Tomorrow's Garden (28 page)

When she reached the steps, Harriet dragged herself to her feet and hefted Eva into her arms. She had to get her down the stairs. The building was only seconds from total collapse. They had to get away. But Eva’s weight was too great, and Harriet’s knees buckled.
Help!
she prayed again.
I can’t do it alone.
A second later, the burden was lifted.

“I’ve got her.” Somehow, some way, Lawrence was here.

Harriet stumbled down the steps, dragging herself a few yards away from the school before she collapsed on the ground.

“How did you know?” she asked. “How did you know I needed help?”

As Lawrence swept her into his arms, he nodded solemnly. “God told me.”

Several hours later, Harriet sat in bed, pillows propped behind her back to keep her upright. Clay had just left, having assured her that Eva would be fine. Though she had minor burns and smoke in her lungs, the little girl would recover. “Children are remarkably resilient,” he had announced with a smile. “You, on the other hand . . .” That had been the preface to his declaration that Harriet should not plan to take any long walks for at least a week. “You need to let your lungs heal.” Clay had dressed the burns on her hands, leaving instructions for Ruth to change the bandages daily.

“Is it all right for us to come in?” Ruth opened the door a crack and popped her head inside. Judging from the sounds behind her, the other four children were close by.

“Yes.” Though she needed time to think, to try to understand everything that had happened today, Harriet knew that her siblings were worried about her. Mary had watched her go into the burning school and had run shrieking to Daniel and Sam, insisting they not leave her alone. All three had been so frightened that no one had thought to go for help.

“I was scared,” Daniel said softly when Harriet had assured them that the doctor had pronounced her injuries minor.

“Me too,” Sam admitted.

Mary’s eyes filled with tears. “Why did Eva go back? I would have given her my doll.” Isabelle and Gunther would have bought her another doll—a dozen dolls—if they had known. But no one had realized that Eva was so deeply attached to her new toy that she would risk her life to find it.

“Can I do that?” Mary asked. “Can I give Eva my doll?”

Harriet nodded. “If you want to, you may. That’s very generous of you.”

“I like Eva. She’s my friend.”

“It’s good to have friends,” Harriet agreed. She had Isabelle and Lawrence. Especially Lawrence. A small smile crossed Harriet’s face as she thought of how he’d been there at the exact moment she needed him.

“The town’s lucky you insisted on practicing egress.” Though Jake was still supposed to be working, when he’d heard about the fire, he had asked permission to return home, and William Goetz had agreed that assuring himself of Harriet’s health was more important than finishing a bookshelf. “Thanks to you, no one was seriously hurt.”

Harriet shook her head. “You’re wrong,” she said firmly. “I wasn’t the one who kept Eva safe. It was God.”

Lawrence had waited as long as he could. He’d spoken to Clay and learned that Harriet’s injuries were not serious. He’d given her several hours to rest, because Clay had said that was important. But he could wait no longer. He needed to see Harriet, to assure himself that she would be all right.

Lawrence pounded on the door with far more force than necessary. When Ruth opened it, he dispensed with pleasantries. “I have to talk to Harriet.”

Her sister ushered him in, her lips curving as though she found something amusing about Lawrence’s impatience. “She’s in the parlor. I’ve been turning people away, but I know Harriet would want to see you.”

There was no Christmas tree today, no candles decorating the mantel, no reason Lawrence’s heart should be filled with joy other than the sight of the woman seated on the settee, wrapped in a quilt. Her face was paler than he’d ever seen it, with a few pieces of sticking plaster marring one cheek, her eyes as gray as the smoke that had drawn him back to Ladreville. Though her hands were bandaged, she held a thick book in them.

How like Harriet! Even after enduring what must have been a frightening experience, she could not be parted from her books. Lawrence knew there was no reason to be surprised. Hadn’t Harriet told him she found refuge in books? When she laid it on the seat beside her, Lawrence recognized it as a Bible.

“Harriet!” He crossed the room in four swift strides.

As she rose, Lawrence opened his arms, not sure she’d accept the offer but praying that she would. She did. A second later, she was enfolded in his embrace. Although he longed to hold her so tightly that she could never escape, Lawrence forced his arms to relax. Today Harriet was like a piece of fragile crystal. If he held her too tightly, she might break. It was enough that she was close enough that he could hear her breathing.

“Oh, Lawrence,” she murmured, tipping her head up so she could look at him, “it seems as if all I do is thank you, and now I’m going to do it again. Thank you for being there when I needed you.” Her voice was hoarse, the result of the smoke, and he could tell by the way she carefully formed each word that it hurt to speak.

