Paper Roses (23 page)

“Good afternoon, Fraulein . . .” The man doffed his hat and shook his head in apparent consternation as they met on the steps. He backed down and waited until Sarah and Thea were on level ground before he spoke again. “I beg your pardon. Good afternoon, Miss Dobbs.” Gunther Lehman emphasized Sarah’s appellation. “Eva has told me you insist they speak English. It is a good plan.”

Thea, clearly bored by the prospect of adult conversation, plunked herself on the bottom step and began to pout. Sarah could hardly blame her. Gunther’s arrival meant their trip home would be delayed.

He looked down at his hat, as if seeking inspiration from it. “I want to thank you for teaching the children. Eva has not been so happy since her mother died.”

“She learns very quickly. So do you.” Sarah had noted that Gunther’s English was only lightly accented and that he avoided telltale German speech patterns. “Your English is excellent.”

Gunther continued to stare at his hat. “I learned from Austin. He was a good teacher.”

Sarah smiled. It appeared Austin had taught more than the children.

Gunther turned his attention from his hat to the sky. “It doesn’t look like it will rain.”

If she hadn’t been impatient to return to the ranch, Sarah might have found the conversation amusing. As it was, she wondered why Eva’s father had come to the school. Other than the first few days when he’d brought Eva in the morning, she’d come alone. Today’s visit must not have been planned, for Eva had already left. But her father stood there, clearly ill at ease and reduced to discussing the weather. Why had he come?

“Would you like to see the schoolroom?” Sarah suggested. Gunther had not been inside. Perhaps he wanted to see where his daughter spent her days.

“Yes, please.”

The palpable relief in his voice told Sarah that hadn’t been his intent but that, for some reason, he appreciated the suggestion. She led the way inside and gestured toward the last row of desks. “Eva always sits here with my sister.”

“
Ja
. She told me she wants a real sister.” Though the words were innocuous, Gunther’s face reddened. “I had best let you take Thea home,” he said quickly.

As she lifted Thea into the wagon, Sarah mulled the odd conversation, trying to find a reason for Gunther’s visit. She wouldn’t believe Isabelle and Clay were right that Gunther considered her a potential stepmother for Eva. Surely that was not the case. If it was, surely he’d have acted differently. There must be another reason. Mothers came occasionally to inquire about their children’s progress. Gunther had never done that. Relief washed over Sarah as she realized Gunther had heard what other parents did and wanted to ensure that Eva did not feel neglected, simply because she had no mother. He was being a conscientious father. Nothing more.

It was not relief but pure pleasure that Sarah felt when Clay agreed she and Thea could use Patience’s garden.

“I never understood why she chose the location,” he said after they’d finished supper. Though he’d been amenable to her working in it, Clay had insisted he would take Sarah to the garden while Thea remained at the ranch house, “helping” Martina wash dishes. Clay shook his head slowly, as if still trying to fathom Patience’s motives. “There are other places on the ranch that are easier to reach.”

Sarah had to agree. The path they were following was little more than an animal’s track, almost overgrown with mesquite, and it had taken them a full ten minutes to get this far. Part of the reason for the slow progress was Sarah’s unsteadiness. Clay preceded her and held the branches aside so she could pass. Though it was a gentlemanly gesture that any woman would have appreciated, for Sarah, it was more than a courtesy, for it gave her the opportunity to concentrate on her footsteps. The path was rough, pocked with piles of dirt and holes that bore witness to the presence of small rodents. An able-bodied woman might not worry, but Sarah knew that a fall could damage her leg unbearably. Unless there was something special about Patience’s garden, she would look for a spot closer to the house.

“Be careful.” Clay stopped as the path began a gentle decline. “It’s slippery here.” Though the change in elevation was only a few feet, it was enough that the lower area was still wet from last night’s rain. He gave Sarah an appraising look, then before she knew what he intended, Clay covered the distance between them and swept her into his arms.

It lasted only seconds. Sarah knew it was nothing more than an attempt to keep her from falling, and yet her pulse began to race as she rested her head against his chest, inhaling the scents of soap and leather and something else, something that was uniquely Clay. For a moment, with his arms wrapped around her, Sarah felt safe. More than that, she felt cherished. It was silly, of course, and yet she could not stop the feelings from rushing through her.

“Thank you,” she said when she was once more standing on dry ground. To Sarah’s dismay, her voice sounded shaky. Oh, how she hoped Clay didn’t notice.

It appeared he saw nothing amiss, for his voice was tinged with a bit of amusement as he said, “I’m afraid my gallantry was self-serving. With everything that’s going on at the ranch, I don’t need another patient.”

Sarah seized the new subject gratefully. She was on firm ground here, both literally and figuratively. “The mothers are glad you’re helping Dr. Adler. They said he suffers from frequent headaches.”

The path had widened enough that they could walk side-by-side. Clay slowed his pace and looked at Sarah, his expression devoid of amusement. “It’s more serious than that. Herman’s going blind.”

“Oh!” Sarah’s eyes widened as she looked at the countryside, marveling at the tiny green leaves, the almost unbelievably blue sky with a few fluffy white cumulus clouds floating across it. What would it be like to know that one day she would no longer see them? Her heart reached out to both the doctor and the people of Ladreville who would be deprived of his services. “It’s fortunate you’re here,” she said softly.

