Paradise Falls

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Haydn.”

  The old man barely acknowledged her sympathy, and she realized he’d gone somewhere in his mind.

  She turned her attention to the wood in Gray’s hand. Under his knife it was beginning to take shape. “Is that a dog?”

  “Not yet. But soon enough it will be Chester here.” At the sound of his name the hound padded over to rest his head on his master’s knees.

  “Where did you learn such a wonderful thing?”

  Gray shrugged. “I’ve always seen shapes in wood. Papa says my grandfather did the same. It passes the time when my chores are finished.”

  Overcome with weariness, Fiona stood and shook down her skirts. “I’d best get to bed now. I like to write a few pages each night to my mum before I go to sleep.”

  Gray lumbered to his feet. “I’ll string that line in your room first.” Setting aside the wood and knife, he picked up a length of rope and a hammer and nails that were lying beside his father’s rocker.

  As he followed Fiona inside, Flem and Rose were seated at the kitchen table, laughing together. At the sight of Fiona and Gray, their laughter faded.

  “What’s this? Are you walking the teacher to her door?” Flem saw the color rise to Fiona’s cheeks at the same moment that his brother’s eyes frosted over. Seeing that Gray had risen to the bait, he couldn’t resist adding, “I think she can manage to find her way without your help. Don’t you, Gray?”

  When Gray didn’t bother to answer, Rose shoved back her chair and closed a hand over her older son’s sleeve. “Where are you going?”

  He paused to stare at the offending hand, then up at her mouth, pursed into a tight frown. “I’m stringing a rope so our houseguest has a place to hang her clothes.”

  To his retreating back Rose called, “Just so you know—it’s my responsibility to say who can set foot in her room and who can’t.”

  With her arms folded over her chest she watched as Fiona opened the door and stood aside for Gray. Satisfied that they would leave the door open until Gray had finished his chore, Rose returned to the table.

  Seeing the way Flem was grinning she lowered her voice. “I expect a certain behavior from anyone who comes here to teach our young. After all, what do we really know about this woman?”

  He caught her hands in his and lifted them to his lips. “I know this. She can’t hold a candle to you, Ma.”

  “Oh, you.” Laughing, she nodded toward the last of the torte cooling on the windowsill. “You may as well have another piece. It’ll be stale by morning.”

  “If you insist.” He waited until his mother crossed the room before getting up from the table to see for himself. From the doorway of the kitchen he could make out his brother standing on a stool, threading a rope from one side of the room to the other, while Fiona stood watching.

  Flem quickly dismissed the little twinge of annoyance. It would have been a fine thing to impress the teacher. Still, if he were the one doing that chore, he’d have found a way to use it to his advantage. A peek at her underwear in that pile of clothing, for instance. Or some naughty joke that would bring another flush to her cheeks. But poor, dumb Gray would no doubt just string the rope and run away like a scared rabbit.

  “Here you are.”

  When Rose set down the slice of torte, Flem tore himself from the doorway and settled down at the table.

  In her bedroom, Fiona watched as Gray easily pounded in the nails, then secured the rope until it was taut enough to hold her clothes without sagging in the middle.

  “Would you like me to help you hang those?” He pointed to the pile of clothing that littered her bed.

  “That isn’t necessary, Gray. You’ve already put in a long day.”

  “So have you.”

  “I don’t mind.” As he started away she touched a hand lightly to his arm. “Thank you.”

  “You’re...” He stared down at her hand, then caught it in his and turned it over, palm up. “What’s this?”

  “Nothing. Really.” Embarrassed, she tried to snatch her hand away, but he held it fast and lifted the other, as well, studying the raw, red blisters that covered both palms.

  “You did too much today. Your hands weren’t made for such work.”

  “My hands are too soft.” She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. That knowledge only made it worse. Now her face was flaming. “It’s time they toughened up.”

  “I’ve something that will help.” He stalked away.

