His Prairie Sweetheart

by Erica Vetsch

  “I think it’s safe to speak English at lunchtime.” He unwrapped a packet from his lunch pail. “Thanks for giving my ma the recipe for that cornbread. We have it about three times a week now. Pa can’t get enough.” Elias showed Savannah a wedge of the golden bread.

  “I hope you don’t get tired of it.” She slowly opened her own lunch, wondering what Agneta had packed this time. “Stekte pølser.” She laughed. “Here I am having pork sausages from Norway, and you’re having cornbread from North Carolina.”

  “Not only cornbread, but fried chicken, too.” He tipped his lunch pail toward her so she could see inside.

  “I might make a Southerner out of you yet,” she teased.

  “Or I’ll make you into a Norske.” He grinned back. But when he looked at her hands, his levity faded and concern crowded his eyes.

  She wanted to hide her swollen fingers. “Jesting aside, I wanted to thank you for coming to my aid the other day. I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

  “Thank Cap. He’s the one who found you.”

  Stroking Cap’s broad head with the side of her little finger, she nodded. “I’m grateful to both of you.” With a guilty grin, she gave Cap the rest of her sausage. He gulped it down, looking up at her with an expectant gleam.

  “Now you’ve done it. You’ll never get rid of him now.”

  She wrapped her arm around the dog’s neck and hugged him. “I don’t want to. Rescuers rate very highly in my estimation. He’s welcome to all I have, including my devotion.”

  When Elias’s eyebrows rose, she realized what she’d said, and she scrambled to change the subject.

  “You’re a good teacher. I enjoyed your lessons today. You could easily be the teacher here in Snowflake year-round. I’m surprised Tyler didn’t tap you for this job.” She folded her napkin slowly and placed it in the lunch pail.

  “I appreciate the compliment, but I wouldn’t want to teach all the time. I like being the sheriff, and I like farming with my pa. Training horses is more to my liking than training children, though a week or two here or there isn’t so bad.”

  Savannah nodded. “Teaching is much more fulfilling than I thought it would be. I’m thrilled with the progress the entire class is making. They’re so quick, and their minds are so agile. Most of them could enter any regular school and do well now. There are a couple coming along in English a bit more slowly, but I suspect that has more to do with it not being spoken at home.” She looked at her pupils clustered around the stove, pride warming her heart. “Did you know that most of the kids are teaching their parents English at night? They take what they’ve learned here, teach it at home, and reinforce their lessons. I don’t think they even know how beneficial that is.”

  Margrethe broke away from the group and edged over. Shyly, she held out two cookies. “For you, teachers,” she said in Norwegian.

  “Takk,” Elias replied, taking them and handing one to Savannah.

  “Miss Cox?” Margrethe stroked Cap’s head. “Are you going to be our teacher for always? Hakon says nobody ever stays that comes from outside, and that you will not come back for next year.”

  Savannah caught the gist of her question. Her heart was torn. Elias looked at her expectantly, as did the rest of the class. She swallowed.

  “I don’t know, Margrethe.” She didn’t know what to say, especially in her halting Norwegian. “I planned to return to my family.”

  “But you will come back, won’t you? I like you best of all the teachers.” Margrethe crowded close and laid her head on Savannah’s shoulder.

  Putting her arm around the little girl, she gave her a squeeze. “I like you, too, sweetie. I don’t know what God has in store for me, but I will be praying for Him to show me.”

  This seemed to satisfy Margrethe. “I will pray, too, and maybe you will stay.”

  When she rejoined the rest of the class, Elias swept crumbs off the desk. “Your family must miss you. Is there anyone else waiting for you? Anyone special?”

  He said it so casually, and yet Savannah’s senses went on alert. He’d seen the letter from Girard and that ridiculous bookmark she’d forgotten about until it fell on the floor, yet he hadn’t questioned her about it. Had he been thinking all this time that she had a sweetheart at home?

  “No, there’s no one special waiting for me. Not anymore.”

