Elvira poured tea for them at the kitchen table. Grant unwrapped the bandages from Todd’s hand. “It’s red and raw, but that’s to be expected. Keep it clean, and no lifting.”
Elvira sat at the table. “Oh, Miz Christa. Thank you for coming to teach. I know what this means to Todd. I once had the kinds of dreams he does about singing.” She blushed. “My voice wasn’t near as good, though.”
“Now, Mrs. Morgan,” Grant said, “your voice stood out above the others in church.”
“I always did love singing.” She looked at Christa. “It’s no secret, Miss Christa, that my pa left Ma with a passel of younguns and went off and joined a band down in Tennessee. We heard he done real good. I vowed I’d never do a thing like that.” She glanced at Todd. “And I told my boy he has to mind his pa ’cause family’s more important than singing.”
“Some people manage to have a family and enjoy their music, too, Mrs. Morgan,” Christa said.
Elvira looked surprised. “They can really do that?”
Christa nodded.
Grant wrapped gauze around Todd’s hand. “It sure would be nice if you and Todd sang in church again.”
Elvira agreed. “I learnt Todd all the songs I know. He makes some up, and we sing them to the tunes of church songs. But we don’t let Birr hear us. He says them churchgoers ain’t no count since that one done ’im wrong.”
Christa spoke up. “Does he feel that way about Uncle John and Grant and the Carmichaels?”
“Oh, no. But he says they have to be decent, being the preacher and missionaries and a doctor.” She touched Christa’s arm. “And I know you’re good, Miss Christa, just by what you done for my boy today. You give him hope.”
Grant tied a knot around the gauze. “Does he feel the same about the women at church?”
Elvira leaned back. “Well, no, Doctor. He don’t do business with no women. But they’s married to the men.”
“If you were there, I reckon there’d be one good woman who was married to a good, honest man.”
Grant watched her eyes light up. “I could say that to Birr. I can up and tell ’im what the church needs is some good woman like me.” She laughed. “You know I’m funning with ya.”
“You have a nice way about you, Mrs. Morgan,” Grant said. “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if you have that husband of yours back at church in no time.”
Todd grinned.
Grant’s good feeling left after they left the cabin. Christa walked so fast, he feared she might ride off and leave him stranded. “Did I do something wrong?”
“You encouraged them to come to church where there are good, decent people like you and me.” She got up behind him on the horse. “So how will they feel when they find out we’re liars and deceivers? The good teacher won’t even be at school tomorrow.”
The mountain air cooled as the sun set, but the coldness he felt was from the stiff figure seated behind him.
They returned to John’s cabin beneath a darkened sky. She didn’t protest when he raised his arms to lift her down. Maybe she, too, missed their earlier togetherness.
She stood in front of him. He gently turned her face up toward his. “There’s no way I can tell people the truth until they’re gathered in church on Sunday.”
He braced himself for her reaction before adding, “Is there a chance, Christa, that you would consider teaching for the rest of the week?”
Chapter 10
Christa hardly heard the clang…ang of the bell. A different tune sounded in her heart and mind. Last night, she’d looked into Grant’s face bathed in soft moonlight. How could she say anything else? “Grant, I will be honored to continue with the children because…we’re friends.”
After an interminable moment, he had pressed her hands gently. “I’m grateful to you.”
Christa felt pleased that she could let go of resentful memories of Roland and replace them with thoughts of a man who had shown her that he was competent, confident in his work, yet vulnerable when it came to disappointing adults and children.
The first child came bounding out of the sunlit horizon, bringing Christa back to her own sense of mission. She would give her best efforts to being a schoolmarm.
The week went all too quickly. Grant came a couple times and talked to the children about science and chemistry. Uncle John commented on a Bible story before lessons began. Dora helped Todd lead the hymn singing. Christa wrote the words on the blackboard with chalk so they could see how the words looked. The children were like sponges soaking up everything being taught.
Dora helped her plan the Friday exhibition for parents.
Friday dawned clear and warm. They practiced most of the day.
Grant and Uncle John set up tables outside for refreshments provided by Dora and Clem. Adults arrived before 3:00 p.m.
Christa told the children they had nothing to be nervous about, despite her shaking hands and tremulous voice. At three o’clock, she had the children stand on the porch, the steps, and the ground. Parents stood opposite them.
Todd led the other children in a welcoming song. The parents applauded, then Christa greeted them. She had the younger children sing the ABCs. Older children recited the multiplication tables. They all quoted the Twenty-third Psalm. Christa didn’t want any child to perform alone in case they become embarrassed by making a mistake. That is, no one but Todd.
He sang “Amazing Grace.” His high tenor reverberated around the mountains as if an entire chorus of angels had joined him, and nature itself had decided to praise the Lord. The adults didn’t move a muscle or blink an eye. Tears streaked many faces.
When Todd finished, complete silence followed. Finally, a man shouted, “Amen.” Others began saying “Amen” and “Praise the Lord” and applauding.
Todd smiled. He had told Christa he was going to sing to the Lord, no matter what his pa might do.
Christa gave out report cards for the week’s work. She wrote only praise for what each child had accomplished, whether learning no more than “ABCDEFG” or as much as the older girl who did long division.
