A Marriage for Meghan Read online

  Gideon shifted in the lawn chair, glancing at the other two. They both nodded with grave expressions. “Jah, that is true.”

  “And yet,” Paul continued, “Silas Miller told me a deputy from Wooster dropped by his place asking questions. The whole ordeal has distressed Silas because he’d made no complaint to the English law authority nor did he wish to. He made that quite clear to the deputy filling out the report.” Paul breathed through his nostrils as his voice rose with indignation. “Why didn’t you keep this within our community and allow us to find the guilty party?”

  Gideon placed his hands on his knees, splaying his stiff fingers. “I didn’t call the police because of what happened at Silas’ house. I called because of the damage to the schoolhouse. When the sheriff asked if this had been the first incident of vandalism, I could not lie. I told him about the Millers, my fences, and the mailboxes.”

  “Ach,” David said. “Will nothing be kept to ourselves?”

  “Why did you call him before even viewing the school for yourself?” asked Paul.

  Gideon wasn’t sure how Paul had learned that tidbit of information, but it really didn’t matter. “I feared for my daughter’s safety. When Meghan raced home to explain what had happened, Catherine was alone at the school.”

  Two of the three nodded, pulling on their beards, but Paul persisted. “You feared an angry child would harm Catherine?” Incredulity practically dripped from his words.

  “I had no way of knowing it was the handiwork of a student, and we still don’t know that. Meghan sounded as though the place had been demolished by a bulldozer.”

  Paul snorted. “Your Meghan—that child should never have been appointed to the position. She has the common sense of a nanny goat.”

  The bishop felt his face grow hot. “Catherine is head teacher, Paul. Her judgment has never been questioned. And Meghan has made great strides in her teaching skills.”

  “All that is well and good, but Sam Shockley doesn’t understand why the English police showed up at his door instead of his district’s elders. That is how the Amish handle things, the way we’ve always handled things. If Catherine thought the boy had done the mischief, we could have paid the Shockley family a visit to talk.” Paul stretched out his hands, palms up, waving them as though in supplication. “What can be done now? The matter—an Amish matter—has been taken from our control.”

  Gideon rose to his feet. The cold had begun to settle in his bones. “I regret my hasty action, a misjudgment on my part. As soon as the weather breaks, I’ll drive to the Shockleys to speak with them. This will die down. The Wayne County Sheriff’s Department has plenty of English crime to keep them busy. They will soon lose interest in our problems.”

  Paul struggled to his feet too, as did the others. “I’m sorry about what I said about your daughter—that was uncalled for. And I hope you are correct about this dying down, but I fear the fuss is only beginning.” He emitted a long weary sigh. “That sheriff called in an FBI agent from Cleveland. Wherever the FBI goes, the media follows. Now the whole state will be watching what goes on in our little world.”

  After preaching Meghan ate her lunch with her sister, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the other table. The men were sitting at long plank tables set up in the front room after the benches had been moved out. Her brother James was talking to Glen, Jacob’s best friend. That in itself was nothing unusual. Most of the young men were pals. But the fact they kept stealing surreptitious glances in her direction was very odd.

  She had to wait, however, to learn why she had been their object of curiosity until she’d done her share of kitchen cleanup. Once the dishes had been washed and put away, she went in search of her brother, finding him under the overhang of the livestock barn. James and several other young men passed a pipe of tobacco back and forth.

  “James,” she said, after reaching his side. “Daed wouldn’t like it if he knew you were smoking.”

  James leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Then don’t tell him, little sister. This is just a bit leftover from the last tobacco auction.”

  Meghan frowned. “It’s bad for your health,” she hissed under her breath. “I don’t want you getting sick.”

  “I’ll have two or three puffs. That’s not enough to kill anybody.” He pulled her gently by the arm away from the other men. “Was there something you wanted, Meghan? Or did you come out here just to pester me?”

  She crossed her arms and peered up at her oldest brother. “I’d like to know why you and Glen Yoder kept gawking at me during lunch.”

  James glanced back at the men. While one kept watch for approaching elders, another refilled the pipe from a small tobacco pouch. “Glen talked to Jacob Shultz last night. You do remember Jacob, don’t you? He’s the guy who’s supposed to be your beau.”

  “I know who Jacob is, Mr. Smarty-Pants. I suppose that after he spoke to Glen, Glen couldn’t wait to get to preaching to talk to you.” She wrinkled her nose. “And daed warned the women not to indulge in gossip.”

  This brought a smile to his face. “It’s been a long winter. Anyway, Jacob got a visit from an English FBI agent. He drove all the way down from Cleveland to help the local sheriff’s department.”

  “Help them with what?” she asked as a bad feeling took root.

  “He was asking questions about the break-in at the schoolhouse. He seemed to think Jacob might have had a hand in it.” James leaned down so that his face was inches away from hers. “He also thought the break-in had something to do with you.”

  Meghan stomped her boot in the slushy snow. “Of course it had something to do with me. I’m one of the two teachers those boys might be mad at.”

  “Easy, little goose. Don’t get your feathers ruffled.”

