Love Still Stands (40 page)

“All right.” Bethel nodded with what she hoped looked like complete calm. Her pounding
pulse made her feel lightheaded. “Tell her I hope she feels better.”

“She said to tell you she’s sorry and she’ll be better tomorrow and to start with
their sums. They’ll know what to do.”

“We’ll figure it out. Tell her not to worry.”

Bethel turned and slipped through the door before he could see the look of fear on
her face. She’d done this many times. Today would be no different. She would teach.
They would learn.

Inside she opened the door on the stove and shoved in more wood. The familiar scent
calmed her. Dusting off her hands, she propped herself on her crutches and surveyed
the room. Neat as a pin, she could say that of Deborah. And she’d written the assignments
for each grade on the chalkboard before she left the previous day.
Wunderbaar
. Bethel took a long breath and pulled the bell rope. Its loud clanging made her jump
despite herself.
Calm. Be calm
.

The students filed in, chattering and laughing, the boys pushing a little. Bethel
rang the small bell on Deborah’s desk and the noise subsided. They took their seats
in rows by grade, girls on one side, boys on the other, expectant looks on their faces.
So far, so good.

“I’ll read from Ephesians.” Her voice didn’t quiver and she remembered her English
perfectly. Again, so far, so good. “Whose turn is it to choose the songs?”

“Mine and Elizabeth’s,” Rebecca sang out. “Deborah marked the pages yesterday.”

“Deborah is reading Psalms,” Mary objected. “Three verses each day until the end.”

“That’s fine, but I’m here today.” Bethel knew it was important to be firm. A new
teacher had to take charge or all would be lost. “When Deborah comes back, she can
pick up where she left off.”

After that, it was easy. They settled into the old, familiar rhythm. The Lord’s Prayer.
Hymns. Then algebra first. Then oral reading, first graders struggling with their
English, one word at a time. Their noses wrinkled, lips pursed as they tried to form
the unfamiliar words, while the older children exchanged their sums and checked them.
Recess passed quickly with a game of hide and seek, and then it was on to writing
the alphabet for the little ones and writing essays for the older ones. Before Bethel
knew it lunchtime had rolled around. They rushed to warm their meals on the stove
and eat, shoveling the food in so fast she feared some of the boys would choke. Lunch
meant playtime—almost an hour compared to the fifteen minutes mid-morning.

They raced out the door and the baseball game began immediately in spite of the slush
and mud from the melted snow. Eli led the charge and the girls took sides in the outfield—the
meadow.

“Come on, teacher, play with us, play with us!” Martha begged. “You can be the catcher.
Deborah likes being the catcher.”

Bethel leaned on her crutches. How she longed to swing a bat again. “I’ll watch. You
play.”

Eli got the first hit, a solid line drive that sent the ball into the pasture where
Martha chased it, giggling the whole time. He raced all the way to third base—a flat
rock. His buddy Reuben took a turn next. He was a big boy, taller than Eli and heavier,
and good at games like this. Mimicking Eli, he took a ferocious swing—and got a tiny
piece of the ball. Whether from excitement or overexertion, he let go of the bat as
he bolted toward first base. The old fashioned wooden bat sailed much further than
the ball, right down the baseline, right at Eli. It smacked him head-on in the face.
Down he went, flat on his back.

It took a second for Bethel’s mind to process the scene. Eli down. Not moving. No
one moving for a long, exaggerated second. Time ticked by.

“Eli!” Rebecca called, breaking the stunned silence. “Eli, are you all right?”

Her cry jolted Bethel into action. She struggled across the muddy, uneven ground.
Her crutches sank into the mud. Thomas’s Eli. Her charge. She needed to get to him.
Her legs wouldn’t cooperate. She had to get to him. “Eli? Eli!”

“I didn’t mean to do it.” Reuben cut across the pitcher’s mound toward third base,
leaving her far behind. “My gloves are slick.”

“What do we do, teacher?” Rebecca raised a white, scared face to her. “We need to
help him.”

Bethel’s crutches hit a low spot in the ground, and she stumbled. Her legs folded
under her. She hit the ground. She raised herself up and struggled to her feet again.
One step, two steps, three steps
. She sank to the ground next Eli. “It’s okay. Let me get a look at him.” His eyes
were closed. A red patch tattooed his forehead. “We need to get him into town.”

“I’ll take our buggy to the phone shack,” Hannah offered. “I know how to make a call.
My mudder showed me.”

Bethel tried to think. The girl was eleven, old enough to take on this responsibility.
Did they dare wait or should they take Eli into town in the buggy? “Reuben, get your
buggy. We need to take him to town.” She turned to the other children. “Sarah, you’re
in charge of banking the fire. School is dismissed. Gather your things and go home.
Rebecca, run home and tell your daed what’s happened.”

“I want to go to the hospital with you.”

“Nee. Eli will need your daed and Emma when he wakes up.” She pointed at Elam Christner.
“You go with her. Hurry, run!”

They took off across the pasture, feet flying under them.

Bethel prayed as the older boys picked up Eli and settled him into the back of the
buggy. She prayed as they helped her into the front seat. She prayed as Reuben picked
up the reins and yelled
giddy-up!

She had wanted to teach. With teaching came the responsibility of keeping each child
safe every day.
Gott, don’t let me fail
.

