His Amish Teacher. Patricia Davids

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      On the porch, Lillian shaded her eyes and looked south. Mr. Hanson’s cornfield curved around the building on three sides like a wide horseshoe. A swirl of wind picked up fallen leaves from beneath the trees by the road and added them to the large pile that had accumulated beside the porch. Unease crept up Lillian’s spine.

      The school, situated on a small hillock, was backed by a taller rise with a thick stand of woods that ended in a sheer bluff above the river. To the north, a high wooded ridge separated the school from the collection of farms beyond that were also located inside the bend of the river. The road in front of the school made a loop through the area that was mainly Amish farms. The covered bridge at Bowmans Crossing was the only way in and out.

      Susan came outside and stood beside Lillian. “Do you smell smoke?”

      “It’s coming from Mr. Hanson’s farmstead.”

      “Surely he can see the wind is too strong and in the wrong direction for burning today.”

      A huge explosion rocked the quiet afternoon, startling Lillian and making Susan shriek. Flames and black smoke shot skyward from the Hansons’ farm. Lillian watched in shock as flaming debris flew high into the air.

      Susan gripped Lillian’s arm. “What was that?”

      “I’m not sure. Perhaps a gasoline tank.” The noise of excited children’s voices rose inside the school.

      “Should I run to the phone shack and call 9-1-1?” Susan asked, poised to dash away. The community telephone booth was a hundred yards down the road. A car went speeding past the school. Lillian recognized it as the one that belonged to Davey Mast. Was he headed for the phone booth to call for help? She had no way of knowing.

      “Miss Merrick has a cell phone. We’ll use that.”

      Lillian hurried Susan back inside. “Remain in your seats, children. There has been an explosion at the Hanson Farm across the way. Miss Merrick, would you be kind enough to notify 9-1-1? I want to make sure help is on the way.”

      “Of course.” She pulled out her cell phone.

      A gust of wind-driven smoke billowed in through the open window. Several children started coughing. Lillian motioned to Gabriel. “Shut the window, please.”

      Debra Merrick came over with the phone in her hand. “The local fire department has been alerted.”

      Was Timothy on call today? Even if he wasn’t, he was sure to be among the people who would rush to help the Hansons.

      Abe and Gabriel were at the windows looking out. Gabriel turned to her. “Should we go see if we can help?”

      It wasn’t a bad suggestion. Lillian chewed her lower lip. Perhaps she should send several of the older boys.

      “Teacher. The fire is coming this way.” The fear in Abe’s voice drew her quickly to the window.

      A wall of flames spewing dense smoke was spreading into the cornfield. The broad tongues of fire bent low and surged forward with each gust of the wind. Behind it, she could see the fire had spread into the trees along the river near the bridge. The only thing between the school and the flames was a narrow road. Would the fire be able to jump it? There wasn’t much fuel for the blaze in their short lawn, but the building itself was wooden. There was plenty of fuel in the woods behind the school. Would they be safe here? Even as the question crossed her mind, a burning leaf of corn spiraled down from the sky and landed in the center of the road.

      No. They weren’t safe. The wind was too strong.

      “We could go through the woods behind the school and down to the river,” Gabriel suggested.

      Lillian assessed the possible escape routes. The hill was steep and densely wooded terrain. Getting up and over it and down to the river would take time. “The fire is already spreading through the woods along the river. With so much wind, it could get in front of us. I don’t think we should chance it. The young ones won’t be able to move fast enough.”

      Debra moved to stand beside Lillian. “I can take some of the children in my car and drive out of here.”

      Lillian considered the idea. The sun was almost blotted out by the dense billowing clouds of smoke, but it was easy to see the wall of flames growing closer. Even with the windows closed, the smell of smoke was overwhelming.

      “The only way out of this area is back across the bridge. The road only leads to other farms and it curves back and forth in the woods as it goes over the ridge. You might become trapped. Nee, I will keep all the children here. You are free to go if you wish.”

      “I’m staying with you and the kids.”

      “Danki.”

      Lillian turned to the class and spoke in Pennsylvania Deitsch so they could all understand her. “Children, you must listen to me very carefully and do what I say without question. There is a fire heading this way. I want you seventh-and eighth-grade boys to wet your handkerchiefs from the water can. Use them to cover your noses and mouths. If you don’t have one, borrow one. Get whatever you can find that will hold water and start throwing it on the school building outside. Use the water from the horse tank and make a bucket brigade from the pump. Wet the roof as well as you can. Soak the area around our propane tank, too. Be quick and come back inside when I ring the bell. Each of you choose a partner and don’t get separated from that person. Gabriel, you’re in charge. Go.”

      Eight boys scrambled to her desk for water and were soon out the door. She turned to the remaining children and prayed she was making the right decision. “I want the rest of you to file down quietly into the basement. Each student in the older grades will take the hand of one younger child and lead everyone downstairs. Susan, take them all into the coal cellar and check to see that you can open the outside doors. They haven’t been used in years.”

      The school board had taken out the coal stove and installed a new propane furnace four years earlier, but the coal storage area remained. The cavelike structure jutted out from the side of the basement, so the building wasn’t directly over it. It had a thick wooden door they could close off to the basement. The curved walls and roof of the cellar were hand-hewn stone and covered with earth. It was fireproof. They could escape through the outside chute doors if the school building caught fire.

      Lillian turned to Debra. “Go with Susan. You’ll be safe underground. Use your phone to tell the fire department what we’re doing first, then help Susan keep the children calm.”

      “Are you sure this is wise?” Debra stared at her with wide fear-filled eyes.

      “The firefighters will make getting here a priority,” she said with absolute confidence. The closest fire station was across the river about a mile from Bowmans Crossing. One covered wooden bridge stood between them. Had the fire reached it already? Were they cut off? Only God knew, but Timothy and the Bowman family would move heaven and earth to save the children even if they had to swim the river. Of that she was certain. “Go downstairs, Debra. You’ll be safe there.”

      “I hope you’re right about this.” Debra sprinted for the staircase leading to the basement.

      Lillian untied her apron as she hurried to her desk. After wetting the material, she tied it around her face. At the front door, she paused and closed her eyes. “Dear Lord, let this be the right decision. СКАЧАТЬ