Paradise Falls

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  Flem’s easy smile returned with a quick shrug of his shoulders. “Whatever you say, teacher. Isn’t that right, Will?”

  The boy flushed and returned his attention to the wood he was nailing to the porch.

  Flem caught her elbow. “Come on.”

  She tried to pull back, but he had a firm grasp on her. “Where are we going?”

  “Just through the woods a bit. There’s something there I think you’ll like.”

  “But the work—”

  “Will still be here when you get back. Besides, you can’t get inside your precious schoolhouse until Will finishes that porch. And I doubt he needs you to hand him the wood. Come on.” With a laugh he looped his arm through hers and led her toward the woods, leaving the boy to stare after them.

  Since he’d made it impossible to resist, she decided to relax and enjoy this charmer’s company. “All right. But only for a few minutes. I really do have work to do.”

  It was lovely and refreshingly cool as they stepped beneath the canopy of trees shading them from the sunlight. In the silence of the forest they could hear the ripple of water where the stream meandered through the woods. Low-hanging branches of trees snagged Fiona’s hair, tossing them wildly about her face.

  After a short walk she dug in her heels, determined to go no further. “What did you want to show me?”

  “It’s just up here.” Flem drew her deeper into the woods before pausing to point to the wild roses lining the banks of the stream.

  “Oh. Aren’t they lovely?” Fiona bent to inhale their fragrance.

  Flem stood back watching her with a smile of pure male appreciation. She might not be aware of the way her sweaty clothes clung to her, but he was. “I knew you’d like them.”

  When he broke off a long stem heavy with flowers she caught his arm. “Oh, no. You mustn’t pick them.”

  He seemed surprised by her outburst. “Why not?”

  “They’re wildflowers. They’ll only live a little while in water before dying. But if you leave them on the vine, they’ll live for weeks.”

  “So what?” Ignoring her protest he continued picking until he had a huge bouquet which he thrust into her arms. “If I hadn’t brought you here, nobody would have ever even seen them. Then what good would they be?” When she could think of nothing to say in reply, he gave a smug smile. “Why shouldn’t you enjoy them, even if it is only for a few hours?”

  How could she argue with such logic? Besides, now that she was holding them, she couldn’t help but bury her face in them and breathe in their perfume. For a moment she was swept back to the lovely little house in Bennett, and her mother’s roses.

  “Oh, Flem, they’re really lovely. I’d forgotten how much I love the smell of roses.”

  “You see?” He caught her arm and made a great show of helping her over a fallen log. After they’d crossed it, he kept his arm looped through hers.

  “But I still say you should have left them as you’d found them.”

  “And I say that the pleasure in your eyes is reason enough to disagree.”

  She laughed and gave a toss of her head. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “I’ll admit to that, as long as you admit that I’m right.”

  “I don’t know about being right, but you’re certainly determined to have your way.”

  “I always do. You may as well get used to it.”

  “And what do you do when you don’t get your way?”

  “I’ll tell you if it ever happens.”

  They were both laughing as they stepped out of the woods and rounded the corner of the schoolhouse, where Gray was standing beside Will.

  Heat flared briefly in Gray’s eyes as he looked at the two of them all flushed and disheveled.

  Just seeing Gray had Fiona’s cheeks turning several shades of red.

  Flem looked from one to the other, clearly enjoying Fiona’s embarrassment as much as his brother’s annoyance. He crossed his arms over his chest and casually leaned a hip against the wall of the school. “Well, well, big brother. What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to take Will and Fiona home.”

  “A pity you came all this way after cutting hay all day. If you’d asked, I could have saved you the time.” Flem’s smile grew in direct proportion to Gray’s frown. As if to add to his brother’s misery he said slyly, “Fiona and I were walking in the woods.”

  Fiona looked from one brother to the other, wondering at the simmering anger she could sense. What was there between them that they should be so prickly with one another? “Flem wanted to show me some wild roses.” She held them out. “Aren’t they pretty?”