  She stomped her foot again, this time sending slush up his pant leg. “I have asked you many times, James Yost, not to call me that anymore. Name-calling is mean-spirited.” She felt a flush climb her neck.

  James wrapped his arm around her. “Sorry, Meggie. Old habits die hard. I keep forgetting our boppli is no baby anymore.” He squeezed her shoulders affectionately. “That FBI agent thought Jacob might be trying to get back at you because you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder.”

  “That’s absolutely ridiculous. He would never do such a thing.”

  “I agree, and that’s what Jacob told the agent. But you know cops. They don’t usually take the suspect’s word for it.”

  “The suspect?” she squawked. “Oh, James. We must do something. How can we help him?”

  James turned her shoulders to face the house. “You can go inside, little schwester. Your lips are almost blue. Jacob can take care of himself.”

  She shook off his patronizing hold. “Rumors alone can cause his family grief. It just isn’t fair to compromise a person’s reputation.”

  “Go in the house, Meghan,” he said more sharply. “Things have a tendency to get worse when you stick your nose in them.”

  On Tuesday, her day to leave with the bell, Meghan turned right out of the schoolyard instead of heading toward home. She’d already told her mamm she needed to buy materials in Shreve—paper, pencils, colored chalk, and poster board to make new flash cards. But school supplies weren’t her only reason to go to town. She was determined to talk to Mr. Santos.

  What she had learned after church through the well-oiled Amish grapevine kept her sleepless for two nights. Jacob was her best friend whether or not she was ready to walk down the aisle with him. She couldn’t allow him to be mistreated because of her. Big, blustery Jacob had a shy side, one that few people knew about. He wouldn’t like being the center of attention or part of an investigation. The Shultzes were quiet, retiring folks who kept to themselves. If Mr. Santos had new information as to who had beat up her brothers, the English police officers could focus on that crime. Then maybe they would leave her friend and her school alone.

  After buying her supplies at the dollar store, she left her buggy tied up and walked to th
e restaurant. A bell above the door announced her arrival as she walked in. A family of five eating pizza in a booth smiled in her direction.

  “Hullo,” she said as she walked up to the front counter. Other than the one family, the place was empty. Fortunately, clanging pots and pans beyond the swinging door indicated someone was close at hand. Within a few moments, a rotund, sweet-faced man, not much taller than she, emerged with a coffeepot in hand.

  “Welcome,” he said, setting the full pot on a hot plate. “Would you like to order a pizza? Mine are the best in town.”

  Meghan giggled. “Aren’t you the only pizza shop in town?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact I make great pizzas!” His girth revealed his personal fondness for his cooking.

  “True, and my brothers said they are delicious. I’m Meghan Yost.” She smiled, trying not to stare at his huge mustache. Amish men never wore mustaches.

  “Miss Yost, I’m so sorry for what happened here. Please let me make you a complimentary pie to take home. Name your toppings!”

  She blushed to her hair roots. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Santos. My mother probably has supper already prepared. What I came for is some information.” Leaning across the glass counter, she whispered conspiratorially, “I thought you might have an idea who beat up James and John.”

  Mr. Santos blanched with unease. “I don’t want folks afraid to come here. I run a sound business, but I did hear something just today.”

  “What did you hear?”

  He shook his head, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t want to upset you, Miss Yost. Your family has already been through enough.”

  She glanced back at the family to be certain they weren’t paying attention. “I’m no shrinking violet, Mr. Santos. I’m tough enough to be the new schoolteacher. Please tell me, sir. I have important reasons for asking.”

  With a reluctant shrug, he too leaned over the counter. “I’ve been asking around, quiet-like, among my customers. One of my regulars from the campground said a new bunch recently moved in. They supposedly came north looking for work. They spend most days raising a racket and drinking beer—even before noon.” He shook his head with dismay.

  “Campground?” asked Meghan, a bit too loudly. “Who in their right mind would go camping in February in Ohio?”

  Mr. Santos quickly scanned the room. “Shhh, Miss Yost. Many people have fallen on hard times and live out there in campers, semi-permanently. The owners have kept the utilities on year-round and are charging weekly rates until the economy improves. Most of the residents are real nice folks.”

  Meghan felt a pang of pity and remorse. Campers could be cramped and confining during bad weather. “Sorry about that ‘right mind’ part.”

  “Anyway, my customer says this group has been bad-mouthing Amish people—nasty trash talk—as though they have something against them.”

  “What could they possibly hold against us?”

  “I have no idea, that’s all I heard. But some people don’t need a reason to hate.” His face softened with sorrow. “Now, you stay there, young lady. I’ll be right back, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  A few minutes later Meghan was on her way home with a fresh, hot mushroom pizza that probably had been intended for someone else. It smelled wonderful. But at the moment she had more on her mind than her growling belly.

  Eight

  Monday

  Meghan wasn’t sure what she had hoped to accomplish with what she learned at the pizza shop. Drive her buggy to the campground and demand to meet those who didn’t like Amish people? Maybe wait outside the pizza shop each night until the wicked boys came back and then demand that they leave her brothers alone in the future? Volunteer her efforts at the Wayne County Sheriff’s Department to track down the vandals?

