A Marriage for Meghan (32 page)

Turning away from Jacob’s less-than-enthusiastic greeting, she spotted Thomas Mast enter the tent on the other side. She sucked in a deep lungful of air. He looked handsome in dark blue jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He’d combed his hair, still damp from the shower, straight back from his face. Although it was only April, spring sunshine had already tanned his ruddy complexion. Meghan hurried to his side.

“Thomas, welcome,” she said, grinning with pleasure. “You’ve come, and I trust you’ve brought your checkbook.”

“Of course. I’ve already bought several things from the tables set up on the lawn.”

She clapped her hands. “Wonderful! What treasures did you find?”

Thomas took her arm and gently pulled her to the side. “Let’s talk over here so you’re not crushed by the throng. Let’s see…I bought a mantel clock for my parents’ anniversary next month, candles for my sisters, and some dried potpourri for the neighbor who waters my plants.”

“Nothing for yourself?” She tucked her hands beneath her white apron. “How positively unselfish.”
An uncommon trait among English men.

“Don’t be too impressed with my character. I bought a couple books for myself. One is a fictionalized account of the Anabaptist martyrs living in the sixteenth century. And the second is a collection of Amish photographs—scenes mostly, no facial shots—taken both here and in Lancaster County.”

“Ah, you have your pleasure reading taken care of for whenever you decide to stop working so hard.” She rocked back and forth on her heels.

He lowered his chin to gaze into her eyes. “I am going to miss you, Meghan Yost, when I return to Cleveland. With your personality, you’ll be the best schoolteacher this district has ever known.”

She felt her face grow warm. “Don’t flatter me, Thomas. I don’t need to be the best—only adequate in God’s eyes and those of the district parents.” She reached out to grasp his hand. “But thank you for saying that. Your opinion means a lot to me.” She released her grip and laughed much too loudly for a demure Amish woman. “Because you’re an outsider, an
objective
observer. Oops, gotta run.” She hurried away to where students were eating up all the free samples. “Hey,” she called, “those cookies are for the shoppers, not the workers.”

With hungry boys to shoo and cookies to replenish, Meghan didn’t notice Jacob Shultz staring at her from across the tent. His brows had converged above the bridge of his nose, while his hands had clenched into fists. Nor did she realize she’d attracted the attention of Catherine, her father, and several parents, two of whom happened to be on the school board.

Jacob’s expression could be described as furious, Catherine’s as worried, and her father’s as disappointed. The parents looked confused more than anything else, but not one of her onlookers looked happy.

Gideon left the auctioneer’s side for five minutes to get a cup of coffee. And in that short time he saw something that set his teeth on edge. His youngest daughter was talking in low whispers with the FBI agent in the entranceway to the tent for the whole district to see. Giggling and carrying on as though she were a silly girl instead of a grown woman hoping to be rehired by a conservative school board. Meghan had made great strides these past months, improving both her teaching skills and her dependability, yet here she was boldly grabbing a man’s arm with no restraint whatsoever.

Inviting the
Englischer
to the fund-raiser was one thing—all were welcome to help support Amish schools. But the bishop wouldn’t permit Meghan to flirt with a man she had nothing in common with.

What happened to that Shultz boy?
Gideon remembered Ruth saying he was sweet on their daughter. He would make a good match for his lively, impulsive girl—a no-nonsense blacksmith who worked hard on his
daed
’s farm. The bishop relaxed a bit when youngsters finally caught Meghan’s eye. Off she marched to do what she was here for instead of entertaining young men with foolishness. Gideon started back to the auctioneer’s platform with his coffee, but he was soon halted by another interruption.

“
Guder mariye
, Bishop,” hailed Stephen.

“Good morning to you, Deacon. Have you come to haggle for bargains?” Gideon sipped his
fraa
’s coffee. Ruth had made him pay a dollar for the cup, the same as everyone else.

“
Jah
, I brought my wallet in case I spot something I can use. Of course, with all the tourists here, prices will probably soar beyond my limits.”

“That’s what the school board hopes for to replenish the coffers,” mused Gideon. “My Catherine says they need to replace the primers and the math textbooks for the fall.”

“Why? Is two plus two no longer four?” A twinkle in Stephen’s eye betrayed his joke.

“Everything wears out, my friend.” The bishop absently rubbed his lower back. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the podium before Catherine sends someone to look for me.”

The deacon stopped him from leaving. “Another moment, Gideon. Paul and the other board members want a word with you when you’re done working up front.” This time Stephen’s expression revealed nothing.

“All right, until then.” The bishop wound his way through the crowd to the platform with anxiety nipping at his heels.

The spirited bidding and high selling prices failed to cheer him as they had earlier. For the next two and a half hours, Gideon worried about the upcoming meeting.
Did they witness Meghan’s inappropriate boldness? Or did she do something in the classroom to raise the ire of some parents? Or did they find another candidate for the head teacher position?
He didn’t wish to be the one to tell his daughter that kind of news.

