by Mary Davis
He stepped over the threshold and closed the door.
She motioned him forward and put her finger to her lips. “Gabe is over here.” She led him to the sofa in the corner of the sitting area.
He knelt beside his son and brushed a lock of hair off Gabe’s face. The act was so tender and loving. Gabe didn’t stir.
Bridget couldn’t imagine her father ever doing anything so affectionate. Her parents had never been cruel nor hit her, but they had high expectations. If she didn’t want to be reproached or put aside, she had better do as she was told. No love or compassion, just expectations. It wasn’t until she’d come to know the Lord that she had felt anything like love. She hadn’t known what she had been missing.
This man loved his children deeply. And if he loved them, then maybe he could come to love her…
Mary Davis is an award-winning author of more than a dozen novels. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and is active in two critique groups.
Mary lives in the Colorado Rocky Mountains with her husband of thirty years and three cats. She has three adult children and one grandchild. Her hobbies are quilting, porcelain doll making, sewing, crafts, crocheting and knitting. Please visit her website, marydavisbooks.com.
Books by Mary Davis
Love Inspired Heartsong Presents
Her Honorable Enemy
Romancing the Schoolteacher
MARY DAVIS
Romancing the
Schoolteacher
Do not lie. Do not deceive one another.
—Leviticus 19:11
Dedicated in loving memory to my son Josh.
Also to my mom, Zola, and sisters Kath & Deb,
who tramped around the San Juan Islands with me.
It was a blast!
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 1
San Juan Island, Washington Territory, Spring 1887
Bridget Greene stood at the back of her classroom and looked out over her students, ranging from the first to the eighth grade. The younger ones worked quietly on their reading while the older children took examinations.
Troy Morrison caught her attention. At fourteen, he was her oldest and most promising student. Most boys his age had to quit school and go to work to help support their families, often in the lime mines. Today, Troy promised to be mischievous.
He gently lifted Olivia Bradshaw’s blond ponytail, which hung over his desk. He moved it slowly toward his inkwell, trying not to disturb the girl.
Bridget strode up next to his desk.
Troy’s hand froze, and he slowly swiveled his head toward her.
She gave him her sternest look.
He dropped the ponytail.
Olivia reached for her hair and pulled it over her shoulder. Then she turned toward Bridget and smiled.
Bridget whispered to her, “Go back to work.”
The girl did.
Bridget grabbed Troy’s examination paper and motioned for him to follow her.
He struggled to untangle his gangly body from his seat and tripped over his feet. He hadn’t gotten used to his growing body. He’d gone from short and chubby to lanky and awkward, shooting up at least five inches in the past two months alone. And he was suddenly interested in girls.
She set Troy’s examination on her desk and pointed to her chair. She didn’t dare make him sit with the youngest children as she would normally do to shame a disobedient student into behaving. He would never be able to extricate himself from one of the smaller desks, even if he managed to wedge himself into one.
As it was, he bumped her desk and the chair before managing to get himself in the seat.
She whispered, “Dipping her hair in ink is not the way to get Olivia’s attention.”
He scowled. “I don’t want her attention.”
But Bridget knew he did. He just didn’t realize it yet. Even at eleven, Olivia was a pretty girl and promised to turn many a gentleman’s head in the future.
“Finish your exam.”
He hadn’t even started and had only fifteen minutes to go.
She wandered the room.
Periodically, she looked at the watch pinned to her lapel as the final two minutes ticked off. “Time. Please put down your pencils.”
She collected the exams and dismissed her pupils. They hustled out in a clatter of boots on wood and excited voices. Troy brought up the rear.
She quickly flipped through the exams and found the one she was looking for. “Troy, would you come here?”
The boy lumbered up the aisle and stood in front of her desk. His legs were longer than his trousers, and his wrists hung four inches below his shirt cuffs.
She studied him for a moment. He didn’t seem to mind. She held up his mathematics exam. “You didn’t answer one question. What happened?”
One bony shoulder rose and fell.
“You didn’t even try. You know this material.”
He kept his face neutral. “It’s just school. It don’t matter.”
That didn’t sound like her prize pupil. A student who had borrowed every book of hers he could. Mathematics was easy for him.
“School does matter. You are a very bright young man. You could go to college.”
He stared at her, working his jaw back and forth as though he had something tough to chew on.
“You don’t have to stay in Roche Harbor. You don’t have to work in the lime mines. You can do anything you want.”
He continued to stare. “May I leave now?”
She couldn’t understand his change in behavior. “Do you want to work in the mines the rest of your life?”
He shook his head. “Pa says I’d be a better bet for working the kilns.” His eyes brimmed with tears.
