Ruth Ann spun in Myra’s direction, causing the bowl to wobble precariously close to the counter’s edge.
Benjamin reached toward the counter, grabbing the dish before it toppled to the floor.
“Huh? Oh, it’s coming along fine.”
He licked his finger clean. “And delicious, too.”
Myra stooped and scratched underneath Buddy’s chin. “Good dog.” Her eyes met Benjamin’s. “He a fine watch dog, Mr. Benjamin.”
Benjamin raised his shoulders and lifted his hands suggesting he was completely innocent, but Myra stared him down. “All right. I’ll be on my best behavior. You win.”
“Mmm hmm, I always do. The sooner you get that in your thick skull, the better it gonna go for you ‘round here.”
Sensing the excitement had concluded, Buddy returned to his blanket by the stove, this time keeping his eyes on Benjamin instead of sleeping.
Benjamin sighed. “Care for a taste?”
Myra grinned. “Don’t mind if I do.” She pinched the dough then smacked her lips. “Mmm, that’s so soft, it like floatin’ away to heaven on a cloud.” She gave the contents of the bowl a closer inspection then furrowed her brows. “But I still see lumps of butter in that dough, Missy.”
Ruth Ann rolled her eyes and stirred the dough again.
Benjamin chuckled. “I’ve been trying to tell her that, Myra, but she thinks it’s fine the way it is.”
A burst of air rushed from of the corner of Ruth Ann’s mouth in a failed effort to blow a strand of wayward hair from her cheek.
“Let me show you how it’s done.” Benjamin reached for the bowl.
“That’s quite all right, Mr. Coulter.” She bit back a grin. “I can manage.”
He tugged on the dish. “C’mon give me the dough, Miss Sutton.”
Ruth Ann shook her head. “Un-uh. You go get the sugar ready so when I finish beating this dough until its silky smooth, we can get these cookies baking.”
Benjamin grinned. She was a stubborn woman. Keeping up with her would be a challenge—one he was happy to take on. