Chapter 1 ~ Meeting of Minds

Elizabeth Tremussen entered the brightly lighted classroom, glanced about the room then preceded to the table. It was 1961 and the late day hot July heat barely had a wind to stir the air. Chairs squawked across the wooden floor as the three men seated at the table stood up. She carefully placed the brocade knitting bag on the floor by her feet, grabbed the needles and her current project and took a seat at the table next to the open window. She nodded to the gentlemen who once more were sitting themselves at the table. Elizabeth carefully inspected, then preened her white floral dress dotted with small roses before starting to knit.

"Good evening Elizabeth," John Teegarden gruffed in his deep baritone voice, frowned and surveyed the room. "Jim's not coming?" He poured a glass of ice water and placed it in front of her along with a sheet of paper showing the contents for that night's discussions. Once more he grabbed the stack of papers before him and held them in a death clutch, his knuckles paling at their joints.

"Evening, Liz," Peter Udall said and nodded at her with a small grimace, his eyes rolling to the left in a small sign of displeasure.

Elizabeth glanced up from her knitting and smiled at the three men gazing at her, catching just the last of Peter's antics. "Good evening," she said. "Jim is feeling a might under the weather and I didn't think he should come."

"So why did you show up?" Paul Millerton asked. Peter nodded approvingly at the prodding question and smirked.

Elizabeth continued to knit, her full attention given to the needles and yarn. "Now you boys know I'm going to stick my nose in when Jim can't be there." She looked up from her work and stared at the two directly opposite her. "You're going to discuss the new singing teacher and I'm here to inform you of Jim's say about it." Elizabeth glanced down at her knitting. "Oh, for pity's sake; I dropped a stitch." She wrangled the needles around and pulled the thread up. "There," she whispered. "All fixed." She cocked an eye at John. "I'll be his absentee ballot so there won't be any deadlock vote tonight."

"You mean about Miss Julie Bronson?" Peter sneered and leaned over the table with his hands outstretched.

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose; Peter always appeared cleaned up but there was still that lingering scent of turkey farmyard about him to which the Old Spice he'd splashed on just wasn't covering the smell.

The class room door lurched open and Tom Hollis charged in. "Sorry I'm running late," he blurted and slammed the door behind him. "I almost totally forgot about the meeting."

"Have a seat, Tom," John said casually and started to pour another glass of iced water. "We ain't started yet. We're all just sitting here discussing things with Elizabeth."

"Good evening," Tom said and slid into the chair next to her.

"Good evening, Tom," Elizabeth replied with a smile and slipped another loop across the needles.

John stood up. "Now that we're all here, I hereby declare this meeting of the Benjamin Hartford School Board in session. Need a second."

Tom lifted his hand. "I'll second it."

"Fine," John mumbled and looked over at Paul. "Are you getting this all down?"

Paul glared up at him. "Just sit your ass down and we can all discuss this at the table." He scrawled on the paper. "Got it. Seven oh two p m; meeting started by you and Tom."

John sat down and looked about the group with a sheepish grin. "Guess I can do that and we might as well start with this old business regarding Miss Julie Bronson. I received a letter from her last week about her requirements and response to our salary offer." He pulled an envelope from the folder he had been holding tightly clutched most the evening. "She accepted our offer and hopes we can find her reasonable living conditions nearby and finalize the contract with her."

"She expects to live here?" Peter said, sputtering water from the glass he held to his lips. "Now just where does she think she'll live? There ain't none of her kind around here." He placed the glass down and waved his hand in the air. "No. She really needs to live in the big city, not here." He shook his head vehemently.

"Now just you hold on," Elizabeth said and carefully placed her knitting on the table before her. "Exactly where do you expect this woman to live?"

"Like I said." Peter seemed unruffled by Elizabeth asking the question. "In one of the big cities; you know, with her own kind."

Elizabeth shook her head slowly. "You men don't seem to understand. This woman is coming to our school to teach. Why would she want to live—" She glared at Peter. "In the big city and drive over an hour each way just for that opportunity?" She turned her head to stare at each one of the men. "Especially in the winter? With the snow? And the ice?"

"She ain't going to live next to me," Tom said and gazed nervously at the woman. "No offense, Elizabeth, but my wife would have us packed up and moved out before that woman even got to town."

