Healing Their Amish Hearts. Leigh Bale
the text behind his thigh. From his nervous gesture, she thought he was trying to conceal it from her. But he didn’t know her very well. Reaching behind him, she took the book from his hand and read the title out loud.
“The Silent Child.”
His face flushed red as a sugar beet. Ah, he wasn’t as withdrawn from his son’s problem as he made it appear. In fact, it looked as though he was actually trying to do something to help Sam. And right then and there, Becca’s opinion of Jesse King improved just a tad. Up to now, she’d had little respect for the man but realized he wasn’t the uncaring, brutish father he appeared to be. But why did he have to be so difficult about it? Why did he have to hide his concern? It seemed as though he were fighting against himself. As though he didn’t want to care about Sam, yet he did. Very much.
She met his gaze, noticing the irritated glint in his eyes. She could tell that he didn’t like meeting her here. She held the book out to him and he took it reluctantly.
“It looks like you’re reading up on Sam’s problem.” She spoke the obvious.
“Ja, I thought maybe...” He didn’t finish the sentence. “What are you doing here?” he asked instead.
She held up several books on the same topic. “The same as you. Looking for ways to help Sam.”
He snorted. “I doubt it’ll do any gut. I’ve already tried everything I can think of and Sam still won’t talk. He hasn’t said a single word in almost a year.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged and looked away but not before she saw the pain written in his eyes. Her heart gave a painful squeeze. The poor little boy. And the poor man too! This couldn’t be easy on Jesse either.
“But we have to try, don’t we?” she asked.
He glanced at his son, who sat a short distance away at another table, poring over several children’s books. The boy’s lips were moving and Becca got the impression he was reading to himself. She’d seen him do this in school before but what it meant, she had no idea.
“It appears that he can read,” she observed.
“Ja, his mudder taught him. She...she used to read to all our kinder all the time. Sam can definitely read.”
Hmm. Was that why Jesse seemed so against reading to Sam each night? Because it was something his wife had done before she died? Or was it simply because he was busy and thought reading to his son was a woman’s job? Well, it was time to teach him differently. Fathers could read to their kids just as well as mothers.
“Are you planning to read to Sam each night, as we discussed?” she asked.
“I... I don’t have a lot of extra time. By the time I finish my barn chores, Sam’s usually half-asleep. And I’ve been trying to make us some furniture in the evenings,” he hedged.
Becca didn’t argue. She sensed that she couldn’t push Jesse King any more than she could little Sam. But still, Jesse had come to the library to check out some books. That was a good start.
“Any idea how well Sam can read?” Becca asked.
He shrugged those unbelievably wide shoulders of his. “Ne, I have no idea. I just know he can read. He was always a bright little fellow before...”
Before his momma died. That was good. If they could just get Sam to speak again, it could open up a whole new world for the boy. And possibly open the world again to Jesse King too.
He sidestepped her, edging toward his son. “Um, we were just leaving. We have to get home soon.”
“But I was hoping to meet with you at length. Is there a time when you and I can sit down and develop a plan of action for Sam?”
He shook his head. “Not today.”
“But, Mr. King!” She took a step after him.
“Shh!” The librarian appeared out of nowhere, pressing a finger to her lips. From the stern lift of the woman’s eyebrows, Becca realized she must have spoken too loudly.
Without another word, Jesse turned and hurried over to Sam. The man’s black felt hat sat on the table top and he picked it up and placed it on his head. Becca watched in frustration, longing to go after him. Wanting to make him listen to her. But she knew she couldn’t force him to do what he didn’t want to do. And that’s when something else occurred to her.
Sam didn’t speak because he was traumatized by the deaths of his mother and sister. But Jesse King was just as traumatized in his own way. And he obviously didn’t want to talk about it. She could empathize with the man. Losing his wife and daughters must have scarred his heart as much as it had Sam’s. And that’s when she decided to give Jesse some space. He’d been reluctant to help, yet he’d come to the library on his own. With a little more time, maybe he would seek out her assistance as well. But for Sam’s sake, she hoped Jesse didn’t wait too long.
“Come on, Sam.” Jesse spoke low as he took the boy’s arm and tugged gently.
Sam had no choice but to follow and he reluctantly left his books behind. As they headed toward the front door, he looked back at the texts with such longing that Becca knew he wasn’t finished with them yet. She couldn’t help wondering why Jesse seemed so antisocial. Every time she tried to talk to him, he acted skittish, like he wanted to get away. Or was it just her he didn’t like? She wasn’t sure but it seemed to her that Jesse fought against himself. Some inner strife seemed to wage a battle inside of him. She figured it all must relate to his deceased wife and daughters.
She watched as they hurried out of the library without a single book in tow. Even Jesse had abandoned the text he’d been holding. It was such a shame. Both the father and son could benefit greatly from those texts. Becca decided to do something about it. Stepping over to Sam’s table, she scooped up most of the plethora of books the child had been reading and carried them over to the checkout counter with her own selections. She added Jesse’s book to the pile. No matter how hard he tried, Jesse King was not getting rid of her.
Jesse flicked the leather lead lines at his horse’s rump and settled into his seat. After leaving the library, he’d taken Sam over to the grocery store and stocked up on numerous cases of canned and boxed goods. Soup, chili, corn, string beans, peaches, pears and oatmeal. Now, even if he did burn their supper, he’d have something in the house to feed his son. It wasn’t that he didn’t have money to buy food but rather he had too many chores to carry alone. He needed his wife and daughters back. He needed Alice more than ever.
The buggy-wagon swayed gently as he turned the horse off Main Street and headed along the county road. The clop of the horse’s hooves hitting the black asphalt soothed his jangled nerves. He didn’t know why he’d gone to the library in town. Sam had been delighted. Though the boy didn’t speak, Jesse could see his pleasure written across his face and in the little skip in his stride. It had been a lapse in judgment and Jesse had been mortified to be caught there by Becca Graber. Having been raised by a strong, domineering father, Jesse didn’t like feeling out of control. And that’s how Sam’s problem made him feel. Out of control.
Sam sat silently beside him on the front seat. Jesse knew his son wasn’t happy to leave his books behind. Maybe he should have checked them out for the boy. Even if he didn’t read to Sam, there was no reason to keep the child from reading on his own. They both already lived such a lonely, isolated life. The books might open up the world to Sam. They might help him speak again.
Maybe on Monday, Jesse could make another quick trip into town and check out the books for Sam. Wouldn’t the boy be excited when he came home from school and found a pile of texts waiting for him?
The thought made Jesse go very still. He’d been so angry at Sam for so long now that it was a novelty for him to want to make the boy happy. But