“And they never came?” Fiona asked, tears in her eyes.
Quinn held out her arms to Fiona, who went into them. “Don’t be sad. This is such a happy day for me.”
“Papa, this was thoughtful of you,” Josephine said in her grown-up voice. “We couldn’t have possibly gone skating without Miss Quinn.”
“We might have gone anyway,” Cymbeline said, looking doubtful that she would have been able to make a sacrifice for Quinn. The child knew herself well.
“But now we don’t have to,” Flynn said.
“I would’ve gone with you and watched,” Quinn said. “Which I might have to do today, since I’ve never been on ice other than the kind you walk on because you have to get somewhere.”
“We’ll teach you,” Flynn said. “But you might slip a little at first.”
“Don’t be scared to fall,” Theo said.
“That’s what Papa always says,” Fiona said, gravely. “Because that’s the way you learn.”
“Very wise words.” Quinn smiled at me, making my heart race. “For skating and the rest of life as well.”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” Cymbeline said as if anyone had asked. “Including falling.”
“Me either,” Flynn said. “Not that I ever fall. I’m the fastest in the whole town.”
Quinn and Theo exchanged a glance and a smile. For the second time in a half dozen minutes, I filled with gratitude that someone was managing to reach inside the heart of my sweet boy.
Chapter 23
Quinn
* * *
The twins each took one of my hands and led me onto the ice. For a split second I hovered on the thin blades of my new skates before my legs went out from under me and I fell hard on my bottom. The twins tumbled after me, all of us ending up together in a laughing heap.
The boys leapt up, as if springs were tied to their feet instead of skates. They attempted to help me, but it was no use. Every time I put my feet on the ice, I fell, leaving us all in a fit of laughter.
Alexander, with Fiona on his shoulders, skated up to us.
“Papa, she can’t stand up,” Flynn said.
“Boys, leave this to me.” Alexander lifted Fiona over his head and set her on the ice. She sped away, her little feet sure on the slippery surface.
“Papa, Miss Quinn’s heavier than she looks,” Flynn said.
“Flynn, we never talk about a woman’s weight,” Josephine said as she came to a stop in front of us. What a sight I must be, I thought. A grown woman sprawled on the ice.
Alexander held out his hand and I took it, holding my breath as he attempted to help me to my feet. The skates slid out from under me, and I fell once more on my bottom. My backside was starting to hurt. “It’s no use. I can’t get up.”
He knelt over me. “I’ll have to lift you by the waist. It’s the only way.”
His rich, low voice made my insides do funny flips. “Do what must be done,” I said.
With one knee on the ice and the other leg bent, he reached for me, lifting me easily and then holding me tight against him. My legs wobbled, and I thought I was going down again. I clung to him with my arms around his neck, so close I could see the flecks of yellow in his green eyes. “Falling hurts,” I said, laughing. “Don’t let me go.”
He slipped both arms around my waist and held me upright with the force of his strong frame. “You’ll have to stay this way, it appears, if you’re going to remain on your feet.”
“You shouldn’t tease me,” I said. “It’s terrible manners.”
“Slip your arm around my back.” He shifted so that only one arm encircled my waist. “And let’s see if we can take a turn around the pond. All you have to do is slide one skate forward, then the other.”
Feeling ridiculous, I lifted a foot, then the other. I did this for six or so steps. “It’s working. I’m skating,” I said.
His entire body shook with laughter. “Usually, we glide a little. You’re more stomping than skating. Are you mad at the ice?”
“I would poke you in the ribs with my elbow, but I’m at your mercy,” I said.
The pond was about the width of ten skaters standing side by side and thirty lengthwise. We inched toward the other end as one body. As I felt more secure next to my strong companion, I relaxed and took in my surroundings.
