“Well, thank you, Jimmy,” Violet giggled. “It’s always nice to find a gentleman nearby.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jimmy said, gathering the readers into his arms.
Violet glanced back to where Stoney Wrenn stood in conversation with Maya’s sister and Mr. Deavers. Silently, she attempted to will him to glance at her—but he didn’t. His attention seemed singularly arrested by Miss Asbury.
Swallowing a thick lump of disappointment that had gathered in her throat, Violet turned, smiled, and followed Jimmy Ritter as he crossed the street.
❦
“He’s much more grown up than Dayton or Hagen, that’s for dang sure,” Beth said.
“And much better lookin’, if you ask me,” Katie Mill said. Katie was one of Violet’s older pupils—about the same age as Beth Deavers and Maya Asbury. “And more of a gentleman.”
Violet felt somewhat guilty for eavesdropping, but it had happened quite by accident really. She’d been out under the willow tree enjoying the bread and apple butter she’d brought for lunch. The three older girls had simply chosen to eat their lunches nearby, and when Violet heard their conversation turn to the topic of boys—well, she didn’t want the girls to be embarrassed by knowing she was there. So Violet had simply stayed. Besides, their chatter was delightful, insightful, and highly intriguing. She figured she’d pretend she’d fallen asleep beneath the willow—pretend she hadn’t heard a word they’d said—if the girls happened to find her out. They were speaking of Jimmy Ritter now. It seemed Violet’s older girl pupils preferred Jimmy to Dayton and Hagen. Violet liked the girls all the more for it. Dayton and Hagen were fine boys—handsome boys. But there was something special about Jimmy Ritter, although she couldn’t quite put a name to it.
“He is a gentleman,” Maya said. “At least…as close to a gentleman as we’re likely to find in Rattler Rock. Did ya see how he helped Miss Fynne with her books and all this mornin’? Even though he don’t come to school?”
“Too bad he’s already eighteen,” Katie said. “Otherwise, maybe he would come to school. Then we’d have somebody other than silly Dayton and Hagen to dream over.”
The girls giggled, and Violet bit her lip to silence her amusement.
“Did Dayton go last night, Maya?” Beth asked. “Did he sneak out to the ol’ Chisolm place and look at it for us?”
Violet listened more intently.
“He did,” Maya said, lowering her voice. “And Hagen wasn’t lyin’! Dayton says it’s carved right there on that tree…just like Hagen said it was. Dayton says the initials are clear as day. S.W. and V.F., carved right in the middle of a big ol’ heart.”
Violet held her breath—covered her mouth with one hand.
“Ya don’t think it’s true…do ya, Maya?” Katie asked.
“I do think it’s true!” Maya said. “What else could the initials mean? And Miss Fynne told us she knew Stoney Wrenn when she was a child. S.W.…Stoney Wrenn. V.F….Violet Fynne. What else could it mean?”
“Do you think they were sweethearts once?” Beth giggled. “Stoney and Miss Fynne?”
“Miss Fynne couldn’t have been more than eleven when she moved, if she’s tellin’ the truth about her age,” Katie said. “And Stoney Wrenn. He can’t be too old if he’s callin’ on yer sister, Maya. No. They couldn’t have been sweethearts. You can’t have a sweetheart when yer only eleven.”
“Well, my grandpa would know,” Beth said. “He’s run the general store for over twenty years. I’ll ask him. Miss Fynne said she was friends with Stoney Wrenn. I’ll ask grandpa how good of friends they were.”
Again giggling. Violet did not giggle this time however. She could just imagine the tales Mr. Deavers might tell his granddaughter—about the mischief she and Stoney used to conjure up.
“Let’s get back,” Maya said. “Miss Fynne will be ringin’ the bell soon.”
“You just want another chance to catch Dayton’s attention, Maya,” Beth said. “Yer so sweet on him, and everybody can see it.”
“I ain’t sweet on Dayton Fisher,” Maya argued—a little too emphatically.
“Well, I am!” Katie giggled. “So if yer not gonna claim him, Maya—”
“I’m not claimin’ him,” Maya argued as the girls stood and brushed at the seats of their skirts. “You can have him.”
Once they’d gone, Violet made her way back to the school—by another path. She was unsettled about the curiosity of the older children where she and Stoney Wrenn were concerned. She silently scolded herself for being so forthright and honest in answering their questions the day before. Furthermore, she didn’t want Dayton Fisher to find himself planted in the cemetery over ignorant curiosity. Hagen Webster swore Stoney Wrenn would as soon shoot someone for trespassing on his property as look at them. It hadn’t been safe for Dayton to go to the old cottonwood tree.
Sighing, Violet knew she’d have to find a way to settle the curiosity of her pupils. She smiled as Nina Deavers appeared at her side, taking hold of her hand.
“Did you enjoy your lunch, Nina?” Violet asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Nina said.
“So you’re fresh and ready to learn something new?”
Nina giggled. “Yes, Miss Fynne!”
“Where’s Susan?” Violet asked. She frowned. Nina Deavers and Susan Gribbs seemed nearly inseparable. Violet was unsettled that they were not together.
“Oh, she’s comin’ along,” Nina said. “She just had to visit the hitchin’ post,” Nina added in a lowered voice.
“The hitching post?” Violet asked.
“You know, Miss Fynne…the hitchin’ post,” Nina whispered. “I shore like you, Miss Fynne. Yer so silly sometimes!” Nina giggled. Dropping Violet’s hand, she ran ahead and into the schoolhouse.
Violet heard the outhouse door slam and glanced over to see Susan Gribbs hurrying away from it.
“Oh! The hitching post,” Violet giggled. She’d forgotten—forgotten the term had been used to refer to the outhouse. Her smile faded, however, as Susan approached. The child was pale as snow—frowning.
“What’s the matter, Susan?” Violet asked.
But Susan shook her head. “Oh, nothin’,” she said. “I-I’m just fine.”
Violet was certain Susan was not fine, however—especially when tears moistened her eyes occasionally through the remainder of the afternoon. Furthermore, Susan lingered after school. In fact, she didn’t move to leave at all when the other children hurried from the schoolhouse. Nina lingered as well, a tiny arm resting comfortingly around her young friend’s slight shoulders.
Violet waited until the other students were gone. Going to kneel before Susan and Nina, she took Susan’s little hands in her own. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” she asked. “You’ve looked as glum as a hound since our lunchtime.”
Instantly Susan burst into tears.
“Oh, honey! Don’t cry,” Violet soothed, gathering the child into her arms. “What’s upsetting you so?”
“It’s ’cause of her mama’s brooch,” Nina offered.
Violet nodded at Nina, encouraging her to explain.
“She wasn’t suppose to touch it,” Nina began as Susan continued to sob, “but it’s so purty and all. It’s got a real jewel in the center—a blue one—and it’s worth a pile of silver.” Nine paused, glanced to Susan, and lowered her voice as she continued. “But Susan took it—just to borrow, just to show me ’cause I didn’t believe her mama owned somethin’ like that.”
Violet nodded. Gently taking Susan by the shoulders, she asked, “Did you bring the brooch to school today, Susan?” Susan nodded and wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “And did you lose it somewhere? Is that what the matter is?”
Susan’s lower lip quivered—pushed so far out in a pout that Violet almost smiled. “I dropped it down by the crick,” Susan confessed. “And we ain’t supposed to go near the water. I dropped it, down where the bank is steep.”
“Did you hear it go into the water?” Violet
asked.
Nina and Susan both nodded, but it was Nina who answered. “I heard the splash. And we would’ve got all dirty if we’d tried to get it.”
“You were right not to try,” Violet said. “I don’t want you younger children near the water. Sometimes the creek is flowing faster than it looks or deeper than you might think.”
“But what am I gonna do, Miss Fynne? My mama will be so angry! It’s her favorite treasure in the world!” Susan exclaimed, panic overtaking her. The fear on the child’s face nearly caused Violet to burst into tears as well.
“Well, first of all,” Violet began, “I’m sure that you’re her favorite treasure in the world, Susan. A mama loves her children more than anything else.”
