by DiAnn Mills
Zack had to think about that. “I think you could tell them a little but not the bad things.”
Curly sighed like an old man trying to get the energy to stand from his rocking chair. “Like pickpocketing?”
“Not much to tell except the bad stuff we did,” Charlie said. “But we won’t use outhouse words.” Her eyes lit up. “I know. We’ll talk about Sister Agatha and Sister Catherine. They were nice and loved us even when we did things that Jesus didn’t like.”
Lord, have mercy.
Chapter 11
“Looks to me like an active pair of children need a nap.” Mama tilted her head toward Curly and Charlie slouched over on the front porch steps after Sunday dinner.
“We’re too big for naps.” Curly yawned.
“Afternoon naps are a great way to dream about Santa and what you’d like for Christmas.”
“We don’t want anything, ’cause we have Poppy and a home. And he loves us.” Curly turned to Zack and Chloe on the porch swing and offered a big smile. Soon his loose tooth would leave a gap in his smile. Already they were growing too fast.
“Thank you,” Zack managed with the tug at his heart. “You two are the best Christmas presents a man could ever want.” He glanced toward the fields. How could Curly and Charlie yank at his heartstrings one minute and be naughty the next?
“We got an extra bowl of porridge on Christmas Day at the orphanage.” Charlie folded her hands into her lap and smoothed the skirt of her green flowered dress. “We haven’t had to eat that horrible stuff since Poppy ’dopted us.”
This was fast becoming a tearful occasion. Chloe brushed the dampness from her cheeks.
“How about a story?” Mama bent toward the twins and wrapped an arm around each child’s shoulders.
Charlie’s droopy eyes gave away her need for sleep. “You read the best, Grandma.”
Mama took their hands. “Then I’ll read to you on my bed. It’s my favorite spot to enjoy a book.”
“I need to do some more preparation for tonight’s service,” Dad said. “I’ll read in the parlor.”
Once everyone disappeared inside, Zack turned to Chloe. “Why do I suspect we were left alone on purpose?”
The peach in her cheeks deepened. “I thought they all were tired.”
He chuckled. “My mother is a matchmaker.” He hesitated. “I apologize if her planning bothers you.” He waited for several long moments for her answer.
“I—I think it’s a nice gesture.”
“Good. I do, too. Now I don’t know what to talk about.”
“Tell me about lunch yesterday with George and Ellen Kahler.”
He laughed. “The twins wore themselves out running from one cousin to another, playing inside and outside of the huge house. And they were on their best behavior—except when I caught Curly sliding down the banister. He slid right into my arms.”
She giggled.
“It was really funny. You should have seen the surprised look on his face.”
“They are cute. What did they like the best?”
“Hmm. I’d say other than all the new playmates, it was a toss-up between Aunt Ellen’s sugar cookies and the family dog—a very friendly family dog.” He laughed again. “I think they might have been tempted to trade me for the pet.”
“Not if I just heard correctly.”
“They were trying to avoid a nap.”
She smiled, and he smiled. He could get used to this. Were the birds singing, or was his heart playing its own tune?
“I’m glad it went well.” She moistened her lips. “Tell me about your newspaper. Are things progressing as planned?”
He took a breath and silently thanked Chloe for suggesting conversation topics other than Mama’s eagerness to see the two of them together. He could be real tempted to steal a kiss. “To begin with, Hank is a mountain of wisdom. I received outstanding experience in New York with reporting and even advertising, but I needed to learn more about the workings of a small-town newspaper—one with high aspirations. Thankfully, Hank plans to stay on until I learn more of those things.”
“Miss Scott told me how thrilled she is to be writing a women’s column.”
Chloe’s smile and milky-white teeth were downright distracting.
“She’ll be helping me draw in more women readers from all over the area. And her ideas and writing show promise. I suppose all the years of teaching English have something to do with her expertise.”
“You are helping this town grow, Zack Kahler.”
