The Gift of Twins

by Gabrielle Meyer

  “Emmy.” Ben reached out and put his hand on her arm to stop her.

  She did stop, but she couldn’t look at him. “It’s fine,” she said, though her trembling voice betrayed her wayward emotions. “I’m going upstairs to change so I can help Mrs. Carver.”

  “It’s not fine.” He dipped his head to get her to look at him. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t intend—”

  “Really.” She tried to laugh it off as if nothing had passed between them. “I’m fine.” She stepped away from him and moved into the sanctuary of the stairway. She forced her feet to climb the steps and cross the hall to her bedroom, but as soon as she entered her room, she closed the door and leaned against it, breathing hard.

  What was happening to her and her resolve to protect her heart? She had told herself that she would never be vulnerable again to love. It wasn’t worth all the pain. Losing William was the most difficult experience in her life. The weeks and months after his death were darker and harder than she had ever imagined possible. She couldn’t live through another heartache like that. It would surely destroy her.

  Yet—she couldn’t deny that she longed to fall in love again, to experience the beauty and joy of joining her heart to another. The thought of being close to Ben, of looking into his eyes and feeling his touch, sent a thrill of excitement through her. She loved to hear his laughter and watch him with the twins. She enjoyed his appreciation for Mrs. Carver’s food and the way he lit up when he preached. He was kind, good, handsome and selfless. A woman would be blind not to fall for his charms—yet, she wasn’t foolish enough to believe it would last forever. Life was temporary. Death was permanent. The fleeting days of love were not worth the lifetime of pain after.

  She wrapped her arms around her middle and closed her eyes, nibbling her bottom lip and willing herself not to cry. She had to force herself to deny the feelings growing inside. It was her only hope of survival.

  * * *

  Ben ran his hands over his face, frustrated at his actions. He had no right to take such liberties with Emmy. He had overstepped his bounds and he feared it would change everything between them.

  He walked into the front room and stood by the fireplace. Mrs. Carver had kept it roaring all day, but it barely touched the cold air seeping into the house.

  Emmy’s footsteps echoed above and Ben glanced at the ceiling.

  He had watched her with the other men. She was guarded and cautious. He had loved that she felt comfortable around him and had a place to relax in his home. If she suspected his true feelings, she would be just as rigid and wary with him. What must she think of him now, holding her hands longer than necessary, about to tell her things she didn’t want to hear?

  He wanted to go upstairs and apologize again—but what would it matter? His actions spoke for themselves. At first, he had simply intended to warm her hands, but then the feel of her soft skin and the floral scent of her perfume had made him lose all common sense and he had wanted to pull her close and revel in her presence.

  If Levi hadn’t interrupted, there’s no telling what foolish thing he would have said or done.

  “Reverend.” Mrs. Carver stepped out of the kitchen. “I could use some help with the taffy pulling when it comes time. Is Emmy close at hand? The boys don’t want to begin without her.”

  Ben nodded, though he didn’t want her to suspect something was wrong. “She’s upstairs changing. I’m sure she’ll be down soon.”

  Mrs. Carver studied him for a moment. Very little went unnoticed by her, and no doubt she sensed something was amiss, but thankfully she didn’t pry. “I’ll get everything ready as we wait.”

  She went back into the kitchen and Ben stayed by the fire. With the bitter cold, there was little he could do outside. He could go back to the church and prepare his sermon, but he didn’t think he could concentrate, even if he tried. That left him in the house, with Emmy. The only place he could go to stay out of her way was his bedroom, but there was very little heat in there.

  He picked up a copy of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, by Harriet Beecher Stowe and took a seat near the fireplace. He had read the story many times, but he needed something to keep his hands busy.

  After a few minutes, Emmy’s footsteps crossed the room overhead and fell on the stairs.

  Ben’s stomach clenched at the idea of facing her again. No matter what, he needed to act as if nothing had happened. He wanted her to trust him and his intentions again. The last thing he wanted was for her to look at him the way she looked at other men.

  She stopped at the bottom of the steps, but he didn’t look up.

  Should he acknowledge her? Should he ignore her?

  She started across the front room and he couldn’t help but look up at her. She glanced in his direction and he forced himself to smile.

  “The boys don’t want to start until you are there to help them.” He closed his book. “Mrs. Carver asked for me to help pull the taffy when it’s ready.”

  Emmy stopped on her way to the kitchen and nodded. “I’ll let you know when the time comes.”

  It was all she said before leaving him alone with his book.

  He shook his head at his foolishness and stared into the flames. Emmy would never open her heart to him. He had known it from the start, yet he continued to do things that threatened the boundaries she had established.

  It was vital that he keep his distance from her. It was the only way to keep her close.

  Chapter Twelve

  The following evening was Friday, so Emmy sent the boys home after school and stayed to prepare for the Friday Frolic. They would have a singing party and she had asked one gentleman to bring his fiddle, one to bring his mouth organ and another to bring a fife.

  Her stomach growled as she set out some sheet music she had brought from home and stoked the fire in the stove. She could have gone to the parsonage with the boys for supper, but things had become so unsettled between her and Ben, she preferred to keep her distance.