"Fine," Elizabeth said, picked up her knitting and eased back into her chair. "If you don't want her near you then she can live in the trailer my daddy owned right across the street from me. It is only two blocks from this school. Miss Bronson can walk to school if she so desires." She grimaced. "Especially after that pathetic salary I heard you had offered."

Peter pursed his lips and sat there breathing deep and heavy; the veins in his neck nearly ready to burst. "In your daddy's trailer?" Peter shook his head violently in disgust. "He is turning in his grave right now just thinking about that… that…"

Elizabeth slipped the last stitch over and menacingly shook the free knitting needle at Peter. "Don't you dare say a word, Peter Udall." She started back to knitting. "You men have offered her a position and she has committed and conditionally accepted the contract." She scowled at the four men. "Honor your end, gentlemen."

"Fine," Tom finally spoke up. "You want her living there, so be it. But it is with an understanding she's not allowed to get married while teaching and she don't have no men sniffing around her."

"Thomas Hollis!" Elizabeth snapped and turned to stare at him in shock. "You should be ashamed of yourself for such thoughts." She shook her head disgustedly and rolled her eyes. "I can only imagine how this meeting would have been if Jim had been here. You old farts don't know anything." She sat there, mumbling, furiously knitting stitches to release her tension. She gazed up and peered about the group. "You've been very quiet, Paul. Has the cat got your tongue?"

He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "You're doing an excellent job, Elizabeth. I'm all for hiring Miss Bronson." Paul glanced up at John. "I think John here is in agreement, too. Right?"

John nodded his head slowly and silently in agreement; his eyes darting nervously to Peter and Tom.

"Well, now," Elizabeth said. "It seems we've all come to an agreement about Miss Bronson and her employment here at ol' Ben Hart High School."

"She understood the conditions of marriage?" Peter asked. "She agreed to those terms?"

John grimaced, sucking in his lower lip and nodded his head. "She agreed. Miss Bronson says her fiancé is in the Army right now and they don't plan to marry until he finishes his last stint."

Peter snickered.

"What is so damned funny," Elizabeth snapped, her hands frozen in mid-stitch, watching him closely.

"Imagine her putting on the airs," Peter said. "She said her boyfriend was a Staff Sargeant. Just imagine some nigger being in charge of a lot of white boys. He ain't probably nothing more than a piss-ant janitor cleaning—"

"That's quite enough." Elizabeth eyes narrowed to small burning slits while she glared at the man opposite her. "This man is in the service of our country. It doesn't matter if he is black or white, you give him respect. You know President Kennedy just ordered more men to Vietnam a couple of months ago. He could be one of them going."

"I meant no disrespect to the Armed Forces, Elizabeth," Peter said apologetically. "She just seemed so high and mightly; almost like she was better than us."

"Besides," Elizabeth started. "Even a piss-ant janitor performs a valuable service whether in the Armed Forces or cleaning a school." She closed her eyes and barely wobbled her head in anger. Her mouth opened just slightly to allow the inside area to become an echo chamber, her tongue pulled away from the upper palate and the resulting sound could be heard throughout the room. It was followed by a deep inhalation through the mouth. All the men recognized it and everyone knew her husband, Jim, cringed when he heard it. The sound wasn't a click, tick, or anything which could be described other than the one meaning utter disgust by her.

She opened her eyes and narrowed her point of view at John. "I will be writing to Miss Bronson informing her she has the position and of the accommodations I am offering. Is there anything else I should tell her?" She glared over at Peter. "I will not be stating conditions of marriage—"

"No need to fret over that Elizabeth." Tom jumped in, smiling almost like a clown. "We done told her all about that in the last letter."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and barely shook her head in disgust.

"We didn't vote to accept her," Peter whined and gave Elizabeth a scowl.

"Oh, but we have," she said. "John, Paul and I are in agreement. That would be three to two in favor of—" She held up her hand to silence Peter. "I am here as Jim's absentee voter. I am the tie breaker."

"But you don't have no rights," Peter snapped. "It's Jim who is on the board, not you, Elizabeth." He leaned forward, almost stretching his arms out when he saw her look.

"Jim is at home and sick," Elizabeth said and lowered her voice. "Trust me, Peter, you don't want to tangle with me. I said Jim is in favor of hiring Miss Bronson." She cocked an eye at him. "Are you going to contradict me?"

