“Hi, Miss K! Come see what Papa gave me for my birthday. My own horse!”
He straightened and looked over the gelding’s back. Felicia Kristoffersen seemed to have been about to enter the cottage, her hand holding the screen door partway open. But at Charity’s invitation, she let it swing closed.
She wore the same dress he’d seen her in that morning at church, and he suspected she was only now returning from the Summerville home. Helen Summerville’s Sunday dinners were elaborate and lengthy affairs, at least by the standards of most Sunday dinners in Frenchman’s Bluff.
Charity ran to meet her teacher halfway, then took her by the hand and dragged her over to where her father stood with the two horses.
“Look! Isn’t she pretty? I named her Princess. Doesn’t she look like a princess to you? Her mane and tail are so long. That’s why I think she looks like a princess. Papa thought I should call her Alice. Like in the book Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. That’s what Mrs. Franklin gave me for my birthday. That book. Papa says I’m to read two pages of it every day. Do you think I can? It looks kinda hard to me, but Mrs. Franklin says it’s her favorite book of all.”
Felicia’s gaze met with Colin’s across the gelding’s back, and a moment later, she smiled. As if to say, Yes, she’s a chatterbox, but I enjoy listening to her. Colin couldn’t help but return the smile.
“I don’t think Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland will be too hard for you,” Felicia said to Charity. “But if it is, we’ll work on it in school. All right?”
“I guess. Would you like to ride Princess sometime, Miss K? Do you know how to ride a horse? If you don’t, I could teach you.”
“I do know how to ride. I lived on a farm from the time I was ten until I came here. When I was not much older than you, I rode a big gray horse to and from school. I called him Soot.”
“Soot. I like that. It’s a good name for a horse. What kind of farm was it? Did you have milk cows, like the Franklins?”
“No. The Kristoffersens mostly raised wheat and barley.”
The Kristoffersens. An odd way to refer to her parents, Colin thought, and it made him wonder about her family. There were many things he didn’t know about the new schoolteacher, things he hadn’t cared to know when he was still convinced she’d come to their town only to find a husband, like the teachers before her. He wasn’t at all sure about that now.
Charity interrupted his musings. “I’ve gotta get Princess unsaddled and give her a good brushing. She’s my responsibility to take care of. Isn’t she, Papa?”
“Yes, she’s your responsibility,” he answered without looking away from Felicia.
“I’m sure you’ll take very good care of your horse, Charity,” Felicia said.
“I sure will.” Grinning, the girl headed inside the barn.
Felicia looked up. “A horse is a wonderful gift, Mr. Murphy. She’s a lucky girl.”
Something strange blossomed inside of him in that instant. A feeling that had lain dormant for so long he couldn’t put a name to it at first—attraction. And then when he could—attraction?—he had to reject the notion. Impossible! He wasn’t attracted to this woman. He couldn’t be. Given his primary reason for not wanting the school board to hire her, allowing attraction to grow between them was the last thing he wanted.
“I had better go inside,” she said, her relaxed demeanor telling him she was unaware of where his thoughts had taken him.
Thank goodness for that.
She patted Princess on the neck. “Tell Charity happy birthday for me again.” Then she turned and walked toward her cottage, a delightful feminine sway in her hips.
Colin felt his mouth go dry and found it impossible to look away until she disappeared inside.
TWELVE
Kathleen stood in the front parlor, staring out the window at the beautiful morning. In two or three more months, the peaks of the Owyhee Mountains, a good sixty miles to the south, would be white with snow. But for now, the skies were a gorgeous blue, and the sun still blessed the earth with warmth.
Voices drifted to her from the back of the house. Mother Summerville was giving Mrs. Hasting, the cook, the menus for the week. It happened at this time every Monday morning. Her mother-in-law was a woman who believed in schedules and routines. She was also a woman who lacked tact when it came to dealing with the household staff.
Mrs. Hasting would be in a foul mood the rest of the day.
Kathleen sighed as she moved away from the window and settled onto the piano bench. She brushed the ivory keys with her fingertips, and in her memory, she heard Harold playing for her and singing at the top of his lungs, “Ta-Ra-Ra Boom-De-Ay!” A smile came to her lips. Oh, how she’d loved those special times they’d shared.
His mother, however, had hated it whenever she heard him play such, as she put it, disgusting music. She hadn’t raised him to enjoy the tunes of the lower classes.
But I adored it, Harry. I wish I could hear you sing it one more time.
Mother Summerville’s crisp footsteps in the hallway gave Kathleen a brief warning before she appeared in the doorway. “Ah. There you are.” Her mother-in-law stopped, her hands folded beneath her ample bosom. There was a spark of annoyance in her eyes, left over from her encounter with Mrs. Hasting, no doubt.
“I’m sorry, Mother Summerville. I didn’t hear you call.”
“I didn’t call,” she snapped. “But I did need to speak with you.”
Kathleen rose from the bench. “You look upset.”
“I suppose I am.”
“With me?”
Her mother-in-law’s eyes narrowed. “As a matter of fact, yes.”
Kathleen said nothing, knowing she would learn the cause quickly enough.
