At Home in Pleasant Valley Read Free

seemed to close him off from the rest of them. And the steady gaze he directed toward his children was so intent it startled her.
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    Leah had her work cut out for her that afternoon. She should be focused on assessing the Glick children’s scholastic status in preparation for her talk with Daniel Glick later. Or else she should concentrate onthe model of Pleasant Valley that her older scholars were constructing or the spelling test she’d be giving tomorrow.
    Instead, her thoughts kept drifting into the past. It seemed no time at all since she’d been a scholar here, sitting at the row of desks against the right-hand wall, looking out at the blossoms on the apple tree, daydreaming.
    Johnny had sat behind her, Rachel in front, making her a buffer between the twins. Johnny had tied her kapp strings together once, and spent the afternoon recess sitting on a stool in the corner as a result. She could still see him looking over his shoulder to make a face at her when the teacher’s back was turned.
    She pulled her rebellious thoughts into order. This was Rachel’s fault, making her think of Johnny again. Making her feel that familiar sense of failure that came each time she remembered how they’d parted.
    She moved to the row of first-graders, bending over to check the lined sheets on which they were practicing the letter
L
. They looked up now and then at the capital and lowercase alphabet that marched across the top of the chalkboard.
    â€œVery nice work, Jonah.” She smiled at Daniel’s youngest, and the boy’s chubby face crinkled in a returning smile. She’d already noticed that Jonah was the most open of the three.
    â€œI like to make letters, Teacher Leah.”
    â€œI can see that.” She patted his shoulder lightly. “Keep up the good work.”
    At six, Jonah’s ease in English was surprising. Most of the first-graders had spoken only the Pennsylvania Dutch dialect at home before they started school, where they were expected to learn English. Jonah must have had a fine teacher at his last school to be so at ease in his second language. Or third, if one counted the High German used for worship.
    Toward the back of the room, Matthew seemed contented enough, working on a model of some sort for the display. She hadn’t seen him interact with any of the other children in spite of friendly overtures from several boys.
    She walked back to check on the boys’ progress, pausing by Matthew’sdesk. And blinked. What she’d taken for a model of a silo certainly wasn’t, unless silos had suddenly taken on a substantial tilt.
    â€œWhat are you making, Matthew?”
    He squirmed a little in his seat, not looking at her. “Nothing. I mean, a silo.”
    She tapped the model. “I think the grain might fall out, don’t you? This looks more like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.”
    His wide blue eyes met hers again, but this time they were lit by enthusiasm. “I’d like to see that someday. How can it lean over but not fall down? Do you know?”
    She heard the wonderment in his voice. Heard it, and recognized it. She knew that yearning to see things that were far away and to understand things that seemed inexplicable. For just an instant she wanted to share the boy’s curiosity.
    No, of course she didn’t. She’d stopped longing for the impossible years ago, when she’d put away childish dreams. She was Amish, and Amish didn’t fly off to a foreign country to gape at something that had no influence on their lives.
    â€œI don’t know. But perhaps you should make a silo. I’m sure Jacob could use one for his farm.”
    Jacob Esch, hearing his name, looked up and nodded, and the moment passed. Matthew turned toward the other boy, and if there was disappointment in his face, she didn’t see it.
    She moved away. Matthew’s sister, eight-year-old Elizabeth, was