Paper Roses (29 page)

The mayor cleared his throat before he addressed his constituents. “I think you’ll agree with me, ladies and gentlemen, that that was an unusual speech for Independence Day.” He waited for laughter, but there was none. “Miss Dobbs has proven she’s an unusual woman.” This time, murmurs greeted his words. Sarah couldn’t tell whether the townspeople were agreeing with him or not.

“She’s got a point,” one man said.

“She might be right,” another agreed.

A red-faced man glared at Sarah. “Can’t nobody convince me it’s proper for our young’uns to sit with them others.”

As the shouts continued, Michel pounded on the podium. “You’ll have your say. As long as Miss Dobbs has raised the question, I propose we vote on the school. Any man who approves building one, stand up.” His forbidding expression made it clear the mayor did not expect to see anyone rise.

Clay jumped to his feet, followed quickly by Gunther and Monsieur Rousseau. Sarah heard sounds behind her and turned to see both Père Tellier and Pastor Sempert rise from their seats at the back of the platform. Michel frowned. As the two ministers walked toward the audience, Sarah heard women’s voices. Though the words were indistinguishable, the effect was not. Within seconds, dozens of men were on their feet.

“Humph!” Michel’s displeasure was evident. He waited, perhaps hoping the men would back down, but no one did. “All right,” he said. “You’ve spoken. Ladreville will have a school.”

Clay watched Sarah make her way back to their quilt, stopping to talk to a few people along the way. She was quite a woman. It had to have taken courage to speak up like that, to bare her soul, as it were, but she’d done it, and she’d accomplished what she wanted. That was as close to a miracle as Clay had seen.

His eyes narrowed as she came closer. Though she continued to smile, her posture was rigid, her gait less steady than normal. Something was wrong. The woman who ought to be exulting over her victory was clearly disturbed.

“You did a good job.” Clay watched as she settled onto the quilt next to him.

“I still can’t believe I told them about my childhood.” There was no doubt about it. The hands that were attempting to open the picnic basket were shaking.

“Hey, Zach.” Clay punched the other man’s arm to get his attention. “Keep an eye on Thea, okay?” He rose and extended his hand to Sarah. “Let’s take a walk.” Though he’d expected a protest, none was forthcoming. The feisty Sarah Dobbs he’d known seemed to have lost her spunk, for she acceded quickly, not even demurring when he placed her hand on his arm and covered it with his own hand.

As they walked slowly in deference to Sarah’s leg, neither of them spoke. It could have been an awkward silence, but it was not. Instead, Clay found himself noticing how dainty her hand felt beneath his, how her hair smelled like vanilla, and how her ragged breathing began to slow.

“Feel better now?” he asked when they reached the river. Though they were only a few hundred yards from the festivities, the din was muted by distance and the soft soughing of the oak trees. Knowing this was where she conducted classes, Clay looked around, marveling that she managed to keep her pupils’ attention focused on lessons. He himself was distracted in no small measure by the woman at his side. Of course, the children would not have that problem. Sarah’s students would see only their teacher, not a woman who’d defied the town’s mayor and convinced its citizens to support her, a very attractive woman.

Sarah looked as if he’d asked her to solve the mysteries of the world, when all he’d done was pose a simple question. At last she nodded, then shook her head, clearly ambivalent. “I’m glad we’ll have a school, but I can’t imagine what my mother would have said if she’d seen me on that platform. She taught me that ladies never make a scene, and they never, ever refer to parts of the body. Mama would have been horrified if she’d heard me defy the mayor and actually say the word
leg
in mixed company.”

Though her concerns might have made another man scoff, Clay did not. Marriage to Patience had taught him how differently men and women saw the world and how differently they were expected to act. Patience would not have climbed onto that platform; the thought would not have even occurred to her. But Sarah was different. Always in the past, even when he’d told her of Austin’s death, she’d seemed strong and so resilient that he had believed nothing would break her, yet today she was vulnerable, needing reassurance. “Your mother would have been proud,” he said firmly. “You did what was right. You convinced them to let love triumph over hatred.”

“Michel didn’t see it that way.”

Clay couldn’t disagree. “The man doesn’t like anyone to challenge his authority. You and Austin both did that.” Clay wondered if somehow his brother had sensed that the woman he’d chosen to be his bride had shared that trait with him. He would never know, just as it appeared he would never know who’d killed his sibling.

Sarah laid a hand against the tree trunk, perhaps to steady herself, perhaps simply to touch the rough bark. “I doubt Michel will help with the school raising.”

“I’d say that’s a good assumption.” Clay knew how vindictive the mayor could be. After today, Sarah would be a focus for his enmity. “That won’t stop you, though. The town will all pitch in. They’ve had more barn raisings than I can count. Compared to some of those barns, a school should be easy.”

Sarah was breathing normally now, and the tilt of her head told Clay her earlier worries about the propriety of what she’d done were gone, replaced by concerns for the school. She looked up at him, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. “We need someone to plan everything, to order the supplies and then supervise the actual building.”

A foreman. She was right, and it appeared she was looking to him for a suggestion. Though it pained him, Clay voiced the words. “Your friend Gunther might be able to do that.” Clay suspected he’d jump at the opportunity, for it would give him another excuse to continue his courtship of Sarah.

She shook her head. “Gunther’s not a leader. Besides, the French men wouldn’t follow him.”

An unexpected sense of relief flowed through Clay at the realization that Sarah was not seeking opportunities for more time in Gunther’s company. “That logic would probably also eliminate Monsieur Rousseau.”

Sarah nodded. “You’re right.” Though her lips quirked in what appeared to be the start of a smile, her voice was solemn as she said, “There’s one person in Ladreville who commands everyone’s respect.”

“Who would that be?” Clay tried and failed to imagine someone who fit that description.

