The Amish Teacher's Dilemma and Healing Their Amish Hearts by Patricia Davids (best chinese ebook reader TXT) 📗

Becca set her basket on the table and doffed her gloves and heavy shawl. She helped Sam do the same, tossing his hat and coat carelessly on a chair. While Becca went to the kitchen cupboards, Jesse placed more wood on the fire. When he set the kettle on the stove to heat up, he glanced over and saw Becca retrieving a clean dishcloth from a drawer. Thankfully, she didn’t say a word about the sink filled with dirty dishes. He planned to wash them later tonight but knew his home suffered from his lack of tidiness. Alice had always kept their place immaculate and in good order. But with all the work he had to do just to get ready for spring planting, he couldn’t seem to keep up with everything.

He didn’t question Becca when she went outside to fill the dishcloth with small chunks of ice. By the time she’d returned, he had sat down to rest a moment. Without a word, she promptly placed the cold cloth over his forehead. He flinched and she moved more gently, her fingertips warm against his skin.

“Hold this against your head for a few minutes. It’ll help the swelling go down,” she said.

“I don’t need this,” he said.

“Ja, you do,” she insisted. “I’m wondering if I should take you to see Eli Stoltzfus. He can tell if you need to go to the hospital in town.”

Jesse had met Eli and knew the man was a certified paramedic who worked for the small hospital in Riverton. Since Jesse was a firefighter, he wasn’t surprised to find an Amish paramedic here. He knew they never drove any automotive vehicles, but the Amish had quickly discovered the benefits of having EMTs, paramedics and firefighters among them.

“I don’t need to see Eli. It’s just a little bump on the head and I feel fine,” he said.

Her forehead crinkled slightly but she didn’t argue as she bustled over to the table and began emptying the contents of the basket she’d brought. Watching her, he couldn’t help thinking she had a way of taking over his home every time she arrived. And yet, he didn’t mind. Not really. Because she seemed to bring lots of comfort and order with her. But he was surprised when she removed a casserole dish, a loaf of homemade bread and a cherry pie from her basket.

His mouth watered at the sight of so much good food. His hunger alone told him that his head was okay. “What are those for?”

She didn’t look up as she slid the casserole into the gas-powered oven and turned it on. It looked like some kind of pasta, cheese and hamburger mixture that smelled delicious. Simple but filling food that made his stomach rumble. Sam had homed in on the pie, climbing up on a chair so he could gaze longingly at the golden crust and plump red berries that had oozed out of the lattice top when it was baked.

“This is for your supper,” she said. “It was easy to keep the food chilled until we got here and I figured you were busy and might appreciate a night off from cooking.”

He laughed out loud. He couldn’t help himself. “Is this your polite way of letting me know I’m a lousy cook?”

She laughed too, the sound high and sweet, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. “Ach, I don’t mean to offend but you must admit that you really are a poor cook.”

He nodded without argument, still smiling at her sense of humor. “I’m willing to concede your point and will admit I have come to dread meal preparation. I think Sam dreads it too.”

Her smile stayed firmly in place as she removed several books from the bottom of the basket. “And these are for my tutoring session with Sam.”

She handed the boy one book, which he took readily. A feeling of deep and abiding gratitude for her thoughtfulness rested over Jesse like a warm blanket. And that’s when he realized something important. He had laughed just a few moments ago. A loud, full-bodied laugh that came from deep inside. It was the first since Alice and his little girls had died. And that made Jesse pause in startled wonder. He felt suddenly unfaithful to their memory. Disloyal for feeling happy when they were gone.

He stood abruptly and tossed the dishrag onto the cupboard. “This is fine now. I’ve got chores to do.”

Placing his black felt hat on his head, he closed the door firmly behind him and hurried to the barn. After tossing hay to the animals, he fed the chickens and milked the cow. The work gave him time to gather his thoughts. To remember who he was and what he was doing here.

Becca was efficient, bossy and wonderful but she wasn’t Alice. And he was not going to let her take over his life or his thoughts. In his heart, he was still a married man who was faithful to his wife. And he wouldn’t allow himself to be taken in by Becca’s competent ways.

Thirty minutes later, he returned to the kitchen, carrying a bucket of frothy white milk. As he set it on the table, he could hear Becca in the living room, reading to Sam. He stepped over to the doorway and peeked into the room without revealing his presence. They both sat huddled together in the new rocking chair he had finished making last night. Little by little, he was getting things done but he was impatient to paint the ugly, scarred walls inside his home. However, that would have to wait. There were more pressing issues he needed to tend to right now or they wouldn’t have a livelihood. Issues such as getting the corrals and sheds repaired so he could buy livestock for their farm.

He listened silently as Becca read Sam a story about a cat named Elmo and a dog named Patches. The feline played a lot of tricks on