by Kari Trumbo
He finished the notes and turned. Izzy smiled wickedly at him. Lula gave him a glare fit to light him ablaze. He’d earned both. “Good morning, ladies,” he said stiffly. “Professor Cook has taken a bad turn, I’m afraid, so I’ll be filling in as your professor for the remainder of the year.”
Izzy clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Yes, we heard. Poor man. Something about falling off a ladder?”
Lula fixed those deep blue eyes on him, slicing him with the emotion in their depths. “Did you sway his ladder so you’d get his job?” Lula growled.
Her barbed words hit the mark. She would think so little of him. And for three reasons, he couldn’t reply in kind. One, he was now the professor, the authority figure, required to set a good example. Two, he didn’t know how much she’d told Izzy. Three, he’d earned her contempt.
Izzy’s suddenly ruddy cheeks and wide eyes showed her mortification. “Lula Matilda Arnsby, what a horrible thing to say!” Lula Matilda? So, he wasn’t the only one whose parents had poor taste in middle names.
Lula’s eyes narrowed in defiance. Sweet mercy, she was beautiful when she was angry. But he couldn’t let her words slide, not as her professor. He hated to make an example of her, but she’d been the one from the start who’d wanted to insist they be familiar. That familiarity had to stop. She would think of him as her teacher, because now, that’s all he could be to her. Maybe he’d also load all the students up with just a little more work, as well. “Yes, Miss Arnsby, it was a horrible thing to say. As punishment, I think we need to go back to primer school basics. You will write, I will not say rude things to Mr. Oleson ever again. As long as I shall live.” Lula sat back in her chair and her eyes burned with anger at him. She may hate him until the day she died, but maybe she’d respect him too.
“One hundred times, Miss Arnsby. Due tomorrow at the head of class. Oh, and please move to the front. I don’t want you in the back where you can get yourself into trouble. I suddenly feel the need to keep an eye on you.”
“Why…you!” She growled.
He tapped the front seat that he’d occupied the first day. In the front row, right next to where he’d be teaching. At least he couldn’t stare at her, she’d be too close. If Lula was going to hate him the rest of her life, at least he’d give her a reason.
Lula couldn’t bear to sit in the front for another day. She could feel the eyes of every student on her, wondering just what she’d done. When he’d publicly asked her to hand in her sentences four days ago, she’d been mortified. Worse, he’d taken the papers and looked them over, finally smiling down at her, his gaze far too warm for her comfort.
In the last few days, she’d found herself wishing she could have the Barton from first days of class. He’d caused her to hope and think about what it meant to forgive. She’d been the one to dredge up the past while they were out. If she’d forgiven him, didn’t that mean leaving that in the past?
If it had been his mission to teach her what it was like to be cursed and without forgiveness, this week had done it. She’d paid the penalty, writing the awful lines until her hands cramped, stalling over his name by the end. But, he had yet to let her return to her seat near the back by Izzy and he wouldn’t let Izzy sit near her in the front, for fear she would make trouble. She remained in punishment well after what he’d originally set.
Wednesday of the following week, she returned to her previous seat next to Izzy and stayed there in subsequent days, not interested in making more trouble. She’d never sought to be a nuisance, and her words had been harsh.
If only he’d continued to act like the Barton he’d been the beginning of the year. He was obviously capable. Ever since that day at the falls, he’d been cold, distant. Even the pushy Barton was gone, replaced by the professor who was just as dull as Professor Cook had been. He seemed trapped and lonelier now than ever.
And she felt sorry for him. He’d somehow managed to tangle himself in her heart and his obvious discomfort was taking its toll on her.
