Paper Roses (20 page)

“Is Granny Menger nearby?” Clay would need an assistant, and the town’s midwife was his best choice. She, at least, was accustomed to the sight and smell of blood.

Steven must have anticipated Clay’s need for boiling water, for he placed a large kettle on the bureau. “Granny’s out delivering a baby.”

What else could go wrong? The man would probably faint at the first incision. Still, Clay had no alternative. “You’ll have to help me.”

Clay pulled his scalpel and a piece of rubber tubing from his bag, placing them in the boiling water. “I need a couple towels. Roll them together like a sausage.” When Steven had complied, Clay positioned them between Leah’s shoulders, forcing her throat upward and allowing him better access to her windpipe.

“Hold her head,” he directed as he reached for the scalpel. “Don’t watch if you don’t want to, but—whatever you do—do not let her move.”

Dimly, Clay heard the man gag when he made the incision. His eyes never wavering, Clay cut the membrane that covered the larynx, then inserted the rubber tubing. The whoosh of breath confirmed his success. With a speed that never failed to amaze him, Leah Dunn’s color began to return, and with each breath she took, elation flowed through Clay. How could he have forgotten the pure joy of saving a life? This was why he’d become a doctor. How could he have ever doubted that this was what he was meant to do?

“She’s going to live.” Steven said the words so softly Clay almost missed them. “I don’t know how to thank you, Dr. Canfield, but you were the answer to my prayers.”

8

Thea was excited. Though Sarah had told her she would not be staying with Mary today, she didn’t seem to understand until they passed the turnoff to the Lazy B. Then she started clapping her hands and chanting, “Stay with Sarah. Me stay with Sarah,” glee evident in her smile and her sparkling eyes. It wasn’t only Thea who was excited. If Sarah hadn’t needed both hands to control the horses, she would have joined her sister clapping. Today was the first day of school, and while mild apprehension vied with anticipation, the anticipation was winning. Sarah had spent the last week supervising workers and planning lessons. Though she was confident everything was ready, a niggling fear that she’d forgotten something kept her from enjoying Martina’s flapjacks. That was one of the reasons she and Thea had left the ranch half an hour earlier than necessary. Sarah wanted to arrive before anyone else, giving Thea a chance to run off some of her excess energy while she assured herself that everything in the classroom was in order.

She was too late.

As the wagon rattled down Rhine Street, Sarah heard the sounds before she saw the children and mothers gathered in front of the German church. Half a dozen adults and close to twice that number of children were milling around the grounds, the mothers admonishing their children to keep their clothing clean, while the youngest engaged in an exuberant game of tag.

Sarah’s smile turned into a full-fledged grin as she dismounted from the wagon and greeted the adults. Any lingering doubts she had about the wisdom of founding a school melted under this proof of the town’s enthusiasm. Ladreville wanted a school. Her heart singing with joy, Sarah entered the classroom.

“Guten Morgen, Fraulein Dobbs,”
the children greeted her as they scrambled for seats. Unable to resist their eagerness, Sarah had opened the school after only a cursory check.

“Good morning, boys and girls.” She smiled as she realized that, unlike the parishioners at church services who often left the front pews empty, her pupils were scrambling for seats in the first row. “I’m pleased to see so many of you.” A few more children had joined the group, their conversation a mixture of German and English. So far the French contingent had not arrived.

“We will speak only English.” Sarah spoke slowly and enunciated clearly as she announced her policy. Though he’d been skeptical initially, she had convinced Michel by explaining that no child would have an advantage over another, and—more importantly—use of English would emphasize the fact that they were all Americans. When several of the children’s foreheads furrowed with concern, Sarah added, “I promise I’ll make it easy for you. Before long, you may even be dreaming in English.”

It was a poor choice of words, for it reminded Sarah of dreams that were best forgotten. She had lost count of the number of times she’d dreamt of a wedding—her wedding. It was always the same. There was never any preparation, any warning. Instead, she would suddenly find herself walking down the aisle, wearing her mother’s blue satin gown, carrying Mama’s Bible and a single white rose. Though the church was unfamiliar, she knew what was happening, and her heart raced with anticipation as each step brought her closer to the man whose life would soon be joined to hers. He was there. She knew it, but with the oddness that so often characterized dreams, his face was blurred, as if he were standing behind a cloud. She would take another step and then another, and then at last the cloud would lift, revealing her groom. Clay.

