“His woman!”
Uncle John sighed. “Well, Christa. Sometimes it’s best to remain silent. Grant will answer for his actions or lack of them.”
“He certainly will.”
Uncle John chuckled. Christa looked at him sharply.
He took on an innocent look. “That accident is working to change Birr’s hardheadedness. Yes, indeed. The Lord works in mysterious ways.”
So did a few people around here. Namely, her uncle and Dr. Grant Gordon.
When they reached the door of the cabin, Christa faced her uncle. “Maybe I should write to Adelaide and tell her not to bother coming to the cove. Tell her we already have a teacher—and Grant has his woman!”
She expected her uncle to tell her to ask the Lord’s forgiveness for such an outburst. Instead, he laughed heartily. “You do remind me of my Sadie. Put spark in our lives, she did.” He sighed and grew serious. “You bring joy to me, Christa. I stay busy, but I get lonely. It’s good having a woman in the house.”
Uncle John liked having her here? She liked being here…except for the deception. They ate lunch, then Uncle John said he was going to his bedroom. “Sunday’s the only day I can take a nap and still sleep all night.”
She was washing dishes when Grant arrived. She offered him the leftover vegetable soup and corn pone.
He ladled soup into a bowl and sat down. Christa wiped her hands and sat across from him. If she had married Roland, they would be sitting across from each other like this.
She corrected that thought. Roland would never live in a rustic cabin in a backwoods cove. He wanted and needed attention. He was a banker now, married to the bank president’s daughter. He wore suits with a watch’s gold chain hanging from his vest pocket. He was fast becoming a man of means.
She did not want to sit across a table from such a man.
That idea startled her. Was she getting over Roland?
Grant looked over at her. He must have heard her intake of breath.
He wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. “I’m sorry. I must have been eating like a pig. I eat fast. Most of my meals are interrupted by someone needing help.”
“I like seeing someone enjoy a meal I fixed, even if Uncle John insisted I open a jar of vegetable soup Sadie put up instead of taking time to cook from scratch.”
He ate more slowly and kept peeking over at her. This mature man had a way of looking like a lost little boy. “Did John explain the importance of my accepting Birr Morgan’s trade?”
“Enough to make me know you find it of the utmost importance. But something else is troubling me. I’m wondering—Grant, do you really have a fiancée?”
That’s not what he expected her to say.
Did he have a fiancée?
He thought so.
He was making payments on a ring. Adelaide had said she’d come to the cove to check it out. “Of course I have a fiancée. Surely you don’t think that’s not true.”
The look on her face reminded him that he hadn’t told the truth in two days. But emergency situations had prevented his confession. He continued to stare at Christa when she took his empty bowl and carried it to the dishpan.
He picked up his glass, downed the rest of the milk, then went over to her. He picked up a towel and took the dishes from the rinse pan, dried them, and set them aside. “While I was eating, Christa, I was thinking of a solution.”
She scrubbed a dish. “You mean there is one?”
“Sure. I’ll be at the schoolhouse in the morning before eight o’clock. I’ll tell everyone as they come.”
“They’re going to be terribly disappointed, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “But they’ll handle it, Christa. And when Adelaide arrives, they’ll be captivated by her charm.”
She stiffened. “You think these people need charm?”
He realized his mistake. Christa must think he meant that she had no charm. She didn’t have the kind of charm that Adelaide had. She had different qualities. “They’re already captivated by your enthusiasm for life, Christa. Your outgoing nature. Your—”
He’d almost said, “your appeal.” But it wouldn’t be fitting for an almost-engaged man to speak that way to another woman.
She scoffed. “Oh, Grant. You don’t have to flatter me. I know I’m not the kind of charming young lady who bats her eyelashes, has honey in her mouth, and makes a man fall at her feet. I’m a spinster in her early twenties.”
He shrugged and grinned. “The attributes you mentioned are not the only ones that attract an old man like me—in his midthirties.”