Peter slumped back in his chair; he'd learned when not to bicker with her from prior years of conflict. He had gleaned the knowledge early in his life when his older sister, Elizabeth, had an ill-placed burr it was better to back down and quickly.

Elizabeth leaned over and slid the envelope and letter from John's pile. "Gentlemen," she started while picking up her brocade bag and carefully putting the knitting into it. "I don't feel there is anything else I need to be involved with." She tucked Miss Bronson's letter down the side. "You men continue your discussion—" She glanced down at the sheet John had given her earlier. "Uh… cafeteria menus, student parking rules and the rest. Vote whatever you wish. If it comes down to two against two, you can put it off until the next meeting when Jim can make it." Elizabeth stood up.

Four men scrambled to their feet, shoving their chairs noisily out of the way.

"Good night, gentlemen." She headed for the class room door.

"Good night, Elizabeth," the four responded in unison and watched her open and saunter out the door while carrying the ever-present knitting bag. The classroom door remained open.

Peter stomped his foot in anger. "If that nigger woman lays one hand on my children, I'll have—"

"I can still hear you, Peter Udall," Elizabeth's voice echoed from the hallway. "You'd best keep a civil tongue in your mouth."

Peter grabbed his notepad and slammed it on the desk in anger. "That woman!"

Elizabeth smiled as she stepped out of the school building into the full heat of the summer's evening. It was only two blocks to her house where across the street, a small beat-up trailer would be the place the first ever black person lived in the school district. She continued on her way home to Jim who probably still sat in the living room confused about the dates on the calendar. Elizabeth remembered the look on her husband's face earlier in the evening when she told him she was going to a knitting circle meeting.

Chapter 2 ~ September 5, 1961

Samuel Yoder stood nervously in the room. The two oil lamps glowed brightly giving a softened feature to everything; everything that was except his father. Samuel had spent the summer working with his cousins, Matthew Yoder and James Troyer at the carpenter shop and also helping his father. Now he stood before that same man and against almost everyone's better judgment, Samuel was asking permission to continue his education; Amish didn't attend beyond eighth grade.

"I fear when Rumspringa comes—" Mark Yoder hesitated while he sat in his favorite rocker with "The Budget" newspaper in hand. He gently tugged at his beard in thought. "You will bolt for the door, my son, and we'll not see you again."

"Don't worry, papa," Samuel replied standing straight and proud before his father. "I wish to be Amish. I have no use for the English world except to learn. Is that so terrible?"

"But you have learned all you need. Your brother, Jacob, and your sister, Rachel, both of them finished and didn't want to continue. My son, you graduated from eighth grade this last spring. It is time for you to join the community as a young adult."

Samuel hung his head. "Yes, father, but I still wish to learn more. I find the many facets of the English world to be interesting."

"I heard your words. Teachings beyond what you have been taught will muddle your thoughts and confound your faith. We are a God-fearing people, Samuel. Do you truly want to test your faith in the midst of the English classroom?"

"Is wishing to learn, to be educated, a test of my faith?" Samuel looked directly at his father, eye to eye, and knew he had treaded a step too far by the look on his father's face. He backed down, once more he hung his head.

"Samuel," Mark said, stood up and approached his son. He placed an arm about the young man's shoulder. "You are a strong young man and a good son. Mr. Sullivan, your boss for the summer would like to hire you on a full-time basis. This is a good job and pays well; it will bring money into the family."

A tear welled in Samuel's eye and he cocked his head to gaze at his father. "If my education was better, perhaps I could bring in more money?"

Mark stepped back, letting go of his son. "It is not about the money, Samuel. Why are you so insistent of the learning?"

"Because I want to learn," Samuel repeated. "Have you not seen all the books I have read? If you think my faith will be jeopardized by attending school, why did you allow me to read them? I have read the one by Darwin and I consider the man's writings nothing more than thoughtful fantasy for our God does not work like that." Samuel thumped his chest. "I have my faith, papa. I believe. Higher education will not make me stand out among the others. I can share this knowledge with the community for the betterment."

Mark turned his back to his son and ambled to the shelf. "Already you speak as one who is better than us. Share your knowledge?"

"I am sorry, papa. I only meant—." Samuel stopped and watched his father take the Bible from the shelf.

