“How?”
“It was obvious by the way you two acted around each other and the way she begged to leave, as if her life depended on it.”
“It did,” Roland said bitterly.
“That was her choice. I spent a lot of time these past two years trying to figure out what I could have done to change that day.”
“You couldn’t have done a thing.”
“I could have listened to her, really listened instead of dismissing everything she wanted as frivolous foolishness. You see, you’re not the only Decker who thought he knew what was best for everyone around him. It took a lot of reading God’s Word and really paying attention to what it said to see what a fool I’d been.”
“I was the fool.”
“We’re all fools until we put our lives in the Lord’s hands. Now let’s go inside out of this rain and see if Mrs. Calloway has any news on your Pearl.”
“My Pearl?” Roland didn’t miss the wording.
“Yep. Yours.” Garrett grinned. “If you stop acting like a fool.”
* * *
Pearl awoke with a start, and the blissful dreams of Roland kissing her cheek vanished under a blanket of pain. Each breath made her cough. The tiniest movement of air against her legs hurt.
She coughed again, and the memories flooded back. The fire. Roland must have begun burning the debris piles, and the fire got out of hand. He should have known better with all that wind.
By the time Angela Wardman spotted the smoke, the blaze raced toward the schoolhouse. She’d sent the children out of the building with Amanda, but Sadie was missing. She’d found the little girl surrounded by fire and had walked through the scorched ground to get to her. A second later, the fire had grown. Roland wanted her to hand over Sadie, but she couldn’t extricate the girl and kitten from her arms. So she’d run through the fire. After that, the memories faded except for the feeling of being left behind. Alone. Abandoned.
Then where did that dream of the kiss come from? She tried to lift a hand to her cheek but her arm felt incredibly heavy.
“That cough is going to last a while,” an unfamiliar man said over her head.
She squinted to make out a silver-haired, bespectacled man in a black suit.
“I’ve dressed the burns on her legs with carron oil and covered with cotton wool. Check the dressings twice a day and reapply oil and cotton wool as needed. The patient should be kept in bed for two weeks and only moved when necessary. You may give her a spoonful of laudanum if the pain becomes too much.”
So, the man was a doctor. That must mean she was the patient.
“I’m fine,” she rasped, barely audible. The effort hurt, but she must know. “The children—”
“Don’t speak,” Mrs. Calloway ordered in her most authoritative boardinghouse tone. She thrust a slate and piece of chalk at her. “Write.”
Pearl flexed her fingers. They worked, but she could not lift her arm to take the slate, least of all to write. The very thought exhausted her. Still, she had to know if Sadie had survived.
“Perhaps later,” the doctor said, removing the slate from Mrs. Calloway’s hands. “If you have a spare room, I will stay the night and check on the patient in the morning.”
“Of course. We can put you in the green room just down the hall. Let me show you there.” Mrs. Calloway’s voice drifted away along with the patter of footsteps.
Pearl let her eyes slip shut.
“Dearest.” Amanda’s familiar voice danced into Pearl’s consciousness. She clasped Pearl’s hand. “You must listen to all the doctor tells you. You must get well.”
Pearl opened her gritty eyelids to see tears in Amanda’s eyes. Was her condition so serious that Amanda feared for her well-being? Pearl tried to tell her that she was all right, but her voice failed. Her friend could tell her about the children if only Pearl could ask, but without the use of voice or hands, how could she?
Sadie? she mouthed.
Amanda’s eyes widened and then she squeezed Pearl’s hand. “Perfectly fine. All the children are unharmed.”
Pearl let out a breath of relief, but that was soon followed by irritation. None of them would have been in danger if Roland hadn’t decided to burn on such a windy day. How could he?
Amanda bubbled on, oblivious to Pearl’s thoughts. “Roland carried Sadie to safety. She’s completely untouched except for a few nicks where Cocoa grabbed hold. Oh, and the kitten is fine, too. It’s amazing how they escaped the blaze. The whole schoolhouse and yard was on fire. We gave up hope, but somehow you all survived. No one can believe it.”