“You’re getting much too friendly with Miss Kristoffersen. You know how I feel about her. You know I don’t believe she was the right choice for the position. We will be well rid of her when others realize their mistake, and I don’t think it wise for you to align yourself with her.”
You’re being unfair. You’re unkind and vengeful. I like Felicia.
“Hasn’t it occurred to you that she’s both attractive and single? She could end your hopes of marrying Mr. Murphy.”
“My hopes,” Kathleen whispered, too softly for her mother-in-law to hear. Were they her hopes or did they belong to Mother Summerville alone?
“You must be aware that you aren’t a fresh-faced young debutante, Kathleen.”
She didn’t want the words to sting, but they did.
Mother Summerville pointed an index finger at her. “Mark my words. You’d best do something about this before it’s too late.”
Exactly what would you have me do?
As if she’d heard Kathleen’s silent question, Mother Summerville released an exasperated sigh. Then she turned and disappeared down the hallway.
Kathleen sank onto the piano bench once again, tears welling in her eyes. Oh, how she wished she had a home of her own, a place for her and her daughters. How she wished she wasn’t beholden to Mother Summerville for every little thing. And how she wished she could fall in love again. Not just to marry and have a home of her own, but to fall in love.
She couldn’t help wishing for that most of all.
“Ā, as in ate. , as in care.”
Felicia softly read aloud with her younger students, who were seated on the recitation bench.
“Ä, as in arm. Å, as in last.”
She noticed that Charity’s eyes often went to the children to her right or left rather than staying focused on the book in her hands. It was easy to see that rather than reading the text, she was repeating a half second later what she heard her neighbors saying.
Felicia stepped off the platform and walked slowly down the narrow space behind the bench. When she reached Charity, she briefly touched her shoulder. The girl glanced up.
Read, Felicia mouthed.
Charity dipped her head.
“Ē, as in eve. Ẽ, as in err.”
Felicia continued on, but her thoughts remained with Charity. The girl shouldn’t be struggling this hard with the table of vocals in her reader. The exercises should be old hat to her by now. Assuming, of course, that Miss Lucas made use of them, and she believed she had. Otherwise, the other students wouldn’t be performing so well.
“ŌŌ, as in fool.”
The children reached the end of the table of vocals at the same moment that Felicia arrived at the end of the bench. She turned and said, “Phoebe, please read to us the short sounds at the top of page eight.”
The girl stood and read the requested portion without making a single mistake.
“Very good, Phoebe. Thank you.”
As she walked slowly toward the head of the classroom, this time in front of the students on the recitation bench, Felicia called on the boy seated beside Phoebe to read the next part of the lesson. He did so with equal ease.
Four students later, it was Charity’s turn. The look on her face as she rose to her feet almost broke Felicia’s heart. She stumbled over the words in the first half of the table of substitutes. It was as if she’d never seen them before. And with each mistake she made, her face grew more flushed, her expression more downcast.
So unlike the confident, vivacious girl Felicia had come to know outside of school.
“Thank you, Charity.”
Charity resumed her seat.
Felicia stepped onto the platform and turned to face the class. Clapping her hands, she said, “Boys and girls, we’ll take our recess now. Please rise and file out in your usual order.”
Books closed. Papers rustled. Pencils clattered. But the children were quiet, except for a few whispers, until they reached the door of the school. Then the shouts began; it sounded as if the boys were choosing sides for a quick game of baseball.
Felicia sat at her desk, her thoughts churning as she stared down at the exercises in the reader. What was she to do about Charity? Of all the students to be struggling, why did it have to be her?
“Miss Kristoffersen?”
She looked up.
A woman stood at the entrance to the classroom, two boys right behind her. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Jane Carpenter. We met at the church picnic.”
Felicia rose from her chair. “Of course I remember.”
“I apologize for not being here at the start of school.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Go along, boys.” She motioned for them to step in front of her, then the three of them approached Felicia. When they stopped, Jane Carpenter made the rest of her introductions. “This is Daniel and this is Keith. Daniel and Keith Watkins.”
“How do you do?” Felicia said, making eye contact with both of the boys. “My students call me Miss K.”
Neither of them responded.
Jane said, “The boys have come to live with me and my husband and will be attending your school from here on out.”
“I’m delighted to have you in my class.” Felicia looked at the taller of the two. “How old are you, Daniel?”
“Twelve.”
He reminded Felicia of her brother, Hugh. Dark eyes, wise beyond his years. A stubbornness in his chin and in his stance. Perhaps a touch of defiance as well. “And how old are you?” she asked Keith.
“Ten.”
Her heart went out to him. Ten. The same age she’d been when the Kristoffersens took her in. She wondered what tragedy had put these boys on a train in New York, sending them far from the life they’d known. Would Jane Carpenter love them as sons? Would
Lewis Carpenter be stern or gentle with them? Would other children in school tease them because they were orphans?
She gave her head a mental shake. “Daniel, why don’t you take a seat over there?” She pointed to a desk in the first row as she stepped off the platform. “And Keith, you can use this desk.” She touched the back of a nearby chair.
Jane waited until the boys had taken their assigned places. Then she asked, “What time will they be dismissed?”
“Four o’clock.”
