I caught Jasper’s eye. He clearly felt as awkward as I.
“Can you ask her to sit instead?” I asked.
“She won’t,” Li said.
So we took the chairs and Jun sat on the lone stool.
Li told us their story. His grandparents had come for the gold but like so many were too late. They’d stayed anyway, living in a shanty not far from the mining site and surviving by fishing from the river and collecting nuts and berries, as well as growing a vegetable garden.
“No one bothered us in those days,” Li translated. “All the white people had gone away.”
Jun’s husband had died just before the fire burned the town, leaving her alone with her teenage son, Quon. She and Quon moved to Denver, hoping to find work. After a few years, Quon met Ting, and they were married. As a family they decided to return to this place by the river where they had been happy.
“We met Samuel then,” Li said, continuing to translate his grandmother’s story. “He taught Quon to hunt and fish. His wife gave us seeds for our garden. Samuel brought us supplies from town.”
First, Li had been born, then five years later, baby Fai.
“We were happy. But then the sickness came, and both Quon and Ting died,” Li said. “And we had no one to hunt for us.”
Jun cried as she told us this last part of their sad tale.
“Samuel came and told us not to worry. He would look after us.”
For several years now, they’d relied on Samuel for fresh meat and supplies from town. He chopped wood for their stove so they would not freeze. Rachel had sewn clothes or sent ones her children had outgrown. “We would have died without him. Then he stopped coming. For days and days, we waited but he didn’t come. We’ve eaten the last of the beans. The baby cries and cries from hunger.”
Jasper, clearly beside himself, stood and began unpacking the basket. A hunk of Lizzie’s homemade cheese, a bottle of creamy milk, a loaf of fresh sourdough bread, several apples, and slices of ham were soon spread out on the table.
“Come eat,” Jasper said to the children.
They jumped from the floor and ran to the table. The little one squealed as her brother lifted her onto the chair Jasper had occupied. I rose from mine and told Li to sit.
Jasper sliced bread and made sandwiches from the cheese and ham for all three of them. He found two tin cups on the shelves and poured them each a glass of milk. We gave them time to eat before asking further questions. I paced by the door, wondering what in the bloody hell I was to do now.
When they’d had their fill, Fai jumped from the chair and twirled in a circle. With her shiny black hair and round face, she was absolutely precious.
And Jun, raising them all alone without money. Relying on the kindness of a man who could provide food but no real life outside of this shack.
I knew this was arrogant of me, but I wanted to save them. I had no right to project my English ways onto them, but they could not live this way. It wasn’t right.
“Mrs. Wu, I have a position in my kitchen. My cook needs someone to help her. We have a large garden in the summer that also needs attending. Would you be willing to work for me?”
Li told her what I’d said.
Jun shook her head.
“I don’t know English cooking,” Li translated. “And how would I get to your house?”
“You and the children would live in the staff quarters downstairs,” I said. “I’ll pay you a salary, plus offer room and board. Li could go to school with my children. Fai can stay with you. I have a three-year-old daughter, too. They can play together.”
The stunned expression on Jasper’s face was almost laughable. I was sure to catch hell on the way home. Lizzie wouldn’t be able to resist offering help to the Wus. I could count on her to find lighter-weight tasks for the old woman. We had one spare room downstairs. It was small but certainly better than this.
“I am old and not much use,” Li translated. “And the other children are all white. How could Li go with them?”
“All children are welcome at our school,” I said.
“I’m afraid to leave,” Li translated. “What if we need to come back and someone else is living here?”
“You won’t need to come back,” I said. “We’ll make sure of it.”
If only I were as certain as I sounded.
“We will come,” Li translated.
Chapter 21
Quinn
* * *
The morning of the Coles’ first day of school, they had not shown when I rang the school bell. Most of my students were already inside, huddled around the stove, other than Flynn and Cymbeline, who were in a heated snowball fight. As they set down their weapons and bounded toward the steps, a sleigh pulled up outside the schoolhouse. Three children bundled in green coats and hats jumped out and shuffled toward me. I gestured for them to come inside, then waved to their uncle. Wilber tipped his hat.
I showed the Cole children where to leave their coats, hats, and lunch pails as the others took their seats.
I knelt to their level and looked them each in the eyes. “I’m Miss Cooper. Can you tell me your names and ages?”
They answered, one after the other, never taking their gaze from me, as if they were afraid to look anywhere else. Noah was eight. Roman was seven, and their little sister, Willa, was six. They were lighter-skinned than their mother but had inherited her high cheekbones and large brown eyes. “I’m going to introduce you to the others.”
A fat tear caught in Willa’s bottom lashes, and her lips quivered.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” I said. “You’re going to make friends and learn so much.”
Willa nodded and sucked in her bottom lip.
“Did you know we have two recesses?” I asked.
“Is that where we get to play with the others?” Noah asked.
“And get fresh air and exercise. In between that time, we have lessons. Now come with me.” I straightened and offered my hand to Willa. “We’re going to tell everyone your names.” Together, we walked to the front of the classroom.
