The Teacher and the Preacher

by Victoria Phelps

  Sven dropped his arm around her small shoulders and tucked her into his side. “The children will love that. I don’t guess the MacGregor boys get much in the way of treats.” They walked in silence, sweet and content. Micah clutched at his father’s hair, kicked his feet, and babbled.

  Caroline peered up at the child towering over her on his father’s shoulders. “Mama,” she said and patted her chest.

  “Oki,” Micah shouted before dissolving into giggles and energetic hair pulling.

  “He’s funnin’ you. If you ignore it, he’ll be saying your name day and night. In fact, once he commences with ‘mama this’ and ‘mama that’ you’ll wonder that you ever wanted to hear it.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Caroline conceded. “I wonder where he got that stubborn streak.” She speared her husband with a pointed look.

  Sven lifted Micah from his shoulders and settled him in his wife’s arms. “Take Micah, and get him down for his nap,” he instructed as he opened the door to their home. “I’m going back out to the school and fill the wood box.”

  “There’s no need, Sven,” Caroline placed a hand on his arm and tugged him inside. “I only used a little wood today. The box is at least half full.” She turned so that the baby rested between their two bodies, but she’d managed to insert her thigh between his legs.

  Mercy! This woman burned like a brand. She left a trail of heat wherever she touched, and the gentle pressure on his manhood was raising possibilities. He stroked his hand over her buttocks and pulled her close so she could feel the hard truth.

  Caroline’s deep blue eyes were clouded with desire, and her little pink tongue darted out between her petal soft lips. It was an invitation he wouldn’t turn down. He could take Micah with him tomorrow at lunch and check on the school’s wood box. He had a different fire to tend right here in his house.

  He scooped Micah under one arm and turned Caroline toward their bedroom door. He landed a hearty swat on her bottom. “You need a nap, sweetheart. Go get in bed. I’ll be in to join you as soon as Micah is settled.” A protest began to form behind her eyes. She balked at orders, and he didn’t issue many. But, hell’s bells, she’d kindled the spark. “No arguments. Go.” Another swift spank had her scurrying for the door.

  “Time for Micah’s nap,” Sven said. The child yawned and rubbed at sleepy eyes.

  “Oki?” he asked.

  “Yes, Loki can sleep with you.” Sven snapped his fingers, and the big dog stretched with two front paws on the floor and his behind waving in the air before following the pair into the baby’s room.

  “Sleep tight,” Sven closed the door and turned determined steps toward the room he shared with Caroline. His wife was a bundle of contradictions, and he loved it. She might be waiting placid as one of the big lakes back home on a sweet summer night, or she might be flitting about the room doing a chore or two, disobeying his orders to be ready for a nap. He swung the door open.

  “Caroline,” he growled, “I told you to be in bed. What are you doing?”

  “This drawer needed seeing to, Sven. It’s a jumble,” Caroline offered.

  “I’ll show you what needs seeing too, and it’s not that drawer.” This was the game she’d chosen to play, and he was more than happy to oblige… more than happy.

  He pulled her between his legs. “Look at me, Caroline.” He waited until her flighty gaze met his steady one. “What did I tell you to do?”

  “But–” she began.

  “No buts,” he interrupted. “You were to get ready for a nap, and I planned to join you. Now, we’ll still get that nap, but I guess I need to remind you who wears the pants in this house.”

  Caroline plucked at the material covering Sven’s muscular thigh. “I know who wears the pants,” she scoffed.

  “Good girl. Take off your skirt, and drop your bloomers while you’re at it,” Sven ordered.

  She looked around the room. Damn. She was cute.

  “Now,” he reminded.

  With the skirt and bloomers around her ankles, he picked her up and laid her gently across his thighs. She clenched and unclenched her little bottom. He laughed before rubbing circles on her adorable cheeks. Spank. His hand left a light pink outline. Spank. He matched it on the other side before rubbing her pale flesh again.

  Caroline wiggled an invitation. Sven accepted and laid another set of moderate swats on her bottom. This was not about punishment. It was about play, a little rough perhaps, but play.