“I wish I had arrived sooner.” If only he hadn’t spent those extra hours convincing the other sheriffs they should band together to prevent future rustling. God had saved Harriet’s life, but if Lawrence had been there, perhaps he could have prevented her injuries.

She laid a hand on his, as if to comfort him. “You couldn’t have stopped the fire.”

Lawrence looked at her bandaged hands. “What happened? Did the stove explode?” It had to be something catastrophic that destroyed the whole building.

Harriet shook her head, and he saw sorrow fill her eyes. “It wasn’t an accident. Someone threw a lighted bottle of kerosene through the window. You know how dry everything is. The floor caught fire immediately, and it seemed like only seconds before the desks were in flames.” She shuddered at the memory.

Arson. Lawrence hadn’t expected that. He frowned, trying to picture the nebulous figure who had deliberately tried to injure—perhaps kill—Harriet and the schoolchildren. “I can’t imagine who in Ladreville would have been so cruel. It’s one thing to rustle cattle. It’s far different to endanger innocent lives.” Lawrence laid his hand on top of Harriet’s, stroking the bandages that encased her fingers. “Who could be filled with so much hatred?”

Her hands trembled. “The only person I can picture doing something like this is Thomas Bruckner, but he’s gone.”

“Thomas Bruckner?” There was no one in Ladreville by that name.

“He’s someone I knew in Fortune.” The darkening of Harriet’s eyes told Lawrence the acquaintance had not been a pleasant one. Was this the man she had thought she loved? He forced back the stab of something—surely it wasn’t jealousy—and focused on Harriet’s next words. “He was here before Christmas. When I didn’t give him the answer he wanted, he ransacked my room.”

Anger and disappointment surged through Lawrence, anger that someone had violated Harriet’s home, disappointment that she had not confided in him. As sheriff, he should have been informed of the crime. But, more than that, as her friend, he should have known she was in danger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The tightening of Harriet’s lips confirmed that she’d read his emotions. When she spoke, her voice was low. “I probably should have, but there wasn’t any real damage, and I didn’t believe he’d come back.”

Lawrence bit back his angry retort. If he’d heard about Bruckner last month, he might have been able to stop him, and then the fire would not have occurred. But nothing would be gained by berating Harriet. Instead he said as calmly as he could, “I wish I’d known. It might have made a difference.”

“Perhaps.” Harriet sounded skeptical. “The fact is, I don’t know that it was Thomas who set the fire. He was angry when he left, but I can’t imagine why he would have returned to Ladreville.”

Lawrence had seen enough criminals to know there were many possible reasons. “Why did he come here in the first place?”

Color crept into Harriet’s cheeks, and she lowered her gaze as she said, “He wanted me to marry him.”

“And you refused?”

She nodded. “He didn’t love me . . . or my family.”

21

“Are you certain you feel well enough to go?” Isabelle’s brown eyes filled with concern. She had come to the Kirk house with the obvious intention of dissuading Harriet.

“It’s only my hands that were hurt, and I won’t need to use them tonight.” Harriet held up the bandaged appendages. Clay had warned her that she would bear scars, but he believed there would be no other lasting damage.

“It’s not just your hands. Your throat was hurt too,” Isabelle added the reminder. “Eva still complains about hers.”

“I need to attend the town meeting,” Harriet said, wincing slightly as the effort of sounding forceful hurt her throat.

Isabelle raised one carefully groomed eyebrow, as if to say that she noticed Harriet’s twinge of pain but would not mention it. “All right, but if you turn any paler than you are now, I’ll drag you out of there.”

“Yes, Mama.” When Isabelle looked askance, Harriet laughed. “I figured you were practicing on me so you’d be an expert by the time the babies were born.”

“It wasn’t that at all.” When they both rose to retrieve their cloaks, Isabelle gave Harriet a warm hug. “I simply wanted to keep you safe. It’s the least I can do after what you did for us. I don’t know what Gunther and I would have done if you hadn’t rescued Eva.”

“I told you I wasn’t the one who saved her. God was responsible.”

“But he used you. We won’t forget that.” Isabelle sighed. “I just wish there were something we could do for you.”

Harriet slid her hands into the muff Isabelle had brought, realizing her bandages would make it impossible to wear gloves. “The muff is enough, but if you insist, there is one other thing you can do for me.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t mention Eva’s rescue again.”

“But . . .” Isabelle stared at Harriet for a moment, her reluctance obvious. At last she nodded. “All right.”

By the time they reached the German church, it was crowded, and had Gunther not saved seats for them, Harriet and Isabelle might have had to stand. Even though only Ladreville’s adults had been invited to the town meeting, there were enough of them to fill either church. The German one was slightly larger, which was the reason Lawrence had chosen it for tonight’s gathering.

