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 shifted a little, maybe finding the small desk not well suited for sitting on. His black jacket swung open, showing the dark blue shirt he wore, which nearly matched his eyes. “Daad has always wanted me to work with him in the carriage-building business.” He abruptly stopped speaking, leaving Susannah to think there was more to his decision than he’d admitted.
“Is that what you want, too?”
Toby’s face lit up. “More than anything. Working with Daad was always the future I’d planned for myself, before I...left.”
Susannah had been so wrapped up in her own loss ten years ago that she’d never thought about what Toby had given up when he’d run away from their impending wedding.
“Well, it’s gut that you can join him now.” She forced a cheerful note into her voice. “Especially since he’s laid up. Although I don’t suppose he’s as busy in the winter, anyway, is he?”
“No. Daad says if he had to fall out of the hayloft, he picked the best time to do it. He’d intended to keep working over the winter, but all he’s been able to do is supervise some repairs with Ben doing the work. And constantly criticizing, according to Ben.” He chuckled.
Ben, Toby’s younger brother, had been one of Susannah’s scholars only a few years ago.
Susannah hesitated, but there was a question she wanted answered, and since they were talking so freely, maybe it was best just to get it out.
“I hope you didn’t delay your return all this time because of what happened between us.” That was as close as she could come to asking him outright.
Toby’s eyes widened. “No, Susannah. Please don’t think so. The truth is that Emma didn’t want to move away from her family and the community she’d always known.” He shrugged. “I didn’t much like working in a factory, but I couldn’t bear to tear her away from her family.”
No, she could imagine that Toby hadn’t been well suited to factory work. He’d always wanted to do things his own way and at his own pace. “You made the best decisions you could, I’m sure.”
Toby’s face tightened, and she had a sense of things unsaid. “Well, I’m here now, anyway. I thought Ben might resent me joining the business, but he seems wonderful glad to have someone else for Daad to blame when things go wrong.” His face relaxed in a grin. “Daad’s a little testy since he can’t do things on his own.”
“I’m sure. Your mamm mentioned that she had her hands full with him.”
“That she does. I’m afraid it’s an added burden, me returning with the two kinder. But I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Ach, don’t think that way.” She nearly reached out to him in sympathy but drew back just in time. She couldn’t let herself get too close to Toby, for both their sakes. “You know your parents want nothing more than to have you and their grandchildren with them. Your mamm is always talking about the two of them.”
“She may not be so happy when she realizes what she’s got herself into.” He stared down at his hands, knotted into fists against his black broadfall trousers. “The truth is, William and Anna are both...difficult.”
Susannah had the sense that this was what Toby had been trying to say since the kinder had left the room, and she murmured a silent prayer for the right words.
“Difficult how?” She tried to smile reassuringly. “You don’t need to be afraid to confide in me, Toby. Anything you tell me about the kinder is private, and as their teacher, I can help them best if I understand what’s happening with them.”
He nodded, exhaling a long breath. “I know I can trust you, Susannah.” A fleeting smile crossed his face, then was gone. “I always could.”
No doubt he was remembering all the times she hadn’t told on him when he’d been up to mischief. “Just tell me what troubles you about them,” she said.
“My little Anna,” he began. “Well, you saw how she is. So shy she hardly ever says a word. She was never as outgoing as William, but she used to chirp along like a little