If her current grades said anything, Barton was grading just as before– they were strict but fair. She didn’t see him in the evening, as he was grading for the day as well as lecturing. He was piling the work on all of the students, far more than Professor Cook had been. How he managed to be ready for lectures every day after grading all of that work at night was amazing, even if she didn’t like to admit it. If she had to apologize for her rash words to reduce the workload, she would. Most of all – and she couldn’t fathom why she didn’t relish it more – he was keeping a professional distance. He tended to wander down the rows as he was lecturing, even resting his hip against someone’s desk, but never did so to her. It almost made her want to apologize for her rash words about the ladder. She…missed him. The thought made her seek out his handsome face. He sat in front with his head bent, reading while the class worked on notes. Yes, she missed him. Her anger had finally cooled, and she could admit it.
After Barton had dismissed everyone, his gaze lingered on her, just for a moment. She blushed, just as Izzy approached and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I need a favor, Lula,” she said, a little louder than usual. “Harland has invited me to have ice cream again. His friend Amos isn’t with Molly anymore, so he was wondering if you wanted to go with us. So everything’s proper, of course.”
Lula noticed Barton stiffen at the blackboard as he wiped it clean. Would it bother him if she agreed? She didn’t really want to go. Amos Vangilder wasn’t handsome in the slightest. His nose ran constantly, forcing him to wipe it and snuffle in a most unbecoming manner. His laugh was loud, causing everyone nearby to stare. She didn’t need him forming an attachment to her.
Somewhere inside, he probably still wanted her to give up on her dreams for him. The thought was terrifying – she’d waited so long, worked so hard to get where she was. Going to Normal School the last two years had been the only way to make sure she got into teaching school. She’d begged Beau and Ruby to let her go. They hadn’t wanted to, but she’d promised to work as hard as she possibly could. She’d kept up every single grade, no matter how difficult the classes – or how difficult Barton made her life. No matter how much her heart reached out for him, the cost was too great. She couldn’t look to him. She had to teach, even if it was just to prove she could and to make it up to Beau and Ruby.
She needed a moment to think. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”
Izzy pursed her lips, glanced to Barton at the board, but left nonetheless.
Barton moved faster, as if he was suddenly in a rush to get away. He didn’t even turn to speak to her. “I thought I’d warned you before about dawdling in my classroom, Miss Arnsby.” He somehow knew it was her, though he still hadn’t turned. He’d known they were alone, or he never would’ve spoken. The role of teacher changed him, or maybe she’d just been fooled from the start of the year, seeing only what she wanted to. Didn’t everyone wish for their tormentor to have a change of heart?
His harsh tone stung, but she could see it for what it was, embarrassment. He’d never acted like that in the past. When he’d targeted her before, he’d relished what he’d done. Not so now. If only he would stop the act of being her professor and just be Barton for a moment.
“Yes, you did … Professor Oleson. But you were much kinder about it before. Perhaps your new status has gone to your head?” She immediately regretted her choice of words – why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? It was an awful Arnsby family trait – none of her sisters could hold their tongues except Daisy, who’d learned from Beau growing up how to listen instead of talk. “I’m sorry, Barton. That was uncalled for.” She dipped her head slightly as he turned to look at her.
“I should say so. Wouldn’t want to have you do more lines. I would think the first hundred times would’ve been enough.”
She swallowed her pride. It had been so difficult to write his name, but probably not for the reasons he thought. She’d formed an attachment as she’d written those lines. “They
were. I wanted to say that I’m sorry for saying such spiteful words to you last Monday about Professor Cook and the ladder. I was still …” How far should she go? Well, no one else was here to catch her at it. “I was still hurting from the weekend, but I shouldn’t have said that, and certainly not in front of Izzy. I’ve learned my lesson.”
He nodded then turned back to his work of clearing the board.
“Does that mean I’m forgiven and can go back to sitting in the back with Izzy?”
Barton’s voice was stiff, cold. “It’s not my job to forgive you, Lula. It’s my job to teach you. That’s what you’ve left me with, and not one jot more. I’ll make the best teacher out of you that I’m able, since that’s all you want from me.”
He slammed a dollar down on the desk and collected his books as he strode for the door. Now I need to prepare for tomorrow, and you need to go study. Good day, Miss Arnsby.”
Lula bit her lip and swallowed back her sudden urge to cry. The door rattled on its hinges as Barton shoved it closed.
