mind wandered to the things he’d have to tell Susannah about the kinder, sooner or later. Things that had made him return home, seeking help and stability from his parents.
There was William’s talent for mischief making. And Anna’s shyness, which seemed to be getting worse, not better. But something in him balked at the thought of confessing his failings as a parent to Susannah, of all people.
With her hand resting on the nearest desk, Susannah seemed very much at ease and in command in her classroom. “Becky, would you mind taking William and Anna out to join the twins on the swings? I have some papers their daadi must fill out.”
Becky nodded and held out her hands to the children. “Komm. I’ll show you the playground.”
To his surprise, Anna took Becky’s hand and trotted alongside her with only one backward glance. William, of course, raced ahead of them. After a pause at the door to allow Becky to grab a jacket against the winter chill, they went outside.
“Denke, Susannah.” He turned back to her. “I wanted a chance to talk without the children overhearing.”
“Of course.” Her tone was suddenly cool and formal. She walked to the teacher’s desk and retrieved a folder from a drawer, not speaking. Then she turned back to him. “Here are some forms you can fill out and return when you bring the kinder to class. Will you want them to start tomorrow?”
He nodded as he took the papers, hesitating in the face of her frosty demeanor. It was as if all Susannah’s gentle friendliness had left the room with his kinder.
Still, he could hardly expect her to welcome him back, not after what he’d done. Groping for something to say, he noticed the Christmas stars strewn across her desk, and the sight made him smile.
“Is it time for the Christmas program already? Some things never change, ain’t so?”
Susannah nodded, her expression brightening. “It wouldn’t seem like Christmas if we didn’t have the school Christmas program to look forward to. Becky and I were just saying that the challenge is to come up with something new every year.”
“It’s not possible, is it?” He felt a sudden longing to keep her smiling, to keep her from thinking about their past. “Except that someone usually makes a new and different mistake each time.”
Susannah leaned against the desk, her face relaxing just a little. “I seem to remember a few mistakes that might have been intentional. Like a certain boy who mixed up the letters in the word the class was supposed to be spelling out, so that our Merry Christmas greeting didn’t make any sense.”
He grinned at the memory. “Don’t mention that to William, or he’ll try to outdo my mischief making.”
“I’ll keep your secret,” she said, the corners of her lips curving, making the words sound almost like a promise.
For a moment they stood looking at each other, and he felt as if they were sixteen years old again, knowing each other so well they hardly needed words to communicate. How was it that the past ten years had disappeared so quickly and the link between them still remained?
“Susannah, I hope—” He stopped, not sure he wanted to go on with what he’d impulsively begun.
“What?” Her eyebrows lifted, her green eyes open and questioning, just like they used to be before he’d given her cause to regard him with wariness and suspicion.
He sucked in a breath, determined to get the words out before he lost his courage. “I just hope my return isn’t...well, difficult for you...after the way we parted.”
After the way he’d panicked as their wedding date grew closer, bolting in the night with only a short note left behind to explain himself.
All the vitality seemed to leave Susannah’s face. She turned, taking a step away from him. The moment shattered as if it had never happened.
“Of course not.” Susannah’s voice was colorless, her voice that of a stranger. “I’m sure everyone in Pine Creek will be happy to wilkom you home.”
Toby carefully smoothed the papers he’d clenched in his hand. Susannah didn’t need words to spell out what she felt. It was only too clear.
She hadn’t forgotten, and she hadn’t forgiven.
Susannah held her breath, fearing her denial hadn’t been very convincing. If she wasn’t bothered by Toby’s return to Pine Creek, why did she find it necessary to hide her expression from him?
Because he’d always been able to read her emotions too clearly, answered a small voice in her thoughts. Because she was afraid that the feelings between them might still be there.
Grow up, she told herself fiercely and swung around to face him. She touched her desk with the tips of her fingers, and the reminder of who and where she was seemed to steady her.
“It’s been a long time.” She hoped her smile was more natural now. “I’m sure people will chatter about us, remembering that we planned to marry. But if we show them that we are nothing more than old friends, that should silence the gossip, ain’t so?”
If he believed her only concern was what people might say, so much the better. And it was certain sure the grapevine would wag with this tale for a time.
“If you can stand it, I can.” Toby’s smile was full of relief. It relaxed the tight lines of his face, making him look more like the boy she remembered.
As for the rest... Well, Toby had changed, of course. Maybe men changed more between twenty and thirty than women did. Toby seemed taller, broader, even more substantial in a way. He looked as if it would take a lot to move him.
His hair, always the glossy brown of horse chestnuts, might be a shade darker, but she’d guess it still had glints of bronze in the sun. His eyes were a deep, deep blue, but there were tiny lines at the corners of them now, no doubt because of the difficult time he’d been through with his wife’s death. His curly dark beard hid his chin, but she had no doubt it was as stubborn as ever.
Realizing she was studying his face too long, Susannah said, “Tell me a little about your young ones. Have they had a difficult time adjusting to their mammi’s death?”
Toby nodded. He perched on one of the first grader’s desks, looking like a giant amid the child-size furniture. “It hasn’t been easy. It’s been over a year, you know. I suppose I thought her loss would become less hurtful for them after a time, but that doesn’t seem to be happening.”
“I’m sorry.” Her heart ached at his obvious pain. Poor children. Poor Toby, trying to deal with them and cope with his own grief, as well. “There isn’t any timetable for grief, I’m afraid. For a child to lose his or her mother is devastating.”
“It is.” He rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture so familiar that it made her heart lurch. “I feel like a pretty poor substitute for Emma in their eyes.”
“They need you to be their father, not their mother,” she said gently. “Was your wife’s family not able to help?”
Toby hunched his shoulders. “They had moved to Colorado to help start a new settlement before Emma became sick. Her mother came for a time, but I can’t say it helped a lot. She was so sad herself that it seemed to make the pain even worse for the kinder.”
“So that’s why you decided to come back home.” It was growing easier to talk to him with every word. Soon it wouldn’t bother her at all, and she could treat Toby just as she would any other friend of her childhood.
“That’s so. I knew I needed more help, and my folks kept urging me to come. Then Daad’s accident seemed to make it more crucial.” Toby