"We live a simple life with few complications, my son." He held the book out to Samuel. "Our life comes from these words yet you feel you must learn more." The elder man bowed his head and slowly nodded it back and forth while his lower lip tightened, pushing the whiskers outward. He placed the Bible back on the shelf, turned and quietly gazed at his son. "Against better judgment, I will allow you to attend another year of schooling." He raised his hand, the lone index finger held high above in the air. "You attend class. You get good grades. You do your share of the work around here as a man of this family." Mark placed a strong hand on Samuel's shoulder and tightened on the lean muscles. "My only wish is for you avoid all non-Christian classes. Is that understood? What classes are you taking?"

"Yes, papa," Samuel replied keeping a lock on his smile of elation. "The classes I will be taking this year are English, Accounting, General Science, American History, VoAg—."

"I will not allow you to take General Science," Mark stated sternly. "I…" He paused. "I fear the class will wander a non-Christian path and confuse your thoughts."

Samuel frowned and contemplated his father's words. "I will tell them tomorrow," he finally replied knowing to contest it would stifle any chance of extra schooling. "Thank you, papa." Samuel turned. He could hear his father sitting down into his rocking chair and the rustle of the newspaper he'd been reading. Samuel left the room.

* * * * *

The crisp September morning air was a welcome relief from the prior night's unbearable heat. The sun shone brightly just breaking the distant stand of trees as it made its way into the sky while a light mist hung in the woods and fields. The English farmer, Richard Jones, had planted soy beans across from their house and shifting mists covered the field. Samuel had slept with the window open but between the dead autumn heat and excitement of attending school, sleep eluded him and morning had come quickly. Now he stood with his two sisters, Mary and Hannah, and younger brother, Jacob, waiting for the school bus to pick them up. His mind quickly filtered through the chores he had to do before school and checked off each one: feed the cows and chickens; fresh water for the horses and make sure the pigs were still in their pens and fed. He had also made sure that Mary had collected the eggs and given them to momma.

The yellow bus was punctual and when the doors opened he immediately recognized Ben Hopkins as the new driver of the bus. He gave the older man a smile. "Good morning, Mr. Hopkins." Now he understood why his cousins said they would have to be riding their bikes to work; Mr. Hopkins had taken the job as a school bus driver. He no longer drove to the carpenter shop for work and therefore couldn't give the boys a lift.

Samuel quickly spotted his English friend, Jason Muirs who stared directly at him with his eyes as wide as dinner plates. Samuel helped his siblings to their seats then quickly joined Jason.

  "You're going to school?" Jason asked and patted him on the back as he sat down betside him on the seat and the bus jerked into motion. Jason elation disappeared. "Did you fail eighth grade?"

Samuel grinned at his friend. "I didn't flunk. Papa has said I can attend high school."

Jason sat there shaking his head. "If they told me I didn't have to go to school, I'd be out of here; like outta sight, man."

"I told my father I wanted to learn more," Samuel said softly. "Do you not also wish to learn?" The young Amish boy stared with disbelief at the overly energetic boy beside him.

"Nah," Jason replied while bouncing up and down on the seat as the bus transversed the ruts of the dirt road. He looked away, his eyes getting a glassy stare to them. "I'd get me a job at a factory and when I had the money saved up, I'd buy me a brand new Corvette. Yeah, that's what I'd do." Jason rubbed the palms of his hands together quickly, cocked an eye at Samuel and grimaced. "I certainly wouldn't be wasting my time going to school." He placed his hands behind his head and leaned back against the corner where the seat met the bus side wall. "Just think of all the girls I'd be able to pick up." Jason's eyes twinkled at the prospect as he nodded his head. "Yeah, I'd be the man of their dreams with a souped up car like a brand new 61 Vette." He poked Samuel in the ribs with his elbow. "Just think how the girls would go for you in a slick, shiny, speedy black Corvette?"

Samuel gave Jason a look; Jason snickered.

"Okay, how about a three horse sleek buggy?"

"A single trotter is plenty fast enough," Samuel replied and smiled knowing Jason was teasing him.

"That's right," Mark sneered from the seat behind them. He quickly pretended to be holding the reins. "Hang on Molly, this trotter can hardly be controlled." He fish-kissed the air while closing his eyes and bucked around like he could barely hold on to the imaginary horse.