Elijah surveyed the emergency room. Englischers—some coughing, some slumped in their
chairs, little ones crying—occupied most of the seats in the room, but it still only
took him a second to find Bethel in her long, blue dress stained with mud. His sore
heart jolted at the sight of her. He told it to behave. It didn’t listen. She sat
huddled in a chair, her kapp-covered head down, her hands smoothing her apron over
and over. Reuben sat in the chair next to her, snoring. Teeth gritted, he strode toward
them, thinking she would look up at his footsteps. She didn’t. She looked so forlorn.
Leave it to her to feel guilty about a simple accident. He wanted to wipe that look
from her face. He wanted to see her smile, even if only for a second. Try as he might,
he couldn’t stay angry at this stubborn woman. She would be the death of him.

“Bethel, are you all right?”

Finally, she raised her head. “You?”

“Jah, me. When Luke heard what happened, he asked me to come get you so Reuben could
go home.” He patted Reuben’s shoulder. The boy awoke with a start. “Head on home.
Your daed will be wanting you for chores.”

Reuben yawned and stretched and went on his way with a barely audible goodbye.

Elijah turned to Bethel. He squatted so he could talk to her at eye level. “You look
done in. How’s Eli?”

“I don’t know.” She straightened and looked around. “Thomas and Emma went in to see
him as soon as they arrived. They haven’t come back.”

“I’m sure they’re sitting with him until the doctors let him go home.”

“It’s my fault.” She gripped a hankie in both hands, her knuckles white. “I should’ve—”

“Should’ve what?” He knew it. She would pick at herself over an accident she couldn’t
have prevented, short of keeping the children inside at their desks all day long.
He rocked on his heels and stood. “They’re kinner. They play games. They get knocked
around. We did when we were their ages. Why would it be your fault?”

“It’s my responsibility to make sure they’re safe.”

“He got hit by a bat. You brought him here. Seems to me you did all the right things.”

Her eyes bright with unshed tears, she peered up at him. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

She looked beyond him and stood. “There’s Thomas.”

Elijah turned in time to see Thomas push through the double doors and stride toward
them. He smiled. A good sign.

“Well?” Bethel pushed past Elijah. “How is he? What did they say?”

“He’ll be fine.” Thomas’s relief billowed from him, enveloping Elijah. “Doctor says
he has a mild concussion. He wants to keep him here overnight for observation. He’ll
be home in time to see you at school tomorrow for at least part of the day, I reckon.”

“School?” Bethel’s gaze faltered. “I’m sure Deborah will be back tomorrow.”

“Eli said to tell you he’ll see you tomorrow.” Thomas spoke with more force, his deep
voice firm. “You fall off a horse, the next thing you do is get back on and ride.”

“He’s right,” Elijah added. “You know he is.”

She sighed. “You don’t blame me, Thomas?”

“I’m thankful you were there to help him.”

She nodded, but she didn’t look convinced.

“I’d better take you by the school on the way home.” Elijah whipped his arm out in
a flourish as if to say
after you
. “You’ll want to write the assignments on the board for tomorrow.”

Her face broke into a smile—finally. “I guess you’re right. I wouldn’t want my scholars
to get behind.”

“No, I sure wouldn’t want that either.”

Given, he’d always been behind in his assignments. He figured Bethel remembered that
too. Her smile said she did. “Thomas, tell Emma if she needs anything—”

“She knows.” Thomas smiled. “Now go, teacher.”

She went. Elijah followed, feeling as if they’d made progress in some small measure.
One step at a time. With Bethel, it might always be one step at a time. But that might
be better than nothing at all.

Chapter 37

B
ethel planted her feet in front of the hearth, lifted the pine bough, and laid it
on the fireplace mantel. The scent wafted around her. She inhaled and smiled. It smelled
like Christmas. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but revel in the thought. The
birth of Christ. A season of renewal. She wouldn’t dwell on all the ways this season
would be different from Christmases of the past. Being so far from the rest of her
family. Leah’s refusal to return to New Hope. Living in this house with her brother-in-law
and her nephews. Not being up to the task of running a classroom by herself. She liked
being Deborah’s aide. She did. Really. She didn’t mind that every chore was a battle.
That meant she appreciated the victories all the more.

She eyed the chair where she’d intentionally laid her crutches. Since Eli’s injury
at the school, Luke had begun insisting she practice walking on her own and that she
use the equipment Elijah had given her. He wanted to make sure she could help the
kinner if needed. She wanted to be able to help the kinner here at home too. What
if one of them were hurt? What if Ida or Luke weren’t around?

Gritting her teeth, Bethel struck out across the room.
One step, two steps, three steps
. Arms thrust out to aid in her balance, she felt as if she straddled a narrow bridge
high over a canyon. She bit her lower lip in concentration.

“Aenti, Aenti!” William blasted through the front door, scarf flying behind him, snow
and mud from his boots marring her clean floor. “We need more blankets. Elijah says
we need blankets.”

Bethel teetered. Her arms flapped. A big bird, that’s what she looked like. Down she
went into the chair. At least she hadn’t fallen. She grinned in triumph. “I did it!”

“Did what?” William looked confused. “You fell in a chair.”

“I walked.”

“Aenti, we need blankets!” Joseph barreled into the front room behind his brother.
“Elijah says Cinnamon is having her foal.”

She pulled herself from the chair and balanced on her feet again. This was indeed
exciting news. “In December?”

“Yep. Come look!” Joseph grabbed her hand. “Come on, Aenti. Cinnamon’s having a baby!”

Her nephews’ grinning faces looked up at her. They wanted to share their excitement
with her. It was a gift. God had given her the gift of her nephews. She tried hard
every day to deserve it. She loved the idea of a new foal. They were so cute and sweet,
all legs, stumbling around as they followed their mamas. But she had responsibilities
here in the house. “I have chili on the stove and cinnamon rolls in the oven. Your
daed will be in from repairing the chicken coop and he’ll be starving.”