Romancing the Schoolteacher (3 page)

The pretty teacher would be none too pleased with him for being so negligent and for the imposition it must have caused her. After being at the school all day with children, she likely welcomed the break from them in the evenings.

A sheet of paper addressed to him was attached to the schoolhouse door. He yanked it free and read it. So she'd taken them home. Well, at least she wasn't stuck at the school. He was once more in her debt.

He did hope she was trustworthy. After Mrs. Weston, he just wasn't too confident. And mining companies weren't known for being picky when choosing a teacher. Any willing person was generally hired.

He trotted off in the direction of the teacher's house.

* * *

When a knock sounded on the door, Bridget opened it. Her breath caught. Though dirty from a day of hard work, Mr. Thompson was still quite handsome. Even though she knew he was coming, and dirty as he was, the sight of him caused her heart to gallop ahead. “Mr. Thompson, I'm glad you made it. Did you have any trouble finding my house?”

He held up the note she had left pinned to the schoolhouse. “Thank you for the map. I don't know the streets yet.”

That didn't tell her if he could read or not. Many illiterate people were good at covering up their deficiency.

He cleared his throat. “I am so sorry for inconveniencing you.”

“It was no trouble. You have sweet children. Please come in.” She stepped back.

“I'm sweaty and dirty. I just came for my children.”

How considerate. He'd obviously been raised by a mother who taught him manners.

He looked past her. “Gabe. Dora. Time to go. Thank Miss Greene.”

His son stayed seated at the table. “Miss Greene invited us for supper.”

“Gabe, don't argue. We've caused Miss Greene enough trouble.”

Gabe's shoulders slumped as he stood. “But she cooked fried chicken.”

Dora beamed up at her father. “I set a plate for you.” She pointed to a place at the table.

If he went home now, he'd still have to prepare supper. It would be a long while before they ate. And he'd already had a long day at work. And most of all, Bridget looked forward to having the company. She wanted to intervene and try to convince him to stay, but she held her tongue. From behind the children, Bridget nodded to Mr. Thompson to let him know it was truly all right with her.

“I don't want eggs again,” Gabe said.

Dora folded her arms and shook her head. “And I don't want any more pancakes. I set a place for you, Papa.”

“I'm sorry for causing an issue,” Bridget said. “Not knowing how late you'd be, I didn't want the children to go hungry.”

Dora pressed her hands together. “Please.”

Bridget could visibly see Mr. Thompson's resolve crumbling even under the grime on his face. “That was thoughtful of you, but we couldn't impose.” Though his words said his family would not stay, his stance and gaze said he didn't have the strength to refuse the invitation. His stomach growled.

Bridget pretended she hadn't heard. “May we speak outside?”

Mr. Thompson moved back, and she stepped out onto the porch. He looked inside. “You two stay there for a minute.” He closed the door.

“The food is already prepared, and there is plenty, so it really is no imposition. But it is completely up to you. If you say you must go, I will shoo your children out without another argument. But I would enjoy the company.”

His stomach growled again, and his mouth twitched in recognition. “It does smell awfully good.” He looked down at his hands, which were nearly black with dirt. “But I'm too grimy.”

“It's just dirt. I have soap and water.”

Still he hesitated. “Are you sure it's not an imposition?”

He wasn't one of her students whom she could order to do as she bid. She nodded. “If a little dirt was going to bother me, I shouldn't be teaching in a mining town.”

He finally relented.

She opened the door and stepped inside ahead of him.

He shifted his gaze from Gabe's eager face to Dora's and back. “Since supper is all cooked and a place is set for us, we can stay.”

His children cheered.

He rolled up his shirtsleeves and washed his hands and arms up to his elbows twice, as well as his face and neck.

She doubted most miners would think to wash so thoroughly or even think to scrub their neck. Who was this man? She sat at the table with the children and waited for him to finish.

Soon he sat at the end opposite her. He reached for his children's hands and they his. Gabe and Dora each held a hand stretched out to her.

She took the children's hands. Never in her life had she had anyone say grace at her table besides her.

Mr. Thompson gave her a nod. “I would be honored to say the blessing. You did do all the work.”

She agreed and bowed her head.

“Father in heaven, we thank You for another day of life and breath in these frail bodies we live in. We ask blessings upon Miss Greene for her kindness and generosity. And we thank You for the bounty You have provided. Nourish our bodies with this food and our souls with Your presence. In Jesus's name, amen.”

She had never heard anyone pray for her by name. It was as though God had reached down and caressed her soul. Nor had anyone thanked her so generously for doing so little. Moved by the prayer, she had to blink back tears as she lifted her head.

* * *

Lindley set his fork down and sat back in the chair at Miss Greene's table. He couldn't remember the last time a meal had been this satisfying. Not that he hadn't had tasty meals, even in the recent past. This was something more. And for some reason, he felt as though the something more must be Miss Greene herself. It must be her consideration for his children. Not only was she kind and generous, but smart—she would have to be to be a teacher—and patient and…and… He gazed at her.

No. He wouldn't focus on her physical attributes. People were more than how they looked. Her green gaze captured him. Eyes the color of the forests all across the San Juan Islands. And chestnut hair that flickered with bits of red in the lamplight. He couldn't deny that she was lovely.

And she said she prayed before meals, so she was likely a Christian, too. But he couldn't figure out why she was almost in tears after grace. That would be something he might never know. It would be rude to ask directly about something so personal.

“Supper was delicious.” He regretted what he must say next but said it anyway. “We'll get out of your way now. Time to go, children.” He leaned forward to stand.

She spoke quickly. “You don't have to go. We haven't had dessert yet.”

Dora clapped her hands. “Yay! Dessert!”

Dessert? “Dessert would be nice.” He settled back down but then stood fully when she leaped from her chair.

