The Teacher's Bride Read online

“Ow,” she said, standing up and rubbing the top of her kapp.

  Christian picked up the flashlight and handed it to her, his head smarting a little bit. Spilled coffee, a tragic game of horseshoes, a lost chance with Martha, and now knocking heads with Ruby—the whole evening had turned into a calamity before sunset.

  She took the flashlight, her blue-gray eyes above her bruised nose looking sheepish. “Bye,” she said, and then she scurried out the back door, which was the quickest escape.

  He placed his hat on the table and gripped the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “That went swimmingly,” he mumbled.

  “Shouldn’t you walk Ruby out?”

  Christian glanced up to see Selah rinsing off one of the coffee cups. She set it on the drying mat on the counter. “Why would I do that?”

  “Why not?” Selah turned off the water and faced him.

  “You invited her. Did you walk Martha out?”

  “Of course not.”

  His hands tightened around the back of the chair. He wasn’t in the mood to figure out what she was driving at. “I hope I provided enough entertainment for you and Martha tonight.”

  Selah crossed her arms. “Don’t blame me for what happened. You’re the one who agreed to play horseshoes.”

  “You could have suggested something else.”

  She dropped her arms to her sides. “I was going to, but you were set on trying to be a show-off.”

  “A show-off?” His blood pressure seemed to rise, but he tempered his reaction. He’d already lashed out at Ruby unfairly. He didn’t want to do the same to Selah. Like Ruby, she was right about tonight’s disaster being his fault.

  “Besides,” she said with a smirk, “Martha enjoys horseshoes. I also hear she’s an excellent volleyball player. Shouldn’t you learn how to do what Martha likes to do?”

  She was right about that too. He’d have to ponder what that fully meant later, but something else was bothering him about tonight. “You were rather rude to Ruby.”

  Selah picked up a dish towel and wiped the already-clean counter. “That’s yer opinion.”

  “Nee,” he said. “That’s a fact. You could have at least made her feel welcome to stay even after Martha left.”

  She whirled around. “I’m sorry mei behavior isn’t up to yer standards, big bruder.” She scowled and marched out of the kitchen.

  He heard her bound up the stairs. Should he geh after her? He had nee idea. He was upset, she was upset, which he didn’t understand. Because when it came to the way she treated Ruby, she was in the wrong. He suspected she knew it, too, since she was avoiding discussing it.

  Maybe he should call their mother. She might have some advice, or at least some insight into Selah’s behavior. Then again, he and Selah were adults, and they should be able to handle their own problems.

  He jerked his hat off the table. When he came to Birch Creek, he assumed teaching would be the biggest challenge he’d face. He’d never imagined that educating a classroom full of children would be effortless compared to dealing with the women in his life.

  Selah leaned against the back of her bedroom door, fighting the angry tears pooling in her eyes. Why was she crying—again? All she’d wanted was to have a nice evening, and to possibly help Christian with Martha a little bit. If her feelings weren’t on such a roller coaster, she might feel sorry for him. Right now, all she felt was anger—with herself. He was right. She had been rude to Ruby, and Ruby hadn’t deserved it.

  She closed her eyes, her emotions in turmoil. She didn’t understand why she was behaving this way. Christian was annoying and oblivious and always had been. He was also generous and caring, in his own way. She’d been treating him poorly ever since they moved here. She had hoped tonight would be her peace offering.

  Instead she’d infuriated him, but she could tell he was trying to keep his anger under wraps. Unlike her, he could contain his emotions, just as their parents could. They never raised their voices, never got into arguments—at least not the verbal kind— and she’d never seen either one of them cry. That made for a cold, isolating home.

  “I thought life here would be different,” she whispered, moving to the window. She looked out on the backyard. It was almost dark, but she could see Christian putting away the horseshoe set. She hadn’t even thought about it after the game. She just wanted to go inside and get away from her brother. Because he was right—she had enjoyed seeing him fail. He was so smart, so successful in everything he did. To witness him make a complete idiot of himself in front of the girl he was trying to impress was so, so satisfying.

