His Amish Sweetheart. Jo Brown Ann

scholars were milling about in front of the school, their excited voices like a flock of blue jays. He was glad he’d left his mutze coat, the black wool coat plain men wore to church services, home on the warm morning and had his black vest on over his white shirt. His black felt hat was too hot, and he’d trade it for his straw one as soon as he got to the farm.

      A boy ran over to be the first on the wagon. He halted, and Nathaniel recognized him from the scab on the corner of his mouth. It was the legacy of the punch Benny had taken from Jacob Fisher last week.

      “Gute mariye,” Nathaniel said with a smile.

      The boy watched him with suspicion, saying nothing.

      “How’s the lip?” Nathaniel asked. “It looks sore.”

      “It is,” Benny replied grudgingly.

      “Have your mamm put a dab of hand lotion on it to keep the skin soft, so it can heal. Try to limit your talking. You don’t want to keep breaking it open.”

      The boy started to answer, then raised his eyebrows in a question.

      “A day or two will allow it to heal. If you’ve got to say something, think it over first and make sure it’s worth the pain that follows.”

      Benny nodded, then his eyes widened when he understood the true message in Nathaniel’s suggestion. Keeping his mouth closed would help prevent him from saying something that could lead to a fight. The boy looked at the ground, then claimed his spot at the very back of the wagon bed where the ride would be the bumpiest.

      Hoping what he said would help Esther by preventing another fight, Nathaniel walked toward the school. He was almost there when she stepped out and closed the door behind her. Today she wore a dark blue dress beneath her black apron. The color was the perfect foil for her eyes and her hair, which was the color of spun caramel.

      “Right on time, Nathaniel,” she said as she came down the steps. He tried to connect the prim woman she was now with the enthusiastic kind she’d been. It was almost impossible, and he couldn’t help wondering what had quashed her once high spirits.

      “I know you don’t like to wait,” he said instead of asking the questions he wanted to.

      “Neither does anyone else.” She put her arms around two of the kinder closest to her, and they looked at her with wide grins.

      He helped her get the smaller ones on the wagon where they’d be watched by the older scholars. He wasn’t surprised when Jacob found a place close to the front. The boy sat as stiffly as a cornstalk, making it clear he didn’t want anyone near him.

      Esther glanced at Nathaniel. He could tell she was frustrated at not being able to reach the kind. He’d added Jacob to his prayers and hoped God would bring the boy comfort. As He’d helped Nathaniel during the horrific rounds of chemo and the wait afterward to discover if the cancer had been vanquished.

      “I’ll keep an eye on him,” he whispered.

      “Me, too.” She smiled again, but it wasn’t as bright. After she made sure nobody had forgotten his or her lunch box, she sat on the seat with him.

      He’d hoped to get time to chat with Esther during the fifteen minute drive to his farm, but she spent most of the ride looking over her shoulder to remind the scholars not to move close to the edges or to suggest a song for them to sing. Her assistant and the two mamms who’d joined them were kept busy with making sure the lunch boxes didn’t bounce off. As they passed farmhouses, neighbors waved to them, and the kinder shouted they were going to see the alpacas.

      “Nobody has any secrets with them around, do they?” Nathaniel grinned as the scholars began singing again.

      “None whatsoever.” Esther laughed. “It’s one of the first lessons I learned. I love my job so I don’t mind having everything I do and say at school repeated to parents each night.”

      “It sounds, from what I’ve heard, as if the parents are pleased.”

      A flush climbed her cheeks. “The kinder are important to all of us.”

      He looked past the mules’ ears so she couldn’t see his smile. Esther was embarrassed by his compliment. If the scholars hadn’t been in earshot, he would have teased her about blushing.

      Telling the kinder to hold on tight, he turned the wagon in at the lane leading to his grandparents’ farm. To his farm. This morning, he’d received another letter from his mamm, begging him to return to Indiana instead of following his dreams in Paradise Springs. He must find a gentle way to let her know, once and for all, that he wanted to remain in Lancaster County. And he’d suggest she find the best words to let Vernita Miller know, as well. He didn’t intend to marry Vernita, no matter how often the young woman had hinted he should. She’d find someone else. Perhaps his gut friend Dwayne Kempf who was sweet on her.

      He shook thoughts of his mamm, Indiana and Vernita out of his head as he drew in the reins and stopped the wagon near the barn. Like the house, it needed a new coat of white paint. He’d started on the big project of fixing all the buildings when he could steal time from taking care of the animals, but, so far, only half of one side of the house was done.

      “There they are!” came a shout from the back.

      Jumping down, Nathaniel smiled when he saw the excited kinder pointing at the alpacas near the pasture fence. He heard a girl describe them as “adorable.” Their long legs and neck were tufted with wool. Around their faces, more wool puffed like an aura.

      The alpacas raced away when the scholars poured off the wagon.

      “Where are they going?” a little girl asked him as he lifted her down.

      “To get the others,” he replied, though he knew the skittish creatures wanted to flee as far as possible from the noisy kinder.

      Esther put her finger to her lips. “You must be quiet. Be like little mice sneaking around a sleeping cat.”

      The youngest scholars giggled. She asked each little one to take the hand of an older child. A few of the boys, including Jacob, which was no surprise, refused to hold anyone else’s hand. Esther told them to remain close to the others and not to speak loudly.

      “Where do you want us, Nathaniel?” she asked. “By the fence is probably best. What do you think?”

      “You’re the expert.”

      She led the kinder to the wooden fence backed by chicken wire, making sure the littler ones could see. “Can you name some of the alpacas’ cousins?”

      “Llamas!” called a boy.

      She nodded, but motioned for him to lower his voice as the alpacas shifted nervously. “Llamas are one of their cousins. Can you tell me another?”

      “Horses?” asked a girl.

      “No.”

      “Cows?”

      “No.” She pointed at the herd after letting the scholars make a few more guesses. “Alpacas are actually cousins of camels.”

      “Like the ones the Wise Men rode?” asked Jacob.

      Nathaniel saw Esther’s amazement, though it was quickly masked. She was shocked the boy was participating, but he heard no sign of it in her voice when she assured Jacob he was right. That set off a buzz of more questions from the scholars.

      The boy turned to look at the pasture, again separating himself from the others though he stood among them. The single breakthrough was a small victory. He could tell by the lilt in Esther’s voice how delighted she’d been with Jacob’s question.

      The scholars’ eager whispers followed Nathaniel as he entered the pasture through the barn. He’d try to herd the alpacas closer so the kinder could get a better look at them. His hopes were dashed when the alpacas evaded him as they always did. They resisted any attempt to move them closer to the scholars. If he jogged to the right, they went left. If he moved forward,