Each time Sarah would waken, her heart pounding, her mouth dry. Mama used to claim dreams were important and would remind her of all those recounted in the Bible. Mama was wrong. The dreams in the Bible might have foretold important events, but this one did not. No matter how often it came, it signified nothing. While it was true Sarah had been eager to marry Austin, wedlock was no longer part of her plan. She didn’t want to marry, and if she did, she certainly would not choose Clay, a man mired in sorrow and thoughts of revenge. She and Clay were friends, she told herself, nothing more. Sarah sighed. It was easy to remember that when she was awake. If only she could be so sensible while she slept. If only she could stop the dreams.

The clock chimed eight, bringing her back to the present. She forced herself not to frown when she realized none of the French children had appeared. It was time for school to begin. Even though half her class was absent, she could wait no longer. Sarah fixed a bright smile on her face. She’d focus on the positive, the fact that she had fifteen pupils who appeared to range in age from about fourteen down to six. They sat at the tables, most of their expressions eager, a few apprehensive, one defiant, as if announcing to Sarah that he had no need for schooling.

“If you’d all stand up and form a line,” Sarah said with a reassuring smile, “I’m going to assign seats.” The audible protests confirmed her belief that they’d chosen places next to their friends. Sarah knew from experience that that was a bad idea. “Each one of you older children will have a younger one next to you.”

As the tall blonde girl who’d introduced herself as Olga Kaltheimer moved toward Thea, assuming that she as the oldest would be responsible for the youngest, Eva Lehman raised her hand. “May your sister sit with me, Miss Dobbs?”

“Thea’s not really a pupil.” Sarah had planned to give her a chair in the back corner, where she could play while the others did their lessons, but the eagerness in Eva’s eyes made her reconsider. Thea needed a place to sit, and this would even out the number of students. Furthermore, if Eva was as bright as Sarah thought, she wouldn’t need an older child helping her. Instead, being responsible for Thea might increase Eva’s self-confidence. “Why, yes, Eva. That’s an excellent idea. You and Thea may sit in the last row.” The child’s obvious pleasure as she reached for Thea’s hand confirmed the wisdom of Sarah’s decision.

The day went quickly, at least for Sarah. Despite the predictable squabbles and the tears when one girl misspelled a simple word, the class was remarkably harmonious all morning. When some of the children struggled to express themselves in English, Sarah remembered how Austin had taught them, and turned it into a game. Olga, who admitted she was sixteen, quickly established herself as a leader and helped Sarah maintain order.

The afternoon was different. Soon after lunch, Sarah realized her pupils were no longer paying attention. Tempers frayed, turning one squabble into a fistfight. When she’d disciplined the offenders, Sarah dismissed school early. Perhaps they were tired from so much concentrated learning. She would have more frequent recesses, starting tomorrow.

“How was school?” Clay asked the question as he saddled Nora for Thea’s riding lesson.

“Fun! Me have new friend,” Thea announced.

In response to Clay’s raised eyebrow, Sarah explained. “Gunther Lehman’s daughter took Thea under her wing. So far it seems to be a good arrangement. There were no tears today.” Instead, Thea had bounced with enthusiasm all morning, slowing ever so slightly when fatigue overtook her in the afternoon.

“Gunther?” Clay’s eyebrow reached new heights. “Did he come courting?”

As memories of her traitorous dreams flashed before her, Sarah shook her head more vigorously than the question demanded. “He brought his daughter this morning. That’s all. Really, Clay, you and the rest of the town are mistaken. Gunther doesn’t view me in that way.”

“Gunther views every woman as a potential stepmother for Eva.” When Sarah let out an exasperated sigh, Clay raised his hands in the universal signal of surrender. “All right. All right. Subject closed. Tell me, Miss Dobbs, did you have a full class?” Clay lifted Thea onto the gentle mare, keeping his arm around her waist until he was certain she was settled.

