Healing Their Amish Hearts. Leigh Bale
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farm cheap from a foreclosure sale and was glad to have it.
Becca set out the last six slices of his store-bought bread and layered them with wedges of ham and cheese for sandwiches. It’d be a dry meal but they could wash the food down with plenty of milk.
Watching her slender hands work, he thought about how much he missed Alice’s homemade breads, biscuits, pies and cakes.
“Here you go.” Becca set the two plates on the table and directed Sam to sit.
The boy gave her a questioning glance, his eyes wide, his little face so sweet and innocent. Jesse dearly loved his son. He truly did. But Sam was a constant reminder of all that they’d lost. Because Sam had set the fire. And though Jesse knew it wasn’t right, he couldn’t help blame the boy. He’d tried to forgive his son just as he’d tried to forgive himself. He really had. But he hadn’t been able to do so. Not yet, anyway.
“Ahem, will you join us?” Jesse asked, trying to be polite but wishing she’d go now.
“Ne, I’ll eat when I get home. This is for you,” Becca said.
Surprised by how she seemed to have taken over his home, Jesse joined Sam at the table. Within a few moments, they had bowed their heads and blessed the food. Jesse didn’t know what else to do. While Becca poured his son a glass of milk right from the pail, Sam immediately picked up his ham sandwich and took a big bite.
“I’m going to head home now.” Becca spoke to Jesse. “It’s getting dark outside and the roads will turn icy. I think you and I should speak more in depth at another time when you aren’t so...indisposed.”
Jesse nodded eagerly. “Ja, another time, perhaps.”
But she didn’t move. Didn’t take a single step toward the door. Instead, she closed the windows above the sink, seeming satisfied that enough smoke had dissipated from the house. Since it was wintertime, the days were shorter and it was already getting dark outside. She lit two kerosene lamps. The wicks flickered, sending eerie shadows to chase around the room. He could see her curious gaze as she peered into every corner. A feeling of mortification washed over him. He was highly conscious of the run-down condition of his home. And more than ever, he missed Alice’s home bottled beans, corn, peaches and tomatoes. She’d cared for their children and kept their home running with methodical order. But like everything else, it had all gone up in smoke.
“I... I’ve been kinda busy. I haven’t had time to go into town to the grocery store. And I haven’t had time yet to repair and paint some of the holes in the walls.” He sat there, his thumbs looped through his suspenders.
She brushed past him. He caught her scent...a clean, citrusy smell that he kind of liked. “I understand completely. It must be difficult being on your own in a new place with a little boy to raise. But don’t worry. You’ll get things in order soon.” She spoke in a cheerful, positive voice as she picked up the pair of gloves she’d set aside earlier when she’d prepared their supper.
Finally. Finally she stepped toward the outside door. Jesse stood and followed, breathing a silent sigh of relief. She was really leaving this time. But she stopped at the door and turned, catching him unaware. As he gazed down into her beautiful blue eyes, he couldn’t help comparing her to Alice. The two women were so different. Alice had been filled with inner strength but she’d been shy, quiet and unassuming. So different from Becca, who was rather bossy, outgoing and quick to take matters into her own hands.
“Mr. King, until we can make a more formal plan of action, I’d like to suggest that you read to Sam each evening. Try to get him to read to you as well. I really think that would help for the time being,” she said.
Read to Sam? Jesse didn’t have time for such nonsense but didn’t say so. He wasn’t interested in taking advice from an inexperienced schoolteacher like Becca Graber, no matter how attractive she was. But he nodded.
He accompanied her outside but didn’t help as she climbed into her buggy. He didn’t think it would be appropriate to touch her. With a wave of her hand, she bid him farewell and her horse took off at a jaunty trot.
Jesse stood there, watching her go. And as she turned onto the main county road, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. He couldn’t help feeling as if a tornado had just swept through his home. Rebecca Graber. What a dynamo. Jesse chuckled, thinking that another fire wouldn’t dare invade his new house. Because if it did, Tornado Becca would just sweep it away.
Becca pulled another dusty book off the shelf and promptly sneezed. Flipping through the front table of contents, she read each topic, searching for anything that might help Sam King. After a few moments, she added this text to her growing pile. She had chosen at least six good books on vocabulary and selective mutism and how to help children who wouldn’t speak.
Standing inside the town library, she perused a bulleted list on a tip sheet, her mind churning. The little bit she’d learned that morning was not what she’d expected. Not at all. Selective mutism wasn’t a problem where a child refused to speak in order to get attention. Nor was the child acting naughty. Rather, such children had an anxiety disorder wherein they couldn’t speak because their apprehension was so severe they were actually scared silent.
Flipping to a chapter on treatment, she braced the book against the shelf and continued reading. It was Saturday morning and she’d taken advantage of the clear weather to come into town and see what she might find. She could check out library books, as long as they magnified Jesus Christ. Jakob Fisher, her first cousin, had driven her here but she’d have to walk back to his farm. She lived with Jakob, his wife and three children, her aunt and grandfather. If she found some help for Sam today, the nine-mile walk home would be worth it.
An hour earlier, she’d paid a quick visit to Caroline Schwartz, Sam’s permanent teacher. The poor girl was still in the hospital, her legs and hips in traction. If Caroline hoped to walk again, she’d be restricted to bed for the next four months. At barely eighteen years of age, Caroline seemed even more inexperienced at teaching than Becca. And since the accident had happened about the same time Jesse and Sam had moved to the area, Caroline hadn’t yet been able to do anything about the boy’s problem. She’d explained to Becca that she’d ordered a newsletter written by Amish parents of special needs children titled Life’s Special Sunbeams. That might be of some help but Becca doubted it. Still, she had the address of the national publication and planned to subscribe as well.
Caroline had also tried to speak with Jesse King but the man had terrified her with his offish manner. No surprise there. Jesse didn’t seem to like anyone. But Becca wasn’t about to let the oafish man scare her off. She was determined to do something to help Sam, with or without his father’s cooperation. She believed Sam’s unwillingness to speak had everything to do with his mother and sisters’ deaths.
Lifting the pile of books, Becca carried them back to the open area of the library. Her mind buzzed with a number of techniques she’d like to try with Sam. Ritual greetings every morning at school, including him in activities even if he didn’t speak and some other techniques to reduce his anxiety while at school. She had some flash cards she could use but thought she might need to spend extra time working one-on-one with Sam when the other children weren’t around to distract or startle him. And she wasn’t sure how to build that time into the school curriculum. It wouldn’t be prudent to ignore the other children’s needs because Sam required so much extra attention but she’d figure it out.
Making her way back to the table where she’d been jotting down notes, she thought of a possible solution...and promptly bumped into someone.
“Oof!”
She looked up and blinked. “Mr. King.”
He stared down at her with widened eyes, seeming just as surprised as she was. “Hallo, Miss Graber.”
“Wh...what are you doing