The smile blossomed. “You.”

“Me?” A man’s jaw wasn’t supposed to drop, but his did. “Why would I build a school? I’m a doctor.”

“You wouldn’t have to do any of the actual construction,” Sarah said, her voice as sweet as honey. Was this the way she convinced recalcitrant pupils to behave? If so, Clay suspected she had a model classroom. “You wouldn’t have to build, although I know you can. Martina told me you and Austin raised your barn practically alone.” Clay frowned. He’d have to talk to Martina about the stories she related. It appeared they were getting him in trouble. Now he would have to find a way to refuse, even though he hated to disappoint Sarah.

She was still speaking. “All that’s needed is organization and leadership. You’d be perfect for that.”

Clay was not perfect at anything, but now did not seem the time to announce that. What he needed was a simple refusal. Instead, he found himself saying, “Even if I were the right person, why would I want to lead the school raising? I have plenty of other things to do.”

A light breeze sent Sarah’s sweet scent to tantalize Clay’s senses. Though he should take a step backward to evade it, he did not. Instead he stood as frozen as Lot’s wife while she spoke.

“I need your help. The simple fact is, there’s no one else in Ladreville who can lead this project.” Sarah’s smile said she knew Clay was wavering. He was, but she wasn’t supposed to realize that. A man had his pride. He didn’t like knowing a pretty slip of a woman could read his thoughts. “If you agree to help me,” Sarah continued, “I’ll help you.”

That was a unique argument. “Just what do you propose to do?”

“Find Austin’s killer.”

Of all the words that could have come from Sarah’s mouth, those were the last ones he would have expected. Clay felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut. When he could breathe again, he asked, “How do you think you can do that? I’ve talked to everyone who was with Austin that last day, and I’ve learned nothing.”

Sarah nodded slowly, acknowledging his words and the frustration behind them. “My approach would be different. I’ll have to visit each family, raising money and talking about the curriculum. When I’m in people’s houses, I won’t ask questions about Austin; I’ll just direct the conversation that way. My experience is that when people are relaxed, they’re more likely to reveal things they wouldn’t in a confrontation.”

Clay was silent for a moment, considering her plans. “You may be right. Every time I talk to anyone, it does become confrontational.” He’d learned nothing. Absolutely nothing. If there was the slightest possibility that Sarah could help, how could he refuse?

Her eyes darkened as she looked at him. “Will you agree to help me?”

“You’ve got a deal.”

Sarah held out her hand for the traditional shake to seal their agreement. As he took her hand in his, Clay felt tendrils of warmth begin to make their way up his arm. Her hand was small and soft, so different from his. All of Sarah was small and soft, all except her determination. That was as firm as his own, and it was—if he was being honest—one of her most appealing features. That and her outspoken tongue.

As the thought flitted through Clay’s mind, his gaze wandered to her lips. Unbidden came the question, what would it be like to kiss her? Would her lips be as soft as they looked?

Abruptly, Clay dropped her hand. Where on earth had that thought come from?

13

Even the weather cooperated. Though Mary had predicted one of the summer rains that flooded the river, the day was clear and dry. All the supplies had arrived on schedule; the ground had been cleared; now everyone was gathered, ready to begin construction of the schoolhouse.

“I wish I could do more.” Sarah looked around the tent where she and Isabelle had organized long tables soon to be laden with food.

“More?” Isabelle chuckled. “You’ve already done more than anyone dreamed possible. You convinced the town to work together. And, if that wasn’t enough, you organized all the food.”

“That part was easy.” That hadn’t required painful revelations. When she’d approached them, the women of Ladreville had proven eager to bring food, particularly when Sarah decided to capitalize on the town’s natural rivalries and had mentioned that the culmination of the day would be the men’s voting for their favorite dishes. That announcement had resulted in many women volunteering to bring both a main course and a dessert. No one would go hungry today.

Unfortunately, though providing food for the workers had been relatively simple, Sarah had been less successful in learning anything new about Austin’s death. Each mention of his name had been met with shuttered expressions, making it clear that no one wanted to talk about Sarah’s former fiancé. Perhaps they feared causing her more pain. Perhaps it was what Clay claimed, a conspiracy of silence. Whatever the cause, her failure to uncover even a single new detail weighed heavily on Sarah. Clay had done his part, but she had not.

Isabelle pulled another piece of oilcloth from her basket and extended it to Sarah. “What I find most amazing,” Isabelle said, “is that you convinced Clay to take charge of the school. I know his family were the first settlers, but he’s always remained aloof, acting as if he wanted no part of the town. Now he’s helping Dr. Adler and working on the school. I don’t know how you did it, Sarah, but since you came to Ladreville, Clay Canfield has been a changed man. Why, I even saw him start to smile once.”

Sarah shook her head. “I’m not responsible for the changes. Maybe they’re what you told me, the result of time.”

“Or God’s healing touch.” Isabelle straightened the edges of the tablecloth. “Every day I pray that God will take the bitterness from Clay’s heart.”

Though Sarah no longer prayed, that was her most fervent hope. Sadly, she feared it was a hope that would not be realized. While Clay’s sadness seemed to be subsiding, she knew his anger had not faded. “I’m afraid the only thing he cares about is finding Austin’s murderer.”

“Sarah!”

At the sound of Clay’s voice, Sarah let her words trail off. He didn’t need to know she and Isabelle had been discussing him.

“We’re ready to start,” he told her. “The ministers are both going to offer prayers. Afterwards, it would be good for you to say something.”

She blinked in surprise. Though they’d discussed the agenda for the day, her making a speech was not on it. “You should have warned me.”

“So you could refuse?”

“Exactly.”

“Coward!” He accompanied the epithet with a grin.

Placing her hands on her hips, Sarah feigned indignation. “No one calls me a coward and lives to repeat it.”