“I’ll come for them then. They don’t know where my shop is yet. I apologize again for not having them here at the start of school. They’ll be on time in the morning. I promise you that.”
“It’s perfectly all right, Mrs. Carpenter.”
Jane glanced from one boy to the other, then back at Felicia. “I trust they’ll be well behaved.”
“I’m sure they will be.” Felicia smiled, hoping her confidence would ease the other woman’s fears.
The ploy seemed to work, for Jane returned the smile before turning and leaving the classroom.
“Well,”—she looked from one brother to the other—“can you tell me a little about yourself? Daniel, you first.”
“Not much to tell.”
“How about where you lived before you came to Idaho?”
“Me and my brother lived in an orphanage in New York, and that’s where they should’ve left us. We never asked to come here. We hate it.” Anger laced his words.
Felicia feared she would have trouble with this boy. Should she tell him she too had come west for placement? That she understood what it was like to be an orphan. No. At least not yet. His resentment was too fresh.
She turned toward the younger boy. “How about you, Keith? Can you share something with me?”
Tears glimmered in his eyes, and his chin trembled.
She gave him a gentle smile. “That’s all right. Perhaps another time.” Glancing at her watch, she added, “Recess is almost over anyway. We’ll become better acquainted as time goes by.”
Colin watched as Lewis Carpenter flipped through the catalog on the mercantile counter. Lewis was a strong man, tall and broad shouldered, his neck and arms thick, like a lumberjack. But his nature was gentle, his voice soft-spoken. Margaret had once said Lewis had the soul of a poet. Like Colin, he hadn’t gone far in school. Unlike Colin, he loved to read. Rarely did he come into the store that he didn’t peruse the selection of books available before buying more practical items.
Today he was in need of a couple of mattresses and a large bureau for the boys he and his wife had taken into their home. “Here’s what the missus wants.” He pointed at the catalog.
Colin made a mental note of the selection.
Lewis let the catalog fall closed as he straightened. “Should have done this sooner. The minute we learned they’d be bringing those kids as far as Idaho for placing out, I should have given you my order.” He drew a deep breath and released it, shoulders rising and falling. “I guess I was afraid it would end in disappointment, and I didn’t want Jane to get her hopes up. Or mine either.”
“I reckon you two’ve got a right not to want to get your hopes up, Lewis.”
The man shook his head. “I reckon not. The Good Book says, ‘For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.’ I shoulda trusted He’d bring it about. After all, ‘All things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’ “
That was another thing about Lewis Carpenter. He could quote the Scriptures better than most preachers. And he didn’t just quote them. He believed them. Lived them. Breathed them. Colin had to admire him for it, too. He couldn’t say the same for himself. His faith, never very strong, had been shaken by the loss of his wife. Lewis’s faith had seemed to grow stronger each time he’d buried an infant son.
“Jane was nervous as a cat near a rocking chair this morning.” A grin spread across Lewis’s face. “She wasn’t happy with what the boys had to wear to school, and it took her longer to get them fed and ready to go than she thought it would. Never saw her get so flustered. But in a good way. Know what I mean?”
Yes, he knew what Lewis meant, and a sting of envy shot through him, catching him by surprise. For five years, he’d thought being a widower suited him. He’d been content to raise his daughter without anyone by his side. Many a man married two
or three times, taking new wives to help raise the children of the wives who’d died before. Colin thought it better to leave things be.
But maybe he was wrong about that. Maybe he could use a partner, someone to share the burdens of day-to-day life. If he wanted, he could have a new wife within a short period of time. He need only ask Kathleen Summerville. She was willing. He knew that. It even made good sense.
“Not sure how much formal schoolin’ the boys’ve had,” Lewis continued. “I’d wager not much. Near as we can tell, they were on their own for about two years before they ended up in an orphanage. But if our new schoolteacher’s worth her salt, she ought to be able to—”
Lewis kept talking, but Colin no longer listened, his thoughts having turned to Felicia. He pictured her standing at the front of her class, her hair captured in a bun at the nape, a pair of reading glasses perched on her long, narrow nose. Had he really expected the glasses would make her look prim? Because they sure didn’t. They made her look smart. Not only that, her large blue eyes seemed even more noticeable because of them. Beautiful blue eyes. Maybe if he’d had a teacher as pretty as Miss K, he would have wanted to stay in school beyond the sixth grade. Perhaps he might have fared better in his studies.
As pretty as Miss K.
It wasn’t wise, the way his thoughts had strayed to Felicia again and again today, the way he continued to think about the blue of her eyes or the sway of her hips.
No, it wasn’t wise. If he must take notice of a woman, it should be Kathleen. She’d lived in Frenchman’s Bluff almost as many years as Colin had. They knew the same people and shared the same friends. As a widow, she had no starry-eyed notions about marriage. She wouldn’t expect love. Mutual respect would satisfy her. She would enter into a union of two families with the same practical view as he would.
If he would—and that was a big if.
That evening, as Colin finished washing the supper dishes, he heard a knock at the back door.
“I’ll see who it is,” Charity said, dropping the dish towel on the counter. A few moments later, she returned with Felicia in her wake.
Belonging Page 10
