Paper Roses

by Amanda Cabot

  “I agree. The town would definitely benefit.” Though a moment earlier Clay’s eyes had sparkled with mirth, now they reflected confusion. “What I don’t understand is how that would solve your problem.”

  Relief washed over Sarah at the realization that he approved of the plan. She wasn’t deluding herself. It was a good idea. “If I were the teacher, Thea could go to school. I wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not she was happy. I know she would be, because she’d be surrounded by other children and would be close to me.”

  Clay lowered his voice, perhaps to keep Pa from overhearing. “I know you want to help your sister, and this seems like one way to do it. The question is, are you qualified to teach? It’s not as simple as working at the mercantile.”

  “I don’t have formal training, if that’s what you’re asking.” Sarah wouldn’t lie. “But I spent a lot of years at a fancy school. When I was bored by most of the classes, the teachers let me help with the younger pupils.” Sarah leaned forward, hoping to convince him. “I can do this, Clay. I know I can.”

  He nodded slowly, his expression serious as he appeared to consider everything she’d said. “There’s no question that it’s a good idea. Other towns this size have schools; Ladreville probably should too.” He was silent for a moment before he asked, “Have you thought about where you’d hold classes?”

  That had been one of Sarah’s first concerns. Though she’d heard of some rural schools being held in barns, she knew there were no empty barns or sheds or buildings of any kind in Ladreville. “There aren’t too many choices. I drove around town this afternoon, just in case I’d missed any, but it seems to me the churches are the only buildings with enough space. At least they each have a fellowship hall.”

  Clay reached for the coffee Martina had left on the table and offered to refill Sarah’s cup. When she shook her head, he emptied the pot into his cup. “So, which church would you use?”

  “Both.” That was another thing Sarah had considered this afternoon between helping customers. Ladreville’s politics created its own set of problems. “If I picked one, the other’s parishioners would be insulted, and they might not let their children attend.” She couldn’t let that happen, for one thing Sarah had realized was that the school might be a way to unify the town. “I know it’ll be more work, moving things back and forth, but I think I need to alternate—one week in one church, the next week at the other.”

  The look Clay gave her was approving, and it sent a tingle of warmth through her veins. “No wonder you had the canary look. It seems as if you’ve thought it all out. Or, should I say, you’ve eaten every last feather?”

  Sarah shook her head. “I’ve just begun. My head is so full of ideas, sometimes I think it’ll burst.” When his lips twitched, she said, “Don’t laugh, Clay. I’m serious. I know what I want to do, but I don’t know how to start.”

  His expression sobered, and he drained his cup before responding. “You’ll need to get Michel Ladre’s approval. Nothing happens in this town without that. I have to warn you, though, that he may refuse out of spite.”

  Sarah blinked, startled by the thought of the town’s charismatic leader refusing to support something as valuable as a school. “I’ve done nothing to alienate him. Why would he refuse?”

  “You were Austin’s fiancée.” Pain darkened Clay’s eyes. “It’s no secret that my brother didn’t trust Michel. Austin didn’t bother to hide his opinion that the mayor had appropriated public funds for his own use. I’m sorry, Sarah. What Austin said shouldn’t matter, but it might.”

  Surely Michel would not let personal animosity affect the town. “I’ll have to be my most charming.” Sarah gave Clay a mockingly sweet smile, eliciting a chuckle.

  “If you do that, the man will have no defense.”

  “I hope not.”

  Clay stared into the distance for a moment. When he returned his gaze to Sarah, his eyes were dark with an emotion she could not identify. “Michel may raise another concern. You probably know teachers cannot be married. He may not want to found a school, only to be forced to abandon it in a few months.”

  That would not be a problem. “I’ll tell Michel the same thing I’m telling you. He should have no worries, because I have no intention of marrying.”

  Clay raised an eyebrow. “Not even if Gunther courts you?”