“That’s my dream. I hope to bring the news of the surrounding communities, the country, and the world to the doorstep of ordinary people. They want the farm and stock reports, weather predictions, and help with their crops. I remember following the World Series in October between the Philadelphia Athletes and the New York Giants . . . Philadelphia won 4–2. At the time, I thought of the folks here who liked baseball. Wouldn’t it be grand to give the people in Kahlerville game scores as soon as it happened? Other sports? Economics? U.S. events?”
She turned on the swing to face him directly. “What types of stories affected you the most?”
“Without a doubt, the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire that killed the twins’ mother.”
Chloe shuddered. “You didn’t tell me how she died.”
Sometimes he still heard the screams of those trapped inside. “It was a tragic fire in a warehouse where many women, mostly immigrants, were trapped inside. The owners were at fault. I covered the story, which is another reason why I had to help Curly and Charlie.”
“I believe you can build your newspaper into something grand. You have the determination, and you’re a hard worker. I hear the passion in your voice, Zack Kahler. You and your newspaper will succeed.”
Zack feigned surprise. “You can see all those fine things in a matter of a few short weeks?”
She laughed. “I saw those things when you were one of Miss Scott’s students.”
How did this woman manage to warm his soul and fill him with inspiration at the same time?
*****
Monday evening as Zack locked up the newspaper office, he heard a familiar voice speak his name. Miss Scott called to him and held her hat as a gust of wind whipped around her. The sight of the slightly plump woman struggling to maintain her balance in the midst of school papers flying everywhere caused him almost to laugh. Instead, he helped her retrieve her belongings and ushered her under the overhang of the boardwalk.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you fast enough,” he said. “How can I help you?”
She paused for a deep breath and regained her composure. “May I have a word with you about Curly and Charlie?”
Chill bumps chased up and down his arms. “Of course.” He unlocked the newspaper office and ushered her inside. Trepidation settled on him like a black cloud. After Friday’s incident with Eli Scott bullying his children, he was more than a little sensitive to anything about them.
“It’s not serious,” Miss Scott said as though reading his thoughts.
He forced a chuckle. “I’m constantly reminded of how bad I was in school. Guess I’m nervous—like God may be giving me a dose of my own medicine. And you don’t want to know what I’ve been thinking about the problem last Friday.”
Sadness swept over her face. For the first time, he noticed her hair had streaks of gray around her face. “Eli has run away from home. But I can understand after the many beatings my brother has given him.”
“The many beatings?”
Miss Scott nodded. “My brother’s treatment of Eli is no excuse for me to have overlooked my nephew’s bad behavior. I think Eli took out his resentment on the other children. None of my talking ever made a difference—to Eli or my brother.”
“What a sad situation.” And he really believed it.
“Thank you. I pray Eli will find someone who will help him see the right road. As far as my brother goes, he’s always been rather brutal in dealing with Eli.” She stared off
wistfully for a moment, then smiled. “Let’s talk about the twins.”
“Do we need to have them with us?”
“Calm down. This is nothing we can’t work out together.”
“Then you’d best tell me soon before this new father becomes ill.”
She smiled her teacher smile, which meant there were a few unpleasant matters to deal with. “Curly and Charlie are behind in their schoolwork.”
“I figured as much. From what they told me, I doubt if they attended a full week of school at any given time in New York.” He attempted to calm himself. “What do you suggest?”
“I’d like to tutor them after school until they can work successfully with their own age group.”
He relaxed slightly. “I appreciate your giving them an opportunity to catch up. I was afraid they might need to be held back next year.”
“They’re bright children, and I think the individual attention will bring them to where they should be. Lydia Anne and Stuart would then have three free afternoons, giving me time to work with the twins at school and walk them to the boarding house. Even keep them company until you return from the newspaper.”
“You are taking on a handful.”
She laughed. “They are adorable. Shall we start on Wednesday? I think three times a week is a good beginning. Do Monday, Wednesday, and Friday suit you?”