Like Isabelle, he had been leery of Harriet’s attending before her injuries healed. “You’ll never stay quiet,” he had said with a smile. Harriet did not dispute his allegation, but it didn’t change the fact that she had to be there.

“I called this meeting because as your mayor I have several important things to discuss with you,” Lawrence announced when the crowd had quieted. Though he looked as handsome as ever, his eyes were more serious than normal. They held no fear or pain, simply firmness of purpose.

“My reasons are all related to the school. First of all, you know that the fire was no accident. Someone deliberately set it.” A low murmur of assent greeted Lawrence’s words. The ever-vigilant grapevine had reported the presence of kerosene. “If anyone saw anything suspicious, I ask you to speak to me after the meeting. You’ll be talking to me not as your mayor but as Sheriff Wood,” he added with a wry grin.

Though several people turned to look at those seated behind them, no one said anything. Harriet wondered if anyone had seen Thomas or whether the fire’s instigator was someone seated in the church. As much as she doubted Thomas had returned, the alternative was decidedly less pleasant.

Lawrence paused for only a second before he said, “Next I want to talk about rebuilding the school. Is there anyone here who does not agree that it should be rebuilt? If so, please raise your hand.”

There were no raised hands; instead, a dark-haired man Harriet didn’t recognize stood up. “We need a school. I ain’t disagreeing with that. What I wanna know is how we’re gonna pay for it.”

“We can’t increase taxes any more,” a blond man chimed in.

The murmurs intensified as the townspeople voiced their concerns. This was what Harriet had feared when Lawrence had told her he was convening the meeting. Though the citizens of Ladreville supported the concept of education, she worried that it would be difficult to raise the necessary funds.

When she had told Lawrence her concerns, his expression grew pensive. Tonight he merely nodded. “I agree with all of you. We cannot increase taxes, but we need a school, so I have a proposition for you.”

Isabelle gripped Harriet’s arm. “I knew Lawrence would find a solution,” she whispered.

Lawrence’s gaze moved throughout the church, resting on one person, then another, as if he sought approval even before he presented the idea. The townspeople, who had been whispering and fidgeting on the pews, became silent as Lawrence opened his mouth once more. “We gathered here just a few months ago to discuss another of Ladreville’s needs. That day we agreed to fund a major project. What I suggest to you tonight is that we use the money we allocated for the bridge for the school.”

Isabelle gasped and laid her hand protectively on her midsection. “Oh, Gunther,” she whispered, “we need the bridge.”

At her side, Harriet sat speechless. Perhaps more than anyone in Ladreville, she knew how deeply Lawrence cared about the bridge. Though he’d told her that he viewed it as his legacy to the town, explaining that even after he was gone, it would ensure safe crossings, the bridge was more than that. It was also a way for Lawrence to tame his fears. And now he’d volunteered to abandon the project.

As if he sensed her thoughts, Lawrence said, “You know I was the one who pushed to construct a bridge. I told you it was important. I still believe that, but our need for a school is more urgent.”

It was an interesting choice of words—urgency vs. importance. Lawrence wasn’t saying that he considered the school more important than the bridge, but he was acknowledging the timeliness of the need for a school. Regardless of the words he used, it was a generous gesture and one that filled Harriet’s heart with warmth.

“I like that idea,” the dark-haired man said.

“Me too,” the other dissenter agreed.

Lawrence nodded shortly, as if he had expected their reaction. “I need a show of hands. All in favor of spending the money on the school instead of the bridge, raise your hands.”

As Harriet looked around, she saw there was no need to count the votes. The vast majority of Ladreville’s men had their hands in the air.

“Opposed?” Lawrence waited a few seconds before he declared the decision unanimous. “Ladreville will have a new school as soon as we can get it constructed.”

Harriet rose. This was one of the reasons she had come tonight. “I’d like to make a suggestion.” It was more than a suggestion. She was going to do her best to ensure that the town agreed with her. Sarah had told her how her own pleas had resulted in Ladreville’s citizens agreeing to construct a school. Though that first school had met Sarah’s needs, it did not meet Harriet’s, and, she was willing to bet, it no longer met those of the town.

When Lawrence motioned her to come forward, Harriet walked to the front of the church and stood next to him. “I thank you all for agreeing to rebuild the school.” Even though she was speaking as loudly as she could, her voice barely projected to the rear pews, and she saw Clay shake his head in disapproval. He had warned her that overtaxing her vocal cords now might cause permanent damage. That was a risk she had to take.

“There is no doubt in my mind that a school is one of the most important buildings in a town, second only to its churches,” Harriet continued. “But I beg you to consider what we learned yesterday. Wood burns very quickly. That’s why I ask that the new school be constructed of stone, to make it safer for the children of Ladreville. I even think we need stone floors.”

