrots. There’s applesauce too. Mena, make the sandwiches for us girls.” “Caleb’s asleep.” Hen trotted past the table and deposited the sleeping child in a playpen next to shelves filled with baking goods and foodstuffs. “I’ll cover his plate until he wakes up.” “If he sleeps now, he won’t sleep tonight.” Lenora went to the playpen and picked up the boy. He opened his eyes. His tiny mouth turned up in a smile. Kids were sweet at this age. “Hi there, little one. Time for supper. Are you hungry?” She was good with babies. And little girls like Mena, who obviously adored her. This helped in the teaching department but also in the wife-slash-mother department. Which, of course, mattered not in the least if she had no beau. The whole community applauded whenever one of its teachers announced a betrothal, but the committee members also winced. The search for another teacher had to commence once again. “Come to Mamm.” Hen held out her arms. The child stuck his thumb in his mouth and stared up at her. “Silly bu, come here.” “Go on, bopli.” Lenora kissed his dark curls and held him out to Hen. “Mamm will put you in your high chair. You want some veggies, don’t you? And you love applesauce.” Caleb’s smile disappeared. His mouth opened. He howled. His chubby legs and arms flailed. Hen took him from Lenora anyway and plopped him down in the high chair. “This is what I’m talking about.” She set a plastic bowl of pureed vegetables on the high chair tray. She handed her son a small plastic spoon—which he immediately chewed on. “Are you sure you want to teach, Lenora? Caleb is attached to you. You’re needed here at home.” Trying to convince Lenora not to teach in front of them. “It would seem you should play that role.” Mac spoke before Adam, who frowned at Hen, his thoughts apparently running along the same lines. “Your suh would be attached to you if you spent more time with him.” Had he just said that aloud? It was one thing to think critically of the bishop’s daughter. Another to criticize her openly. “Not to stick my 23
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nose where it doesn’t belong.” “Nee, it does belong there.” Adam tucked his napkin in his shirt. He picked up a half sandwich thick with roast beef, cheddar cheese, lettuce, tomato, and red onion. “Hen must’ve told you we need a teacher immediately. Ours is on her way home to care for her very sick mudder.” Lenora’s hands fluttered. They settled on the back of a chair. She smiled, but her eyes were wet with tears. “I love teaching. I was in the bedroom packing. I planned to go home and try to get a job in Bird-in-Hand.” Her voice trembled. “But with the school year already started, it would be hard to find one. This chance is wunderbarr.” “Ach, it really is what you want, isn’t it?” A bowl of chips in one hand, Hen gave Lenora a one-armed squeeze. “I’m happy for you, I really am. We’ll manage here. Mena can come around after school. She’s a big help.” She didn’t glance at her father while uttering these assurances. Mac did. Adam scowled. Mac jumped in before the bishop-slash-father could speak. “It’s gut that you can see how important this is to our community and to Lenora.” He picked his words with care. “It’s also important for you to consider your schweschder Mena. She’ll have a gut teacher come Monday with no lapse in her schooling.” “Mac’s right.” Adam’s scowl faded, replaced with his usual temperate expression. “We all must think of the kinner. Lenora, members of your old school’s parents’ committee were happy with your performance. Orderly, in charge, disciplined, kind, even-handed. No complaints.” “That’s gut to know. I’m glad.” Lenora placed a bowl of canned apple slices in front of Mac. She smelled of lemon and bleach. Clean. He dropped his gaze but not before he caught the pleasure on her face. Her tears had faded, replaced by happiness. “I loved teaching. Denki for thinking of me. I’m sure there are other young women from around here who are more equipped.” “Not that we’ve found. You’ll be paid, of course.” Adam wiped mayonnaise from his lower lip with a quick pat-pat. “You surely could use a nest egg for the day you decide to marry and start your own family.” Leave it to Adam to drive home the point that couldn’t be disputed by his daughter. “Jah.” Lenora’s cheeks turned rosy. “Gott willing. One day.” “Not if you spend all day cooped up in a schoolroom.” Hen grabbed 24
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Caleb’s bowl just as he pushed it off the tray’s edge. “No you don’t, little bu. You need to go to the singings, Lenora.” Lenora picked up a water pitcher and poured more into Adam’s glass. Did the woman ever sit? “I’m sure Adam and Mac don’t want to hear about these things.” Lenora was hardworking and reliable and—contrary to the current appearance of the kitchen—good at womanly tasks, according to Adam. She was also pretty. Why wasn’t she courting? She’d be a catch. The thought surprised Mac. He wasn’t in the habit of noticing appearances—female or otherwise. Lenora had a kind, motherly way of handling Caleb. She spoke with respect to Adam and exuded humility. That made her pretty in ways Hen would never be. Not that it mattered one iota. “It doesn’t pay much.” That needed to be clarified. Mac sipped his water and returned the glass to the table. Better than staring at Lenora. “Probably not as much as you earned in Bird-in-Hand.” “It’ll be fine. Plenty.” She held out a plate of peanut butter cookies. “These aren’t fresh. I made them yesterday, but I think they’re still good. Would you like one?” It would be peanut butter. Rejecting her offering might hurt her feelings. Emily’s crunchy peanut butter cookies melted in a person’s mouth. Mac’s stomach clenched. “Denki, but none for me.” “You didn’t eat much. I know it was just sandwiches. I was hoping you would eat a few cookies to make up for it. At least peanut butter is gut for you.” Her tone anxious, Lenora set the plate on the table. “I’ll set it here in case you change your mind.” “It’s not your cooking. The sandwiches were gut.” Mac eyed the door longingly. If only he could make a run for it. “I’m just not a fan of peanut butter.” Smiling, Lenora tutted. She had a kind smile. “Maybe you just need someone to make you a truly delicious peanut butter pie. That’ll change your mind.” Mac studied the apples in their brown sugar, cinnamon, and lemony juice. Lenora wasn’t from around here. She probably didn’t know. How could she not know? Everyone knew. Emily had been especially adept at baking. She always brought pies, cookies, cakes, and breads to bake-sale 25