Chapter 13
The crumpled dollar bill from Barton’s pocket lay curled on her desk. He’d been ready to give it to her. It hadn’t been in a money clip or wallet, just sitting there, bunched in his pocket at the ready to give her. Had he known that she would apologize? Yet he was still angry with her. He didn’t want friendship or he wouldn’t have drawn the line in the sand.
Teacher or nothing. He hadn’t mentioned friendship. That wasn’t an option.
She shouldn’t want what she couldn’t have. But didn’t everyone? And why did she? He’d been so horrible to her the entirety of the time she’d known him. Yet, the very same thoughts were now turned on their head, what had made him her enemy? He’d said there was an explanation. Could her life change once she found out that simple thing? If so, why wouldn’t he tell her? What had occupied her every waking moment before in avoiding him, now took up equal residence in finding him.
The potential trip to the druggist was another matter. Izzy had worried before her outing with Harland that she might get attached, and now she was going with him again. Had she fallen into the same trouble she’d worried about with Lula? Lula had escaped largely because Barton had turned on her. She hoped Izzy didn’t abandon her goal to teach because of Harland Lawson.
She sighed and collected the crumpled bill, tucking it into her book. It would replace the skirt she’d had to throw away, but even that didn’t make her feel better. A skirt was one thing. Barton’s hurt was another. Just as she’d always been able to tell when he was about to pull a stunt on her in the past, she could now tell he was angry, not honest. He’d never switched his mood when he’d gone after her before. She’d been his sole target then, and she was growing to suspect she was still, in a wholly different way.
If she’d hurt him, made him angry, then she could fix it. He could go back to being the Barton that teased her with soft crinkles near his eyes, not the one with pithy retorts and something that flared between anger and need in his eyes.
Her books would keep on her desk for a minute. Barton couldn’t leave the building until he’d locked up the room, so he couldn’t be far. A quick glance down the hallway to see if anyone lingered and she turned left, deeper into the building, to where Barton had said the teacher’s preparation room was. If any other teachers were in there, she’d leave. But if she found him alone…
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Lord, help me… She’d told herself she wouldn’t seek him out and especially not alone, but no one else would either. He would be despondent and angry until she made it right between them.
Her steps echoed off the walls, but she could hear nothing else. If there was a room for teachers, they didn’t use it to talk. She slowed her steps and held her breath. Peeking into a private room was rude and sneaky. She softly cleared her throat. “Mr. Oleson?” Her words, though soft, vibrated in her ears in the cavernous hall with its high ceilings.
Barton’s voice came from within the room. Quiet, almost defeated. “Why did you follow me, Lula?”
He wouldn’t call her that if there were any chance that someone else would hear. She calmed her racing heart and took a deep breath as she forced her steps into the room. “We need to talk, Mr. Oleson.” No, that wasn’t right. He just couldn’t be Mr. Oleson to her. He was beginning to mean too much. “Barton, please?”
He sat on a padded chair, letting his head hang low. “Miss Arnsby, please. You know that we can’t associate, especially not now. We’ve already established that being alone together is a very bad idea. I think you should turn around and go. Please.”
If it was such a bad thing, why did she have this urge to bring him around, even if it meant being alone with him for just a few minutes. “Barton. I don’t care what you said. I’m choosing to ignore it. I don’t care why you did what you did in years past. I forgive you. You were a new man the beginning of this year, a man…that I find I miss. Would you please accept my apology? So that we can be back on friendly terms.”
Apologies were so hard. She’d been forced into so many with this man. All those from the past had been cold and usually followed by a mental curse of his very name, but not now. She wanted his forgiveness, wanted him to stop hurting. He stood so quickly she jumped back. His long strides made quick work of the space between them and she held her breath as he stood before her with flashing eyes and broad shoulders.
His gaze penetrated her soul and she couldn’t even reply.