  Elias pursed his lips and tapped the desktop with his fingers, giving a slow nod.

  “That’s all right then, isn’t it.” He didn’t make it sound like a question, but rather a conclusion he’d come to.

  And just what was she supposed to make of that?

  Chapter Twelve

  “Welcome. Come in, come in. Come in out of this cold.” Ian Parker stamped his boots and clapped his hands, his breath billowing out in icy clouds. “Guess we’re not in danger of missing out on a white Christmas, are we?” Snow banked up against the sides of the Parker farmhouse and scudded along ahead of a cutting wind. Idle flakes swirled in the air, settling and blowing like thistledown.

  Savannah slid out from under the buffalo robe, hopped down from the sleigh into the shin-deep drifts and carried her valise up the steps. “Thank you so much for opening your home. I wasn’t much fancying staying alone over the holidays, what with the Halvorsons traveling.”

  Ian showed her into the house, taking her valise from her hand. “We couldn’t be happier. Tova has been baking and cleaning and getting ready. She’s looking forward to your visit.”

  Slipping off her hood, Savannah inhaled the heady aroma of spices and yeast. In the ten days since the December 13 festival, she’d become familiar with the scent of Saint Lucia bread. Not only the smell, but the taste of the sweet, golden treats, and her mouth watered.

  Elias brought her harp case in. “Where is the best place for this?”

  “Anywhere not too close to the hearth.” Savannah let Ian help her with her coat. “The heat dries out the wood too much.”

  Elias placed the case on a bench beside the staircase. “I’ll go take care of the team.”

  Tova set the coffeepot on the table. “Come, get warm. It is cold riding in the sleigh.”

  Boots sounded on the hall floor upstairs and echoed down the staircase, and Savannah turned. Who else was in the house?

  “Hello, Miss Cox.” Tyler Parker came into the main room, dressed as dapperly as ever. “Glad to see you made it through your first semester.”

  Of course he would be home for the holidays. She offered her hand, praying he wouldn’t squeeze too hard. Her hands had healed well. The swelling had gone down and the burning subsided. Thanks to copious applications of Mrs. Halvorson’s homemade ointment, her skin had healed well, too. But Savannah was still cautious.

  Tyler must’ve heard about her injury, because he cupped her hand in his as if he was holding a wounded bird. “I’ve been hearing good reports about you since I got back.”

  An uprush of pleasure had her smiling. “Thank you.” It was silly to be so happy at his approval, but she couldn’t help it. She was making a success of teaching.

  “We’ve put you in the guest room here off the kitchen. It stays warm, backed up against the fireplace like it is.” Ian carried her valise there and emerged to take her woolen coat and hang it on a peg beside the door. “We’re glad you’re here.”

  Elias stomped the snow from his boots on the front porch and came inside. He removed his gloves and blew into his cupped hands. “I sure hope we get our January thaw this year. It’s frostier than a Greenland glacier out there.”

  “We’re bound to. As cold as it’s been so early, the weather’s bound to moderate soon.” Ian nodded, glancing out the window as if to check his forecast.

  Tyler slapped Elias on the shoulder. “I hear you didn’t make a total hash of the parochial term.”

  �
�Thanks. Pretty sure everyone survived it.”

  Savannah trailed her fingers along the lovely rosemaling on the back of a chair. “He did a wonderful job. I learned so much, and I know the children did, too. Norwegian history is so fascinating. That was my favorite part of the day. And the way he tied everything together—the Scripture, the hymns, the church history, the political history... The students just ate it up.”

  Tyler looked from her to Elias, and Savannah’s cheeks warmed. Why had she felt the need to defend Elias’s teaching? Even to her ears it had sounded a bit gushy.

  Elias put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his toes. “You would’ve gotten an A anyway, but buttering up the teacher never hurts, I guess.” He winked, and her heart fluttered.

  Really, Savannah, get ahold of yourself. Remember how you got here. Use some discernment.

  Her heart refused to listen and kept up its hyperawareness of him.