“Children, we have three new students joining us today.” I looked around at the faces of these young people I’d grown so fond of. Please, God, don’t let them disappoint me today. If I caught a hint of cruelty, I would put a stop to it immediately. However, as my gaze flickered about the room, the children seemed oblivious. No one flinched or gave me any indication that they saw anything but another child.
I introduced them by name. “Who can tell them what our class rules are?
Josephine raised her hand. “Be curious. Be kind. Protect one another,” she said.
“Excellent. Thank you, Josephine. Also, when you wish to ask a question or speak, you must raise your hand. Understood?”
The Cole siblings nodded. I pointed to two empty desks next to the twins. “Those are for you, Noah and Roman.” I escorted Willa to a desk between Cymbeline and Nora Cassidy. “Cymbeline, I’d like you to be Willa’s buddy for the day. If she has any questions, you will answer them, all right?”
Cymbeline gave me a radiant smile, all sunshine and innocence. At the moment, anyway.
Next I asked if anyone had any questions for our new students.
Flynn raised his hand. “Do you like games? Or snowball fights or racing?”
Noah and Roman nodded.
“That’s great, because I do too,” Flynn said.
Willa raised her hand and waited until I called on her. “I don’t like snowball fights.”
“Did you all hear that? At recess, Willa would like to exercise her right to abstain from snowball fights.”
Shannon raised her hand. “What does abstain mean?”
“Who would like to look it up?” I asked.
Elsa’s hand shot up. She always volunteered to find the word in the dictionary when we had a new one to learn. She’d told me that just looking at all those words on the page made her happy. “Yes, Elsa, you may look it up.”
; Elsa bounded from her desk to open the dictionary I kept on my desk. We waited as she flipped pages.
“Here it is. Abstain is a verb,” Elsa said. “To hold oneself back voluntarily, especially from something regarded as improper or unhealthy.”
Flynn raised his hand. “Does Willa think snowball fights are unhealthy?”
I gave him a stern stare. “Are you using the rules?”
“I’m curious,” he said.
“But was that kind?” I asked.
“Is being funny the same as being kind?” he asked.
“Not usually,” I said.
“That’s too bad,” Flynn said.
“Willa, tell us why you don’t like them,” I said.
“I don’t like them because they hurt,” Willa said. “My brothers throw too hard. One time they gave me a bloody nose and then Mama sent them to bed with no supper.”
Noah groaned quietly. Flynn leaned over and patted his shoulder. “Sisters.”
They exchanged grins in a moment of obvious solidarity. A new friendship formed right before my eyes.
The rest of the morning went by without incident. By lunchtime, it was as if the Cole children had always been with us. The sky was clear, and a fresh layer of powdery snow had fallen overnight. I sent them all out to play after everyone had finished their lunch. Willa hung behind, looking out the window. I was about to encourage her to join the others when Nora came rushing back inside. “Willa, want to play hopscotch with us?” Nora said.
Cymbeline was outside making a stack of snowballs that she would surely use for an evil attack against her brother. There would be no hopscotch for that one. I should have paired Willa with one of the sweet Cassidy girls instead, I thought.
“How do you play?” Willa asked.
“It’s easy. We’ll show you,” Nora said as she held out her hand. Willa took it and the little girls walked out to the porch together.
Offering friendship came naturally to innocent children, who saw only another child and not a skin color or social status. May they always remain thus, I prayed. Don’t let the world change them.
I added the Cole siblings to my class roster and stood gazing at it for a few minutes. These young souls had been entrusted to me. I could only hope to do them all justice.
That evening, I sat with Lord Barnes in the library as he told me about his morning visit to the Wus. He described their living situation and how they’d come to Emerson Pass. “Mrs. Wu’s been living out there alone with two small children. It was heartbreaking to see.”
“And Samuel helped them all these years?”
“Yes, it seems so.”
“What do we do now?” I asked.
“I’ve invited her to come work with Lizzie in the kitchen. She and the young ones will take the spare room down there.”
I couldn’t believe what he was saying. “You asked them to live here?”
“Yes. I know it’s rather unorthodox.”
“Unorthodox? Is that the word?” My eyes filled with tears.
“Miss Cooper, what’s the matter?” He leapt from his leather chair and thrust a handkerchief onto my lap. “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing. I’ve never heard of anything so outrageously kind.” I dabbed at my eyes with the handkerchief as tears continued to leak from my eyes.
“I thought you’d be happy with me.” He knelt on the floor next to my chair and looked up at me with such a bewildered expression that I laughed through my tears.
“I am.” I wiped my eyes and took a long breath, in and out, before speaking. “Lord Barnes, I’m quite undone. I’ve never known anyone like you in my life.”
“It was the baby,” he said. “She looked at me with that face, and I could see how hungry and cold she was. I couldn’t walk away.”
I love him, I thought. With all my heart. It was all over for me. This was the man I wanted.
“What is it?” he asked. “You’re looking at me strangely.”
“I have all these feelings.” I stopped, not trusting myself to speak further for fear of everything in my heart spilling out onto his lap.
“What kind of feelings?” His eyes, glossy as green silk, held my gaze.