The program was a huge success. Children and parents glowed with pride and happiness.
Then came the moment Christa had been dreading. First, she told the parents how much she appreciated them letting her teach. “I’ve never had a more fulfilling week in my life.” She paused, feeling tears threaten her eyes.
The faces in front of her expressed respect and admiration. That would soon change. She looked at Grant. “The doctor has something to say.”
Grant had prayed and thought but still wasn’t sure what to say. He faced the adults. Christa stood by Pastor John, who put his arm around her shoulders.
Grant began. “I have an announcement.”
All sound faded except the gossiping birds in the big oaks.
The words came easy when he praised Christa for what she had meant to the children during the past week, how the program reflected her love for the children and her efforts to discover their capacity for learning. “There could be no finer teacher,” he said. Applause erupted.
Silence returned when he said, “However, there has been a misunderstanding.”
He reiterated what happened from the moment he got off the train, and how he’d wanted to find the right time to tell the truth. He’d been called away for emergencies both times.
Their gazes remained fixed on him. He prayed their anger and disappointment would be toward him and not Christa.
“Christa Walsh is not my fiancée, which means she’s not the teacher you expected.”
He heard a few gasps but continued. “She came to visit her uncle John and to find crafts for her brother’s shop in Hendersonville. She thought her uncle had sent Clem to fetch her. She had nothing to do with this deception, and I hope you won’t blame her.”
He lifted his hand to silence the escalating mumbling. “Adelaide Montgomery is my fiancée and a teacher. She and her parents will arrive tomorrow.”
Pastor John cam
e and stood beside him. “My niece told me about the situation that first night at the cabin. Doc planned to set things straight on Sunday morning.” He reiterated some of what Grant had said. “But if the misunderstanding hadn’t happened, then the children would have been without a teacher this week. And nobody can deny Christa has been about the best teacher we could have.”
Grant doubted anyone would take issue with that. A little of his confidence returned. “What Miss Walsh has done will be turned over to Miss Montgomery. Miss Walsh came here for crafts. So to show appreciation for her week of teaching, maybe you will want to share with her.”
Uncle John laid his hand on Grant’s shoulder. “And we can thank the Lord for Grant’s not speaking out sooner. Otherwise these children would still have been underfoot this past week.”
The people laughed.
Uncle John continued. “The Lord works in mysterious ways. Let’s bow for prayer.”
At the amen Miz Dora stepped up. “Now it’s punch and cookie time.”
Grant expected to receive a few verbal punches. He hoped Christa would be spared. Just then, he saw Birr Morgan making a beeline toward her.
Christa could hardly believe it. Children stopped to say they wanted her to be their teacher, then ran off to play. Women told her about their crafts and about people who made the finest quilts, whittled beautiful wooden animals, tatted the fanciest doilies, dried the prettiest flowers, and made souvenirs from rocks.
Birr Morgan walked up, staring at her. Elvira and Todd hurried to stand next to him. Others stepped back.
Christa thought Birr’s removing his hat and holding it in front of him was a sign of respect. But she dreaded what might follow when he said, “Miss Walsh. I’m plumb dumbfounded.” At least, he wasn’t toting his rifle.
He looked her in the eye. “I knowed Todd could sing but not like that. I ain’t never heard anything so beautiful. My woman could sing pretty, too, and I don’t normal say things like this, but she needs to hear this. Todd, too.”
Christa identified with the uncertainty in Elvira’s and Todd’s eyes.
“That singing today wasn’t like guitar and banjo singing. Or even church singing. It was citified. I’ve heard citified singing so I know what I’m talking about. I was mighty proud of the way my boy stood up there, waving that stick I made ’im, and them children singing in time with it. I think maybe I’ve been selfish, taking Elvira away from the music she was fond of.”
Elvira caught hold of his arm. “Oh, no, Birr. I made my choice. You was it. I loved you more than I loved singing. And there ain’t a thing wrong with your banjo picking. I sing to that.”
Birr stood a little taller. Then he looked away from the softness in Elvira’s eyes. Christa thrilled at the love they had for each other. “So,” he said. “I think my woman is right. She made her choice, and it was me. I reckon Todd needs to make his choices hisself. But he’s only sixteen, and first I want him to know a trade in case he don’t make it in the city with singing.”
“Oh, Birr.” Elvira’s arms went around him.
“Now hold on, woman. People’s looking.”
She stood close. “You’re just the best man I ever knowed, Birr Morgan.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, anyway, Miss Christa. Feel free to help my boy. And if you ain’t going to be here, you can tell that new teacher.” He spoke softly. “You might want to know. I make a few craft-like pieces out of my wood.”
Christa felt she must surely look as happy as that family. How mistaken she’d been thinking that Birr Morgan was the meanest man she’d ever seen. He had a tender heart, and dearly loved his wife and son. The way some things turned out sure was beginning to look…mysterious.
When the crowd dwindled, Dora came up and handed Christa a glass of punch and a cookie. “You’re such a hit, Christa, with everyone. I don’t know how they’ll get along without you. And I tell you this….” She leaned closer. “We’re not having another welcoming like we did for you.”