All of my students, other than Louisa and the Cole family, were out on the ice. The Johnson sisters skated by arm in arm, striking in their red coats and hats. Josephine wore a pale green that matched her eyes. She and Fiona skated together with their hands intertwined. Cymbeline had challenged Viktor Olofsson to a race from one end of the pond to the other. Cymbeline’s brown eyes were furious as she chased behind him. If one were to win on will alone, it would be Cymbeline. However, a nine-year-old boy and a small girl of six were no match. Viktor won by at least two feet. Cymbeline fell on her knees and pounded the ice.
“She’s mad at the ice,” I said to Alexander.
“What will we do with our sassy one?” he asked. “She has to learn about defeat.”
Flynn coasted by with his red scarf flying behind him and shouted words of encouragement. “You’re doing great, Miss Quinn.” I laughed and raised a hand toward him, then almost lost my balance. My partner steadied me with a firmer grip around my middle.
As we neared the tip of the pond, the three Cassidy girls stepped onto the ice and immediately started twirling like ballerinas. They were all small in stature but strong as little oxen. Alma had told me they’d been expected to help at the family dairy farm from the time they could walk.
“How sweet they all are,” I said.
“Little beasts,” he said. “Every one of them.”
The sky was the brilliant blue I’d already grown accustomed to, and the sun warmed my back despite the chill. The mountains loomed above like magnificent white giants. With each passing day in this fresh air and Lizzie’s nourishing meals, I was growing strong and sure of my destiny. I was the schoolmistress of Emerson Pass. The first teacher in a town made from the grit and courage of men and women who’d come in search of a better life. Yes, I was here in the modern age with bathrooms and a luxurious home to stay in, so it wasn’t as if I had anything to do with what had made this place special. But I was here now. I would shape the future through my influence on the young people who twirled about me now. I had the chance for love and family.
“What’s my favorite teacher thinking about?” Alexander asked.
I looked up at him. “I was thinking how happy I am here. The hue of the sky.” I gestured toward the sound of a winter sparrow’s song. “That, there. Do you hear him singing?”
“Yes, he’s giving us a concert.”
“Back home, I spent so much energy simply surviving,” I said.
“You did survive. That’s the notable part.”
At the tip of the pond now, I held on to him even more tightly as we rounded the corner. My gaze went to Cymbeline, who was now demanding a rematch with Viktor. He had his cap in his hands and was shaking his head.
He touched his free hand to the lapel of his jacket. “Of all my children, she reminds me the most of myself.”
“Were you like that—challenging boys much older and bigger than you?” I tried to conjure an image of a young Alexander wearing knickers and a cap, with freckles on his nose like his sons.
“Yes, I’m afraid so. Being the second-born and knowing I had no claim to the estate made me want to conquer the whole world. There was never a race or game I wasn’t keen to win.”
“Would you have wanted to stay and take over the estate?” I asked. We continued to move along the ice at a snail’s pace, but the skates were starting to feel more like extensions of my feet instead of a weapon meant for my demise.
He made a sound in his chest as if he were carefully contemplating his answer. “As a young man, I didn’t think beyond proving myself and craving adventure. Looking back, I can see it was my destiny to come here. The questions I had were all
answered when I stepped off the train that first day.”
“Questions?”
“About who I was. What I wanted. How I might matter. There’s something about the way the mountains loomed so dramatically that seemed to speak to me.”
“Would you believe me if I told you I was having similar thoughts just now?” I asked.
He stopped us and turned toward me, taking my hands to keep me steady. “You feel it too?”
“It’s as if they’re challenging me to live as large as they do.” I wobbled without the strength of his arm around me but clenched my stomach muscles and managed to remain standing. “When I say it out loud, I feel foolish.”
“No. Not foolish at all. You simply feel what I do. Not everyone can.” His eyes lifted upward toward the sky, and a flash of pain crossed his face. “In my experience, there are two kinds of people deeply moved by this place. There are those like you and me who are encouraged and inspired here, and those who are driven mad by it. No one can hide from themselves here.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Do I sound foolish? My mother said I was prone to the dramatic.”