He picked up the bowls and put them on a shelf. He had been in his early thirties when he’d fallen for Adelaide. He had to admit that eyelashes and honey weren’t a bad combination.
He glanced back at Christa. He must not contemplate her attributes, however.
He closed the cabinet door. “Christa, meet me at the schoolhouse in the morning. After I tell the parents you’re here for crafts, you can talk with them.”
She lifted her chin. “Dr. Grant Gordon, even if I have to walk, I’ll be out of this cove tomorrow before the school bell rings.”
Clang…ang! Clang…ang! Clang…ang!
Christa couldn’t believe she was standing in the doorway of this one-room schoolhouse, ringing the bell. It not only rang; it echoed around the mountainsides and returned as if the sound were trapped, reminding her of exactly how she felt.
How was she going to tell these people to take their children home?
Grant had come by early, saying LulaMae was having her baby. The midwife sent word that it hadn’t turned right. She needed the doc and the preacher.
Christa stepped into the front room just in time to see Grant and a boy disappear from sight. Her uncle turned to her. “I have to go.”
“What about school?”
“Maybe Grant or I will return before school starts. If not, you can….” He lifted his hands helplessly. “I honestly don’t know, Christa.”
She stared at his disappearing back, then at the wooden door. The quiet was deafening, until the hoot owl scared the wits out of her. No, she’d already had the wits taken out of her by Dr. Grant Gordon and his inability to speak up. Now her uncle was in cahoots with him.
So, here she stood in the schoolhouse doorway, swinging this bell as if she were the schoolmarm. Once they knew, these people would never forgive her.
The sun rose over the mountain in all its glory, and the forest thrust forth children, all sizes and ages. They came across the clearing and from down the road. They hastened up the road from the direction of the doctor’s cabin, and some came from behind the church, through the graveyard.
Why had she rung that bell?
Facing a black bear would be easier than facing the parents of these children.
Parents?
“Wh–where are your parents?” she asked as several children came up to her with expectant faces.
“School ain’t fer them, ma’am,” said a red-headed, freckle-faced boy who looked to be eight or nine years old. “And we ain’t babies. We can come by ourselves.”
“Of course,” she said.
His smile spread from ear to ear. “Name’s BillyJoe Davison, ma’am.”
Christa hoped the children mistook her grimace as a smile. She felt no joy.
A girl as big as Christa came holding the hands of a younger boy and a girl who didn’t look a day over four years old.
They kept coming.
She kept willing Grant or Uncle John to show up.
They didn’t.
A fair-haired boy of about seven came right up to her. “The preacher said to tell you Ma had a baby girl. The baby’s doing fine, but Ma ain’t feeling so good.”
“Well, I’m sure the doctor and the preacher will take good care of her.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Ma shore is proud to have a girl. She named her FloraMae. Right purty, ain’t it?”
“Very pretty.” Christa was glad
he focused on the baby instead of his ma, who wasn’t doing too well. Maybe she should tell the children she wasn’t doing too well and send them home.
She saw a wagon in the distance. A child wouldn’t be driving a wagon to school. But explaining to one parent wouldn’t solve anything. She could at least give the impression she was a teacher. “Children, go in and take your seats. Um…little ones in front and bigger ones in back.”
They obeyed as if she knew what she was doing.
She recognized Birr Morgan in the wagon. “Here he is, ma’am. Just like I said.”
She tried to smile. “I see.” Todd climbed out of the wagon, careful not to use his injured hand. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan.”
He touched the edge of his floppy brimmed hat and nodded, then went back the way he’d come.
“Teacher.”
Christa looked at Todd. In the doctor’s cabin, she hadn’t paid attention to his looks. Before her stood a young man taller than she. He had the most vibrant blue eyes, and his blond hair gleamed in the sun like corn silk.
“Teacher, this is one of the happiest days of my life. If I’d known cutting my hand would get me in school again, I would have done it on purpose.” Color blushed his cheeks. “That is, if we’d had a teacher here.”