Samuel frowned at Mark's antics. He liked Jason because the two of them could joke about Samuel's religion and not be mean. Samuel knew Jason admired his faith.

"Why do you always have to be a jerk?" Jason asked while swinging back with his left arm and catching Mark in the chest with his fist. "What an ass."

Mark shoved Jason's arm back and made a face at the two of them.

"Let me see your classes, Samuel," Jason asked while pulling out his class assignment card. "Maybe we'll be in some classes together."

Samuel slipped his card out of the sleeve in the black notepad and Jason snatched it away to compare classes.

"This is too cool," Jason yelled. "We're in the same home room and then we'll go to the same science class together and whoa! We'll be able to eat lunch together and…"

"I have to speak with Mr. Harding when I first arrive," Samuel said softly. "My papa will not allow me to attend the science class." He could feel Jason's eyes searching for an answer. "He feels it will confuse me in my faith."

"Well, that's a bunch of bullshit," Jason snapped and softly pushed Samuel. "You believe in God and this class ain't going to teach you to hate him. Just take the class and don't tell your father."

Samuel's eyes flared wide at the prospect of deceiving his father and stared at his friend then he quickly hung his head. "I could never do that, Jason; you want me to lie to my papa? I told him I would have it changed." He glanced up at Hannah and noticed her watching him with an inquisitive expression. Samuel nodded his head at her and weakly smiled. She smiled and turned back to face the front and talk with Mary. He knew she'd heard Jason and would more than likely tell their father.

"Well, look at this, will you?" Jason pointed out the window at the two young boys on bikes. "Looks like your cousins are going to work."

Samuel leaned over to look out the half open window and saw Matthew Yoder and James Troyer cycling toward the factory. He waved at them.

"Learn well, Samuel," Matthew yelled.

"We will leave the floor for you to clean," James added and waved.

Samuel was excited to be attending school but suddenly there was a twinge of remorse knowing he would not be working with his cousins. He sat back down with a cautious look at Mr. Hopkins who was watching the students through the overhead mirror. Mr. Hopkins winked at him and suddenly Samuel felt foolish for his thoughts.

"So are you going to take the course or not?" Jason asked bluntly.

Samuel squared his hat. "I will inform Mr. Harding and take a different class."

"He ain't going to like that. You know they worked real hard to get all the students into the classes they could." Jason looked at Samuel. "You're just going to piss him off good… and on the first day of school, no less." He shook his head. "Not the best way to start your freshman year, Samuel. Think about it."

Samuel looked down at the floor of the bus and considered his options. He knew Jason was probably right about making Mr. Harding mad the first day of school.

"Finally!" Jason exhaled. "We get rid of all the kiddies."

The school bus pulled into the grade school grounds and lined up behind the other buses already there in the circular drive.

Jason stood and waggled his hands to scurry the young children off the bus. "Go. Get to school and learn well, little guppies. The big sharks are waiting to eat you." He leaned over and looked out the window. "Oh, crap! There's Mrs. Hadley!" The words were almost a whisper filled with fear. Jason, in a moment of defiance, placed his thumb to his nose and was about to stick out his tongue when Mrs. Hadley glanced up at him. He paled and sat down as she quickly approached the bus doors.

"Jason Muirs!" Mrs. Hadley yelled as she stepped up into the bus. "If you were in my class this year…" She stood there shaking an index finger at him. "If…" She took a deep breath. "You, young man would be headed to Principal Mandeville's office. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Mrs. Hadley," Jason whimpered. "I'm sorry."

She turned away, glanced quickly at Mr. Hopkins and started back out of the bus. Samuel wasn't sure but he almost was willing to swear a secret smile passed between Mr. Hopkins and Mrs. Hadley. Did he see a wink?

The doors shut, the engine roared into life and just as quickly, the bus lurched forward. Five minutes later the process repeated as the bus pulled up in front Benjamin Harding High School and the older students got out.

Mr. Hopkins stopped Samuel as he passed. "Guess you're the lucky one. I still got to drive one of you three to a location." He laughed. "Learn well, Samuel."

Samuel stepped off the bus and looked up at the brick structure which loomed before him. Suddenly he was intimidated.

"Come on, Sam," Jason said and slapped him on the back. "Time to go to school."

"My name is Samuel," the young Amish boy replied and followed his friend in.

Thanks for reading.
Lore aka Bob Nailor.