I laughed. “Let’s agree that when we’re together we never have to feel foolish for speaking what’s on our minds.”
“Agreed.” He cocked his head, smiling down at me. “We have our own club, don’t we? A club of two in perfect harmony together?”
“I think a club has to have at least three members. We’re more of a partnership.” My pulse quickened as he stared into my eyes. I didn’t look away as I might have if it were any other man but Alexander staring at me this way. He was familiar to me, like a home I’d lived in all my life.
A fiddler at the pond’s edge began to play a jolly, raucous song. The skaters cheered. Mrs. Johnson appeared with a box of freshly popped corn.
“Shall we skate?” he asked.
“If we have to.”
He tucked my arm against his side. “Don’t despair. It gets easier.”
“Do you ever miss your family? Or the way of life?”
“My family, yes. Not the way of life.”
“No regrets, then?”
His torso expanded under my arm as he took in a deep breath. “I have but one.”
I tilted by face upward to get a good look at him. His thick lashes over lidded eyes kept me from seeing into the sea of green I’d grown so fond of watching. “What is it?” I asked softly.
“Ida.”
Flynn sped by us again, so fast I felt a breeze from his momentum. Ida. There were many layers of meaning in those three simple letters that made a name.
“She was my mistake but also my salvation. Without the children, life would have no meaning or purpose. Living with her was like living in a war zone. When she died it was as if cease-fire had been called and I could finally breathe without fear.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. What else could I say?
“I stayed hopeful right up to the end that she would get better.” He spoke lightly, but I could imagine the pain he must feel. “The lives that end after so much suffering—those deaths are the hardest to accept, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” I said, thinking of my father.
We continued shuffling along the edge of the pond as the children whirled and dashed around us.
I smiled, remembering Father’s reaction when I’d shown him the acceptance letter from teacher college. “My father was the happiest I’d ever seen him when I was admitted into the teaching program. We didn’t think I’d be able to go because of the tuition. Even so, he told everyone he knew that his daughter was smart enough to get into college.”
“How did you manage the fees?” he asked.
“Someone in our church paid everything. We’ve never known who. He or she was a person like you.”
“You think too much of me,” he said.
“When I heard what this person had done, I vowed to give back by teaching as many children as I could, especially the ones whom the world had already thrown away.”
“Did your father live to see you graduate?”
“No, he died my first quarter.” My voice cracked. I’d come home to find my sister and mother huddled together in our cold front room. He’d died in his sleep. His tired heart, having fought so hard, had simply stopped beating. “My mother took it hard. Before we lost him, she always had this optimism that everything would work out.”
Fiona and Josephine skated up to us, still hand in hand. “Papa. Miss Quinn. Skate with me,” Fiona said.
“I’ll fall down without your papa holding me up,” I said.
“I’ll hold your other hand,” Josephine said. “Fiona can hold Papa’s hand.”
As was usually the case, practical Josephine had it all figured out before the rest of us. The girls parted and each took one of our hands.
“Hold tight,” I told Josephine. “Or you’ll be without a teacher on Monday morning.”
Josephine giggled. “Don’t worry, Miss Quinn. I’ll never let go.”
Together, the four of us inched across the ice laughing, our breath coming out in clouds in the cold air. When we reached the other end of the pond, Cymbeline stood on the ice with her hands on her hips, challenging Isak to a race. Undaunted by losing twice to Viktor, she thought it was a good idea to race his older brother? Our Cymbeline wasn’t one to back away from a competition, even if a fool’s errand.
Isak, cap in hand, politely declined the invitation. “Cymbeline, you’re too little to race me.”
She tore off her hat and stomped her skate on the ice. “That’s stupid.”
“Don’t you see what happened with my brother? You have to race people of your same size.”