When the auction concluded, buyers exited the tent and headed for the food line or to the outdoor flea market. Gideon looked for the school board members, finding them clustered around the bake sale tables. One elderly member, with powdered sugar dusting his beard, still managed to look stern and imposing.

“A well-run fund-raiser,” greeted Paul. “Along with tuition, the proceeds should adequately supply the financial needs for the next school year.” The other three men nodded in agreement.

“
Jah
, once the food receipts and craft tables are tallied, we should have sufficient funds.” Gideon looked from one to the other.

“To free up dollars for new textbooks, we propose paying only one teacher salary next year. If the class size is too large for one person, perhaps some parents can assist as volunteer aides.”

“Gut, gut
. That was my idea also.” The bishop pulled on his beard, ignoring his grumbling stomach. He should have taken a lunch break.

“And if your daughter, Meghan, continues to improve as she has, we’ll most likely promote her into the position,” Paul concluded with the barest of smiles.

“What? My Meghan?” Unfortunately, Gideon’s surprise was as obvious as a mule in the henhouse.

“
Jah
, your Meghan. Many parents have observed her in action. She’s a good teacher, Bishop, especially presenting arithmetic lessons on the board and teaching the youngest to read English. She still needs to assume more control over the classroom. There’s too much daydreaming and whispering, but her handling of individual
kinner
is exemplary. But we’ll see how she finishes out the term before we offer her the job.” The board members nodded like pecking hens, in perfect unison.

Gideon closed his gaping mouth. “I shall pray for her continued improvement and offer whatever help she needs.”

“As we all shall. Now, let’s get in line to eat. My wife brought a big roaster of
Wienerschnitzel
that I hope isn’t all gone.”

Gideon walked toward the food stand with his fellow brethren, speechless from the impromptu board meeting.

Now, if I can just keep her on the straight-and-narrow path until June…

N
o matter how she rolled her eyes or shook her head, Catherine couldn’t get Meghan to stop talking. She was half tempted to pinch her sister’s arm the way she’d done when they were children. All the way home from the fund-raiser, Meghan rattled on and on about the auction’s enormous turnout, how helpful the students had been, and about Thomas Mast’s purchases for his family back in Cleveland. Bragging about the amount of money raised sounded prideful, but Catherine could see that Meghan’s comments about the clever FBI agent rankled their father. In her exuberance, Meghan failed to realize
daed
’s nerves were fraying. And that never was a good idea when everyone was as tired as they were now.

“Thomas is taking home
two
books about the Amish,” said Meghan, ignoring Catherine. “One is a fictional story about the Anabaptists back in Europe, and the other is a book of photographs taken right here in Wayne and Holmes Counties.”

Catherine knew what was coming as sure as thunder followed lightning.

“
Ach,
pictures shouldn’t be taken of Plain folk,” said Gideon from the front seat of the buggy. “It’s an abomination. Just the other day I yelled at a carload of tourists taking photos of
kinner
walking home from school.”

“You yelled, Gideon?” asked Ruth, raising an eyebrow.

He blushed. “Well, I said firmly that the children’s images should not be captured.”

Meghan clucked her tongue. “
Daed
, don’t worry. A well-known Mennonite photographer published the book. He only photographs people from the back or at least from far away, so no one is easily recognized. Mainly, it’s lots of houses, barns, and rolling farm fields. He’s particularly fond of sunsets, snow-covered barns, and cows chewing their cud along the fence line.”

Ruth and Catherine laughed, while Gideon issued a final “harrumph” on the subject. “Agent Mast will be leaving soon?” he asked.

“
Jah
, he would have left today, but he wanted to speak to you and
mamm
first. And we were already headed toward the school. He’ll probably leave tomorrow, on the Sabbath.”

“He’ll be glad to get back to his conveniences, I’m sure,” said the bishop.

Her father no longer sounded quite so peeved, but Catherine changed the topic anyway. “I’d like you to look at some samples of new textbooks that came in the mail. If the school board approves them, I hope to place the order before leaving my position in May.”

“Not tonight, daughter. Maybe on Monday,” grunted Gideon.

With the school only a mile away from their farm, the horse soon trotted up their driveway, bringing the successful but tiring day to a close. “Need my help,
ehemann
?” asked Ruth, as the buggy rolled to a stop.

“
Nein
, you go on to bed. Our boys came home early for the afternoon milking and other chores. If I walk slowly, they should be finishing up about the time I get to the barn.” He helped his wife down, while his daughters scrambled out the back. They began unloading hampers and crates of supplies with youthful energy.

“I’ll make us a cup of tea. It’ll be waiting for you in the house.” Ruth trailed her girls to the house at a far slower pace.

Inside, Catherine watched Meghan fly around the kitchen like a bumblebee, but she waited until
mamm
left the room to inquire. “What is your big hurry, Meggie? I can’t believe you’re not tired.” She filled the empty roasting pans with water to soak and began washing coffee carafes.

With her
kapp
askew and several tendrils loose from her bun, Meghan flashed Catherine a smile. “I need to visit the
dawdi haus
tonight before Thomas goes to sleep. Joanna said he left his sack of books at the checkout table because his hands were full with the clock and candles.”