“You ask too much of me, Lula. I want so much for you…” He stopped and rested his forehead against hers, the nearness of him, so very close she could wrap her arms around him. How could she need that? But it was a need, one she had to fight against. “You can’t possibly know all the things I want for you. But if I can’t have those things... It’s better that you hate me. It’s better that you leave right now and never talk of us or friendship again.”
His words ignited a flame in her soul. She didn’t want to turn or run. Nearness, not distance, was her craving. That wasn’t who she was. She may have been flighty as a child, but never a quitter. “I must know what you want of me. I can’t leave you like this, broken, knowing it’s my fault. You say you never changed, but it’s not true. This…person…you’ve been this week isn’t the boy from a year ago. He’s a brute, lording his title of teacher over all of us, but that wasn’t how you were before. You haven’t been yourself this last week and I can safely say I know the difference now. Every one of your students noticed.”
Dare she reach out and touch him? His chest was right there, and he hadn’t moved. His eyes were so close to hers they would be sharing a kiss if he but tilted his head. His scent filled her nose just as sure as he’d filled her thoughts. And the strangest of all, she wanted that kiss. Her thoughts wouldn’t mind her and despite their history, she wanted to share that intimacy with this man.
“You think I’m a brute?” He began to pull away and she reached up, holding his lapels so he would not leave, not when he was so near. If he stepped away, he might never come back.
“No. I think you’ve been acting a brute. I think you’re hurt, and I think I hurt you. I’m sorry. I was trying to protect myself, and in the process, I shoved you away. I’m sorry.”
He reached up and trailed his hand gently along her jaw sending a nervous tingle down her spine, but it wasn’t enough. Was this how it all started? Was this how all her sisters had felt as they lost themselves to their men? His hand lingered for a moment and he groaned as he pulled her closer, crushing her for a moment in a fierce embrace. His lips came down upon hers. She clutched tighter to him as everything in creation but him disappeared for a moment. Surely the floor under her had vanished, for she was lighter than air.
His whole form went rigid and he pulled away from her. “I’m so sorry, Lula. I’ve wanted you for so long…”
Wanted her? She straightened her shirtwaist and made sure her skirts were still in order. “It’s only been a few weeks since the start of schoo
l, Barton. I didn’t expect a fire like that could be built so quickly.”
He laughed humorlessly and faced the large sunny window, his form in glorious relief against it. “I’m sure you would think it’s only been since the start of term, but no. I’ve loved everything about you since you arrived at my school so long ago with your impish little grin and your beautiful fairy hair. And now you know why I’ve been such a brute. A man gets surly when he wants what he’ll never have.”
He turned her from him, and his hands disappeared from her shoulders. “Now, I need you to go. I’m your teacher now, Lula.”
The words were so devoid of emotion she held in her tears. He’d loved her…
She glanced over her shoulder and he turned away from her, gripping the chair tightly. No words came to her that would change the past between them, nor the future. He was her teacher, just as he said. But just like Izzy had worried, could she now teach knowing Barton—a man who wasn’t anything like what she’d thought—loved her?
To have and to hold, to have and to hold… Hadn’t that been a line in each of the weddings she’d attended in the last five years. He wanted to have her. He’d loved her. The memory of the heat of his arms around her, holding her, his lips pressed to hers.
Without her, he wasn’t himself. It was a weighty and heady thought all at once. Were her goals more important than Barton? A mere month ago, the answer would have been ‘no’. She pressed the butterflies in her belly into submission as she walked back to the classroom for her books. She hadn’t run, but after he’d kissed her into distraction, and told her he wanted her for always, he’d told her to go. Even now, her body rebelled. Her feet wanted to turn and rush right back to him and hold onto him until he told all his secrets. Until she figured out this sudden ache inside her.
While she hadn’t learned anything about his past, she had learned there was power in her touch. He might want her, but with a glance, a word, he’d give her the world. All she had to do was give up everything she’d ever wanted. Was it worth it? Could she give up every dream for Barton? She wasn’t just here for herself. She was the first Arnsby to ever try to get an education. Wouldn’t they be disappointed in her?