“Perfect for me. You’re the one doing all the work. And you will let me know how much I owe you for the tutoring?”
Her eyes pooled. “Oh, Zack, don’t you know me by now? The children I teach become my children. I don’t want any money for tutoring. Besides, you’ve given me a column to write.”
He started to protest, but then figured he could add to her payment for writing the newspaper column. “I have a difficult time arguing with my former teacher.”
“Precisely my point.” She nodded to punctuate her words. “Then it’s settled.”
*****
The clock in the foyer ticked rhythmically, counting down the hours after the boardinghouse had hummed with activity during the dinner hour and the conversation following. The lull in the day’s events allowed Chloe to catch up on the chores and Mr. Barton’s books. The twins and Miss Scott tended to a spelling lesson. Chloe wanted to help them with arithmetic on Sunday afternoons, but she needed Zack’s permission.
“It sure is nice of you to help the twins with their schoolin’.” Simeon sidled up to the table where Miss Scott sat with the two.
Chloe bit her lip to keep from laughing. Simeon was sweet-talking Miss Scott for sure.
“I want to see children learn and grow up to be responsible adults. I’ve taught many fine young people. I think of them as my own.” She blushed.
“And you taught Mr. Zack?”
“Oh yes.” She giggled.
I didn’t know Miss Scott ever giggled. Does she like Simeon?
“I used to worry about him when he was eleven and twelve years old, but he’s such a fine young man now.”
“I imagine every successful man and woman in town owes you thanks.”
“How kind you are to flatter me so.”
“When you’re finished, would you like a slice of freshly baked pecan pie and coffee?”
“Mr. Simeon, that sounds perfect.”
My, it looks like those two are on the courtin’ road. All of this at the end of the first week of tutoring the twins? Chloe fought the notion to hum a few verses of “Clementine.”
“I set the pie outside to cool on the windowsill,” Simeon said. “Give me a moment to slice it up and pour you a cup of coffee. Cream and sugar, right?”
“How nice of you to remember. You will join me, won’t you?”
The sugar in Miss Scott’s voice could have sweetened a whole pot of coffee.
“For only a moment. I have dinner to cook for the boarders.”
And Simeon poured on the sugar, too.
“Everything you prepare tastes heavenly. I look forward to treating myself to one of your excellent meals.”
“Thank ye kindly. I’ll be right back.”
Chloe peeked around the corner. The twins were writing diligently at a table, no doubt oblivious to the budding romance between Miss Scott and Simeon. Long moments passed. Simeon must really be going to a lot of trouble. Then he hurried into the dining room.
“Something has happened to my pie.” His face grew red as he spoke.
Miss Scott’s face paled as though he’d given her dire news.
“Yesterday, I had a loaf of bread taken right off my coolin’ window. Today a pecan pie. I believe there’s a thief in our town.”
“Should I fetch the sheriff?”
Simeon shook his head. “No, I’ll be on the lookout for whoever is swipin’ my food.” He shook his head. “If a hungry person is takin’ them, I wish they’d just knock on the back door. I’d be glad to fix ’em a plate. But stealin’ makes me mad.”
Chloe remembered her hungry years. She’d never considered stealing. Yet when she remembered picking up fallen apples from the livery’s apple tree, guilt assaulted her conscience. She took a breath and stepped into the dining room.
“Simeon, I couldn’t help but hear about the stolen bread and pie. Do you mind if tomorrow I fix a plate of food after the boarders have eaten and set it on the windowsill?”
The old man frowned. “I guess that’s all right. We best check with Mr. Barton to make sure. Hope he doesn’t take my plate and fork, too.”
“I’ll put a note on the top of the food to return them.”
A smile spread over Simeon’s face. “You know, Miss Chloe, you have a big heart. All I could think about was the missin’ food. You’re thinkin’ about a person goin’ hungry.”
No matter who it is, I can’t condemn them. Going hungry is a horrible feeling.