  And liking it was very, very wrong.

  She leaned her forehead against the window. There was something reprehensible about her. She was moody and spiteful, and Ruby Glick’s cheerful personality chafed Selah’s every nerve. She shouldn’t feel like this. She shouldn’t have this inner despondency and hopelessness inside her.

  But she did. And she had no idea what to do about it.

  Ruby almost didn’t show up for her and Chris’s lesson on Saturday. Even though he apologized for his outburst, she thought he might still be unhappy with her. She’d played horseshoes badly to try to make him feel better, but in retrospect, she understood why he’d been mad. Next time she wouldn’t get involved. If there was a next time. Selah had seemed in a hurry for Ruby to leave once Martha was gone. So much for her and Selah becoming friends, which bothered her a little. What bothered her more was that she had no idea why.

  But she was a woman of her word, and she showed up at the specified time. Chris wasn’t under the tree. She didn’t think she was late, and she was surprised he wasn’t there. Considering how precise he was about everything except horseshoes, she expected him to be prompt.

  Maybe he’d changed his mind. She’d give him some time before heading back to Timothy’s.

  The morning had started out clear, but now bands of clouds were gathering in the graying sky. She sat down under the tree and closed her eyes. It really was peaceful here, and she should take the opportunity to keep her mind still. She tried, but her thoughts kept going back to Chris. She hoped he was okay. The horseshoe game had been two days ago, but maybe he was holding a grudge after all. She frowned. She didn’t like it when people held grudges. Being angry about something that in the end wasn’t that big of a deal was a waste. So what if he couldn’t play horseshoes? He had a lot of fine qualities to recommend him, and hopefully after Ruby tutored him, he could show those qualities to Martha.

  “Ruby?”

  She opened her eyes and saw Chris right in front of her. He must have moves like a cat, because she hadn’t heard him approach. Chris wasn’t wearing a hat, and a light breeze ruffled his thick hair into unruly waves as the leaves above them softly rustled. Seeing him a little disheveled was strange. Strange and somewhat . . . attractive.

  Attractive? Chris Ropp? How could a stick-in-the-mud like him be attractive? She jumped to her feet and focused on the task at hand. “Ready for our lesson?”

  “I’m always ready to learn.” He pulled a small spiral notebook out of his pants pocket and removed the pen from inside the metal spiral. Then he opened the notebook and folded its cover back, pen poised above the paper. “We may commence.”

  If he was still upset about Thursday evening, he wasn’t letting on. Then again, his expression was so serious all the time she couldn’t tell what he was feeling—except when they played horseshoes, and especially after the game. He’d been angry with her, but he didn’t seem to hold grudges. Gut. Another aspect of him Martha was sure to appreciate. “Let’s sit down first.”

  He gave her a curt nod and sat down under the tree. She sat opposite him, folding her knees to the side and smoothing her skirt over them. “Lesson number one. Tact.”

  Chris bent his head and wrote the word down in neat, compact writing. No surprise there.

  “According to the Webster’s Dictionary,” she began, using what she hoped was her best teaching voice, “tact means—”

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nbsp; “Webster’s Dictionary,” he said.

  “What?”

  “It’s not the Webster’s Dictionary. It’s Webster’s Dictionary.”

  She frowned. “I don’t see the difference.”

  “Using the article the when referring to Webster’s Dictionary is unnecessary.”

  She wished he wasn’t so particular all the time. “Why?”

  “Economy of words. You shouldn’t use three words when two will do. Concise speech is essential to convey one’s message succinctly.”

  “You should follow yer own rules occasionally,” she mumbled.

  “Pardon me?”

  “Never mind. Can we get back to the lesson?”

  He nodded, another breeze kicking up and ruffling his hair. “Of course.”