  “Not even.” Sarah paused, unsure how much she should say. Would she be reopening wounds that were only beginning to heal if she spoke of Austin? Perhaps it would be kinder to say nothing, and yet the way Clay gripped his cup told Sarah that for some reason he needed reassurance. She swallowed, waiting until he met her gaze before she said, “I can’t imagine finding anyone as wonderful as the man who wrote my paper roses, and I don’t plan to settle for second best.”

  Surely it was Sarah’s imagination that Clay began to relax.

  7

  It was Sarah and Thea’s week to attend the German church. Though they’d been there before and were no longer strangers to the simple whitewashed building whose two tall, elaborately carved silver candelabra seemed unusual companions to the rough-hewn cross, Sarah had dressed herself and Thea with more care than normal. If all went as planned, they would both be subject to more scrutiny than usual.

  She settled Thea on the pew next to her, letting her hold Mama’s Bible while the rest of the congregation rose for a hymn. Her sister seemed to take comfort from the pages that held the family history. Though she was too young to read Mama’s writing, she invariably turned to the page that recorded her own birth, as if she somehow sensed that was her last connection to their mother. Thea rarely glanced at the previous page where Sarah had made the final entries for their parents, her hand shaking so badly the dates were scarcely legible. That was a page Sarah herself preferred not to read, for it served as a reminder of what she’d lost. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that Mama and Papa were part of the past, but this morning could be the beginning of the future.

  When the congregation was once again seated, shifting in the pews to find a comfortable position for the sermon, Pastor Sempert climbed the steps to the pulpit. “The cross is empty,” he said, gesturing toward the chancel. “Those of you who carried it know how heavy a burden it was.” He looked around the congregation, nodding slightly in acknowledgment of the parishioners who had felled the live oak, fashioned a crude cross from its trunk, and borne it to the church.

  It was a story Sarah had heard several times, how the congregation had chosen to take only the silver candlesticks from their church in Alsace, deciding that everything else would be made of materials they found in their new home. On Ash Wednesday of their first year in Ladreville they had gathered in the forest, choosing and cutting the tree and letting it dry until Good Friday, when they’d split the trunk and created two massive beams, lashing them together to form a cross. One by one, the men had taken turns carrying it, staggering under the immense weight, trying to envision how someone who’d been scourged could have borne it for even a few feet. That day the French settlers had joined the Germans, watching with pride as the cross was hoisted into place, a lasting reminder of the enormous sacrifice that had been made for them and all mankind.

  The tale of how the townspeople had banded together that day, putting aside their differences to accomplish something that would benefit only one group, was part of the reason Sarah believed the school would succeed. The town, she had told Clay, simply needed a reason to unite.

  “Three weeks ago we sat here, rejoicing in the miracle of the empty tomb.” The minister continued his sermon. “Our mission today and every day is to not forget the promises our Father made. Each year, Easter morning raises hope in our hearts. We are filled with God’s love, and we know that he has prepared a home for us. Let us remember that message of hope and love every day of our lives. Let us keep Easter in our hearts year round.”

  As Sarah bowed her head in prayer, she found herself smiling at the realization that she once again felt hope
. The eager anticipation she’d experienced when she’d received Austin’s letters and had agreed to marry him had been destroyed by the reality of his death. Now that optimism was rekindled. Isabelle would probably use one of her favorite phrases and say it had been reborn. Sarah smiled again. Perhaps reborn was a better description than rekindled, for her hope had taken a new form. When she’d envisioned her life with Austin, the future had seemed nebulous. Now it was clear.

  After Pastor Sempert delivered the benediction, he paused. “Before we depart, our mayor has asked to speak with you about a matter of importance to the town.” A low murmur greeted his words as Michel Ladre made his way to the front.