The blond man who’d spoken before shook his head. “That will take longer.”

“That is true,” Harriet agreed. The stone had to be quarried, which was more time-consuming than felling and splitting trees. “But it will also last longer. If we build with stone, your great-grandchildren will attend school in the same building.”

When there was no further discussion, Lawrence asked for a show of hands, then gave Harriet a congratulatory smile after the town agreed that the new school should be constructed of stone.

There was a moment of silence before Gunther murmured something to Isabelle and rose. “What will the children do while the school is being built?”

Lawrence grinned as he looked at the miller. “That was the third subject I wanted to discuss: the interim school. Even if the weather is perfect, it will take some time until the new building is ready. Our children should not go without schooling during that period.” A low murmur of assent greeted Lawrence’s words. “I understand that before the first school was constructed, classes were conducted in the church halls.”

Harriet knew that was true, but she also knew from Sarah’s tales that it had been a decidedly unsuccessful experiment, with the French citizens refusing to let their children attend classes in the German church and the Germans denying their children access to the French church.

Lawrence’s smile faded and his expression was stern as he said, “I also understand there were problems with that.” When Harriet looked at the audience, several women ducked their heads, as if ashamed, while a number of men shifted uneasily on the pews. Rather than acknowledge their discomfort, Lawrence continued speaking. “My recommendation is that we use only one of the churches this time. That will make it easier for Miss Kirk, since she won’t have to move her teaching materials back and forth.” The pained expressions faded as the townspeople accepted Lawrence’s face-saving suggestion. Thanks to him, though everyone knew otherwise, they could pretend that the only problem with the original school had been Sarah’s need to move between two buildings.

“Which one?” the blond man demanded, his voice and posture belligerent.

“That’s the question.” Lawrence’s response was even. He addressed the entire audience. “Which do you think would be better?”

Though Harriet expected the answers to be predictable, with the German citizens recommending their own church, Gunther’s reply surprised her. “The French hall is larger,” he pointed out.

Monsieur Seurat rose. “But the German hall has more light. That might be better.”

The discussion continued with no resolution apparent. “I propose we vote.” Lawrence waited until Harriet was once more seated before he called for a show of hands. When the French hall won by a slim margin, he thanked the townspeople and adjourned the meeting.

Within minutes, the church was virtually empty. Though anxious to return to Eva, Isabelle and Gunther agreed to leave only when Harriet assured them that she could walk home alone. “I doubt you’ll be unaccompanied,” Isabelle said with a mischievous look at Lawrence.

Harriet doubted it too, but whether or not Lawrence walked with her, she needed to talk to him. She couldn’t let his wonderfully generous action go unacknowledged. “Thank you,” she said, willing her voice to hold out for a few more minutes. “I know the bridge was important to you.”

Lawrence took the hand she extended, holding it gently between both of his. “I meant what I said. Right now, the school is more important. If the town is fortunate, we won’t have flooding this year, and the bridge won’t be that critical. C’mon, let’s get you home. I saw Clay frowning and suspect he’s not happy that you’re here.”

“Clay worries too much.” He was an excellent physician, but even Sarah admitted that he could be overly protective.

“You might say that about me too. I worry about you, Harriet.”

As Lawrence slid his arm around her waist and led her to the door, Harriet forgot the sting of her burns and the rawness of her throat. For the moment there were no worries. There was only the pleasure of being with Lawrence.

“We almost lost her, Mutter.” Karl shook his head as his mother offered him a cup of coffee. He needed more than coffee to clear the thoughts that had circled through his head since the day he’d heard of the fire and Harriet’s bravery. That was why he was here, sitting in the kitchen on a fine morning when he ought to be outside helping his father. He needed his mother’s advice.

“She’s the wife I want.” Strong and brave, Harriet was the perfect helpmeet. Though Karl had had doubts since the fall festival when she’d shown herself unable to control Jake, the fire had made him realize that he’d been expecting too much of her. She was only a woman, after all. Disciplining older boys was a man’s job. His job.

Mutter laid down her cup and looked at him, a question in her eyes. Though Karl tried not to frown, he didn’t understand why she would question him. Hadn’t he told her before that he intended to marry Harriet?

“Are you certain, son? Harriet is a fine woman. You know I love her like a daughter, but don’t forget that she doesn’t come alone. You’d be responsible for the other children too.”

This was easy to understand. Mutter was referring to Jake. Karl nodded. “Jake is a problem, but a firm hand will end his mischief. Once the others realize that I won’t allow any nonsense, they’ll cause no trouble. You’ll see, Mutter. Life will be easier when we have them here.” His parents were getting too old to do all the farmwork. That was part of Harriet’s appeal. She brought workers with her.