“Even a fancy brooch?” Nina asked. Nina was crying too.
“Even a fancy brooch,” Violet assured the girls. “Now, why don’t we go down to the creek and you can show me where you think you dropped the brooch? Maybe I can reach it.”
“Oh, Miss Fynne!” Susan cried, throwing her arms around Violet’s neck. “You can find it! I know ya can!”
“I’ll try, Susan,” Violet said. “I really will try. But you listen now.” Violet took Susan’s face between her hands, wiping the tears from her cheeks with her thumbs. “If I do find it, you need to tell your mother that you took it. It isn’t right to take things without permission.”
“It’s a sin!” Nina said. “Like it says in the Bible.”
Susan began to cry once more, her lower lip pursing even further.
“Well, I think this might be something a little different, Nina,” Violet said. “Susan’s very young, and, well, I think she’s learned a hard lesson today. Haven’t you, sweetie?”
Susan nodded. “Please find my mama’s brooch, Miss Fynne! Oh, please, please, please!” she begged.
“I’ll try, sweetie. I’ll try my best. All right?”
Susan nodded and forced a hopeful smile.
“Well, then, let’s be on our way. Shall we?”
“Are you still watching for me, Nina?” Violet asked.
“Yes, Miss Fynne!” the youngster assured her.
“Let’s hope no one decides to come fishing in this spot, Susan,” Violet said as she placed her skirt, petticoat, and shirtwaist on the nearby log with her shoes and stockings. “You keep a sharp eye, Nina! Please, oh, please keep a sharp eye.”
“I will!” Nina called.
Violet put her hands on her hips and studied the creek and the fallen log that spanned part of it.
“You girls shouldn’t have been near this part of the creek,” she scolded. “And you certainly shouldn’t have been out on that log!”
“I know, Miss Fynne,” Susan said. “I’m sorry. We just didn’t want anybody else to know I had the brooch.”
Violet drew a deep breath of determination. She worried for Susan, and she didn’t want Ethel Gribbs to lose the sapphire brooch.
“You stay right here, Susan,” she ordered. “Do you understand? You stay right here.” Susan nodded, and Violet looked up to where Nina stood on a higher part of the creekbank. “And you keep a sharp eye out, Nina.”
“I will!” Nina called.
“All right then,” Violet whispered.
The log spanning the creek was sturdy-looking but thin. There would be no walking on it; Violet knew she’d have to crawl out to the place where the girls claimed the brooch had fallen into the water. Violet stepped into the water and climbed onto the log. Straddling it, she leaned forward and began to inch out.
“Tell me when I get close, Susan,” she said.
“It’s a little farther out, Miss Fynne,” the child explained.
Violet made her way out over the creek as quickly as possible. She certainly didn’t need anyone passing by to find the new schoolteacher stripped down to her underthings and crawling on a log.
“Those’re real nice bloomers yer wearin’, Miss Fynne,” Susan said from the bank. “And I never seen such a pretty camisole!”
“Thank you, Susan. Am I close?” Violet called.
“Yer almost there, Miss Fynne. Just a little further.”
Violet paused—gazed down into the water below. She was relieved to find the creek wasn’t deep where the log spanned it. She might be able to reach the brooch from her perch on the log. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to go swimming for it.
“Right there, Miss Fynne! Right there!” Nina hollered.
“Watch the road, Nina!” Violet called. “Susan can help me.”
“She’s right, Miss Fynne! We were right there when I dropped it!” Susan exclaimed. Violet could hear the excitement and hope in the child’s voice. “It’s a silver brooch, Miss Fynne, with a pretty blue stone in the middle. Can ya see it?”
Violet frowned and searched the pebble-lined creekbed. She gasped, giggling with delight. “I see it! I do!” she said.
She heard the two little girls giggle with delight.
“Oh, thank ya, Miss Fynne! Thank ya!” Susan cried.
“I think I can reach it from here,” Violet said.
Carefully—to keep the water as still as possible so as not to lose sight of the brooch—Violet reached into the cold creek water. She exhaled the breath she’d been holding as she closed her hand around the piece of jewelry and drew it from the water.
