Sycamore Hill

by Francine Rivers

  I stood up. “You’ve told me about Diego. Thank you.”

  He smiled sardonically. “You’re welcome.”

  “It’s very late,” I said with a lift of my brows. I looked pointedly toward the back door.

  Jordan grinned. “Trying to get rid of me?”

  “Quite frankly, yes!” I answered bluntly. “Now please leave. You know the rules.”

  “The rules be damned. You don’t care about them, and neither do I,” he dismissed my reason.

  “I do care! I don’t want to lose my position here.”

  “You enjoy being alone so much?” His smile was taunting.

  “Have you said all you intended to say, Mr. Bennett?” I fumed. “If you have, please leave my room!”

  Jordan rubbed the back of his neck again and cast me a disgruntled look. “Believe it or not, I came to thank you for the time you’ve spent with Diego. If you hadn’t stayed out half the night, I wouldn’t be here now. I’d be back at the ranch and in bed instead of standing here arguing with you!”

  “You could have let the news wait until tomorrow,” I snapped back. “You knew that I would be riding out for Diego’s regular lessons.”

  “I thought I’d save you the ride,” he retaliated with some sarcasm, “I never wanted you on my ranch in the first place, if you’ll remember.”

  A lump of pain caught in my throat, and I swallowed hard. “Yes, I remember.” I paused and ran my fingers nervously over the table, keeping my eyes averted from his. “And I’m sorry.”

  “There are a couple of other things I wanted to say before I leave.” If anything, his voice sounded harder than before. I wanted to tell him to please say them quickly and make his departure, but thought it best to say nothing at all. He had paused for an instant as though expecting some comment, and when none came, he shifted his weight.

  “Can we sit down and talk like civilized people?” he asked in a tone hardly conducive to peace making.

  “We can try.” I smiled faintly. I sat down at the table again. Then I looked up at him. He was watching me with an enigmatic expression. Then he glanced around for another chair. Seeing none, he sat on my bed. He leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees.

  “First off, I wanted to tell you to deal very carefully with Hayes. He’s an... intense person and not very predictable.”

  “I could say that about other people in the community,” I said with wry humor.

  He glanced up and gave me a rueful smile. “You fit that description yourself, Miss McFarland,” he said dryly.

  “I didn’t have myself in mind.”

  “And another thing,” he said briskly, looking directly into my eyes with unnerving intensity. “I’m not sure Diego will show up on Monday.”

  “You plan to keep him home at the ranch?” I asked in surprise, my fingers splaying out on the tabletop.

  “No, I am not planning to keep him at the ranch,” he said. “You’re jumping to all the wrong conclusions again.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because he was hurt by all this mess... damned hurt. He may not agree to come back to school. I’d think you would understand why he wouldn’t be particularly crazy about the idea of returning for more of the same medicine.”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “The mess was brought on by adult interference,” I told him. “And since you’ve taken care of that part of it, Diego will only have to contend with the children. One, actually— Matthew Hayes. And believe me, Mr. Bennett, that boy is more than willing to come halfway. He’s learned his lesson.”

  Jordan shook his head slightly. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

  “Diego has more courage than you give him credit,” I said rather primly.

  Jordan smiled. “You think I’m maligning my own son, is that it?”

  “No. I think you’re being overprotective.”

  Jordan laughed. “Not too long ago you were saying I did not protect him enough.”

  “Yes.” I nodded, watching the change in his appearance. He was magnetic when he laughed. He heightened all my senses.

  “The boy needed time to lick his wounds,” Jordan explained. “And Matthew Hayes needed time to learn a few things as well. Maybe the two of them can sort things out between them. That would be the ideal solution.”

  “I agree.”

  Then came a momentary silence before Jordan muttered under his breath. “My God.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “You agreed with me.” He grinned.

  I smiled, genuinely amused. “A precedent!”

  Jordan’s grin softened. I wanted to look away from him, afraid he would see more in my eyes than I was willing to have him see. He suddenly seemed too close to me, the room too small and intimate for his dominating presence. His eyes were charting courses over my face, lingering too long on my mouth. My lips parted slightly as my breath seemed to lodge in my chest, unable to pass the thundering of my heart.

  Jordan stood up as though he could not stand to be still any longer. He looked away from me toward the door. A muscle worked in his jaw. “I’d better be going,” he said unnecessarily. That he wanted to leave quickly was obvious, and strangely enough, it hurt.

  I stood up as well, smiling with an effort. “I’m glad you came to talk with me,” I said sincerely. Jordan looked at me then.

  “I’m not sure I am,” he said. Embarrassed color flooded into my face.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, and I won’t detain you any longer. Please tell Diego I will look forward to seeing him on Monday.”

  Jordan stepped by me and put his hand on the door, but did not open it. He seemed to be debating with himself. I couldn’t stand it.

  “So, what are you waiting for?” I demanded, stepping forward, my hands balling into fists. “Why don’t you leave?”

  He looked down at me, and the expression in his eyes drove me further into my anger. I reached out, shoving his hand aside and grasping at the doorknob to pull it open. “Here, let me help you, Mr. Bennett!” I twisted the handle and pulled, but Jordan’s hand came up to hold the door shut.