  “Come,” Tova called again. “Sit and eat, or I vill be trowing it out.”

  The coffee and bread warmed her, as did the easy way the Parkers treated her, more like a family member than a guest.

  “You’ll have to educate me on Norwegian Christmas traditions. I learned a lot during the Saint Lucia festival earlier this month, but I’m sure there are more things I need to know.”

  “And you will be teaching us about your family traditions, ja?” Tova asked.

  “I will. And thank you for having me here for the holidays. It’s most kind of you.”

  She waved away Savannah’s thanks with a smile and a blush. “You are no trouble. It vill be nice to have a voman in de house.”

  Elias leaned his cheek on his fist and yawned. Belatedly, he covered his mouth. “Excuse me. Late night.”

  “You should’ve woke me up.” Ian poured himself another cup. “This boy of mine spent all night in the barn with a sick horse. Silly beast had colic, and Elias walked her up and down the aisle in the barn for hours.”

  “Had to. Every time I stopped, she tried to lie down and roll.”

  “And that’s bad?” Savannah asked.

  Elias nodded. “The worst. Colic is when a horse has a bellyache, and if they roll, they can twist their gut into a knot. It’s called a torsion, and it can be fatal.”

  “Which horse was it?”

  Rubbing his hand down his jaw, Elias stifled another yawn. “Elsker. She opened her stall door, the little minx, and ate half a bag of grain that was sitting in the aisle. Just as well she only got colic. She might’ve foundered altogether. Anyway, she’s fine now, and unrepentant. I tied her door closed this time, now that I know she can open the latch.”

  “Why don’t you go take a nap before supper?” Ian drained his cup. “I’ll be out in the barn cleaning up the tack room, and Tyler says he has paperwork to accomplish.”

  Tova stood and began clearing up cups and plates. “I vill be baking, and Savannah can be helping me.”

  Throughout the afternoon, Savannah stirred and kneaded and tasted. The more time she spent with Tova, the more she loved her. The woman reminded her to some degree of Aunt Carolina, but mostly of what she imagined her own mother had been like. Savannah had few recollections of her mother, but had created a mythical image, an “if only” idea of the relationship they might have had if she hadn’t died so young. Being with Tova stirred up those feelings.

  “You are an excellent teacher, Tova. I see where your sons get their teaching abilities.” She sampled a gingerbread man cookie. “Delicious. I fear I’ll be unable to fit into my dresses if I stay here too long.”

  Tova slapped a mound of dough into shape and dropped it into an oiled pan to rise. “You can use some feeding, I tink. Now to make de kransekake and ve vill be done for today.”

  Ian came in through the back door, letting in a gust of cold air. “Did I hear someone say kransekake?” He shrugged out of his coat.

  “You did. Always you come to find me when I make kransekake. Sometimes I wonder if it is only my cupboard you love.” Tova gave her husband a saucy grin.

  “Never you fear, darlin’. I’d love you if you couldn’t cook a lick. But kransekake is my favorite.” He put his cheek against hers. “You’re nice and warm.”

  “And you are cold. Go sit by the fire.”

  Savannah envied them their closeness, the obvious affection they shared. “What is kransekake, and how do we make it?” She dusted her hands on her apron.

  “It means wreath cake.” Ian took one of the gingerbread men. “Lots of cakes baked in a wreath shape, smaller and smaller, then stacked one atop the other into a tower. Tova drizzles it with sugar icing or honey sometimes, and puts candied fruit on it, too.” He smacked his lips. “One of the best things about Christmas week.”

  As they were mixing the almond-flavored batter, Elias came downstairs, hair tousled, eyes heavy with sleep. Savannah watched him from under her lashes, very aware of him as she laid the soft dough into the ring pans of decreasing size. He looked even more handsome than usual, boyish even. Girard never would’ve allowed anyone to see him looking less than perfectly turned out, but Elias was different, casual and sure of himself, especially on his home turf.

  “Have a nice sleep, son?” Ian shook out the pages of a newspaper, holding it at an angle toward the windowpane.

