The Amish Teacher's Dilemma and Healing Their Amish Hearts Patricia Davids (best self help books to read TXT) 📖

the heavy hammer like it weighed next to nothing. His broad shoulder strained the fabric of his shirt.

She saw the school board members get into their buggies and drive off. They waved but didn’t stop to speak to the young man.

When he had the sheet of metal shaped to fit the front of the machine, he stood back to assess his work. Eva couldn’t see any imperfections, but he clearly did. He knelt and hammered on the shovel-like nose three more times. Satisfied, he gathered up his tools and started in her direction.

She stepped back from the window. Was he coming to the school? Why? Had he noticed her gawking? Perhaps he only wanted to welcome the new teacher although his lack of a beard said he wasn’t married.

Maybe that was it. Amish teachers were single women. Perhaps he wanted to meet the new unmarried woman in the community. The sooner everyone understood she wasn’t husband-shopping, the happier she would be.

She glanced around the room. Should she meet him by the door? That seemed too eager. Her eyes settled on the large desk at the front of the classroom. She should look as if she was ready for the school year to start. A professional attitude would put off any suggestion that she was interested in meeting single men.

Eva hurried to the desk, pulled out the chair and sat down as the outside door opened. The chair tipped over backward, sending her flailing. Her head hit the wall with a painful thud as she slid to the floor. Stunned, she slowly opened her eyes to see the man leaning over the desk. “I’m fine. I’m okay,” she said, wondering if she spoke the truth.

He had the most beautiful gray eyes she’d ever beheld. They were rimmed with thick, dark lashes in stark contrast to the mop of curly, dark red hair springing out from beneath his straw hat. Tiny sparks of light whirled around him. “You need a haircut.”

Had she said that out loud? She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t see him, but the stars were still floating behind her closed eyelids.

“I’ve been meaning to fix that chair. Just haven’t gotten around to it yet. A haircut is at the bottom of my list of stuff to get done.” His voice was smooth, husky, low and attractive. She kept her eyes shut, hoping he would speak again.

“Are you all right? You can’t be comfortable like that.”

At the hint of amusement in his voice Eva’s eyes popped open. She was lying on her back with her feet still hanging over the front of the chair. “I’m not comfortable. Would you kindly help me up?” Unless she ignobly rolled one way or the other out of the chair, she wasn’t going anywhere. The wooden arms had her boxed in.

He grabbed the back of the chair, dragged her out from behind the desk and sat her upright with one arm as if she weighed nothing at all. She looked at the long scratches the process left on the floor. It wasn’t pristine anymore.

“I’m Willis Gingrich. Local blacksmith.” He squatted beside her and grasped her wrist with one hand while easily holding her chair upright. “Can you tell me your name?” It took her a few seconds to realize he was checking her pulse.

The warmth and strength of his hand on her skin sent a sizzle of awareness along her nerve endings. “I’m Eva Coblentz. I am the new teacher and I’m fine now.” She pulled away from him.

Willis let go of her arm. Her pulse was strong if a bit fast. She didn’t seem to have suffered any serious damage.

The new teacher was a slender woman wearing a gray dress with a white apron over it. She had eyes the color of green willow leaves in the early spring. They regarded him steadily as if she saw more than his grubby face or his soot-and sweat-stained clothes. Her direct gaze was oddly discomfiting. “I suggest we find you a more stable place to sit, Eva Coblentz. Can you walk?”

“Since I was eight months old. Of course I can walk.”

The color was coming back into her face. Her snippy remark proved her wits weren’t addled even if there was a slight tremor in her voice. She stood, took a deep breath and headed to a nearby bench along the wall, rubbing the side of her head as she walked. “Is this one safe or are there other surprises in store for me?”

She had some spunk. He liked that. “Want me to try it first?” He sat, bounced up and down a couple of times and stood. “Feels okay to me.”

She sank onto the bench with a sigh and pressed one hand to the side of her head. “I have collected quite a goose egg.”

He frowned. “Seriously? I thought your hair would have cushioned the blow.” Amish women her age had hip-length hair folded up inside their kapps.

“I must have turned my head to the side. It’s behind my ear.”

He had been too quick to laugh off her fall as a minor incident. He needed to assess her injury. He held out his hand. “May I?”

She nodded and began pulling out the hairpins that held her heavily starched white kapp in place. Her neatly pinned honey-brown hair remained in a large, tight bun.

He gently felt the area she indicated. She did have a good-size goose egg behind her ear. “Is your vision blurry? Do you feel dizzy?”

“Nee. I feel foolish. Does that mean anything?”

He grinned at her. “Only that you’re human. Sit still. I’ll get some ice to put on that knot. I just live across the road.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary.”

He had spent weeks learning first-aid skills before moving his brothers and sister from Maryland to the far north of Maine where medical help might be long in coming. This was the first chance he’d had to use the knowledge he’d learned from a retired fireman turned potato farmer who