  “Don’t push me too far, Abby!”

  “Just leave! You were so eager to go a minute ago. Well, go on and leave!”

  “Oh, hell!” he muttered fiercely below his breath.

  Then Jordan’s hands descended on my shoulders, turning me full against him. I looked up in alarm as he pressed me back against the door. His body held me still as his mouth came down to cover mine. I struggled to be free, but he took advantage of my movements to mold us even closer together. I tried to cry out, but he only used that advantage to deepen his kiss, to invade my mouth with his tongue. Then I did not want to be free.

  Sensual madness invaded my mind and body so that I wanted to be closer to Jordan’s warmth. I wanted to open his wool shirt and feel the texture of his skin beneath my fingers. I wanted to press myself against the hardening muscles and be encompassed by his strength. I pushed his jacket back to be nearer, and he impatiently shrugged out of it, letting it slide to the floor. His fingers came up and raked the pins from my hair. He was heedless of the shamble he was causing. Then he was kissing me again, his mouth moving from mine to plunder my ear and then trail down my neck. When he raised his head, a groan escaped. He started to step back away from me.

  “Jordan...” I sighed. My hands came up almost of their own volition to encircle his neck and draw his head down again.

  “My God!” he rasped, his hands pulling me forward again. My hips were grinding against his. Then he swore beneath his breath. He reached up and grabbed at my wrists.

  “Let go, Abby!” he moaned. “For God’s sake, let go of me before I finish what we’ve started.”

  He dragged my hands free and shoved me back. I stood shaking before him, but the emotion that raked me was not fear. He looked at my face, his own strained and hard, his eyes dilated to blackness.

  “I ma
de the mistake of entering your territory,” he ground out with an effort. “I swore to myself I wouldn’t, and by God, I won’t again!” he told me intensely.

  I stared at him dumbly for a moment before his rejection sank into my brain. Then the first cold tendrils of understanding crept in to make me feel shamed and dirty. How could I have allowed him to kiss me like that? And worse, why had I responded to the point that I did not care anything about my self-respect? I should have known he would look at me like some creature he did not want to recognize. What did he think of me now? That I responded to any man as I did to him?

  Jordan reached out and tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at him squarely. I felt confused by the emotions that still raged inside me, frightened by his anger and hurt by his indifference. Oh, dear God in heaven, what was happening to me? How could I have fallen in love with this man?

  “You’re ashamed already,” he said, half-compassionately, half-derisively, his eyes glittering. “Be thankful I didn’t take what you offered so magnanimously.”

  I shut my eyes against the look in his. He released me.

  “Stay away from Eden Rock, Miss McFarland. That’s my territory. And if you ever come near it, we’ll play by my rules then. The consequences and your sensitive Boston feelings be damned.”

  He snatched up his jacket and then walked out the door, slamming it behind him. I stood for a long time staring at nothing and feeling utterly miserable and humiliated. Then I undressed and went to bed.

  Once during the night I awakened. I thought I heard something moving about in the schoolroom and bumping into a desk, making a scraping sound over the floor. But when I listened intently for more movement, I heard nothing. Exhausted, I fell back to sleep.

  In the morning I found the note scrawled across the blackboard. “Go back to Boston.” The words brought Jordan Bennett into my mind.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Just as Jordan Bennett had warned, Diego Gutierrez did not return to school the following Monday morning. When he did not come Tuesday or Wednesday, I began to consider riding to Eden Rock to talk with him in spite of Jordan’s dire warning to me. What could the man do to me? He had already done his worst from my viewpoint. He had made me recognize irrefutably that I was in love with him, while he held me in his contempt.

  Thursday morning Diego returned to school. Linda walked in with a wide smile on her face, and I looked up to see Jordan in the doorway, his hand on Diego’s stiff shoulder. There were other children already in class, and they jumped up to welcome Diego back. The wary expression on the boy’s face began to dissolve, and after a moment he smiled.

  My heart was doing acrobatics at the sight of Jordan, but after the first glimpse of his grim expression, I avoided his eyes. A faint flush crept into my cheeks, and my body felt cold with shame as I remembered our last meeting and his words before departing. What must he be thinking of me as he stood there watching Diego take his usual seat next to Linda at the back of the classroom? I was afraid to even contemplate it.

  I was thankful that the children were so involved in chattering with Diego that they failed to see my embarrassed expression. I felt Jordan watching me, but refused to look at him again. After a moment he turned back and strode out of the room without a backward glance. My stomach muscles slowly relaxed.

  For the rest of the week things settled back to normal. Jordan rode in with the children now that the rainy season was well underway and the journey was sometimes hazardous. He never lingered after seeing the two children inside the door. I sank everything into my teaching, classroom preparation and cleaning of the schoolhouse. I worked until I was too tired to dream or even be frightened by whatever else lived in the schoolhouse with me.

  I worried a great deal about Matthew Hayes. He regretted his actions against Diego, primarily because the children despised him for it. Even after Diego returned, Matt was treated to jibes and taunts. He was ostracized from the yard play. His schoolmates even shunned him in class. Whenever there were teams to draw up, Matt was last to be included. His grades fell, and he never raised his hand to answer class questions. When I called on him, he just stared at his hands and said nothing. I caught the looks cast in his direction and saw the tortured look in his eyes.