She could see him struggling to contain his emotions. “Your father wants you to quit school and work the lime kilns?”
“Family needs the money.”
That was such a tough place for a young man to be. Caught between what he wanted and what his family needed. “Do you want to work the kilns or in the mines the rest of your life?”
“Don’t matter what I want.”
“Yes, it does. What do you want?”
“As soon as Pa can get it worked out with Mr. Keen, I’ll be hired on.” He blinked. A tear raced down his cheek. He slapped it away. “I like learning.”
But she knew if his family needed the money, this boy would be set in a job he would likely never be able to rise out of. “What if you completed your education after work?”
“After?”
“We can figure a place to meet. I’ll give you books, and you can ask me for whatever assistance you need.” He was bright enough to learn on his own.
His forced, neutral expression slipped away and his eyes brightened. “Really? You’d help me?”
“Of course. I’ll even talk to your father to see if he’ll let you stay in school.”
“He won’t.”
“It can’t hurt to try.” She looked past the boy to a man and two children standing at the back of her classroom. New students. She handed Troy his test. “See how many of these problems you can complete before you have to leave.” She walked down the aisle to the man.
He tipped his head. “I’m Lindley Thompson. These are my children, Gabe and Dora.”
Gabe looked to be about seven, but Dora didn’t look old enough for school yet. Maybe four. “Pleased to meet you.”
Gabe said, “Hullo.”
Dora smiled around her thumb and leaned into her father’s leg.
Mr. Thompson wore miner’s clothes, but there was something amiss about the family. “I’ve come to work in the lime mines. Gabe will be starting class tomorrow.”
“And what about Dora?”
“She’s only four.”
“Four and a half,” Dora said, not removing her thumb.
Bridget gazed at the girl. “So, you get to stay home with your mother.”
Dora shook her head.
Bridget looked up at Mr. Thompson, and there was the strange feeling again.
“Their mother passed a few years ago.”
“I’m so sorry. I have another four-year-old who comes to school. They could sit together.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I’ve hired someone to look after her.”
How could a single miner afford to pay someone to care for his daughter? Maybe he didn’t realize how little the miners made and how much living cost. “If you change your mind, she is welcome.”
She walked the man and his children out. The air filled with the screeches of dozens of seagulls circling near and far.
As they strode away, she realized what was out of place with them. Though they wore the clothes of a miner’s family and were adequately dirtied, they weren’t naturally dirty.
The smudges on the children’s faces looked as though they were put there, not as if they got there from playing. And their clothes, as well. She had seen enough dirty children to know the difference.
Why was this man trying to make himself and his children look worn? A real miner would flaunt new clothes and make his children keep them clean, not purposely dirty them.
So if he wasn’t a real miner, who was he?
Or maybe his circumstances had recently been reduced, and he didn’t want the other miners to think him full of himself. Or that he thought he was better than them. Those who worked the mines and the kilns banded together in a tight community.
As she walked back inside, Troy stood from her desk. She met him halfway down the aisle. “Do you need to leave?”
“Naw. I’m done.”
He couldn’t be.
He kicked a desk leg getting around her and then hit his shoulder on the doorway on his way out. Bridget cringed, but Troy kept going except for a sidestep adjustment.
The poor boy needed to learn where his new body stopped and started before he injured himself. Or something worse while working for the lime company.
She went to her desk and picked up his examination. Sure enough, every problem was answered. And at the bottom of the page, he had written, I got them all right.
She would see about that. How could he when he’d done the equations so quickly? She sat and pulled a sheaf of papers from her desk drawer, fingering through them for the right answer key. She checked his answers against hers and then sat back with a sigh. Indeed, he had answered them all correctly. She had to find some way to keep this boy in school.
* * *
Later that evening, Lindley finished cooking the simple meal of scrambled eggs and slightly burned pancakes for supper. His children didn’t seem to mind. Or at least, neither of them said anything about his cooking ability. He couldn’t prepare much, but his children never went hungry. They sat, bowed their heads, and he thanked the good Lord for the food.
“I want to go to school,” Dora announced after the blessing.
“You can’t,” Gabe shot back.
“But I want to go. Please, Papa.”
Lindley smiled at her, liking her enthusiasm. “I’m sorry. You’re too young yet. School is for older children.”
“But I am older.”
He ruffled Dora’s blond hair. “Yes, you are. But not quite old enough.”
Dora tilted her head. “Teacher said.”
Images of chestnut hair and eyes the color of the forest flitted through his mind. And the smile she had bestowed upon him and his children. Something had happened to him in that moment, but he couldn’t determine what. The last thing he needed right now was to be thinking about the schoolteacher. He had a job to do and needed to devote his attention to that.
“Papa. Teacher said.”