“I’ve got it!” she called to the girls, giggling herself as she heard the high squeals of delight from the bank. She sighed as she studied the brooch a moment. “Little girls and pretty things,” she whispered, shaking her head.
“All right, girls. I’m coming back now.” Violet called.
“Scootch back now, Miss Fynne,” Susan encouraged. “Just scootch on back real careful. Don’t drop it again!”
Violet was close. She was nearly to back to the creekbank. Ethel Gribbs would have her brooch returned, and Susan and Nina had learned a hard lesson—she hoped. Violet sat up on the log. She’d have to step back into the water to get to the bank.
“Well, well, well. Violet Fynne.”
Violet held her breath—closed her eyes—winced.
“Hey there, Mr. Wrenn,” she heard Susan say. “Hey there, Miss Fynne. Don’t worry, it’s just Mr. Wrenn, Miss Fynne,” Susan called. “The one that Hagen and Dayton say is a womanizin’ son of a—”
“Yes, Susan!” Violet interrupted. “Yes.”
Violet brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. She sat up on the log—inhaled deeply, and stepped into the water. There was no other course. She turned. There—standing on the creekbank, leaning up against an old tree—stood Stoney Wrenn.
Chapter Four
He wasn’t smiling—didn’t appear at all astonished or amused to find the new schoolteacher straddling a fallen tree in her undergarments. He did study her a moment, however—studied her from head to toe and back again.
“Hello,” Violet managed. She found every inch of her body was trembling, yet she could not determine whether she trembled because of her lack of attire, at her mortification at being caught in such a predicament, or simply because Stoney Wrenn stood blatantly studying her.
“We…we had an urgent situation,” she stammered when he said nothing in response to her greeting.
“Mighty urgent, I’m guessin’,” he said, his handsome face still void of any expression.
“Oh, give it to me, Miss Fynne!” Susan begged. “I promise I’ll tell my mama what I done. Please just let me hold onto it. I won’t drop it again. I promise I won’t!”
Violet swallowed and looked to Susan and Nina. She held out her hand and offered the brooch to Susan.
The child instantly snatched it up, clasping it tight in both little hands. Drawing her hands to her bosom, Susan closed her eyes. “Oh, thank you, Miss Fynne! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” the child whispered.
“Y-you’re welcome, Susan,” Violet said. “Now…you and Nina run on home. But remember what we talked about. Promise?”
Both girls nodded. Susan threw her arms around Violet’s waist in
a grateful hug. “Oh, thank you, Miss Fynne!” she said.
“You’re welcome…but let’s keep this just between us. All right?” Violet whispered, stroking the little girl’s hair with reassurance.
“All right, Miss Fynne,” Susan whispered.
Stoney Wrenn still stood leaning against the tree, staring at her with green-blue eyes void of any emotion—even mirth.
“But Miss Fynne,” Nina whispered, “we can’t leave you here with that man, Miss Fynne. Stoney Wrenn is a womanizin’ son of a—”
“It’ll be fine, Nina,” Violet interrupted. “I’ll be fine. You girls get home…before someone gets worried and comes looking for you. Please.”
Nina and Susan both glanced at Stoney Wrenn. He nodded, smiled just a little—displaying just a hint of the long, handsome dimples he owned—and winked at the two little girls. “I’ll make sure yer teacher stays safe, ladies,” he said. “Now you run on home like Miss Fynne says. Sound good?”
Both girls smiled, nodded, and giggled. Violet felt her eyebrows arch in astonishment as she saw their cheeks pink up with delighted blushes too.
“Yes, sir,” Nina said.
“Thank you so much, Miss Fynne!” Susan called as she and Nina held hands and ran off in the direction of town.
Once the girls had disappeared, Stoney Wrenn looked back to Violet. The green-blue of his opaline eyes studying her once more caused Violet to shiver. She cleared her throat, straightened her camisole, and smoothed her hair. There was nothing to do but behave as if being found sprawling across a log in her undergarments was the most natural thing in the world.
The Light of the Lovers' Moon Page 6
