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

They’d been walking from the barn to their house when he’d pulled her close as they’d admired the beauty of Gott’s creations. They’d heard about this new Amish settlement in Colorado and talked about moving here. It’d provide more opportunities for growth. A place where they could expand and their familye would have a better future. They were happy and filled with anticipation. Life was so good then.

Alice and their two daughters had died three days later, taking all of Jesse’s joy with them.

The rattle of a horse and buggy drew his attention. He turned and groaned out loud. Rebecca Graber, Sam’s schoolteacher, was just pulling into his graveled driveway.

He thought about rushing inside and pretending he didn’t know she was here. He could ignore her knock on the door. But no. He’d have to face her sooner or later.

Setting the buckets of frothy milk on the back porch, he tucked his thumbs into the black suspenders that crossed his blue chambray shirt and waited. Becca pulled up right in front of him and climbed out of her buggy. Wearing a heavy black mantle with a gray scarf wrapped around her neck, she tugged off her gloves. Taking a step, she tucked several golden-blond strands of hair back into her black traveling bonnet. Other than her bright pink cheeks and nose, her skin looked smooth and pale as porcelain. Her startling blue eyes sparkled with a zest for life, her heart-shaped lips creased in a tentative smile.

“Hallo, Mr. King,” she called.

“Hallo. What can I do for you?” he returned with little enthusiasm.

Slightly breathless, she joined him next to the back door. “I was hoping to speak with you briefly about Sam. I’m guessing you’ve noticed he doesn’t speak. I’d like to help. And I think if we team up, we can be more effective.”

Something hardened inside of Jesse. Who did this woman think she was? Coming to his home to tell him how to raise his son.

“How old are you?” he asked.

She blinked at his odd question. “I’m twenty-two. But I don’t see what that has to do with Sam’s reluctance to speak.”

Hmm. She was just four years younger than Jesse. Since age eighteen was the norm for schoolteachers, he thought her quite old. And he couldn’t help wondering why she wasn’t already married. A pretty little thing like her should have no trouble finding a willing groom. Especially here in Colorado, where Amish women were scarce. But he told himself he didn’t care. It wasn’t his business and he had bigger problems on his mind right now.

“I’m a fairly new teacher but I do know my subjects quite well. I just want to help,” Becca said.

“I doubt anything can be done for Sam,” he said, trying to keep his voice even and calm. “He’ll speak again once he’s gut and ready.”

Becca shook her head. “I don’t think so, Mr. King. When did Sam stop speaking?”

A rush of sad memories flooded his mind and he looked away. Her question seemed too personal. The pain was still so raw that it felt like it had happened just yesterday. “It started the afternoon of his mother and sisters’ funeral.”

She made a sad little crooning sound, like the coo of a dove. “Ach, I’m so very sorry. I have no doubt that was traumatic and difficult for both of you.”

She didn’t know the half of it. Sam had started the fire. It was his fault his mother and sisters had died. His fault they were now alone in this cold, ramshackle house. But Becca’s compassion was more than Jesse could stand. Over the past year, so many people had expressed their condolences. Then they’d introduced him to another eligible woman, as if anyone could take Alice’s place in his life. And that was just the problem. He didn’t want another wife. He didn’t want to ever marry again. He just wanted to be left alone. That was the whole reason he’d relocated to Colorado in the first place.

“I really don’t think there’s anything you can do for Sam. It’d be best if you just leave him alone and he’ll start to speak again when he’s ready.” Jesse turned to go inside but she stopped him, placing a gentle hand on his arm for just a moment.

“I don’t think so, Mr. King. I’m sure there are things we can do to help,” she said.

“Ne, I’ve already had two doctors take a look at him and there’s no physical reason he can’t speak. He’s just decided to stop talking,” Jesse insisted.

“It’s gut that you’ve had him visit some doctors but there’s obviously something wrong. Though I’ve never dealt with a traumatic problem, I worked with a couple of special needs children in Ohio and I believe Sam needs some extra help.”

So. She wasn’t going to let this go. Though Jesse was a new member of the Gmay here in Riverton and had attended Sunday church meetings, he’d stayed apart and hadn’t yet developed any real friendships with the other Amish families. Instead, he’d buried his heartache in hard work. Easy to do, considering the dilapidated condition of his new farm. Since he’d moved here two months earlier, he’d spent every waking moment mending the house, barn and broken fences. He still needed to repair the leaky roof and build furniture for his cold, ramshackle home. Having lost most of his possessions in the house fire, he’d had to start from scratch. And amidst all of that, he’d had to look after Sam, driving the boy back and forth to school, preparing meals, washing laundry and a myriad of other chores his wife used to do. There’d been a lot to deal with on his own.

Thankfully, he’d been able to sell his smaller farm in Pennsylvania to a neighbor, which had allowed him to purchase this new, bigger place in Colorado. And right now, he needed to get back to work.

The screen door on the back of the house clapped closed as Sam came outside. Jesse