He focused back on his daughter. “I know, but Miss Greene has a lot of pupils to teach. Besides, Mrs. Weston is going to look after you. Now, eat your supper before it gets cold.”
His daughter made a pouty face before digging into her pancakes.
Dora appeared to forget all about school for the rest of the evening. For that, he was grateful, and it allowed him to think of things other than the pretty schoolteacher.
Being on their own was going to be good for all three of them. Just him, Gabe and Dora without one sister or another trying to abscond with his children to make life easier for him. Their help only served to make him feel empty and abandoned. His family needed to realize he had the ability to keep Gabe and Dora fed and well cared for without interference. Though his family meant well, they made him feel incompetent as a parent. He needed to prove to them, as well as himself, he was capable.
He glanced around the pocket-size dwelling. It couldn’t be more than fifteen feet square. His bed on one side of the room and a second on the opposite wall, with a small cooking stove and a square eating table down the middle. If his sisters or even his parents saw this hovel, they would be here in a snap to rescue Gabe and Dora. But they were his children, and he would see to their well-being.
He dressed them for bed, and they climbed under the quilts of their shared bed, a straw mattress on the floor. Gabe’s head at one end and Dora’s poking out from the other.
Dora snuggled down and flopped her arms on top of the covers. “Tell us a story, Papa.”
Gabe nodded.
“Once upon a time, there were two curious bunnies, a brother bunny and a sister bunny.”
“A princess, Papa, a princess.”
“And a dragon,” Gabe said.
Lindley looked from his son to his daughter. “Once upon a time, there was a princess.”
“Was she beautiful, Papa?”
“Of course. She had chestnut hair and eyes the color of the forest.” He pictured the schoolteacher. Oops. Oh, well. He was sure his children wouldn’t make the connection. “She was walking along when she came to an enchanted garden. Low hedgerows separated the different varieties of flowers—pinks, yellows, blues, purples, reds, oranges, whites and clear. But these were not like any flowers she’d seen before. The flowers were made of glass. She didn’t know this garden was guarded by an army of dragonflies. So when she picked a pink-and-purple bloom, a swarm of dragonflies swooped in and carried her off to a cave where a big dragon lived.”
By the time Lindley finished his tale, Dora’s eyes were closed, and Gabe’s eyelids were drooping. He kissed them each on the forehead and headed for his own bed.
So much for not thinking of the schoolteacher. But what was the harm?
Chapter 2
The next morning, Bridget rang the school bell, and her students crowded into the classroom. She loved the children. Her first year teaching in Roche Harbor, she had thought she was blessed with an exceptional class of students who all wanted to learn.
She soon discovered that many of the older children would rather be in school than working in the mines. Their mind-set transferred down to the younger ones. She didn’t care why her students were eager. She loved filling their minds with as much knowledge as possible for as long as they were in her charge. It broke her heart when good students were taken out of school to go to work. It just wasn’t fair.
Her new pupil, Gabe Thompson, stood at the back of the room, waiting for a place to sit. What kind of student would he be?
Bridget put her hand on his small shoulder and guided him up the aisle to the front of the room. “Class, quiet down.” When all the students had taken their seats and given her their attention, she spoke. “Class, this is Gabe.”
“Hi, Gabe,” the class said in unison.
“I expect you all to make him feel welcome. Daniel, please stand up.”
The boy did. He was also seven. She hoped the boys could forge a friendship. “Gabe will sit next to you. I expect you to help him out until he gets his bearings.”
Gabe took his seat next to Daniel. He was quite attentive in the first morning section, taking his turn reading aloud and answering questions. A bright boy for his age. She would need to test him to determine his math and reading levels as well as his potential.
After an hour and a half, she released the children to play outdoors. The sun shone brightly on this crisp spring day.
She pulled her shawl closer as she watched her students frolicking in the school yard. The exercise was good for their learning process. She liked watching them interact with one another and took particular interest in those who sat alone. Today there were none.
The younger boys looked up to Troy and gathered around him. He liked the attention but kept casting glances toward Olivia.
Bridget hated to stop the fun, but she rang the handbell for the students to return to the classroom. They filed in, and she brought up the tail end. She strode up the aisle as her pupils settled into their seats. All twenty-two of them, including two four-year-olds. She crouched in front of the pair of girls. Aggie wiggled in her seat.
The other girl smiled up at her. “I’m in school.”
“I see that. Your name is Dora, isn’t it?”
The girl nodded eagerly.
“I thought your father had someone looking after you.”
Dora shrugged. “She couldn’t watch me. I came to school. You said I could.”
She had obviously arrived during recess.
Gabe appeared next to them. “You aren’t s’posed to be here.”