  Gray gave them a dismissive glance. “They’ll be dead in a day.”

  Flem chuckled. “Well now, that’s exactly what our practical little teacher said. But what does it matter, if they bring her pleasure today? Isn’t her smile worth the death of a few wildflowers?”

  When Gray didn’t respond, Flem turned to Fiona. “I’m heading home now. Would you like to ride along?”

  She shook her head. “I’d like to take some time to walk around the schoolhouse and admire Will’s work.”

  “Suit yourself. But you’d have a lot more fun with me.” With a little swagger Flem climbed up to the seat of the wagon and took off with a jingle of harness. As if to mock them, the happy tune he was whistling drifted back to them on the breeze.

  When he was gone Fiona walked up the steps and paused on the porch. “This is just grand, Will.”

  The boy glowed at her praise.

  She opened the door, noting the smooth motion of the hinges. Once inside she studied the gleaming wood of the desk, the freshly swept floor, the seamless expanse of roof overhead.

  Will and Gray stood behind her.

  “I’ll seal the walls tomorrow with pitch,” the boy said softly. “And then I’ll rebuild the outhouse.”

  Gray turned away. “We’d better get home.”

  Outside Gray helped Fiona up to the wagon seat, then gave Will a hand with his tools. When the boy climbed into the back, the hound followed. With a delighted laugh Will gathered the dog into his arms and ruffled his fur.

  As they started off across the field Fiona swiveled her head for another glimpse of the schoolhouse.

  When she turned back she saw Gray watching her. “Are you sorry it’s so small?”

  “It isn’t small.” Her lips curved into an embarrassed smile. “Well, maybe it is. But I think it’s just fine. I was afraid, after all the hard work Will and I did, it might not really be there.”

  “It’s there. And it’ll be there tomorrow. And the day after.”

  “But will I?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She looked down at her hands. “I’ve been thinking about what Flem said last night. I wasn’t aware of my brogue, but it could cause the students and their families to decide I’m not fit to teach.”

  He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.” They rode in silence until she sighed and looked over her shoulder at the boy who was seated in the back of the wagon, still clutching the hound to his chest. “Thank you for bringing me Will today. I never could have managed alone.”

  They pulled up to a tired-looking farmhouse where a man waited in the doorway. His boots were caked with mud, his pants dirt-stained and torn at one knee. His thinning hair was combed straight back from a face that looked pinched and stern.

  There was no welcoming call from the man, nor did his eyes reflect any friendliness.

  Gray helped Will unload his tools, then reached into his pocket and placed some coins in his hand. “You be ready at dawn.”

  “I will.” The lad waved to Fiona, before racing up the steps and disappearing inside.

  When Gray returned to the wagon Fiona said softly, “Is that his uncle?”

  Gray nodded. “Dolph VanderSleet.”

  The hound climbed over the seat and settled himself between Gray and Fiona, with his big front paws and head
resting on Fiona’s lap.

  Gray looked surprised. “Chester doesn’t much like females. Probably because Ma took the broom to him so much as a pup. You can shove him away if he bothers you.”

  “I don’t mind a bit.” Fiona reached down and began scratching behind the hound’s ears, earning a few loving licks from his tongue for her effort. “I always wanted a dog of my own, but Mum said they eat too much. Besides, our little yard had no place for a dog to run.”

  “You lived in a town?”

  She nodded. “It was a pretty place.”

  Gray shook his head. “Don’t think I’d ever like living in a town.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “I’d be like Chester there, wanting room to run.”

  As they crossed the meadow and drew near the barn they could see Flem’s horse already turned into a stall.

  Gray cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I came along and spoiled your chance to ride home with Flem. You could have been inside and washed up for supper by now.”

  “I don’t mind. I enjoyed riding with you and Will and Chester.” She gave the dog an affectionate pat.

  They rolled into the barn, and Gray jumped down before helping Fiona from the wagon.

  He reached up to the wagon seat and retrieved the bouquet of wild roses. “You forgot these.”