Christa didn’t know if she should thank her for that. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me. And I didn’t mean to deceive anyone.”
“Oh, we know that. We’re just glad to have you here. Maybe you can help the new teacher.”
Being a substitute would make her feel like she had after Roland jilted her and all her friends were getting married.
After she and Uncle John went to his cabin, she told him that the women, and even Birr Morgan, were eager to share their crafts. “But Uncle John, I’ve imposed on you long enough.”
“Imposed? Girl, it’s a joy having you here. And I’m selfish enough to want you to stay.”
“Oh, Uncle John, I’ll spend a day or so gathering a few things to take back for William. Then I should leave.”
He nodded. “You’ll have to stay long enough to see what Miss Adelaide looks like, now won’t you?”
Chapter 11
Christa chose the royal blue suit she’d worn when she came to the cove, the dressiest outfit she’d brought. Even so, she’d be no match for the lovely, charming Adelaide.
She sat in the front row at church. Would Grant escort Adelaide down the aisle and seat her beside Christa? Everyone must be as curious as she to see the woman who had won their doctor’s heart and would be the real teacher for their children.
Where were they? Church was no place to make a grand appearance after everything started. Uncle John asked Todd to stand up front and lead the singing.
When they stood, Grant slipped in beside Christa. A quick glance didn’t reveal any charming woman standing with him.
During the service, his hands moved to his knees and he’d lean back and take a deep breath. At times he crossed his arms.
When Uncle John asked for those who had a decision or special request to come forward, Grant walked to the front. “I have an announcement,” he said.
Grant didn’t like speaking about his personal life in public, but he owed these people an explanation. He’d simply state the facts.
“The Montgomerys didn’t arrive yesterday,” he said. “Instead, a telegram came. Adelaide’s grandfather suffered chest pains. Dr. Montgomery can’t make the trip until he’s sure his dad is all right. Adelaide can’t travel alone all the way from Charleston.”
Only Christa could help in this predicament. “Miss Walsh,” he said, “Could you stay on until Miss Montgomery arrives?”
With her head held high beneath that pert little hat, she walked up and stood beside him. When Christa said, “I am reluctant,” Grant felt the disappointment in the room. “Because,” she continued, “I love it so. I will be honored to substitute until the real teacher comes.”
The congregation broke into applause.
Uncle John stepped up. “The Lord…”
When they returned to their seats, Grant whispered, “How can I ever thank you?” Christa tried to reject the words from Browning’s famous poem. “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.”
Grant’s words and her thoughts had nothing to do with love.
He was thanking her for saving him from humiliation. For a while longer, however reluctantly, she would be a schoolmarm.
Christa made up her lesson plans and continued to use Uncle John, Dora, and Grant to help. She didn’t think she rated any praise. The important thing was teaching the children as best she could.
She’d never before felt so useful. Others could probably do the job much better than she. But they weren’t here.
And she was.
The following Sunday when Grant sat beside her in church, unaccompanied, Christa supposed Adelaide might never come. She reprimanded herself for that selfish thought. Adelaide’s grandfather could still be ailing…or worse.
Uncle John must have had a similar thought. “Instead of waiting until the end of the service for the doctor’s latest announcement,” he said from the pulpit, “we’ll have that first. Otherwise if he were called away early, we wouldn’t know what’s going on in his life.”
Gran
t stood and announced that Adelaide’s grandfather was improving. Adelaide and her parents would arrive on Monday.
Christa peeked at him. He didn’t look at her. There was no applause. He said, “Well, um, that’s it.”
He returned to his seat. Uncle John motioned for Todd to lead the singing.
When Christa and Grant stood, sharing the songbook, he didn’t sing. She supposed his mind was with his Adelaide.
Grant stared at the dark clouds hanging low in the sky. A storm was rapidly rolling over the mountains. It would be gone by morning. Weather would not prevent the Montgomerys from arriving. He would meet them tomorrow and rent a carriage to bring them to the cove.
Would Adelaide fit in the way Christa had?
Would Todd and his parents feel as comfortable with Adelaide?
A week ago, Grant had written to Adelaide that a teacher was filling in for her. He’d mailed some of Todd’s songs and told her of the boy’s exceptional talent.
The dark clouds moved closer. Grant turned to leave. Walking into the woods, he heard a rumble of thunder, saw a movement.
“Christa?”
“Oh!” She tugged. “I’m caught.”
Grant loosened her skirt from the thorny twig. “A wild-berry bush.”
“Thank you.” She smoothed her skirt and stepped away from the bush. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I thought you would be home, making arrangements. I just wanted a last look.”
He should have said there was a storm coming. But that was no way to treat a friend who had done so much for him. He took hold of her arm and smiled. “You could never be an intrusion. Come look.”
They walked out into the glade.
“It’s even beautiful with a storm approaching,” she said.
“Yes. You should see it when the clouds are below this glade.” He knew that might never happen. “I was just thinking about the house I want to build here.”
“Oh, this belongs to you?”
He nodded. “This is directly behind my cabin, separated by the woods. I’ve thought my cabin could be a clinic someday.”
Reluctant Brides Collection Page 42