Pearl let her eyelids slip shut again. Not somehow. God had protected that little girl, just as He had protected her all those years ago. Maybe her papa had prayed the same words she’d prayed years later, to spare the child if not the adult. Or maybe God had heard her own cries for help.
Her head hurt. She must rest. Two weeks at least, the doctor had said. Two weeks! How would the children continue their schooling without a teacher or a schoolhouse? She tried to ask Amanda, but nothing would come out of her mouth. She couldn’t even lift her arms to write. She lay helpless in a bed, utterly dependent.
And it was all Roland’s fault.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Pearl wandered in and out of slumber for days. November’s bleak light faded to darkness and returned again with barely a notice.
“You must eat something,” Amanda urged, soup bowl in hand. “A little broth will do wonders.”
Pearl pulled herself up on the pillows and winced. Her arms worked like normal and the coughing had stopped, but the tiniest movement of her legs brought tears to her eyes.
“Oh!” Amanda set down the soup. “I should have put another pillow behind your back.”
Pearl rubbed her eyes, which still felt gritty. “I need to get back to the classroom.” Though still hoarse, at least she could speak.
“First you must eat.” Amanda held out a spoonful of the liquid.
“I’m not a baby. I can feed myself.”
Amanda, always patient and understanding, beamed. “You’re feeling better.”
“I can’t seem to shake the cobwebs from my mind.”
“Perhaps a little broth will help.”
Pearl sniffed the offering. Chicken. Her stomach rumbled. It would do. She took the spoon and managed to get most of the spoonful into her mouth before falling back against the pillows, exhausted. “What is wrong with me? It’s only been a day or two.”
“Four, actually.”
“Four?” Pearl couldn’t comprehend how that much time had passed without her knowledge. Then she spotted the bottle of laudanum. “No more medicine. I need my wits about me so I can teach school.”
Amanda bit her lip and lowered her gaze.
“What is it?” Pearl asked. “What happened?”
Her friend pasted on an artificial smile. “Have more broth. You need to get stronger first.”
“Before what?”
“Before returning to teaching.” Amanda held out the bowl. “Have some more.”
Pearl swallowed another spoonful. “Now tell me what happened.”
Amanda held up the bowl. “Not until it’s all gone.”
“That’s blackmail.”
Amanda nodded cheerfully.
Though the effort taxed her strength, Pearl’s stomach appreciated the offering. When she finished, she handed back the spoon and dropped against the pillows. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
Amanda set the bowl and spoon on the little bedside table that had appeared from somewhere in the boardinghouse, likely a more costly room. “Dr. Van Neef said it’ll take a bit for your throat and eyes to fully recover, but they should improve each day. Roland brought some horehound drops that’ll soothe your throat.”<
br />
Pearl bristled at Roland’s name. Though some of the memories were murky, one was not. Roland had set fire to that burn pile on a windy day. He had caused everything. “I don’t want anything from him.”
“But those flowers brighten the room.”
Only then did Pearl notice the vase of chrysanthemums on the bureau. How he had found them this late in the year was a wonder. Naturally Amanda loved them, for she was drawn to every beautiful thing.
“Take them away.”
Amanda frowned. “Don’t be such a grouch. They belong right there.”
Pearl could see she would get nowhere with Amanda, whose eyes sparkled with the prospect of matching her to Roland. Time to put an end to that. “Forget it.”
“Forget what?”
“You know what. Your matchmaking.”
“Me?” Amanda’s mock surprise was proof enough.
Pearl motioned to her throat. “I need to rest.”
Amanda took the hint. “I’ll take the soup bowl downstairs.” She pulled open the bureau drawer and removed a stack of letters. “Perhaps you would like to read a little.”
No one wrote to Pearl. Ever. How could she have a stack of mail?
“The children sent notes.” Amanda teared up again. “They love you.”