  Their fragrance had already begun to fade, and the petals had wilted. It should have given him some sense of satisfaction to know he’d been right, but as he handed them to her, the only thing he could see was the sadness in her eyes.

  As she started away he stopped her with a hand to her arm. “I can’t say one way or the other about the people of Paradise Falls, but as for me, I like the sound of your brogue. In fact, I could just sit and listen to you talk all day.”

  His unexpected kindness caught her off-guard. To hide the tears that sprang to her eyes she fled the barn, her face flaming.

  Behind her, an embarrassed Grayson Haydn muttered every rich, ripe oath he could think of as he unhitched the team.

  What had possessed him to say such a bold thing to someone as shy and sweet as Fiona Downey?

  He’d never seen anyone quite like her. So slim and tiny, with all those lovely dark curls. Her eyes rivaled the sky on a summer day.

  He loved hearing her talk. Not just the lilt of her brogue, though that was quite a contrast to the clipped tones of his neighbors, but also the words themselves. Big words rolled right off her tongue, making it plain that she was an educated lady.

  He must have sounded like a complete fool, admitting how much he liked hearing her speak.

  With every minute that passed he worked up a head of steam, cursing himself for his clumsiness. With the harness set aside and the horses fed and watered, he searched out new chores that would delay the moment when he would have to go inside and face the new teacher across the table at supper.

  FOUR

  “You’re late.” Rose looked up from the table and glowered at her older son.

  Gray took his time plunging his hands into the bucket of water and scrubbing with soap, then carefully drying, before taking his seat beside his father. Across the table he could see that Fiona had changed her clothes and brushed her hair into a neat knot. Despite her efforts little wisps had already pried loose to curl around her checks. Cheeks that turned as red as autumn apples when he looked at her.

  He ducked his head and busied himself cutting the pork into tiny bites on his father’s plate before placing a fork in Broderick’s hand.

  Rose’s voice took on an accusing note. “I could have used your help with the canning, Grayson.”

  “You had Flem.” Gray broke a roll, taking his time buttering it.

  “He can’t do everything. I had to send him to town for salt, since you didn’t bother to bring me any.”

  Gray mopped at his father’s chin. “I gave your list to Mrs. Schneider at the store, last time I was there.”

  “The salt wasn’t with the supplies.” Rose set down her fork with a clatter. “I’ll wager she charged us for it, though.”

  “If she did, she’ll make it right.” Gray wrapped his father’s fingers around a steaming cup of tea and guided it to his lips. “The Schneiders are honest people.”

  “So you say.” Rose pushed back her chair and crossed to the stove. “But that doesn’t excuse the fact that poor Flem had to drive the team all the way to town and back just for a sack of salt, getting back too late to help me with the picking and canning.”

  Fiona darted a glance at Flem’s face, waiting for him to admit that he’d managed to find time to stop by the schoolhouse. He merely winked and smiled, before returning his attention to his food. When Rose retrieved a platter of pork, he was the first to help himself to seconds.

  Broderick set down his cup, taking great care not to splash. “Now you’ve had a chance to see your school, Miss Downey, what do you think?”

  Fiona’s smile bloomed. “It’s grand, though it’s in need of much repair. But Gray brought young Will VanderSleet to help me. That boy’s a wonder.”

  The old man nodded. “His father could do anything. A shame he didn’t live long enough to teach the boy all he knew.”

  “He seems to have learned enough. I don’t know what I’d have done without Will today.”

  Rose wasn’t about to let go of her righteous anger yet. Her eyes flashed as she turned on Gray. “You had time to fetch young VanderSleet, but you couldn’t help your mother pick tomatoes?”

  “I told you I’d be cutting today. And will be, for the rest of the week. Maybe, if Flem doesn’t have to go to town again tomorrow, he could lend a hand. If not with the cutting, then at least with your tomatoes.” Gray deliberately turned his back on his mother to dab at his father’s chin. He kept his tone deceptively soft. “Are you ready for a smoke on the porch, Papa?”