  “Thank you, Pastor Sempert.” The mayor accompanied his next words with a smile. “I know you’re anxious to return home to your Sunday dinners, and so I won’t keep you too long, but, as Pastor Sempert said, this is a matter of importance.” Michel paused, letting his words echo in the now silent church. “Our town is more than ten years old. We’ve grown and thrived in that decade. We’ve built two magnificent houses of worship. We even have a post office. But, there is one thing we do not have.” Again, he paused for emphasis. “We have no school.”

  The murmurs resumed, louder than before. Michel waited until they’d subsided before he continued. “I believe it is time that we, the residents of Ladreville, address the needs of our youngest citizens and establish a school.”

  Sarah kept her face impassive, refusing to smile at the way he emphasized the first person singular pronoun. When she’d approached the mayor with her proposal, he’d greeted most of her statements with frowns, making her fear Clay had been right and Michel would not support her.

  “There is some merit to your suggestion,” Ladreville’s founder admitted when Sarah had exhausted her arguments. “I fear, though, that the townspeople would not be receptive were you to present it. You are, after all, an outsider.” Michel looked out the window, then clicked his fingers, as if an idea had suddenly occurred to him. “There may be a way to persuade them. The citizens of Ladreville trust me. If I were to tell them we needed a school, most likely they would agree.” Michel had narrowed his eyes as he cautioned, “We would, of course, have to ensure that no one knew you and I had discussed this.”

  Sarah had nodded solemnly, though inwardly she was rejoicing. She cared not a whit who took credit. What mattered was that the town would soon have a school. Eva would receive the education she needed, and Thea would be happy.

  “Is there anyone who does not agree that this is a vital need?” The mayor raised his voice slightly, almost as if defying someone to refute him. When no one did, he gave the congregation a benevolent smile. “I was confident you would see the wisdom of proceeding, and so I took the next step. I’m sure you all realize we cannot have a school without a schoolmarm. That would be like chicken and dumplings without the chicken.”

  As he’d intended, laughter greeted Michel’s words. “We are most fortunate to have among us a young lady who’s served as a teacher.” Though he was exaggerating her experience, Sarah would not contradict him, for she realized the importance of gaining the community’s confidence. “Miss Sarah Dobbs has agreed to assume the responsibility of ensuring that our children receive an education worthy of the great town we’ve founded. Please rise, Miss Dobbs.”

  As attention shifted from the mayor to Sarah, a round of applause filled the church. Afterward, as she’d anticipated, Sarah was surrounded by a group of women asking questions about the school. A few seemed dubious, as if doubting her credentials, but the majority appeared excited by the prospect of their children receiving a formal education.

  “The mayor had a good idea,” a tall woman with a strong German accent said.

  Her companion, shorter and a few years younger, nodded. “I’m glad he knew you used to teach.”

  “That’s his job,” the tall woman declared. “He knows everything about everyone in Ladreville.”

  Everything except who killed Austin.

  “I knew God would answer my prayers.” Isabelle gave Sarah a radiant smile. It was the next morning, and though Sarah had attended both churches’ services to be present for the mayor’s speeches, this was the first opportunity she had had to talk with her friend. Her concerns over Isabelle’s reaction vanished when Isabelle touched her hand. “God led Michel to realize we needed a school and that you’d be the perfect teacher.”

  Whether it was God’s hand or something else that had provided the opportunity, Sarah was happy that every hurdle was being surmounted. The mayor had agreed, the townspeople had approved the idea, and both congregations had ratified the use of their fellowship halls. The next step was to purchase books and other supplies.

  “There are so many things to get ready.” Sarah had tucked a piece of paper and a pencil into her pinafore pocket so she could make notes each time an idea struck her.

  “I wish we had more of what you need here.” Isabelle made a moue as she perused Sarah’s list. Though the store was filled with merchandise Ladreville’s residents needed for their daily lives, it was not an emporium designed to outfit a school.

  “You have no reason to stock chalk, slates, and McGuffey readers.” Sarah had accepted the fact that there were more challenges to overcome. The townspeople had agreed to provide tables and benches to serve as desks, but no one had school supplies. That was why she’d approached Isabelle.