  The moment he was gone, Fiona forced herself to breathe. What was it about this silent, solemn man? When he’d taken hold of her hands, she’d been so startled, she’d forgotten how to take air into her lungs.

  Within minutes Gray returned with a jar of salve.

  “This will sting for a little while.” He began to smooth thick, yellow ointment over her skin, taking care to rub it into the open blisters.

  Fiona’s skin felt as if she’d held it to the fire.

  Hearing her little hiss of pain, Gray looked up to see her blink back tears. His tone softened to a whisper. “Only for a minute more, I promise. Then it will start to feel better.”

  For the space of several minutes he continued holding her hand.

  Fiona didn’t know what was worse, the burning ointment, or the rush of heat from his touch. Her throat felt so tight, she feared she might never swallow again.

  When at last he heard her sigh, he asked, “Feeling better?”

  Unable to find her voice, she merely nodded.

  “Good.” The smile came slowly to his eyes, then to his lips. “I’ll leave this salve with you. Use it if the pain wakes you during the night. By morning those blisters should feel some better, and in a few days your hands will be good as new.”

  “Thank you, Gray. For the clothesline, for the ointment. And for all the help with the school house.”

  He eyed the pile of clothing littering her bed. “Are you sure you can manage all this?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “All right, then.” He turned away. As he started out of her room he paused in the doorway. “If you’d like to sleep late, you could always have Flem take you over to the school tomorrow.”

  She was quick to refuse. “I’ll be ready when you are.” He ducked his head and walked away.

  Minutes later Fiona heard the door slam. Then the voices and laughter began once more in the kitchen.

  She closed her door and drew the curtains before hanging her clothes. When everything was tidy, she slipped out of her day clothes and pulled on a soft cotton gown for sleeping. She eyed the letter to her mother she’d begun the previous night. The ointment would make it impossible to finish. She would have to write twice as much tomorrow.

  After turning back the covers she blew out the lantern. Instead of climbing into bed, she walked to the window and lifted the curtain to stare at the night sky.

  “Are you looking at that same moon, Mum? Do the stars seem as close in Chicago?”

  In the silence that followed she folded her hands and whispered a prayer. Suddenly overcome with a wave of homesickness, she let go of the curtain and climbed into bed. Curled into a tight ball, she choked back tears until sleep claimed her.

  * * *

  Fiona lay in her bed, wondering what had awakened her from sleep. At first the only thing she could hear was the silence of the big farmhouse. But as she grew accustomed to the sounds of the night, she could hear, above the chirr of crickets and the hoot of an owl, the sound of the backdoor closing. Instead of footsteps heading toward the outhouse, these seemed to be heading toward the barn.

  Intrigued, she slid from her bed and moved aside an edge of the curtain in time to see Flem leading a horse. Instead of riding, he continued walking until he’d crossed the distance that separated the barn from the house, and from there to the road. Once he was far enough away to go undetected, he pulled himself into the saddle and turned the horse toward town at a fast clip.

  Where could Flem possibly go at this l
ate hour? And why?

  Not my business, Fiona thought as she returned to her bed. Perhaps there was a girl in town who’d snagged Flem’s heart. But what sort of girl would meet a young man in the small hours of the night?

  She didn’t know. Nor did she care. What Flem did with his time was his own business. Of one thing she was certain: he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. With that golden hair and those laughing eyes, he would have no trouble finding dozens of young women who would willingly lose their hearts to him.

  Within minutes she’d put Flem and his secretive midnight wanderings out of her mind completely as she drifted back to sleep.

  FIVE

  “What’s this?” Gray swung down from the seat of the wagon and crossed the schoolyard to examine the brand new outhouse, where Will was just setting the door on its hinges. “You’re finished?”

  Will flushed in embarrassment. “I didn’t want Miss Downey to have to wait any longer. Flem said I should have done this first.”