My mother’s voice came to me then, reminding me that Lord Barnes was my employer, not a man. An employer with a Lord before his name. I had no title—nothing in front of my name but Miss, and it was likely to remain thus.
“Feelings for me?” he asked.
My stomach was filled with sparrows, fluttering their wings. “Yes. For you. Ones I don’t know what to do with. There are so many differences between us.”
“Differences?” he asked.
“You’re a lord and I’m a schoolmistress.” I folded and unfolded the hankie. “You’re rich and I’m poor.”
“I don’t care anything about titles or circumstances. You’re beautiful and good and full of life. How could I not fall in love with you?”
I wiped my cheeks. “It seems to me, Lord Barnes, that this wild country has made you wild.”
“The country hasn’t made me wild. I was born this way.” The corners of his mouth lifted into a brief smile. “This place is like me, wild and free. I listen to my own instincts, not those deemed proper by a society I don’t even believe in.” He brushed his thumb across my jawline. My breath caught. “Do you know what my instincts are telling me to do right now?”
I shook my head as the muscles in my thighs tightened.
“They’re telling me to kiss you.”
I couldn’t look away, drawn as I was to him as if an invisible force cleaved us together. I was an innocent when it came to men, but I knew the look of hunger when I saw it. This was not the appetite of an empty stomach but rather a craving only a man and woman could feel for each other. One for which there was only one single remedy.
“Have you ever been kissed?” he asked.
I nodded, dizzy. “Once.” And then he’d married my best friend and broken my heart.
“What happened to this fool who kissed you?”
“He married my friend the very next week.” Even after two years, my body remembered the shock when I’d heard the news. A vast emptiness had crashed through me, leaving me in a tunnel of black from which there was no return.
“Why would he do such a thing?” Lord Barnes asked, his voice incredulous now.
“For the same reason you would,” I said. “He married someone with money. Someone from an important family.”
“I can marry whomever I please.” Lord Barnes’s eyes flashed with arrogance but also rebellion. “I have no one to answer to but God and my children. I’ll marry for love with no regard for anything else. What about you? Would you marry for love or money?”
“Love. Always love,” I said. “Even though I have only love to offer in return.”
“And what would make you love a man?” His eyes twinkled at me. “If not money?”
“Kindness. Compassion. A curious mind.”
“What about a man with children?”
“I suppose it would depend on the children,” I said. “I’m particularly fond of the ones in this house.”
“Could you live in Emerson Pass and be happy?”
“That would depend on the man.”
He smiled and ran the back of his finger over my cheek. “Two things to know, Miss Quinn Cooper. I care only about you, not convention. And I would never pursue you without the hope that you’ll soon agree to be my wife. I’ve no interest in toying with you. My flirtations are not mere trivial fun. May I have permission to court you?” His words sounded strangely intimate, as if we were embarking on a journey where we were the only travelers.
I stared at him, probably looking like a hooked fish with my mouth hanging open. Hands shaking, I clasped them together and held on for dear life as the room seemed to tip. The world had changed in an instant. My world had changed. Permission to court you. Agree to be my wife.
“I’ve never been courted before. My plan was to be a spinster.”
He laughed. “Respectfully, Miss Cooper, there’s no way you’re ending up a spinster. If I’m not to your liking, there will be men lined up at your door.”
“You’re to my liking,” I said, quietly. “You may court me.”
He placed his hand over his chest. “Would you dine with me this evening? The children can eat downstairs with Lizzie.”
“Just the two of us?”
“That’s the idea, yes.”
“Yes, I would like to dine with you.” Was this courting? If so, I liked it.
“Supper at seven, then?”
“Supper at seven.”
A sigh seemed to come from deep inside him. He picked up my hand and caressed it with his thumb. “May I call you Quinn? I want to court the woman, not the schoolmistress.”
Desire, hot and swift, swept over me. “You may call me Quinn.”
“And you may call me Alexander.”
I looked down at the hankie in my lap, suddenly shy. “I should probably check on the children.”
He rose from the floor and offered me his hand. “As you wish.”
I allowed him to help me to my feet, then scurried away like a frightened bunny. As I came to the doorway, I glanced back, expecting him to send me off with a benign wave. Instead, he said two words. “Quinn, wait.”
My breath hitched at the sound of my name coming from his mouth.
With long strides, he quickly ate up the distance between us. “You’re not leaving here until I kiss you for the first time.” He pulled me to him with one arm around my waist. I gasped as he captured my mouth with his in a hard kiss. This was not like the chaste peck I’d had before. Lord Barnes was masterful—rough yet tender and tasting of whiskey. When he withdrew, I fought the urge to pull him back.
“What do you think of kissing?” He brushed a loose strand of hair away from my neck, and I shivered.
“I think I’d like to try it again.”
Always the gentleman, he obliged. This time the kiss was tender and restrained. “That’ll have to sustain us for now,” he said when he withdrew his mouth from mine. “I’d rather spend the rest of my life kissing you and never accomplish another thing, but we have work to do.”
The Sugar Queen Page 18