  She had enough to keep busy between her ever-expanding duties as assistant teacher and her chores at home. Her mamm might have two working daughters, but she still needed help with cooking, cleaning, and laundry. Her brothers were busy preparing the fields for spring planting, while her daed had plenty of district business to contend with. Besides, Amish males seldom helped with domestic chores as long as there were living, breathing females in the household.

  She had told her father what she’d heard from Mr. Santos the following day. He’d been quite clear about how she should proceed: “Concentrate on your own challenges and leave crime investigation to English law enforcement.” So she had done nothing with the information except worry about Jacob. She hoped he wouldn’t hold this shame and embarrassment against her.

  At least she’d made headway with her own “challenges,” as daed called them. She no longer sweated like August-in-the-attic when she addressed the entire class. She was no longer the first to glance away after locking gazes with Owen Shockley. And her primary grade students had made great strides with word recognition and alphabet penmanship. Joanna would be pleased when she dropped by to visit, even though Meghan doubted she would come until the weather turned warm and sunny.

  Pride was a sin, but Meghan couldn’t help but feel proud of the progress she had made. Would it be enough to win the solo teaching position for the fall? That remained to be seen, but according to Catherine, a person could accomplish anything he or she set their mind to. As Meghan’s confidence increased, so did the amount of responsibility her older sister heaped upon her. Catherine decided the time had come for her to teach a lesson to the whole class.

  Today, after reading, spelling, and morning recess, Meghan would begin her practical living lessons—how her students could benefit by putting Scripture into action. She’d gotten the idea from Joanna several weeks ago. Although her application that day had turned disastrous, Meghan spent the previous evening formulating a new plan. Now, as the students trailed in after recess, Catherine signaled that the moment of truth had arrived.

  On shaky legs, Meghan approached the front of the room. The primary and middle grades immediately fell silent, but chatter continued in the back, where the seventh and eighth grade boys sat. She cleared her throat. “This afternoon we shall hear the parable of the rich man to see what we can learn from him.”

  “But it’s still morning, Meghan. We ain’t eaten lunch yet.” The concerned voice of Annabeth Selby rang out loud and clear, drawing giggles and snickers from the other students.

  Catherine moved into position behind the last row of desks while Meghan plastered a smile on her face. “Oh, my. It is still morning?” she asked. “We’ve done so much good work already that I thought surely it must be afternoon.”

  The room settled down and her sister smiled with approval.

  “I will tell you a story from the Bible. It’s from the book of Mark.” Meghan waited to continue until all eyes fastened on her. “When Jesus was on His way into town, a man asked Him what he should do to inherit eternal life. Jesus reminded him to obey all the commandments, such as you must not lie or steal or cheat anyone, and you must honor your mamm and daed. The man said he had been obeying those things since he was little.” Meghan glanced over the room to discover the students were paying attention, even the eighth graders. “So Jesus said, ‘There is still something you haven’t done. Go sell all your possessions, give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come follow Me.’ The man went away very sad because he owned many possessions. Jesus explained to His disciples that it is very hard for rich folk to get into heaven. In fact, it’s easier for a camel to fit through the eye of a needle. This upset many of the disciples until Jesus assured them that everything is possible with God.”

  The room had become completely quiet, even though none of the kinner lived in a rich household. Nevertheless, they were contemplating the parable, while a few looked downright worried.

  Meghan hesitated half a minute before speaking again. “The primary grades will discuss the story in English up front with me. I’d like the middle and upper grades to take out a sheet of paper and pencil and write down what they lear
ned from the story. How we can make ourselves more worthy of heaven, even if we’re not rich? And I want the upper levels to also write down ways for rich people to improve their chances of heaven.”

  She laid her Bible on the desk and scanned the room, unwittingly holding her breath. Every single child sitting beyond the first row, except for one, took out paper and pencil. Owen Shockley stared blankly for a long moment, and then he too complied with her instructions.

  “All right,” Meghan said softly. “The first and second graders may now bring their chairs up to my desk.”

  The little ones lifted their small chairs and approached with faces bright with ideas. Once they had arranged themselves around her, Meghan said, “One at a time, tell me what you thought about the story. We’ll start with Jemma and then go around the circle.”

  Jemma scooted to the edge of her seat. “If we get money from selling eggs, we need to give it to the poor folk who don’t own any chickens.”

  “If they don’t have any chickens,” ventured the next student, “why don’t you give them half of your eggs each day?” Everyone in the group nodded.

  “How about you, Eli. Do you have an idea?” asked Meghan of the third child.

  “I’m gonna make sure everybody’s done with their first helping at the potlucks before I get in line for my second helpin’,” volunteered Eli.

  “That’s a very good idea.” Meghan flashed a smile at the well-fed second grader.

  The next child, Mary, could barely wait for her turn. “I’m going to make sure my daed gives the bishop all the money he gets from selling milk. That way he’ll get to heaven, the same as me and mamm.” The tiny blond girl beamed with satisfaction.

  “Well, I’m sure it would be okay for him to keep enough to pay the family bills,” Meghan said gently.