  “I am.” With Gray’s help, Broderick got slowly to his feet.

  “We haven’t finished supper yet.” Rose’s voice grew shrill. “I made linzer torte.”

  “I’ve had enough.” Broderick turned to his oldest son. “How about you, Grayson?”

  Gray nodded, and the two men walked away, letting the back door slam behind them.

  In the silence that followed, Flem chuckled, causing both women to glance at him.

  “I guess that leaves more dessert for me.” He patted his mother’s shoulder as he pushed away from the table and helped himself to the torte cooling on a sideboard.

  “I’ll do that.” Rose walked up beside him and began slicing while Flem dipped his spoon in the sweet berry filling and tasted with the eagerness of a little boy. Then he leaned over and kissed his mother’s cheek. “Young VanderSleet might be our new teacher’s hero, but you’re mine.”

  “Oh, you.” Rose was blushing as she turned away. When she placed a plate of torte in front of Fiona, the young woman shook her head.

  “No, thank you, Mrs. Haydn. I’ve had enough.” Fiona got to her feet. But tonight, instead of taking to her bedroom, she decided to join Gray and his father on the back porch. She was too excited about the thought of the coming school year to settle down just yet.

  Broderick was seated in a wooden rocking chair. Gray sat on the top step of the porch, with his back to the rail, whittling on a block of wood. Seeing Fiona he started to get up, but before he could she brushed past him and quickly settled herself on the bottom step, taking care to tuck the hem of her long skirt around her ankles for modesty.

  Broderick took the pipe from his mouth. “Does the smell of my tobacco offend you, Miss Downey?”

  Fiona gave a firm toss of her head. “I love the smell of it. My da used to smoke a pipe.” She wrapped her arms around her knees. “You’ve a lovely farm, Mr. Haydn. The sight of all those fields is grand, indeed.”

  The old man nodded thoughtfully while a cloud of smoke drifted around his head. “There was a time I could plow from sunup to sundown, without a thought to resting. I was always proud of the fact that I could do the work
of three men.”

  “It seems you’ve taught your son to do the same.”

  “One of them.” He drew smoke, exhaled. “Do you have any family? Cousins, aunts, uncles?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know if there are any distant relatives left in Ireland, but here in America, there were just the three of us. My da, my mum, and me.”

  “Gray tells me your father passed recently. What of your mother?”

  “She’s staying with a sister in Chicago until I earn enough to send for her.” Fiona rested her chin on her knees and closed her eyes against the pain.

  Would it ever go away? Would she ever stop the wanting? The missing?

  The old man’s tone grew thoughtful. “Losing family is a hard thing. I had a sister. Gerda. Ten years older she was, and more like my mother than my sister. She never married.”

  When he fell silent, Fiona lifted her head. “What happened to Gerda?”

  He took the pipe from between his teeth and stared at the crows that were flying in to roost on the highest peak of the barn. “She stayed on our parents’ farm some miles from here and nursed them through their old age. Afterward I asked her to come live with us, so she wouldn’t be alone.”

  Gray’s head came up. “I didn’t know that. Why didn’t Aunt Gerda come?”

  “She said my kitchen wasn’t big enough for two women.” One side of Broderick’s mouth curved in a smile. “She was a wise woman, my sister.”

  Fiona brushed at a stray wisp of hair. “Is she still living on the family farm?”

  When Broderick fell silent Gray answered for his father. “Aunt Gerda died last winter. Pa and I took a wagonload of supplies to her, and found her out in the barn. It appeared she’d fallen after killing a goose for her holiday supper. The temperature had fallen so low, some said it was the coldest they could ever recall.”

  Despite the heat of a late summer evening, Fiona felt a shiver pass through her at the horrible image of what that poor woman must have suffered, knowing she was alone, and that she would surely freeze to death unless help came quickly.

  How much worse it must be for her brother, to know he could have eased her suffering, if only he’d found her in time.