  Sven spanked until she glowed light red. His hand drifted between her thighs and found the sweetest spot, damp and aching for him. He parted her legs and let a long finger find its way into the moist cave. Caroline groaned and pressed her bottom off his thighs and into his hand.

  A second finger joined the invasion. He pressed them in, pulled them out, pressed them in before finding the source of her pleasure and circling the nub. He returned with his two-fingered assault, but let his thumb massage until she squirmed in need.

  Lifting her and laying her on their bed, he lowered his head to her nipples. He pulled one into his mouth through the thin material of her shift and blouse. He’d not allowed her to wear a corset since the day he’d spotted stripes of inflamed skin left by the boning. He liked it better this way. Fewer garments between him and her sweet flesh.

  He removed her blouse and pulled her shift over her head before discarding his own clothes in a jumble on the floor. Draping her legs over his broad shoulders he feasted on the pink flower of her sex – first with his eyes, and then with his mouth.

  “Put your arms over your head and hold on, sweetheart. I aim to take you for a ride.” As her hands latched onto the bed, Sven drove into her body until he felt the end of her tunnel. He pulled back and surged forward again, again, again, again.

  He pried her fingers from the bed rail, lifted her in the air, and dropped onto his back. Setting her astride his body, he lowered her slowly onto his shaft. Lifting and lowering her body, he helped her set the pace.

  “Oh, hell,” he whispered. “Let’s try one more.” He set her on the bed. “Turn over, Caroline. Get on your hands and knees.” He helped his lust addled wife into position.

  Sven considered. She was so tiny. A flighty bird to his bear. He lifted her hips until they achieved the perfect height, and then he held her still as he plunged, plunged and they plummeted into the abyss at the same moment Caroline called his name. Her body clutched and clasped in her completion. Damn, he loved this woman. Damn!

  They lay entwined in a cocoon of cooling heat until Micah called them back to the land of responsibilities. A quick dinner, a bath for the boy, and sleep, sleep, blessed sleep.

  The following morning dawned bright and warm. Unseasonably warm, but after the bitter, biting cold the heat felt like a benediction, a blessing from above.

  Sven swung Micah to his shoulder and walked his pretty wife to the corner where she turned toward the Wayne place. She’d replaced her boots with light slippers, and her heavy coat for a bright blue shawl. He laughed as she nearly skipped down the dirt road in her delight.

  As he returned to their house, folks smiled, nodded, called out a hearty hello. Why, you’d think he wasn’t the town pariah. He tipped his hat to Lars before disappearing into his workroom.

  He played with Micah for a bit before turning his attention to the table he’d nearly finished. Giving Micah a cloth so he could ‘help’, the two Nielson men were deeply drawn into their task when the room went dark.

  “Now that’s strange, Micah. Where did our light go?” he asked the busy boy.

  He gathered his son into his arms and hurried to the walk. The sun had disappeared behind a huge, rolling cloud of gray that moved like a giant from a Norwegian tale toward the cowering town. Sven shivered. The temperature had dropped and showed no signs of stopping. He pulled his son close to his chest. The image of Caroline skipping down the street in her summer dress flashed across his mind. He groaned. It was followed by one of a half-full wood box. The wood b
ox he should have filled last night. He moaned. Instead of chopping wood, he had let lust lead him. He closed his eyes.

  When he opened them, Lars stood by his side. He motioned toward the roiling mass. “What do you think, brother?”

  “It doesn’t look exactly like snow, but it’s something close,” Sven replied. “Caroline is at the school with seven children and a near empty wood box. I have to get to her.”

  Lars nodded swift agreement. “Let me help. We know cold, and we have Loki.”

  Both men looked down at the muscular gray dog panting by their sides. Loki knew snow and cold. Why, many a time a Husky had pulled a sled through blinding snow with the driver lost, shivering, sometimes unconscious. If it came to a white-out, Loki could lead them, but Sven wanted more preparation, more safety.

  “We’ll get as much rope from the Mercantile as they have. John Wayne will have more. We can string a rope from their house to the school. It’s the closest point, and two of the children with Caroline belong to him,” Sven said.

