Seeing Fiona’s look of stern disapproval, Flem merely winked. “She can’t hold a candle to you, teacher.”
At his boldness Fiona couldn’t hold back the little gasp that escaped. Hearing it, Rose turned and fixed her with a look. When Fiona dared to glance at Flem, he was staring at the preacher with a look of rapt interest. She marveled at how quickly he could change from prankster to devoted follower in the blink of an eye.
As the service continued, Fiona folded her hands primly in her lap and struggled to blot out any distractions, but her mind refused to settle, choosing instead to flit about like a leaf on the wind. From all that she’d observed, there was much more to the town’s most admired family than she’d first thought. There was so much anger in Rose, all of it directed at her husband and older son. Fiona had no doubt she would taste that anger as well if she weren’t careful to walk a very fine line. Then there was Broderick. The limitations caused by his stroke were bound to affect him. Having to bear the scorn of his wife would surely add to his burden, and it was plain that he and his second son had a prickly relationship. Not that she couldn’t understand it. It was obvious that Flem lacked the will to help with even the most basic of chores. What was worse, he seemed to have mastered the art of deception. Here he was, staring at the preacher as though lost in his sermon, when she doubted he was hearing a single word of it. Not that she wasn’t guilty of the same offense. She struggled to follow the sermon, but her mind refused.
What was most puzzling to Fiona was Grayson Haydn’s position in this family. Though he worked from sun up to sundown, and also shouldered the care of his father, none of this seemed to satisfy his mother. Had something happened in the past to cause this chasm between them? Yet Rose found nothing lacking in her younger son’s demeanor. If anything, she seemed determined to gloss over Flem’s flaws while seeking out those same flaws in Gray.
Fiona was startled at the sound of shuffling feet as the congregation rose for a final blessing and song before filing out of the church and spilling into the late morning sunshine.
In no time the men had set up long wooden planks in the churchyard, which were soon covered with platters of sausage and ham, stuffed goose and baked chicken, baskets of bread and biscuits, as well as cakes, pies, and assorted sweets. After a blessing over the food, there was a well-ordered parade of families filling their plates and seeking the shade of several large oaks where blankets had been spread on the grass.
While women exchanged gossip and family matters, the men spoke of their crops and speculated on the coming autumn, and children, happy to finally escape the confines of church, chased each other in games of tag and hide-and-seek. The late summer air was filled with their shrieks of laughter.
Fiona caught glimpses of Flem passing among the tables, flirting openly with the young women. Gray remained on the fringe of the crowd, talking quietly with a few of his neighbors.
Before Fiona could finish her meal, Rose beckoned her with a terse command. “It’s time you met the right people here in Paradise Falls.”
Fiona set aside her plate and dutifully followed Rose to where the minister stood talking with several couples. They looked up with interest, when the two women approached.
Rose handled the introductions. “Miss Downey, this is Reverend Schmidt’s wife, Brunhilde.”
“Mrs. Schmidt.”
After an abrupt handshake, Fiona felt the woman’s curious stare.
“You already met Gerhardt Schultz at the train station. This is his wife, Louise.”
“Mrs. Schultz.”
Again a quick handshake, with no smile to accompany it.
Fiona turned to the stationmaster. “Would you mind giving these to the conductor, the next time the train comes through town? They’re letters to my mother.” Letters. Such a simple word for the outpourings of her heart, which had gone into every sentence. Fiona had gone to great pains to describe the town, the farms, and the Haydn family, leaving out anything that might be cause for concern, and assuring her mother that her only child had been warmly embraced by these strangers.
“I don’t mind.” Gerhardt Schultz tucked the envelopes carefully into his breast pocket before turning toward the young couple that had joined them.
Rose handled the introductions. “This is Schuyler Gable and his wife Charlotte. Our new teacher.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Gable.”
For the first time, Fiona saw the hint of a smile as the young woman offered her hand. “Please call me Charlotte.”
“Thank you. My given name is Fiona. Do you have any children who will be attending school?”
“Not yet. But soon, we hope.” The young wife cast a sideways look at her husband, whose face flamed under the scrutiny of his neighbors.
As Rose led Fiona toward another group of people she said under her breath. “It’s best not to ask such personal questions of those you’re meeting for the first time.”
“Of course.” Chastised, Fiona followed meekly along as she was introduced to so many people, her head soon swimming.
“This is Emily Trewe, who owns a millinery shop here in Paradise Falls.” Rose touched a hand to her hat. “She made this one. And my Christmas hat as well. This is Dr. Simpson Eberhardt.”
“Doctor.” Fiona gave the bearded man a smile and was about to say something more when she spotted the old man and boy from the train. “Oh. Excuse me. I see someone I must speak with.”
While the others watched, she hurried over to extend her hand to the old man. “I was hoping I’d run into you again. I’m Fiona Downey, the new teacher.”
At once the old man whipped his hat from his head and accepted her handshake with a slight bow. “Frederick Dorf. And this is my grandson, Luther, who has just come to live with me.”
“Luther.” Fiona dimpled. “Will I see you at school tomorrow?”
The boy shot a questioning look at the old man, who nodded. “You will indeed, Miss Downey.”