Clay shook his head again, and this time she thought she saw discomfort in his expression. “Only for a while.” His lips tightened as he pronounced the words and quickened his pace, as if anxious to reach their destination. “We’re almost there.”

Though the path seemed to end at a dense thicket, Sarah saw a narrow opening. Holding her skirts close, she followed Clay through it, then stopped in amazement. “Oh, Clay!” Even though the space was badly overgrown, Sarah understood why Patience had chosen the location. The mesquite bushes formed natural walls, keeping the outside world away, turning the garden into a magical place. With the wild bushes surrounding them and providing a vivid contrast, the cultivated plants seemed even more special than they had in Mama’s garden. And, though weeds had overtaken most of the beds, Sarah could visualize the flowers in bloom. “Oh, Clay, this is wonderful! Thea will love the secret garden.”

And she did.

School had been open for a month now, and nothing had changed. The German parents would not permit their children to enter the French church, and the French parents were equally adamant that their children not attend German classes.

“Surely you can see how this hurts the children.” In desperation Sarah had approached Michel Ladre, reasoning that he was the one person in the town who could influence the others. “They’re receiving only half the education they should.”

Michel leaned back in his chair, as if distancing himself from her plea. “Half is better than none.”

“But it could be so much better.” Sarah folded her hands to keep from wringing them. “The townspeople respect you. Can’t you persuade them?”

He pointed toward the maps on the wall. “These people have fought for centuries,” he said, seeming to forget that he was one of them. “Sometimes I think they look for excuses to quarrel. Why would they change now?”

“Perhaps because this is America, not Alsace. Their children are Americans. They deserve the same education other Americans have.”

The mayor’s frown deepened. “There is nothing I can do.

” Sarah left his office, unconvinced. Michel Ladre was a powerful man. If he’d wanted the children to attend school together, he could have persuaded the parents. She was confident of that. But for some reason he did not support her. She’d have to find another way.

That Sunday, Sarah believed she’d found the way, for Père Tellier’s sermon spoke of loving thy neighbor. It was the perfect introduction.

“Good morning, Madame Berthoud,” Sarah greeted one of the parishioners after the service. “Your son is doing well at school.”

The woman preened. “He’s a smart boy. Takes after his pa.”

“Pierre could learn so much more if he went to class every week.”

Her face flushed, Madame Berthoud stared at Sarah as if she’d uttered heresy. “Go to the German church? Never! It would be a sin to set foot inside there.”

Sarah met the same reaction when she approached two of the German mothers. As she guided the wagon home, she tried not to frown, lest she worry Thea. The people of Ladreville claimed to be Christians. They attended church each Sunday and met for fellowship at least once during the week. The words were there, but the actions did not support them. Ladreville’s citizens didn’t love their neighbors. Even worse, they didn’t seem to care that they were hurting their children. Something had to change. The problem was, Sarah had no idea what she could do to cause that change.

The door was locked. If he hadn’t seen Herman’s buggy in the barn, Clay would have thought his friend was out on rounds, but that was clearly not the case. Why had he locked the house?

Clay rapped on the door.

“Who is it?” Surely it was his imagination that Herman sounded annoyed. Normally the man welcomed visitors.

“It’s Clay.”

“C’mon in.” This time there was no mistaking the relief in Herman’s voice as he slid back the bolt. “What brings you here?” he asked as Clay sank into a comfortable chair.

“Can’t a man visit a friend?” Clay studied the older doctor, noting that while he was as well-groomed as ever, his eyes had begun to cloud over and he moved tentatively, as if he could no longer see the familiar furnishings and feared tripping.

“You’re welcome any time. Any time, my boy. I just wondered if you had a particular reason for coming today.”

Clay did, but he wouldn’t admit it. Herman would hate knowing that he’d come to check on him, as if the doctor were one of Clay’s patients. “How about escaping the ranch?”

“More fence problems?”

Clay shook his head. “No. Just the usual ornery cattle. I tell you, Herman, I hate that ranch and everything associated with it.”

Laughter greeted his words. “That’s because you’re a doctor, not a rancher. Your brother loved the place.”

“Yeah, and we saw what happened to him.” When Herman rubbed his eyes, Clay regretted the choice of words. Even though he’d meant it figuratively, it was cruel to speak of sight when Herman saw less each day. “How are the headaches?” He’d already bumbled into the subject, so there was nothing to be gained by skirting it.

“Less frequent. And, before you ask, my eyes are about the same. Most people don’t know I have trouble seeing, especially since you’ve been handling the difficult cases.” Thankfully, the majority of the calls had been for minor ailments which required Herman to do no more than listen to complaints and prescribe a potion or tincture. Only a few had been serious enough to warrant surgery.

“Do many patients still come here?” Clay had entered the building from the rear where Herman kept his residence rather than the front half which housed his medical office. When the town was first founded, most patients had visited the doctor, waiting in the small vestibule until Herman was able to treat them, but now Herman claimed the townspeople preferred him to travel to their homes.

The older doctor frowned. “More than normal come here, led by Mary.”

“Mary Bramble? What’s wrong with her?” Though he suspected he knew the answer, Clay tried to hide his amusement.

“She suffers from widowhood.” Herman spat the words. “I hate to admit you were right, but it looks like I’m next on Mary’s list of potential husbands. She comes here at least once a week. One time, I even found her snooping around this room, making herself at home.”