“It's nothing fancy. Just applesauce.” She returned to the table with a jar. “I canned it last fall.”

He had always loved applesauce. How long had it been since he'd had any? Eight, maybe nine years. Before he was married. “Cinnamon?”

“Yes. I hope that's all right. Since I just make it for myself, I always add cinnamon. But I might have a jar of peaches or cherries if you prefer.”

She seemed nervous.

“I love cinnamon.”

She gripped the ring of the lid and tried to twist it off without success. “These are difficult sometimes.”

He held out his hand. “Allow me.”

She handed it over without a fuss. His older half sister would have struggled with the lid until her hands bled, wanting to prove herself capable.

Grasping the jar and the ring lid, he twisted. The ring slid in his hand. He tightened his grip and tried again, still without success.
Oh, please don't let me fail. Not in front of her. Not with a silly jar.
He took a deep breath and jerked the ring and jar in opposite directions. The ring broke free.

Dora clapped again. “Papa is strongerest.”

Setting the jar on the table, he took his table knife, put the edge under the lip of the lid and lifted, breaking the seal. Air sucked into the jar with a gasp, releasing the lid.

After the large jar of applesauce had been consumed, he said, “We really must be going. I need to get Gabe and Dora to bed. Children, carry your plates over to the sink.”

Gabe and Dora did as he bid them. Dora's eyes were already drooping. She held out her arms, and he picked her up. Her head lolled onto his shoulder.

At the door, he said, “Supper was delicious. We'll reciprocate.”

“You don't have to do that.”

He supposed she thought he was like all the other miners and couldn't afford it. He would prove her wrong. “I insist. It won't be as tasty as your cooking, but we do all right. And you don't have to worry about my children after school hours. I will make arrangements for them.” He couldn't believe his earlier lack of judgment.

“I'm sure they could walk home with the Bennetts' children and stay there until you are off work.”

He knew Gary Bennett, the one who had trained him today. He was a good man. “Thank you.”

That had been a better meal than he'd ever cooked. After the fuss he'd made to his family about him being able to care for his children, they would say that this proved he couldn't.

But there was no shame in accepting help now and then.

And Miss Greene had been very accommodating and generous.

T
he next day, when Bridget welcomed her students, she was not surprised to see Dora Thompson among them. Bridget knew it had been too late by the time the Thompsons had left her house for Mr. Thompson to find someone to look after the girl.

The four-year-old marched up to her desk as though she had always been in school. “Papa said I could come to school as long as I don't cause no trouble and you say I can.”

Bridget nodded to the girl. “Go sit with Aggie.”

Dora twirled around and flounced over to where Aggie sat. Aggie broke into a big smile.

Yesterday had actually been a little easier than usual with Dora and Aggie keeping each other occupied. She'd had to warn them only twice to keep their voices down. Whenever Bridget threatened to separate them, they fell into a hushed whisper. Until yesterday, she had never had a day where Aggie didn't come up to her desk at least once to complain she was bored. And occasionally danced in the corner.

But Bridget could see that now that the girls were friends, their play had become more animated throughout the day. And even though they were as quiet as church mice, they distracted not only the students but Bridget, as well.

Bridget would have to find a solution if she was going to get any teaching done. She dismissed the students for morning recess and sat out on the stoop to watch them while reading the next hour's lessons.

She decided that she needed to give the two girls more structure in the school day. Where Aggie could be somber most of the day, content to draw and page through books she couldn't actually read, as a pair, they were a little more active. Her other students had their subjects to occupy them. Reading, writing, 'rithmetic, spelling, history and geography.

What “subjects” would four-year-olds be able to take on? She could start them on letter recognition and tracing letters. But that would not occupy them all day. She would have to come up with more things for them to do. But she couldn't let it take too much time away from her other students.

During the second morning session, the letter recognition and tracing adequately kept the two little girls busy. After lunch, she laid out a quilt in the corner and made them lie down. They both fell asleep within minutes. After the afternoon recess, she had them draw.

That evening, she devised lesson plans for the whole day for the pair. She would need to enlist the help of some of the older students as she did with the first- and second-graders.

The next few days scurried by with both the Thompson children in her class. They settled into the school routine and walked home with the Bennett children.

The students she had chosen to work with Aggie and Dora were doing wonderfully. They read to the girls and taught them the alphabet, numbers, counting, colors and shapes. After lunch, the two girls always fell asleep. All was working splendidly.

* * *

On his fourth day of work, Lindley took his lunch and ate under a stand of trees in sight of the schoolhouse. He scanned the children until he saw Gabe with three other boys about his age. They stood in a circle playing battledore and shuttlecock. Even when he missed the shuttlecock with his paddle, he seemed happy.

Dora and another little girl played together. What had his daughter said her friend's name was? Yes. Aggie. They held hands and spun around in a circle until they both fell down.

He smiled at the pair.

Miss Greene sat on the steps of the school, eating her lunch. Maybe he should approach and sit with her while they both ate.

No. That was silly. She had her job and he had his.

He could see that his children were fine. He should head back to the mining company to finish his boiled eggs and bread with the other men. But he didn't.

When he finally did head back to work, the lunch break had ended. He hoped not too long ago.

“Thompson!” the foreman called.

Mr. Brady's scowl told him that lunch must have been over for some time.

He trotted to the man. “I'm sorry about being late. It won't happen again.”

“You're right it won't. There are plenty of other men who would love to have your job, who will be on time and work harder than you. I spoke with Keen and told him I didn't think you were working out and he should fire your worthless carcass.”

He'd spoken to the mine manager?

“He wants to see you. And if I'm real lucky, I won't be seeing you again.”

Lindley wouldn't mind not seeing Brady again, but he couldn't get fired. He hustled to Mr. Keen's office and knocked.