Healing Their Amish Hearts. Leigh Bale

      Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord.

      —Psalm 127:3

      This book is dedicated to all those faithful couples who love, adore and cherish one another with a loyalty that surpasses anything this life or the dark forces can throw at them. They cling to one another and put the other first, second only to God, and love one another as the Savior taught us to do.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       About the Author

       Booklist

       Title Page

       Copyright

      Note to Readers

       Introduction

       Dear Reader

       Bible Verse

       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

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       Chapter One

      Starting a new job was never easy. But for Rebecca Graber, it seemed her first week as the interim teacher of the Amish school in Riverton, Colorado, might also be her last.

      Standing beside her desk in the one-room schoolhouse, she picked up her McGuffey reader. Thirty old-fashioned wooden desks sat lined up in orderly fashion with a black potbellied stove at the front of the room. A wide chalkboard covered the front wall, topped with English and German penmanship charts and several pull-down maps and illustrations for lessons. Poetry, artwork and Amish proverbs dotted the other walls. Becca had plenty of paper, crayons and flash cards for the children to use. And sitting on her desk was a large handbell she rang when she called the children in from recess.

      “First and second grades, please take out your reading books. All other grades will study quietly in their workbooks,” she said.

      There was a slight rustling as the twenty-four scholars did as she asked. She didn’t have a lot of students but since this was her first week teaching here, it felt closer to forty. On Monday morning, her first day here, her lesson plans had mysteriously disappeared. On Tuesday, she’d sat on a tack that had appeared on her chair. And the day after that, she had to break up a fight during recess when Caleb and Enos were teasing Sam. Yesterday, she’d found a paper taped to the back of her sweater that said kick me. No wonder the children had snickered every time she’d turned away. If she couldn’t get control of her class soon, she had no doubt the school board would dismiss her as a complete and utter failure even before the first of May when school let out for the summer.

      The room was tidy, with dark tan walls and wooden floors. The red log building had been a specially ordered kit that was built by the fathers of the scholars. Bike racks and a hitching post were situated out front in the graveled parking lot. A small barn stood near the outhouse where the children’s horses and ponies were kept until it was time to go home. A spacious dirt area served as a baseball field. Although the school possibly needed a couple of swings and teeter-totter, Becca couldn’t ask for more and wished this was a permanent position. But the regular teacher would return next fall, after she healed from the buggy accident that had crushed her pelvis and broken both her legs. The young woman was blessed to still be alive.

      As she waited for the students to settle themselves, Becca glanced out the wide windows. The afternoon sun sparkled against the dusting of snow they’d received early that morning. The azure sky looked crystal clear but the February temperatures were downright frigid. Becca added another piece of wood to the fire, then called on a student to begin.

      “Samuel King, would you please read out loud for us?” she asked with a kind smile.

      Sam’s soft brown eyes widened in panic, then he looked down at his book, his hands folded tightly in his lap. Becca waited patiently but the six-year-old boy didn’t speak. Not a single word.

      “Excuse me, Teacher Becca.” Andy Yoder, the bishop’s youngest son and another first-grader, held up his hand.

      “Yes, Andy?” Becca asked.

      “Sam don’t talk, teacher. Not ever,” Andy said.

      “Sam doesn’t talk,” she said, correcting the boy’s grammar.

      And she wasn’t willing to accept that. But first things first. She reached for a piece of chalk so she could write the correct sentence on the board. Finding no chalk, she pulled open the drawer to her desk...and quickly jerked back as a shrill cry escaped her throat.

      A snake! In her desk drawer.

      She stepped back so fast that her chair toppled to the floor. All the scholars gaped at her in surprise. A few snickered. Becca blinked, expecting the snake to move. But it didn’t. And after closer inspection, she realized