  “Maman said it would take three to four weeks if we order from San Antonio.”

  Sarah frowned. “I had hoped to begin classes sooner than that. I know I’ll lose some pupils during the summer, because their parents will need them to work in the fields. If I start quickly, perhaps I can kindle enough enthusiasm that they’ll be eager to return to school in the fall.”

  “You’ll do it.” Isabelle’s voice radiated confidence. “I saw the way you helped Eva learn to add without making her feel stupid. That’s a special talent.”

  Though praise was pleasant, in this case, Sarah knew it was undeserved. “Eva’s intelligent. All she needed was some encouragement.”

  “That’s what we all need.”

  “Your sister is ready for the next step.” Clay studied Sarah carefully. She’d done something different to her hair. Though he couldn’t pinpoint the change, she looked ready for a party, not a trip to the corral. Her expression did not match the fancy coiffure. Both she and Thea stood by the fence, but only one of them was enthusiastic about the animals within.

  “What is the next step?” Sarah asked.

  “Riding alone.”

  The blood drained from her face so quickly that Clay feared she would faint. As he reached out to steady her, his hand registered the fragility of her arm. Though she was at least four inches shorter and thirty pounds lighter than Patience, Clay hadn’t realized Sarah’s bones were equally slender. It was no wonder her leg had been so badly shattered, no wonder she still feared horses. “Not completely alone,” he said, attempting to reassure Sarah. “I’ll be walking at Thea’s side, but it’s true she’ll be the only one mounted.”

  A faint color returned to Sarah’s cheeks. “She’s too young.”

  The problem wasn’t Thea’s age, and they both knew it. “Age has nothing to do with it.” Clay kept his hand on Sarah’s arm, enjoying the warmth that radiated through his fingers. “Thea’s more than ready; she’s eager. C’mon, Sarah. You have to have seen how much she loves riding and how she tries to pretend I’m not there. With a little encouragement, your sister will be an excellent rider.” Something in his words appeared to have breached her defenses, for Sarah nodded slowly, as if she agreed with his assessment. “Trust me. I won’t let her fall.”

  Sarah bit her lip, her indecision clear. Then she nodded again. “All right. Thea can ride alone. If she’s happy about that, she won’t mind so much when I leave her behind tomorrow.”

  “What’s happening then?” Sarah left Thea at Mary’s every day, yet she was acting as if something would be different tomorrow.


  “Ride, Papa Clay.” Thea tugged on his hand, clearly impatient with the adults’ conversation.

  “In a minute. I need to talk to Sarah first.” Clay reached into his pocket, pulling out two carrots. “Why don’t you give Nora and Shadow a treat?” They recognized Thea’s youth and were gentle when she fed them. As Thea scampered toward the horses, Clay turned back to Sarah. “What’s special about tomorrow?”

  “I need supplies for the school, so I thought I’d take the wagon to San Antonio.”

  Clay felt his jaw drop. Perhaps he’d been mistaken. Perhaps his ears had deceived him. “You thought you would go to San Antonio alone?”

  Sarah nodded, as if what she proposed were perfectly reasonable. “I asked a few people, and everyone said I couldn’t get lost.”

  He had not been mistaken. The woman was crazy. With an effort, Clay kept his voice even. “I wasn’t worried about you losing your way. What would you do if one of the horses went lame?” She couldn’t even harness them but depended on Miguel and the town’s livery to do that each day. If Clay were a betting man, he would have bet his last nickel that she had no idea how to even remove a rock from a hoof. How on earth could she contemplate a trip like that? Besides, horses were only one of the dangers.

  “What would you do if you encountered a thief? How would you defend yourself?” He thought she’d learned enough to be wary of her new home, but believing she could go to San Antonio unaccompanied was as ridiculous as her declaration the first day she’d been here that she and Thea would walk to town.