  “No need to worry about what Flem thinks, Will. You’re doing a fine job here.” Gray noted the freshly sanded bench positioned across one side, with three graduated holes smoothly cut into the wood.

  The boy looked pleased. “Miss Downey likes it, too.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Inside.” Will nodded toward the schoolhouse.

  Gray gave one last glance around the tidy shed before turning away.

  He found Fiona standing beside her desk, running her hand lightly across the scarred wood.

  As always, he felt a jolt at the sight of her. To cover his nerves he frowned. “It would seem you’re ready for your first day of school.”

  Her head came up, before a look of wariness came into her eyes. “I hope I am.”

  “I can’t see anything left to do.”

  She gave a soft laugh. “Except maybe to find a more qualified teacher.”

  “You’re going to be a fine teacher.”

  “How do you know?”

  He shrugged. “I just do. You care so much.”

  “Maybe too much.” She stared down at the desktop. “What if I let the children down, Gray?”

  He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the door. “You’d never do that.”

  “You can’t be certain.”

  “I just have to look at you, listen to you, to know.” Suddenly uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation, he straightened. “Come on. Ma’ll have supper, and we still have to drop Will at his uncle’s.”

  She hurried across the room and brushed past him, wondering at the little rush of heat when their bodies touched. She stood waiting on the porch as he secured the front door. Will was already sitting in the back of Gray’s wagon, with his bundle of tools, whistling to Chester, who was hunting squirrels in the nearby woods. The hound looked up and started toward them at a full run, jumping smoothly into the boy’s arms.

  Gray helped Fiona up to the high, wooden seat, before climbing up beside her. With a flick of the reins, the horses started across the schoolyard and headed onto the dirt path leading to town.

  Gray shot a glance over his shoulder at the boy, who sat with an arm around a panting Chester. “It looks like school will be ready to start right on time.”

  Will nodded. “All I have left to do tomorrow is clean up some wood shavings and wash the window.”

  Fiona shook her head. “I can do that.”

  “No sense you climbing a ladder, Miss Downey.” The boy kept his arm around the hound’s neck as they made a sharp. turn into his uncle’s yard. “After I see to the cleanup, I’ll check the roof one last time, to make sure I didn’t miss any holes. Don’t want rain or snow to spoil your shiny new schoolroom.”

  As the wagon came to a lurching stop, the boy tossed down his tools and climbed out. At once the dog clambered across to the seat .of the wagon, where he rested his head on Fiona’s lap.

  Gray pressed a coin into Will’s hand before picking up the reins. “Tomorrow morning then, Will.”

  The boy nodded. “I’ll be ready.” He smiled at Fiona. “Goodbye, Miss Downey. I—”

  At the sound of the door opening he turned.

  His uncle stepped onto the porch, squinting against the late afternoon sun. “I won’t be able to spare Will tomorrow. He’s needed here.”

  Gray nodded. “I understand, Dolph.”

  “I’ll miss you, Will.” Seeing the way the boy ducked his head to hide his sadness Fiona added, “Thank you for all your help.” As an afterthought she called, “Will I see you Monday for the first day of school?”

  Before Will could respond his uncle shook his head. “No time for such things. I’ve a farm to run. The boy’s old enough to earn his keep now.”

  Seeing the man’s scowl, Fiona held her silence, though it was on the tip of her tongue to plead the boy’s case. As the horse and cart turned away, she gave a last glance over her shoulder. Will was already inside, the door slamming shut behind him.

  “Does Will’s uncle really need his help so badly there’s no time at all for school?”

  Gray shrugged. “Dolph VanderSleet has a hard life for a farmer. He had only one daughter, and, she’s living in Ohio now. His wife died four, five years ago. He wasn’t expecting to raise his brother’s boy.”

  “Wouldn’t you think he’d be thrilled to have someone to keep him company and chase away the loneliness?”