“No.” Sarah had expected close to thirty students and had had tables and benches constructed for that number. It had been slightly discouraging to see the room half empty. “I don’t understand why only the German children attended.”

As Nora began to walk, Clay kept pace, his eyes fixed on Thea. “Don’t worry,” he said without turning toward Sarah. “The others will come.”

But they did not. Two more German children joined the school on Wednesday, but there was not a single French-speaking student. Sarah tried not to worry, telling herself this was only the first week. Next week would be different, and it was, but not the way she had hoped. When Sarah reminded her pupils that the next week’s lessons would be held in the French church, they nodded, and her spirits rose. Unfortunately, Monday morning brought a new group of pupils, all French.

“I don’t understand what’s happened,” Sarah groused to Isabelle at the middle of the second week. She’d stopped at the mercantile after class, hoping Isabelle would know what was wrong and how Sarah could correct it. “Everyone thought the school was a good idea, but if this continues, their children will learn only half what they could.”

Faced with a totally new group of students, Sarah had had no choice but to repeat the first week’s lessons. That was frustrating for her as a teacher, but it was far worse for her pupils. She knew how quickly knowledge could be lost and worried that the German children would have forgotten most of what they’d learned by the time they returned to school.

Isabelle unwrapped a bolt of calico, holding it out for Sarah’s approval. “The mistrust is deep. I’ve heard some of the French mothers say they’re afraid their children will learn something bad if they go into the German church.”

Though the calico was a deep rose that would flatter her coloring once she put aside mourning, Sarah could muster no enthusiasm for it. “That’s absurd! This is school.”

“True, but it’s the parents who decide whether their children can attend that school.” Isabelle drew out another bolt, this time a light green muslin. “You probably know that there’ve been more thefts and vandalism recently. Each group is blaming the other.”

Sarah had heard the complaints. It didn’t matter which church she attended; the conversations after the service were always the same. Only the language varied. “What if it’s only one person who’s responsible for all this trouble? The whole town is divided and the children are suffering because of one person.”

“We don’t know there’s only one person involved, and even if there is, the enmity is deep. The fact that we’ve been here for over ten years and we’re still two separate groups tells you that.” Isabelle closed her eyes and was silent for a moment, as if she were praying. “Each time there’s an unexplained crime, the centuries of hatred resurface.”

How could these people who claimed to be God-fearing act this way? They were like the parishioners in Philadelphia who’d shunned Sarah. “That sounds like the sins of the fathers being visited on the children, only I thought it was God who did the punishing—not man.”

Isabelle nodded. “Exodus 20, verse 5.” Her expression was solemn as she said, “I love my town, but I have to admit that people carry grudges for too long and are too suspicious of each other. That’s why I pray no one ever learns about Léon’s past. I don’t want to think what it would be like for us if they did.”

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Sarah was thankful she had told no one of her past. Ladreville was a new life, a new beginning, a place where Thea would not be blamed for something she did not do.

When she left school the next day, Sarah was smiling. She might not have a full room, but for the first time, she had a mixed class. Much to Thea’s delight, Gunther had been waiting at the church that morning, bringing Eva to join the French students.

“She wants to learn,” he said simply. “You will help her.”

Sarah would indeed. As the day passed, her pleasure increased. Though she’d feared their parents’ prejudices might infect them, there had been no signs of antagonism toward the blonde girl whose English was still heavily accented with German. Instead, the other students had treated Eva like one of them. Sarah’s smile turned into a full-fledged grin. This was the beginning. Perhaps next week all the students would be together.

“Horsey!” Thea clapped her hands in delight as they left the building and headed for the livery. “Horsey!” There were, in fact, two horses approaching the church, one from each direction. Instead of the sedate pace that most riders and vehicles observed in town, these horses were galloping. No wonder Thea was excited. She loved speed and rarely failed to urge Sarah to make their horses run.

Sarah felt a moment of alarm as she tried to imagine what had precipitated the full gallop. To her surprise, the riders reined in their animals and dismounted at practically the same moment. Why were David Bramble and Jean-Michel Ladre here? There was no emergency at the church.