Fiona dropped down to her knees in the grass, so that her eyes were level with the little boy’s. “Have you ever been to school before, Luther?”
Too shy to speak, the boy merely shook his head.
“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised, Luther. I’m going to do all in my power to make it an enjoyable experience.”
“Thank you, Miss Downey.” The old man dropped a hand on his grandson’s shoulder and began to back away. “It’s kind of you to include us. I’ll see that Luther is there.”
Before she could say more, he turned and melted into the crowd.
Puzzled, Fiona turned to see what had caused him to end their meeting so abruptly.
Rose stood behind her wearing a scowl that darkened all her features. “Why were you talking to Frederick Dorf?”
“He and his grandson were on the train. They accompanied me on the last miles of my journey here.”
“Bringing an innocent child to live such a life.” Rose gave her customary sniff of disapproval. “I told you I wanted you to meet the right people here in town. You would do well to remember that you get but one chance to make a first impression.”
“What have I done wrong, Mrs. Haydn?”
“You turned your back on my friends to speak to a man who is... beneath us.”
“In what way?”
The older woman gave a shrug of her shoulders. “There are people who work the land and provide for their families, and then there are those who do not. Come. It’s time we started home. Our chores won’t get done while we dawdle here.”
Fiona followed her to the wagon, where Broderick was already seated in back. Gray hurried over to assist her into the back beside his father, while Flem helped his mother climb to the seat. When all were aboard, Gray flicked the reins and with a creak of leather, they moved smartly onto the road.
As they left the churchyard behind, Fiona studied the blur of faces. It would take a while to sort them out, but she’d made a good start. She ought to be grateful to Rose Haydn for taking the time to introduce her to
so many of her friends. Still, Fiona felt a vague sense of unease. She would have much preferred to meet these people without Rose’s harsh judgment. It was, after all, what she wanted for herself as well.
She decided to put aside, as much as possible, any preconceived notions about the families of her students and concentrate instead on starting tomorrow with a clean slate.
A clean slate.
She wanted desperately to make a difference in these young lives.
Oh, Da, please give me some of your wisdom.
“Still praying? I’d have thought you’d had enough of that in church.”
Hearing Broderick’s guttural voice she glanced over to see him studying her with that lopsided smile.
She hadn’t even realized that she’d clasped her hands together. Embarrassed, she wiped damp palms on her skirt. “I think I’ll need more than prayers to get me through my first day of school.”
He lay a hand over hers and patted awkwardly. “It’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”
“I wish I had your confidence.” Despite her doubts, she realized that just having this old man’s hand on hers helped ease her fears, at least for the moment.
Almost as though her da was right here beside her.
SEVEN
Fiona stood by the window staring at the darkness beyond and praying it would soon be dawn. She’d been awake for hours, her stomach in knots, her mind awhirl with dozens of thoughts, all of them unsettling.
It had rained shortly after she’d retired to her bed, and she worried that torrential rains would keep the students away from their first day of school. When the rain finally stopped, she latched onto other fears. This was harvest time, and many of the children in Paradise Falls were needed to work the fields. Some desperate farmers, like Dolph VanderSleet, would never consent to their children leaving their chores to attend school. Others, like Frederick Dorf, might be too poor to permit more than an occasional visit to the classroom.
Then there were the children. Some had never been to school. The rest hadn’t been there for three years. What were their expectations? Their fears? She wanted to make learning enjoyable, but first she had to get them to step inside the school and leave their fears behind.
Now she must do the same, she reminded herself sternly.
She began to pace, determined to put aside these demons that tormented her. She thought about her father. About the fierce determination that had driven him, first to the shores of a new land, and then from the lowliest jobs he could find, to the one that had, brought him such pride and joy.
How had one man, with his thick brogue and stern demeanor, unlocked the key to making his students in this country love and respect him? What magic did he possess?
Oh, Da. Help me reach out to these strangers. Help me to show them the pleasure that can come with knowledge.
By the time the first pale ribbons of dawn streaked the sky, Fiona was washed and dressed and hurrying toward the kitchen.
“Morning.” When she stepped through the doorway, Broderick set aside his coffee and gave her a lopsided smile. “Did you get any sleep?”
“A little.” At his steady look she managed a weak shake of her head. “Very little.”
“There’s biscuits and coffee.”
She touched a hand to her middle. “I couldn’t eat a thing.”
“Nerves that bad, are they?”
She nodded.
They both looked up as Gray paused to scrape mud and dung from his boots before stomping into the room.
He glanced at Fiona before picking up a mug of coffee. He turned to his father. “Won’t be able to cut today. Too wet.”
Broderick nodded. “So I noticed.”
It was then that Fiona realized the older man had shucked his boots, leaving them turned upside down to dry beside the stove. “You started your chores early today.”
He merely nodded and continued to sip his coffee.
“Well.” When he offered nothing more she turned to Gray. “I’d best start off to the schoolhouse.”
“I can take you.”
She was already shaking her head. “You said it’s too wet to cut. There’s no point in going all that way just for me.
“I don’t mind.” He set down his mug and lay a hand on his father’s shoulder. “I’ll be back soon to give you a hand in the barn.”