Pearl’s heart filled to overflowing. Sure enough, the top letter was from little Sadie. Dear, precious Sadie. As Amanda slipped out of the room, Pearl held the note to her face and drew a breath of the fresh paper. Sadie couldn’t write much more than her name, but she’d sent Pearl a note.
Thank You, Lord, for saving her. And me.
A little pain was a small price to pay.
An adult, probably Sadie’s father, had written “Miss Lawson” on the outside. Pearl unfolded the piece of paper. As she’d suspected, the “note” contained no writing other than Sadie’s name in block capital letters with the D backward and the E splayed out like fingers reaching to play a full octave on the piano. The rest was a drawing. The schoolhouse was on fire, and flames surrounded it, a little girl and a grown woman. A kitten clung to the girl.
Pearl choked back a tear. The poor girl. Drawing what had happened must be a way to make sense of it. She looked back at the sketch. Away from the school stood a man. Her father? Farther away was a boy. Isaac, no doubt. In the other direction, where there should be trees, Sadie had drawn a steamboat with its smokestack belching soot. Peculiar. Did it represent her wish to get away from the fire?
Pearl’s hand dropped, and the other notes scattered across her lap. All were addressed to her. Many bore the telltale writing of her students. By now, she could differentiate Angela’s hand from George’s. Each child’s writing was distinct. Each note she would treasure.
Then she came upon four notes, all written in the same adult hand. No family sent four wee ones to her school. It could not be from a parent. She unfolded the first to find a finely written letter, each line perfectly straight. Her gaze drifted to the signature.
Roland.
Her jaw clenched.
He could not buy her forgiveness with a simple letter, not when his actions had nearly cost the children their lives.
* * *
Saturday while manning the store, Roland whistled as he put the finishing touches on his package by tying the ribbon into a big bow. He held up the finished product. “What do you think?”
Sadie surveyed his effort, first by tilting her head one way and then the other. “It’s all right.”
He would have to consider that good enough.
“But you should draw a picture on the paper,” Sadie added. “Teacher likes pictures. Miss Amanda said she really liked the picture I made for her.”
“I’m sure she did.” Roland touched a finger to her nose, making her giggle. “Especially since it came from you, but I’m not much of an artist. She’ll be much happier with your new drawing that we put inside.” He patted the brown paper wrapped package.
Sadie thoughtfully considered what he’d said. “Was my mama an artist?”
Roland knew the questions would eventually start to come, but Eva’s memory still brought a twinge of guilt in spite of Garrett’s forgiveness. He concentrated on Sadie, whose dark hair reminded him of her mother. “Your mother loved everything beautiful. When she lived in Chicago, she liked to visit the art exhibitions. I think she would have been an artist if she’d had the opportunity.” He smiled. “Maybe you’ll be the artist in the family.”
She giggled at that and ran off to play with Beth Wardman, who arrived with her mother.
“Any news on the school?” Debra Wardman asked.
“We’re going to use our church cabin on Pine Street. It’ll be ready next week.”
“But who will teach?”
“Miss Porter, Miss O’Keefe and Miss Smythe have agreed to lead the children in their lessons until Miss Lawson returns to the classroom.”
Mrs. Wardman looked skeptical. “What will they use? Most of the primers and slates were lost in the fire.”
“New ones are on order and should arrive within the week.”
“At what cost?”
“None, Mrs. Wardman. An anonymous donor has paid for them.” Him. He’d placed the order the very next day.
“Praise God!” Her concern melted into a smile. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”
“Is there anything I can get for you today?” Roland was eager to deliver his gift, and with Charlie off on deliveries, he had to wait on the customers until the boy’s return.
By the time he’d filled Mrs. Wardman’s order and had her sign for the purchases, Charlie returned. Though Roland had intended to leave Sadie at the store, he decided Pearl might want to see the little girl. It wouldn’t hurt his chances, either.
He helped fasten the buttons on Sadie’s coat before donning his own. Then he hefted the bulky package and they made their way into the blustery November afternoon. Though heavy clouds scudded across the sky, it had yet to rain or snow. Fortunate, since he didn’t want this gift to get wet.