  She went to her desk and pulled out the cold potato Mrs. Carver had sent to school with her that morning. It had been hot as she carried it to school, but it had lost all its heat throughout the day. It was intended to be her lunch, but she had planned to stay on through supper, so she had skipped her afternoon meal. Now she brought it to the stove and placed it in the coals at the front to warm it.

  As she stood near the stove, waiting for her supper, she yawned. She had tossed and turned the night before, hoping she hadn’t kept Mrs. Carver awake, recalling what had happened between her and Ben. Part of her wanted to be angry at him—but she couldn’t find a reason. In all truth, she was angrier at herself. Ben was a gentleman. If he had feelings for her, he had chosen not to say a word. He respected her wishes and for that, she was grateful. Could she fault him for holding her hands a bit longer than necessary? After all, she had allowed it.

  The door creaked open and Emmy’s breath caught. Had Ben come to find out why she had not returned home with the boys? Excitement made her heart pound a bit too hard as she turned to face him.

  “May I come in?” Adam poked his head around the cloakroom door. “I know I’m early, but I saw the light was on and thought you might need some help getting ready.”

  Emmy’s disappointment was stronger than she would have liked, but she hid it behind a smile. “Come in out of the cold.”

  She moved away from the stove and met him at the door. It wasn’t proper to be alone with him, but she couldn’t send him back outside without warming himself first.

  He stepped into the schoolhouse, his handsome grin in place. “When will this cold let up? I’ve about had as much as I can handle.”

  “And it’s only the last week of November.” She closed the door behind him. “We might have to endure it until March.”

  The look of pure horror on his fac
e was enough to make Emmy giggle.

  His face smoothed and a smile lifted his lips. “I think I could bear almost anything if I could hear that laughter more often.”

  Heat warmed her cheeks at the comment and she tried to ignore the amorous look he gave her.

  “I’ll let you warm up, but then I must ask you to leave and come back later.”

  He kept his distance as they walked to the stove, and he stood on the opposite side as he stretched his hands out to the heat. His gaze was on her as she gingerly reached into the stove and turned her potato.

  “Your supper?” he inquired.

  “Yes. I thought it best to stay here and prepare for tonight.”

  Adam looked around the schoolhouse. “What’s there to prepare?”

  Emmy let her gaze circle the room, but she couldn’t think of anything she needed to do. Abram would bring the sawhorses and planks for the refreshment table when he and Charlotte came, and Mrs. Carver would bring the cookies. Elizabeth Allen had promised to bring a large pot of hot coffee from the Northern Hotel.

  “How is the bank?” she asked Adam, trying to avoid answering the question.

  He smiled, his gaze filled with a knowing look. “I thought Reverend Lahaye would be here.”

  “Oh?” Emmy lifted her eyebrows, but avoided looking at him, lest he discern the hitch in her emotions at the mention of Ben.

  “I’m happy he’s not.”

  Emmy took a quick breath. “Maybe it’s time for you to be on your way. If one of the board members found you here...” She let the comment trail away, hoping he’d get her meaning and be a gentleman.

  “I’ll go,” he said. “But not before I ask you one more time if you’ll allow me to escort you to the Christmas Eve ball.”

  She shook her head. “My answer has not changed. I don’t plan to attend.”

  He nodded and let out a sigh. “I thought you’d say that.”

  Emmy felt it only right to be honest with him. “I appreciate your friendship, Mr. Russell—”

  “Adam.”

  “Adam.” She smiled. “But you must know that I am committed to my job and I have no intentions to enter into a romantic relationship.” Her cheeks warmed at being so frank, but she couldn’t have him pursuing her any longer. “I appreciate your friendship, but that’s all I will allow.”

  He studied her with his green eyes, gentleness softening his features. “Thank you for your honesty.”

  She wanted to sigh in relief that he understood, instead, she moved toward the door and he followed. When she stopped to open it, he put out his hand and placed it on her arm.

  “I understand you completely,” he said. “But I would still very much like to pursue our friendship.”

  “So would I.”

  “I’ll be back later, Miss Emmy.” He reached for the doorknob and let himself out of the school.

  Emmy closed the door and leaned against it, thankful their conversation had gone so much better than she had feared.

  The door started to open again, and Emmy jumped back, her heart sinking into her stomach. Ben?

  Mr. Samuelson stood outside the schoolhouse, his eyes narrowed on her even before he said hello.

  “Miss Wilkes?”

  “Mr. Samuelson.” She swallowed hard. “Won’t you come in?” She stepped aside and allowed him to pass into the school. His five children followed him inside and Emmy didn’t miss the smirks Annabeth and Margareta sent in her direction.

  She closed the door and faced him, trying to mask the fear snaking up her legs. Had he seen Adam leave?

  Mr. Samuelson looked around the schoolhouse and then back at her. “I see you’re alone.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t dare move. “I decided to stay after school to prepare for tonight’s social.”

  “I suppose it was easier to be alone with Mr. Russell here, rather than at the parsonage.”

  She shook her head, forcing herself to smile. “He saw the light on and thought he’d stop by to help me, but I quickly sent him on his way.”