The old man nodded.
Fiona followed Gray out the door. The team was already hitched, and as Gray helped her up to the seat, she spied a bouquet of flowers on the hard wooden bench.
“What’s this?”
He climbed up beside her and took up the reins. At once Chester was between them, with his front paws resting on Fiona’s lap. “Papa picked them for you.”
“Your father?”
Gray flicked the reins and the team started across. the yard. “He hoped it would ease your worry some.”
She lifted the bouquet to her face to hide the tears that sprang to her eyes. “They’re beautiful.”
And they were. Wild daisies, both white and yellow, pretty pink asters, bluebells, and dahlias as big as dinner plates in every color imaginable. A bouquet so big it filled her arms. And her heart.
She looked over at Gray. “But how could your father pick all these? He would have needed some help.”
Gray’s lips twitched. “I didn’t mind lending a hand. But the idea was Papa’s.”
Again Fiona was forced to duck her head to hide the rush of emotions.
They drove across the fields in silence. When they stopped at the school, Gray climbed down, then lifted his arms to help Fiona. For the space of a heartbeat she felt a sudden flash of heat, and wondered at the way the earth seemed to tilt as she was held in those big, solid hands.
He set her on her feet and reached for the lunch his mother had packed, handing it to her in silence.
As she turned away he cleared his throat. Fiona paused, keeping her back to him.
“You’ll do just fine.”
She looked over and absorbed a jolt at the way he was watching her. Feeling her cheeks redden she managed a smile. “Thank you, Gray. And thank your father for me. Each time I feel lost today, I’ll look at these and remember his kindness. And yours.”
He pulled himself up to the wagon and snapped the reins.
Fiona stood on the porch and watched until a sudden gust of wind had her stepping inside the schoolhouse. She was grateful for the dozens of chores to see to. She hoped they would be enough to keep her fears at bay.
* * *
Fiona was feeling more than a little breathless. She’d swept the floor and polished the desktops until they gleamed, even though they were already sparkling. She’d hauled a bucket of water from the stream and filled a pitcher, which she’d set beside a basin on a little table in the outhouse. The rest of the water stood just inside the door of the schoolhouse, with a dipper beside it. The bouquet of wildflowers stood in a second bucket beside her desk. Their fragrance perfumed the room.
In large neat letters she wrote her name on a slate and placed it on her desk.
Her chores completed, she paced from her desk to the door, where she paused to peer about, hoping to hear the sound of a wagon or horse. Seeing and hearing nothing, she paced to her desk, then back again.
What if no one came?
The thought had her going rigid with fear. What if the townspeople had decided that she was too different, too... Irish, to be allowed to teach their children?
She pressed her hands to her hot cheeks and stared at the vast expanse of field and forest. Seeing no horse carts or wagons, no sign of children or adults, she let out a long, deep sigh and was just about to turn away when she spied something in the tall grass.
Was that a child’s head? Or was she so desperate for a student, any student, that she’d conjured a vision in her mind?
While she watched she saw a figure straighten after retrieving something from the ground. Sunlight glinted off blonde hair as a boy of about ten sauntered toward the sc
hoolhouse, holding a tin bucket in his hand.
A boy. Headed toward the school. Her heart gave a leap of joy before beginning a wild flutter in her chest. As she stepped out onto the porch she caught sight of a cluster of children on the horizon. And behind them, a horse cart bearing several more. They were coming. Her students.
For a moment she was so overcome she had to press a hand to her heart. Then, taking a deep breath, she smiled in welcome.
“Good morning. I am Miss Downey. What is your name?”
There was no answering smile. Only a frown as the boy took a step back from her. “Siegfried Gunther.”
“Are you related to Greta Gunther?”
He gave a quick nod of his head. “That’s my grandmother.” He wrinkled his nose. “She lives with us. She sleeps in my room along with my baby sister.”
Fiona thought of her poor mother, forced to share a room with several nieces. Were they generous? Or did they resent the stranger who was now taking up space in their bed, as this boy seemed to? “I met your grandmother yesterday on the way to church.” Fiona held the door. “Come in, Siegfried, and choose a place to sit.”
She turned to the cluster of children just reaching the schoolyard and beckoned them inside. As each one entered Fiona introduced herself and asked them to do the same, repeating each name in her mind until it was committed to memory.
The last boy inside was the one who’d driven the pony cart. Taller than the others, taller even than Fiona, he had wind-tossed blonde hair and eyes so pale blue, they seemed made of ice. He took her measure as he brushed past her and walked to the back of the classroom.
Following his lead, the children became unusually quiet, the atmosphere strained as they shuffled about choosing a place to sit. Whenever they caught their new teacher looking at them they ducked their head and studied the floor.
Fiona stood at the front of the room and counted them. Eleven. Eleven students, eager to learn, to grow, to have their young minds challenged.
She wiped her hands down her skirts before picking up the slate from her desk. This is how I spell my name.” She angled it so that all could see. “Now I’ll pass the slate around, and each of you may write your name. If you need help, let me know and we’ll write your name together.”
Paradise Falls Page 8