  Gray kept a steady hand on the reins as they rolled across the freshly cut field. “Some might. And some, like Dolph, see only the work involved. To them, everything in life is a burden instead of a joy.”

  A burden.

  The thought of it had Fiona clasping her hands together as she pictured in her mind the boy who had worked so willingly alongside her these past days. It had been his skill that had made the start of school possible, and now he wouldn’t be allowed to share in the joy of it. That knowledge dulled the keen edge of excitement that had been building inside her.

  As if sensing her sadness the hound began licking her hand until she reached over to scratch behind his ears.

  Gray shot her a sideways glance. “You’re spoiling Chester, you know.”

  That brought the smile back to her lips. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. But you might, when he starts shadowing you every time you walk out the door.”

  “That might not be so bad.” She laughed and took the dog’s big head, between her hands, while rubbing her cheek over his soft muzzle.

  Seeing it, Gray went very still, wondering what that soft cheek would feel like against his mouth. That had him frowning and wiping a damp hand across his shirt. He turned the team toward the barn. Once inside he climbed down, then reached a hand to assist Fiona, before turning away abruptly to begin unhitching the horses.

  “Goodbye, Chester.” She gave the hound one last pat on the head before heading toward the house.

  Gray stood beside his dog, watching the way the breeze flattened her skirts against her backside. Then, embarrassed by the direction of his thoughts, he returned his attention to the chore at hand, cursing softly under his breath.

  * * *

  Fiona awoke and lay in the darkness, listening to the stillness of the night. A fresh breeze was stirring the curtains, and she was grateful for the fresh air that cooled the room.

  The pork sausage they’d enjoyed for supper had given her a thirst. Sitting up in bed she reached for the pitcher on her nightstand, only to find it empty. With a sigh she got to her feet and picked up the pitcher before crossing to the door.

  Following a trail of moonlight across the parlor, she let herself into the kitchen and moved toward the pump that stood at the sink.

  “What’s this?”

  A deep voice caused her to freeze in midstride. “Flem?” She whirled, and the pitcher slipped from her fingers.

  He caught it before it could shatter on the floor, and in one quick motion set it aside. When he straightened, his gaze slid over her, taking in the spill of
tangles falling over the neck of her prim cotton nightgown and her bare toes peeking out from beneath the hem of her skirt.

  Seeing the way her face flamed, a teasing light came into his eyes. “If I’d known my teacher could look like this, I’d have paid more attention to learning my sums.”

  “What are you doing up at such an hour, Flem?” She took a step back. “And fully dressed?”

  “Such keen powers of observation, Miss Downey.” He deliberately stepped closer, causing her to back up again.

  “How can I think about staying home and sleeping when there’s fun to be had in town?”

  “What sort of fun?”

  He jammed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Some of the farmers from over the hill in Little Bavaria like to get together and play cards. I’m always happy to relieve them of some of their seed money.”

  “You play cards for money?”

  “You bet.” He drew a hand from his pocket and held up a wad of bills. “I’m good at it. See?”

  She shook her head. “So much money. Your papa will be so happy to see that.”

  “Who says I’ll show him?”

  “You aren’t going to share it with your family’?”

  He gave a low rumble of laughter. “Why should I? What did they do to earn it? Besides, I’d have to admit where it came from, and my poor dear mother would be shocked to learn that her son has engaged in the devil’s own work.”

  “But they could use that money, Flem.”

  “And you think I can’t?”

  “What will you do with it?”

  “Spend it on things that give me pleasure. That’s all money’s good for. Didn’t you know? Someday I’ll use it to take me far away from this miserable hellhole.”

  Stunned at his choice of words, she merely looked at him.

  “Of course, my old hometown is looking a lot better these days. Now that I see how good you look without all those layers of clothing...” His hand snaked out, snagging her wrist. “Maybe I could be persuaded to stay at home more often and take my pleasure right here.”

  She gasped at the stench of his breath and drew back as though slapped. “You’ve been drinking.”