  Mr. Samuelson did not return her smile, and neither did his children—all of whom were students of hers.

  “Would you care to warm yourselves by the stove?” she asked. “I could take your wraps if you intend to stay until the frolic begins.”

  “I decided to come see for myself what all the fuss is about these frolics, or whatever you call such nonsense. I can see now I made the right decision in coming early.”

  “Are people making a fuss about the Friday Frolics?” she tried to make her tone as light and innocent as possible—though why she would feel guilty over Adam’s visit was beyond her. She hadn’t invited him to come.

  “Don’t change the subject, Miss Wilkes.”

  Emmy closed her mouth.

  “You were warned, several times, about entertaining gentlemen callers—here or anywhere else.”

  She did not contradict him, knowing it would not go well.

  “Well?” he asked. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Emmy looked at the children who eyed her with unveiled disdain.

  “Must we discuss this in front of my students?” she asked through tight lips.

  “I don’t see why not. I use every opportunity to teach my children morality and decency. This will be a good example of the type of wanton behavior my daughters will learn to avoid.”

  “Wanton?” Emmy’s mouth fell open, her anger mounting. “Mr. Russell stopped by in a gentlemanly attempt to help. I sent him on his way. There is nothing wanton about my behavior and I resent your accusation.”

  The door opened and Mrs. Carver entered with Ben and the boys close behind. Ben carried an empty platter in one hand, and a sack in the other—no doubt full of cookies.

  “My lands,” Mrs. Carver said as she stomped her feet. “The wind is liable to freeze a campfire.”

  Ben closed the door behind their little group, but paused when he caught sight of Mr. Samuelson. His concerned gaze went to Emmy’s face and she didn’t try to mask her frustration or anger at the superintendent.

  “What’s going on?” Ben asked.

  Mrs. Carver also glanced at Emmy, but she turned the boys away and brought them to the hooks where she helped them take off their coats and scarves, talking in hushed tones, no doubt to distract them from the adult conversation.

  “I caught Miss Wilkes with yet another man.” Mr. Samuelson crossed his arms, a self-righteous look on his face. “Her wanton behavior is grounds for termination.”

  “Wanton?” Ben frowned, glancing at the Samuelson children who looked on eagerly. “Isn’t that a harsh accusation?”

  The door opened again, and Adam walked into the schoolhouse. “I saw the others started to arrive—” He paused as he took in the heated looks of those assembled.

  “Mr. Russell,” Mr. Samuelson said. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

  Emmy suppressed a groan, but knew she must not show any signs of impropriety.

  “Mr. Russell?” Ben looked at the other man, his frown deepening.

  “I saw this man leaving the schoolhouse moments before I arrived,” Mr. Samuelson accused. “He was alone here with Miss Wilkes, for who knows how long.”

  “Just a few minutes,” Emmy said.

  Ben studied Emmy for a moment, and then he sighed and set the tray and sack of cookies on a nearby bench. He addressed Mr. Samuelson. “Dennis. Your mistrust in Miss Wilkes is unfounded. She has not once acted inappropriately and it is a dishonor to her reputation to make such wild accusations.”

  Adam looked from one person to the next, his bewilderment evident. Finally, he looked at Emmy and realization seemed to dawn. “They think...?” He didn’t finish and Emmy couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes.

  Her cheeks warmed and
she wanted to crawl under her desk to get away from the stares Mr. Samuelson and his children sent in her direction.

  “The others will soon arrive,” Ben said to Mr. Samuelson. “We will put this behind us and have a good time this evening. Miss Wilkes has put a lot of effort into these social events and we will not wreck it with such nonsense.” His voice was firm as he continued. “I will personally vouch for Miss Wilkes’s reputation, and if you have anything else you’d like to discuss about this situation, you can take it to me.”

  There was such finality in his voice, no one said another word.

  The door opened once again and the Coopers crossed the threshold with their five children in tow. The cloakroom was filled to capacity.

  Emmy forced a smile on her face and greeted the young family as Mrs. Carver and Ben led the Samuelsons into the classroom.

  Emmy’s stomach growled again and she recalled her potato, which was surely burned by now, but it was the least of her worries. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be out of a job, and then what would she do? Return to Massachusetts? To what, her parents? Their disappointment in her decision to come west had ruined any chance she might have at reconciling a healthy relationship. The only other thing that would greet her if she returned were her painful memories of losing William too soon.

  No. She would lift her chin and pray Mr. Samuelson would listen to Ben.

  * * *

  The last of the singers departed the schoolhouse and Ben crouched down to bank the fire in the stove as Emmy blew out the lanterns. They had followed the same pattern for the past few Friday Frolics, taking their time getting home.

  He wondered what they would possibly find to talk about tonight.

  They had not shared more than a few necessary words between them since he had warmed her hands the day before. All throughout the singing, their gazes had met, and each time it felt like Ben had been punched in the gut. He believed her when she said nothing happened with her and Adam, yet he couldn’t stop wondering if there was something going on between them. She hadn’t turned Adam away like she had all the other men who had made their intentions toward her known, so what did that mean? Was she entertaining the possibility of a romantic relationship with the banker?