  Lars nodded. In the cold Wisconsin winter, a rope was strung from house to barn and from house to outhouse from the first freeze to spring. A person could get turned around in a world of white and not be found until the thaw.

  “I’m going to wrap Micah in a quilt.” Sven hurried into the house and returned with the boy wrapped tight.

  “Mama,” Micah whined. With the intuition of the young, he sensed his father’s unease.

  “Now you say it.” Sven frowned. “You repeat that when you see her, young man.”

  “Martin,” Sven called as he entered the Mercantile. “Seven children and my wife are soon to be stranded by the storm that’s rolling in. I need all the rope you’ve got. Lars and I are going after them.”

  “That’s a mighty big storm, Sven. I believe they should wait it out. You can fetch ’em after it blows over.” Several men gathered around the stove nodded in agreement.

  “I can’t. The morning was so warm she didn’t dress for this weather, and probably the children didn’t either. The wood box isn’t full. I’m afraid they’ll freeze. Seems to be getting colder by the minute.” Sven pulled his eyebrows into a ferocious glare.

  “We’re not from around these parts,” Lars added. “Is it snow?”

  “Ice,” the men muttered as one.

  “Ice?” Sven repeated the word like a demented parrot.

  “Ice,” they confirmed.

  “Get me the damn rope,” Sven demanded.

  “Hold your horses. I’ll get it.” The storekeeper rushed toward the back of the room.

  Sven and Lars looped the rope over their arms and strode toward the Wayne house. Loki loped beside with ears up and nose twitching. Micah burrowed into the comfort of his father’s chest.

  “John,” Sven called as soon as they entered the Wayne’s yard.

  “I’m here, Sven.” He stepped to the front of the porch. “I’ve been worrying on that storm headed our way. An ice storm is a fierce beast, and that’s a monster blowing our way.”

  “Lars and I are headed for the schoolhouse. The temperature has dropped dangerously, and the wood box wasn’t full.” Sven planted his hands on his hips and glared at the ground. “I should have filled it last night, but the day had been so warm. I figured…” He let his sentence die as the first flurry of ice sliced through the air. “Sweet Jesus,” he muttered.

  “I was just getting ready to try on my own. Adam and Ava are out there,” John said.

  They joined John under the protection of the porch.

  Sven dropped the rope to the floor and turned Micah into the shelter of his body. “In a Wisconsin snowstorm, we tie a rope to the house and feed it out. If we don’t reach what we were aiming for, at least you can find the way back. We got all the rope the Mercantile had, and if you have any, it would help.”

  “And,” Lars continued, “we’ve got Loki. Huskies know about blizzards. Now, I know this isn’t snow, but the lack of vision is the same. His sense of direction beats that of any man I know. He’ll lead us to them.” He added his rope to the pile and secured one end to the post of John’s porch.

  “Give me a minute.” John pulled the collar of his coat up around his throat and dashed through the pelting ice toward his barn. He returned with arms full of rope. He opened the door to his house and shouted, “Marcie, we’re going for the children. Come get Micah.”

  Marcie shut the door behind her. “I knew you would go, so I put together bundles of all the warm clothes and shoes I could find. Tom and Amanda’s kids aren’t there today, so it will be the MacGregor boys, our twins, and little Lillian. I put in warm underclothes and a heavy shawl for Caroline, and she’ll need these boots.” Sven tied the laces together and hung them around his neck. “Thank you, Marcie. This could make all the difference.”

  He faced Lars and John. “Each of us should tie a clothes bundle to our backs, and then we need to head out. The storm isn’t letting up.”

  After kissing Micah on his chubby, pink cheek, he held the baby toward Marcie.

  Micah leaped into her arms. “Mama. Mama,” he whimpered.

  “Your daddy is going to go get her.” She patted his little back. “Let’s go play with Katie.” She planted a quick kiss on her husband’s lips and cast a worried glance at the darkening sky. “Be careful,” she whispered before disappearing into the house with Micah in her arms.

  Sven tied the rope around his waist and handed the rope to Lars who did the same. “Tie yourself to the rope, John. The three of us will stick together. We’ll spool out one rope at a time, and tie the next one when we get to the end. Keep your gloves on even when tying the rope. Fingers freeze at this temperature. Don’t remove them for any reason.”