After considering all possible ways to thank Pearl for her heroic sacrifice to save his niece, Roland and Garrett had settled on this. She needed it and deserved every penny that it cost.
“Why are you giving Teacher a present?” Sadie asked for the umpteenth time.
“It’s from all of us to thank her for saving you and Isaac.”
Sadie tilted her head to look up at him, the old repaired rag doll tucked in the crook of her arm. “Are you going to give Miss Amanda a present, too?”
That was a fair question, but one he had no answer to. When Roland had mentioned adding something for Amanda, Garrett had stiffened and reiterated his intent not to marry. Though Roland had tried to convince his brother that this had nothing to do with matchmaking, Garrett would not relent.
“We gave her the flowers, remember?”
Sadie nodded vigorously. “But she said they should be for Teacher. We need to give Miss Amanda something just for her.”
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do. When we get there, you give Miss Amanda a big hug and a kiss. I think she would consider that the best gift of all.”
Sadie scrunched up her nose, apparently unconvinced. “That’s not a present.”
“To grown-ups, that’s the best present they can get.”
“Are you going to hug Teacher?”
Roland coughed and extended the coughing spell until he could think of a good response. “It’s different between adults.”
“Why?”
Why indeed. Sometimes Roland wished his niece was still the quiet little girl she’d been before Pearl and Amanda arrived. No, that wasn’t quite true. This little girl skipping along the boardwalk was more precious than the biggest factory. Maybe it had taken disaster to wake him up to the b
ounty right in front of him. Since Pearl had arrived, life had taken on a new shine. Thanks to her, he and Garrett had reconciled. Family and faith now took the top spots in life. He actually looked forward to church services tomorrow.
“We’re here,” he announced, glad he wouldn’t have to answer Sadie’s probing questions.
Mrs. Calloway answered the door. “Mr. Roland, Miss Sadie, come on in. I just took some gingerbread out of the oven. Would you like some?” She bent to help Sadie out of her coat. “Miss Amanda is already there.”
Sadie rushed back to the kitchen. After spending so much time here, she knew the boardinghouse as well as her own home.
Mrs. Calloway straightened. “Well now. May I take your coat?” She eyed the gift. “Someone’s about to have a fine day.” She chuckled. “But I expect it’s not me. She’s upstairs. I’ll go on ahead and make sure she’s ready for visitors.”
She headed toward the staircase.
He waited.
She turned around and beckoned him to follow. “She’ll be right pleased to see you.”
He followed but hung back. When he first arrived in Singapore, he’d stayed at the boardinghouse, second room on the left. The same room, he now realized, that he’d carried Pearl into the day of the fire. Mrs. Calloway stopped before that door again. After rapping lightly, she cracked the door.
“You have a visitor,” she said.
Roland couldn’t hear Pearl’s response, but Mrs. Calloway beckoned him near. She then flung open the door, revealing Pearl seated in bed, the threadbare shawl draped around her shoulders.
The moment she spotted him, her eager smile faded.
* * *
Pearl struggled to calm her emotions. Mrs. Calloway had given her no warning and no chance to chase Roland away. In fact, the moment the door opened wide, Mrs. Calloway vanished, leaving Roland alone, tall and stunningly handsome with his dark hair and cheeks flushed from the cold. His black wool coat was of the finest cut and quality, and he held in his arms a large, paper-wrapped package tied with red ribbon.
If she hadn’t been so angry with him, she would have braved the pain to run to him. Every fiber of her fickle body cried out to go to him, but her mind struggled to make sense of the man who stood before her. Charming one moment and unthinking the next. He had risked children’s lives to burn debris on a windy day. On the other hand, he had returned for her. He had cradled her in his arms and carried her to safety. During each one of the long days confined to the bedroom, she had relived that gentle kiss to her cheek. Even now the very spot hummed from the memory of his lips.
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