Chapter 12
Chloe counted three days until Thanksgiving knocked at everyone’s door, and she’d be spending the holiday with Zack and the twins. A calendar lay inside the ledger at the registration desk. Ever since Zack had invited her to spend the holiday with his family, she’d checked off each day in pencil. That way she could erase the markings in case Mr. Barton asked her what they meant. Sometimes she wished she could erase all the ugly reminders of her past. The Bible said God took care of those things, but why was she still plagued with reminders?
Special occasions were a rarity for Chloe, other than her graduation from school. Pa had attended the ceremony and even said he was proud of her. Just when she believed he didn’t care, he’d surprised her with a comment that proved otherwise. Poor man. Once her mother died, he found little to live for except the bottle.
Time off from school meant being with Pa and something about Chloe always made him angry. She guessed it was her resemblance to her mother. But she’d been given a substitute mother in Miss Scott. The dear woman had always given her fruit and nuts at Thanksgiving and more again at Christmas, which Chloe hid from Pa. Maybe that had been wrong, and she should have shared. Women from church always made sure she had food and clothing. One year they gave her a quilt. Two of the girls at school had teased her about wearing their old clothes until Miss Scott scolded them. Eli had amused himself with his own teasing, but Chloe refused to think about those lewd comments. More than once, he’d frightened her with his filthy talk.
She shook her head. No reason to dwell on things she couldn’t change or ever tell a soul.
“Miss Chloe, do you have a minute?” Simeon called from the kitchen.
She scurried around the desk to see what he needed. Once inside the kitchen, she saw he had a basin full of carrots and potatoes to peel.
“If ya have a little time, I could use your help cleaning these taters and carrots for dinner.”
“Always for you.” She snatched up an apron and a paring knife.
“How is Miss Scott doing?”
For certain Simeon fancied the lady. Chloe doubted if he really needed help peeling the vegetables. “Very well, I think. In addition to
having her tutor the twins, Zack hired her to write a column for him—recipes, sewing instructions, health tips, fashion, and the like.”
“Oh, she’ll do a mighty fine job. Isn’t her given name Annabelle? What a purdy name for a sweet lady.”
Chloe turned her head so he wouldn’t see her amusement. “Yes, her name is Annabelle. Did I see you watching her when she came by to check on the twins?”
“Couldn’t help myself. Mighty fine woman. Yes, she is.” He shook his head as though the memory of her visit had rooted in his head and heart.
“Simeon, are you smitten with Miss Scott?”
The tilt of his head and the twinkle in his eyes confirmed her suspicions. This time she did laugh aloud. Chloe finished peeling a potato and dropped it into a pan filled with salt water. “No need to answer. The look on your face tells it all.”
“You are one to accuse me of admirin’ someone.” Simeon wagged his finger at her and batted his eyes. “Have my ears deceived me? ‘Oh, Zack, everything you say and do is just wonderful.’”
Simeon was in for it now. “I don’t say those things at all.”
“You don’t? ‘Oh, Zack, yer children are beautiful. Can I get you another piece of pie?’”
She lifted her chin. “How about this? ‘Oh, Miss Scott, I love every word that comes from your mouth. You are the best school teacher in the state.’”
Simeon lifted his hands. “All right. I give. I think we’re both drownin’ in something we don’t know what to do about.”
She shrugged. “Maybe you are.”
He cleared his throat.
“All right. Maybe we both are. If you’re finished with the teasing, I have a question, a serious one.”
Simeon raised a brow. “Need advice from a wise ol’ man? Go right ahead.”
“Can you think of something I can do for small Christmas gifts this year?”
He expertly whipped the peeling off a carrot. “I believe I do. I have more apples at my place than I know what to do with. How about makin’ a batch of apple jelly? I have some extra jars, too.” He grabbed a potato. “We could make it here in the afternoons when work slacks off. Apple butter would be good, but it takes too long.”