  Lars slapped his brother on the back, “We’ll get her. Caroline and the kids both.”

  Closing his eyes, Sven stood still. He needed to be calm. He needed the whirling of his head and the churning of his stomach to stop. He needed to get to Caroline. “I can’t lose her again. I can’t.” He tucked the top of his gloves under the sleeves of his coat. “I pray you’re right.”

  “I’m ready,” John said. The men looped coils of rope around their arms and stepped from the porch.

  “Loki,” Sven called. The big husky sat at his feet, tail swishing, eyes focused on his master’s face. Sven put his hand in his pocket and removed Caroline’s winter scarf from his pocket. The scarf she’d worn every day save this one. Holding the item under Loki’s nose, he gave the command. “Find Caroline, Loki. Find Caroline.”

  Loki sniffed at the scarf. He buried his face in the brightly colored yarn and rubbed his nose left and right. He turned toward the school, spun in a circle, and barked.

  “Go, Loki. Go.” The dog dashed forward, turned to wait for the slower men, and dashed again.

  The ice fell faster, stinging, burning, lacerating their faces. Sven bent his head down to avoid the brutal onslaught of frozen knives of ice. They reached the end of the first rope, and John tied the second.

  Sven lifted his head. The world was a single color—white. Tree branches coated with ice and icicles hung heavy toward the ground. A large branch snapped under the load and crashed to earth. He shook his head. He’d never seen the like. They would need to stay out in the open to avoid being hit by falling boughs. Looked like there was more than one way for a man to die on a day like today. He tipped his hat at the tree. Lars scowled at the fallen branch. He nodded his understanding.

  Loki barked and twirled circles in the snow. He wanted them to hurry.

  A piece of ice slithered past the collar of his coat, melted, and created a trail of ice water inching its way down his back. He shuddered. Lord have mercy. This hell of a storm made snow look like child’s play. He risked a glance at the shuttered sun. Forty minutes. Maybe fifty since they left John’s house. On a clear day, the school was an easy thirty-minute walk. They were slowed by the pelting ice, their heavy loads, and the necessity to stop to tie the ends together, but they should reach the d
estination soon. He hoped Caroline waited inside the building. If she took those children out on her own, he’d tan her hide. Sven swallowed a lump of despair. If she’d tried such a fool thing, he wouldn’t have the chance.

  Loki returned, grabbed Sven’s sleeve in his teeth, and pulled. He lurched forward and struck his head on the side of a building. Loki tugged again, and Sven let himself be pulled until his foot bumped wood. Kneeling down, he patted the ground. A step, it was the first step into the school.

  Sven shouted, “We’re here,” over the wicked whistle of the wind.

  John fell as he hit the first stair, and they were all dragged to their knees. They rose and straggled to the door. Sven shoved the door open. The three men burst into the room bringing cold and ice and relief with them.

  “Pa, Pa,” two voices shouted, and two small bodies separated from the desperate little group huddled in front of the smoldering fire in the stove.

  “Ava, Adam. Are you all right?” John pulled them tight to his body.

  “Caroline?” Sven called. He pulled the scarf from his neck, whipped the hat from head, and wiggled his fingers from his gloves.

  “I’m here, Sven,” she replied. “Thank God you came for us. I planned to wait a few minutes more before trying it on my own.”

  “I’ll always come for you, sweetheart. Always.” Sven crossed to the chair where Caroline sat with a wide-eyed Lillian on her lap. The MacGregor boys huddled together at her feet. Their breaths made little puffy clouds in the frigid air. “I’m glad you didn’t go out with these children on your own. It’s far too dangerous out there. I always want you to stay put and wait for me.” He didn’t mean to scold, but his voice was harsh even to his own ears.

  “I’d used all the wood. That’s the last log finishing now. I couldn’t just sit here and let the children freeze.” Indignation saturated every word.

  Sven knelt beside the chair and took one of her hands between his. “I know. I was frightened, is all.” He leaned until his forehead rested against hers and the very air they breathed united. “We need to get all of you to safety.”