“There’s no one my size other than Nora, and she’s a girl.” Cymbeline pointed at Nora, who was skating peacefully with her sisters. “Look at her twirling around like a dancing doll.” They indeed looked like pretty pink-cheeked dolls.
“Cymbie, come skate with us,” Josephine shouted out to her.
For a second, I thought she might refuse. Instead, she grinned and stuck her hat over her curls. “Fine, but I’ll be back,” she said to Isak.
Thank goodness, I thought. Another second and she might have harangued sweet Isak to the point of surrender.
Isak, with an expression of a lamb who avoided slaughter, skated away.
We did one lap all together. The twins joined us, circling around and back.
Poppy shouted out to us as she entered the ice. “I’m here now. Harley and Merry brought me.”
I looked over to see Harley in the process of attaching skates to the bottom of his boots. Merry had already made it to the middle.
Josephine broke away to skate with Poppy.
“Do we need a break?” Alexander asked. “How about a bag of popcorn, Fiona?”
“Yes, yes, please, Papa.”
We made our way to a bench. Grateful for the rest, I waited while Alexander and Fiona fetched the popcorn from Mrs. Johnson. Soon, they were back with three bags. With Fiona between us, we sat and munched on the salty treat and watched the skaters. The fiddler player continued his merry music. Harley and Merry skated by us, holding hands.
Fiona yawned. “Are you sleepy?” I asked her.
“No, Miss Quinn.”
It was a fib, of course. No three-year-old ever wanted to admit to needing a nap.
“I’m tired too,” I said. “Perhaps your papa would take us both home? We can have a snuggle and a book.”
Fiona brightened. “Just you and me and Papa?”
“Won’t that be lovely?” I asked.
After arranging with Harley to bring the others later, Alexander helped Fiona and me into the smaller sleigh. Oliver and Twist nuzzled noses before we set out toward home at a leisurely pace. Alexander seemed in no hurry. Fiona fell asleep against me.
My eyelids grew heavy. I was drifting off to sleep when I saw a small figure walking just inside the drifts of packed snow that defined the road. I instantly recognized the patchwork coat. “It’s
Louisa,” I said.
Alexander slowed the horses. She carried a package wrapped in butcher paper and walked with her head down. Only when we had come parallel to us did she look over at us. Lord Barnes pulled the reins, stopping the horses.
“Louisa,” I said. “Would you care for a ride home?”
Her wan face under the bright sunlight seemed constructed of delicate bird bones. She wore her usual ragged knit hat that smashed her dirty hair against the sides of her neck. Her teeth chattered from cold. I silently cursed her father.
“No, thank you, Miss Cooper.” She held up the package in her bare hands. “This here’s fish heads, and I don’t want to smell up your sleigh.”
“They won’t smell up my sleigh,” Alexander said. “This is a magic sleigh.”
She squinted up at him, then at the warm blankets. I could see in her eyes the struggle to decide. Instinctively, I knew it was fear of her father that kept her from climbing inside. He would question how she knew us, and then her precious secret would be known.
“We’ll take you as far as your driveway,” I said. “It’s on our way. You can jump out and walk the rest of the way to your house.”
She clutched her package to her chest. “Yes, all right. Just to the driveway.”
Alexander had already hopped down to help her. He lifted her into the seat next to Fiona and tucked a blanket around her shoulders. In comparison to my little sweetheart, Fiona, Louisa smelled of woodsmoke, lard, and dirty hair. The fish were the least of it.
“Lord Barnes,” I said as we set out. “Did you have any of that popcorn left?”
“Why yes, I do.” He reached into his coat pocket and brought out the paper bag. “Louisa, would you like some?”
Her eyes grew wide. “You don’t want it?” I could practically sense her mouth start to water. I remembered the sensation only too well from my own childhood.
“Yes, Miss Louisa, it’s for you,” Alexander said as he handed it to her. “I’m getting quite fat, if you want to know the truth. You’ll be saving me from eating the rest.”
The Sugar Queen Page 20