  “Felt good. I can’t remember the last time I took a nap.” He wandered over to the table. “Ah, my favorite.”

  Tova swatted his hand away from the cake batter and handed him a fat sugar cookie instead. “You say everything is your favorite.”

  He grinned, chewing. “Everything is...except lutefisk.”

  Tyler trotted down the stairs, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “You never know how many ways there are to do something wrong until you grade it a dozen times. These students are going to be the death of me.”

  “Trouble, big brother?”

  Rolling his shoulders, Tyler took a cookie for himself. “Some of my students are a handful, that’s for certain. The school is almost all boys, and at the moment, most of them are struggling with grammar.”

  “How old are they?” Savannah gave the last pan to Tova and wiped her hands on her apron. Before she knew it, she and Tyler were deep into a discussion of teaching methods and sentence diagramming. She lost all track of the time, enjoying a long conversation on a subject about which she was confident.

  “You learned all this in normal school?” Tyler examined the sample sentence she gave him. “I’m amazed. I can’t wait to try this method on my students.”

  Savannah sat back, pleased at his approval. “I went to a very good school, and the teachers wanted us to learn more than just facts. They wanted us to know how children take in and retain information, and at what age levels you can expect changes. My math teacher said the most difficult time for a lot of students, particularly boys, is that twelve to thirteen age range. They’re growing so fast you can almost hear it, and they’re being asked to think abstractly for perhaps the first time in their lives. It’s a lot to process.”

  “Time for dinner.” Elias stood and adjusted his suspenders on his shoulders. “You’ve talked enough shop for a while, don’t you think?”

  “Is it really that late?” Savannah glanced at the window, which showed full dark. “Oh, Tova, I’m so sorry. I should’ve helped you clean up the baking and make the supper.”

  “No need. You were vorking. But all is ready now. Come.”

  Savannah found herself seated beside Elias, her sleeve brushing his. When he held out his hand, her heart started bumping against her ribs.

  “Time to say grace.”

  Slowly she rested her hand in Elias’s and bowed her head. Ian prayed the blessing, but Savannah had a difficult time concentrating on the words.

  This has got to stop. You are going to return to Raleigh hea
rt-whole, remember? Your time here is temporary, and you’re not going to fall—

  “Amen.”

  She realized she was still holding Elias’s hand, and snatched hers away.

  This was getting ridiculous.

  * * *

  Elias passed plates and filled his own, all the while trying to get ahold of himself. What was the matter with him? Savannah had been a burden around his neck for the past four months, and he’d wanted nothing more than for Tyler to come back and take her off his hands. And yet when they’d been engrossed in their parsing sentences and teaching methods, Elias had sat there like a stump.

  A jealous stump.

  Ma caught his eye, a question gleaming in her expression. She was too shrewd by half. Not much got by her, especially where her sons were concerned.

  “So, Savannah,” he said, seeking to get Ma’s focus off him. “Tell us about Christmas in North Carolina.”

  A wistful look came over her face, a half smile and a middle-distant stare. “Christmas at home is wonderful. So many parties and balls. All month, it’s a whirl. Every afternoon there is visiting, teas and gatherings. And nearly every evening a dance or a symphony or opera to attend. And lots of charity work, too.” She sighed. “My aunts are on several charity boards, and we get to work alongside them.” Tugging at her lower lip, Savannah laughed. “One of Aunt Georgette’s charities sees to clothing for those in need, and a few Christmases ago she wanted all of us girls to knit stockings. I am a hopeless knitter.” Her laughter grew. “I talked more than I knitted and ended up dropping stitches or adding too many. My attempt at a stocking turned into a real mess.”

  “Did you ever figure it out?”

  “Knitting? No, crocheting turned out to fit my temperament better.”

  Tova nodded. “I like the crocheting better also.”

  A look of such fondness passed between his mother and Savannah, Elias had to smile. His ma was a good judge of character. Better than he’d given her credit for, since she hadn’t warmed up to Britta at all.