  She wished he’d worn a hat. His wavy hair was distracting. Why was she thinking about hair right now? I need to focus. “Now, according to Webster’s Dictionary,” she said, grinding the words out, “tact is . . . it’s . . .”

  His brow raised. “Is what?”

  She knew she’d forget the exact definition, so she’d written it down. She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and unfolded it. “Tact is a keen sense of what to do or say in order to maintain good relations with others to avoid offense.” That didn’t sound concise, but it got the message across. Chris started to write. She continued to read. “Or it can mean a sensitive mental or aesthetic perception.”

  He glanced up at her. “Which is?”

  She’d hoped he wouldn’t ask her that. “Why don’t we focus on one definition at a time.”

  Nodding, he read over his notes. “I do appear to have a problem knowing what to say around Martha.”

  “But not around anyone else,” Ruby said, pointing out what she’d just experienced.

  He frowned slightly. “Perhaps not to Selah as well. And I seem to have said more than one off-putting thing to you of late.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t hold that against you.”

  “I know,” he said, looking directly at her. “I appreciate that.” His words brought a smile to her face. It was nice to be appreciated.

  “Is Selah yer younger or older schwester?”

  “She’s younger by two years.”

  “And how old are you?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  She blinked and then blinked again. She’d thought he was at least twenty-five, if not older. “You’re only twenty-one?” She could hardly believe they were so close in age. “But you act so old.”

  Now it was his turn to blink. “I don’t think you meant that as a compliment.”

  “I, uh . . .” Might as well use this as a teaching moment. “That, Chris Ropp, was an example of being tactless.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  Had she hurt his feelings? She hadn’t meant to blurt the words, but she’d been so surprised. “There’s nothing wrong with acting old,” she said. “I’m usually told to grow up.”

  “Why?”

  She looked at him, and he seemed genuinely interested. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit of a disaster.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Tact, Chris. Tact.”

  He nodded. “I wouldn’t say you’re a disaster. Although you do seem to have a bit of a problem with refinement.”

  She sighed. If someone else had said that to her she would be insulted. But this was Chris, and he was nothing if not truthful. Painfully truthful. Teaching him tact was going to be tougher than she thought. “You’re right. I do. But a better way to tell me that would be to compliment me first and then find a nice way to point out mei shortcomings—if that’s even necessary.”

  “I should treat you the way I treat my students, then.”

  “Right.”

  He tilted his head and studied her for a few moments. But the longer he kept silent the more irritated she became. “It can’t be that hard to come up with something nice to say about me,” she mumbled, looking away from him. Or maybe it was.

  “Ruby, I’m glad you took the time to consult the dictionary before our lesson.”

  She turned to him, smiling a little. That was some progress. “You’re welcome.”

  “In addition, I think it would behoove you to read a book on exercise physiology. That might help with your clumsiness.”

  “I give up.” She fell back on the grass. He just might be hopeless. Although maybe checking out an exercise book or two might be a good idea. She looked up at the canopy of leaves in the tree above her and felt the soft grass beneath her. Nice and comfortable. Her mood brightening, she placed her hands behind her head.

  After a few moments he got up and stood above her. “Was that answer not satisfactory?”

  She turned and looked at his shoes. Unlike most Amish men, they weren’t scuffed or worn. They weren’t fancy either—just a pair of serviceable shoes. She looked up at the tree again. “Nee. It wasn’t.”

  “Where was my error?”

  Ruby turned up her gaze. “You don’t have any idea?”

  After a pause, he shook his head, his thick eyebrows knitted in confusion.

  She scooted over and patted the ground next to her. “Lie down here next to me.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because I’m the teacher and I said so.” She put her hands on her waist and gave him what she hoped was her best teacherly expression.

  She thought she saw his eyes roll before he lay down next to her, making sure to keep plenty of space between them. That was fine. She didn’t want to be close to him and his unruly hair anyway.

  “Now,” she said, letting her eyes flutter closed, “close yer eyes.”