Christa had to tear her gaze away from him. His resonant voice was as impressive as his looks. She remembered that Uncle John, Miz Dora, Sadie, and Grant had wanted this boy to get an education. She didn’t know what his abilities were, but she couldn’t imagine that he should be hidden away in a sawmill.
Hours later, she had to admit she’d enjoyed getting to know the children and their interests and making lists of their names, ages, something about their families, how much education they’d had, and what they knew. They sang a couple songs together, and Christa was struck by the pure beauty of Todd’s voice.
At noon, she dismissed them for recess and to eat the lunches they’d brought. She had no lunch. She couldn’t imagine what had detained the men unless LulaMae had grown worse.
Excited voices sounded from the schoolyard. She reached the doorway as BillyJoe rushed up. “Teacher. Come look.”
She hurried onto the porch. Children were gathered around. BillyJoe pointed to the ground. Her breath caught at the sight of a man slumped over at an odd angle.
“Grant!”
Chapter 9
Huh! Wh–what?”
Grant sat up, groaned, and began massaging his numb leg. He waved away the giggling children.
Christa stood in front of him. “What are you doing on the ground, Grant?” She looked at his leg. “Are you hurt? Shot?”
My, she was pretty in that white shirtwaist and red skirt. “I was sleeping.” He stood in spite of his tingling leg. “When I heard Todd singing, I couldn’t interrupt. I closed my eyes to thank God that Todd has this chance, and I fell asleep. Christa, we can’t let him go back to hiding away in a sawmill.”
“We?” Christa crossed her arms.
Grant blinked. “I mean the people in the cove. The boy has great talent.”
“I agree.”
He yawned. “Um, you want me to teach the rest of the day?”
“You’re dead on your feet, Grant. Go home and rest. Apparently, you don’t get much of that.”
“You’re right. I am sorry about all this, Christa. I’ll set it straight. Just wait and see.”
“I’m waiting.” She tapped her foot.
He grinned, climbed on his horse, and looked down at her. “You look like a schoolmarm.”
“I am not a schoolmarm.”
“You still look like one. All stern, as if you’d like to give me a whack with the ruler.”
He rode on home. Yes, she did look like a schoolmarm. But next week, Adelaide would be standing there.
He supposed he was just too tired to feel elated about that.
Christa dismissed school at 3:00 p.m. She found Uncle John in the backyard, where he’d wrung a chicken’s neck and was pulling out white feathers. His smile was warm. “I had to take a nap after being awake most of the night, Christa. The least I can do is fix you a hot supper. You must be tired.”
“Honestly, Uncle John. I haven’t felt so exhilarated in years. Oh, Uncle—”
He held up the chicken by its legs. “If you’re going to talk about school, go fetch the doctor. Invite him to supper. He and I can finish out the week. Dora claims she can only teach Bible and music, but she always pitches in wherever needed. We should know what you did today.”
“Yes, you’re right.”
She walked quickly up the dirt road to Grant’s cabin and knocked.
“Just a minute,” he called. He opened the door, buttoning his shirt. His hair was damp from being washed. A mass of dark curls fell over his forehead. She liked the looks of this…friend.
He readily agreed to come to supper.
They walked down the road in the late afternoon sunlight.
“How are LulaMae and FloraMae?”
“The baby’s perfect.” The softness in his eyes turned serious. “But LulaMae has been fighting a bronchial cough. I couldn’t give her strong medication until after the baby was born. I needed to stay and make sure she would be okay. You understand, don’t you, Christa?” She nodded. “I hope the parents understand when they learn their children were taught by an imposter.”
“Do you know what your uncle John said?”
She grinned. “That God works in mysterious ways?”
Grant chuckled. “Well that, too.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “He said that you’re a lifesaver.”