  A few days after Diego’s return to class I found Matt sitting hunched over on the front steps of the schoolhouse. All the children were around back, playing beneath the cloud-strewn late-fall sky. I came down the steps and sat down next to the miserable boy.

  “Matt,” I said softly and saw how he drew inside his shell. He looked away as I leaned forward, but not before I saw his chin trembling and his eyes filling with tears. This wouldn’t do at all, I thought unhappily. I moved closer and put my arm around the boy’s rigid shoulders. As I began to talk with him, he gradually relaxed until finally the hurt poured out in shuddering sobs.

  “But... but they hate me, Miss McFarland,” he cried. “They won’t have anything to do with me.” He leaned forward so that his face was hidden against his knees. I hugged him closer. I whispered that things would work out if given time. Everyone does something that they regret, but they can’t allow it to ruin their lives. He had learned from what had happened, and he would be a better, stronger person for it. I wasn’t just speaking to Matt Hayes; I was remembering my own transgressions with Jordan Bennett.

  Matt mumbled that none of the children would ever talk to him because of Diego. He knew it was his fault, but he wanted to change things so that he would have some friends again. I suggested he talk with Diego.

  “He’ll never speak to me,” Matt said assuredly, looking up at me. He was frightened by the very idea.

  “You owe him an apology, Matthew. If you started with that, perhaps the two of you could sort things out. You both have a lot in common.”

  “My father says...” he started, but I patted his hand, knowing by his expression what his father had said.

  “Never mind what your father said,” I dared. “You have to make your own decisions about people, Matt. You talk with Diego.”

  “He won’t listen, Miss McFarland.” He shook his head, his shoulders sagging.

  “You have to have the courage to try, Matt. If that doesn’t work, we’ll figure something else out to get you back in good stead with the children.”

  Matthew looked up at me uncertainly. “I didn’t think you liked me.”

  I frowned and wondered how much my personal feelings had influenced the boy’s depression. He was right when he said I had not liked him after what he had done. I had found his behavior despicable. Since then, however, he had changed, and I had watched with respect and sympathy as he had tried to make amends. The boy deserved a second chance. Didn’t everyone?

  “I didn’t like what you did, Matt. There’s a difference between that and not liking you,” I told him gently.

  Over the next few days I watched painfully as Matthew Hayes tried to muster courage to speak to Diego. Each time he started out to approach the other boy, Diego’s friends got in the way. Not wanting there to be witnesses to his attempt at peace making, Matthew always turned away. The week came to an end, and nothing had been resolved.

  With Monday I watched in great hope that Matthew would be able to carry out his intentions. But his courage seemed to have failed completely, and he stayed away from everyone, sitting between the old oak while the other children played. He watched with pale intentness. I was afraid if the two boys did not work things out soon, Matthew’s rightful regret would change into renewed and bitter resentment.

  Things had gone far enough, I decided. It was time I stepped into the situation.

  During the noontime break on Wednesday I decided that it was time to get the two boys together. I called Matthew and Diego into the classroom. The children all stopped playing and watched the two boys enter the schoolroom. I saw some of them approaching and told them to go back to their play. Reluctantly, they did so.

  Inside the classroom Diego looked at Matthew with wary dislike. Matth
ew was chewing nervously at his lower lip and staring fixedly at his feet.

  I took a deep breath. “I think it’s time you two boys sat down together and talked things over.”

  “We’ve got nothing to talk about,” Diego said in a hard, defensive voice. Matthew looked at me as though to say, “I told you so.” I frowned, hoping I looked sufficiently stem.

  “I beg to differ, Diego. You two have a great deal to talk about. And talk you shall. You are both to go back into that corner,” I indicated a corner reserved for quiet study, “where you will not be disturbed, and you are to discuss what happened here over six weeks ago. Is that clearly understood?”

  The boys went, Diego grudgingly mumbling something under his breath in Spanish, and Matthew as though he were on his way to the gallows. They sat for several moments in complete silence, looking everywhere but at one another. I sat at my desk working on some papers and saying a silent prayer. Then I heard the low mumble of Matt’s voice. He was talking, head down, looking at his hands. Diego was staring at the top of the boy’s head.

  And then Diego was talking. I decided I should leave the boys alone now that they had started speaking to one another. Checking on the children in the yard, I waited ten minutes before reentering the classroom. When I did, I found Diego sitting by himself in the back of the room.

  “Where’s Matthew?”

  “Probably home crying to his papa.” Diego sneered unpleasantly.

  I sighed, wondering if I had made another grievous error in placing the two boys together. “All right. What happened, Diego?”

  “We did what you told us to. We talked.”

  “Did Matthew apologize to you?”

  “Sí. But you don’t expect me to believe that gringo, do you?” His expression was hard.

  “Matthew Hayes is very sorry, Diego.”

  “He’s sorry because the other niños want nothing to do with cabrón who runs to papa whenever things don’t go his way!”