  “I fail to see—”

  “Close yer eyes, Chris.”

  “Fine.”

  “Did you treat yer schoolteachers this way?” she asked.

  “They didn’t ask me to do nonsensical things, so no, I did not.”

  She opened her eyes and angled her head, checking to see if he’d followed her instruction. To her surprise, he had. Also surprising was his profile, which was unexpectedly attractive. Because of the short distance between them, she saw a bit of five o’clock shadow, even though it was only early afternoon. His eyelashes were the same dark brown his hair was, and she noticed he had a tiny freckle near his temple.

  “How long do you want me to lie here like this?” he asked. She jerked her eyes closed, which she should have done as soon as she knew he had complied. “Not too much longer. Take a few deep breaths.”

  He breathed in and then out several times.

  “Are you relaxed now?”

  “I wasn’t aware that I was tense.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh, and she opened her eyes again. “You’re the tensest person I’ve ever met.”

  His eyes flew open and he turned his head toward her. “I am?”

  Ruby nodded.

  He kept his gaze on hers. “I . . . I guess I am a little . . .” “Uptight? High strung?”

  “What happened to using a compliment first?”

  She rolled onto her side and put her head in the crook of her arm. “You want some compliments? All right. Here are a few. You’re smart, probably the smartest person I’ve ever met and definitely the smartest one close to mei age. And despite not being able to play horseshoes, you were a gut sport and finished the game. The fact that you want to learn how to improve so you can talk to Martha tells me you don’t think too highly of yerself.’ She paused. “Maybe you don’t need any lessons at all. Other than just one.”

  He turned and rolled on his side, mimicking her position. “What’s that?”

  “Be yerself. . . the way you are with me.”

  Christian had to admit Ruby was a pretty good teacher. He’d never use her approach, and he still didn’t quite understand the nuanced difference between straightforward honesty and tactfulness, but she had managed to make him feel something he hadn’t felt in years . . . relaxed.

  Even when sitting under this tree, some days he cou
ldn’t unwind, couldn’t get his mind off his students or lesson plans, and lately off how to deal with Selah and how to talk to Martha. But with Ruby he didn’t think about those things. He simply felt calm, albeit sometimes confused, in her presence. She was unquestionably a breath of fresh air in his life, which until now he hadn’t realized had felt quite confined.

  But feeling relaxed didn’t mean he’d get a date with Martha when he was uncontrollably apprehensive around her. “I don’t know how to be myself with her,” he admitted.

  She didn’t say anything for a minute. She simply ran her palm over the green grass, still lush this time of the year. Uncharacteristic doubt entered her eyes, which for some reason looked particularly appealing at the moment. “I know what you mean,” she said, looking down at the back of her hand. “I have the same problem when I talk to a mann.”

  “You talk to me adequately.”

  “You’re different.” Ruby looked at him, her expression rueful. “With you, I’m not trying to—” She slapped her hand over her mouth.

  His brow raised. “Trying to what?”

  “Never mind.” She scrambled to a sitting position. “Today is about you, not me.”

  “Are you saying you’re in need of instruction as well?”

  She pulled up a strand of grass. “I’m quite capable of managing my own romantic life, thank you very much.”

  That insight made him smile a little. “Then you are trying to procure a husband.”

  “I never said that,” she bit out. Her lack of eye contact said differently.

  “Intriguing.” He moved to a sitting position and crossed his legs at the ankles. “We both have the same goal.”

  She scoffed and flicked a piece of grass from her finger. “Hardly.”

  “Then you’re denying that you’re looking for a husband?”

  Ruby met his gaze, and he saw the resignation there. “Nee,” she whispered, “I’m not denying it.” She put her face in her hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

  “How so? We’re both trying to achieve the same goal, and we both have similar problems. This symbiosis is quite remarkable, in my estimation.”

  “I’m not going to pretend to understand that last statement.” She uncovered her face. “No one knows about this, Chris. I want to keep it that way.”