“Maybe a lifesaver for myself, Grant. Today, I stopped thinking about what’s gone wrong in my life. I thought about the children. They’re bright and talented. But their abilities will go to waste if they’re not trained. When you didn’t speak up, it wasn’t because you’re a coward, but because you care.”
His glance met hers. “I do care, Christa.”
They reached Uncle John’s cabin and were greeted by the wonderful smell of chicken frying. Grant and Christa set the table, then pulled out chairs and sat down.
“Todd wants to write songs,” Christa said. “He brought some with him written on old scraps of paper. He hides them from his dad, who thinks songwriting is a waste of time.”
Uncle John turned from the sizzling chicken. “You seem to have found out a lot about him, Christa.”
She smiled. “He volunteered that information after class today while waiting for his dad. He left the papers with me. He has the tunes in his head but can’t put notes on paper.” She sighed. “I don’t know how to help him with that.”
“I don’t know music,” Grant said. “But I’d like to see what he’s written.”
Christa nodded. “We got to know each other. The children are eager to hear about city life—what the houses are like and the kind of work people do. I wrote down their names and what I thought important.” She laughed. “Except the boy who said he’s not supposed to tell what kind of work his pa does.”
Grant laughed and nodded when Uncle John said, “Must be the Spiller boy.”
Christa assumed the boy’s reluctance had something to do with moonshine—and not the kind that comes from the sky.
After supper, Uncle John insisted on washing the dishes. “You two talk over that school-work, and I’ll listen.”
Grant refilled their coffee cups. “I’d like to see your notes, Christa, since I’ll be teaching tomorrow.” He motioned toward her notepad. “Let’s take a look.”
She took a sip of coffee, then opened the notepad.
The sun’s rays were slanting through the kitchen windows by the time they finished. Grant had moved closer to her to better see her notes. She had written students’ names, a rough description of where they lived, how much schooling they’d had, who could read, who knew their ABCs and numbers, their hobbies, and what their parents did.
Grant studied her pages for a long time, making Christa feel defensive. “I tried to make it a f
un day so the children would like learning. A child should show respect but not be afraid of a teacher.” She hoped she’d done something right. “Do you think this will help Adelaide?”
Both men stared at her as if she’d spoken in French or Latin. Uncle John rubbed his chin and glanced at Grant.
Grant looked thoughtful, then said, “Unequivocally.” He leaned back in his chair. “Do you have any suggestions about what should take place tomorrow?”
“Well, yes. I thought I’d test them. Not grade them, but tell them the spelling bee and the numbers quiz is practice for the real tests after they study. That way I—I mean you—can divide them into grades. Also, you should find out what they know about life beyond the cove and about history.”
He pushed away from the table. “I’d like to check on Todd’s hand. Would you go with me?” She hesitated, and he added quickly, “We can discuss how we might help him.”
Grant returned to John’s front yard with his horse and medical bag. Christa had changed into a riding skirt and had taken the pins from her hair. It fell in waves below her shoulders. Her face glowed with happiness as he reached down to scoop her up behind him.
He glanced at John, who stood looking at them with raised eyebrows and a finger against his lips as if holding back words, such as the Lord and His mysterious ways.
Grant acknowledged John with a nod and turned the horse in the opposite direction. Whether it was the Lord or the day at school, he knew John was pleased with Christa. She was learning, as Grant had after losing his parents, that getting involved with the problems of others lessened your own. She had taken over the school quite successfully.
He liked the change in her. And he liked the feel of her behind him, holding onto his shirt, and the sound of her voice telling him about the need for books, writing materials, and lesson plans.
Earlier, he said she looked like a schoolmarm. Now, she talked like one.
The Morgans lived a couple of winding miles away. Several hunting dogs greeted them. Todd came onto the porch, and Elvira Morgan stood in the doorway. She invited them inside.
Elvira kept a clean cabin. Maybe because she had only one child. After having Todd, she had had several miscarriages.
Reluctant Brides Collection Page 41
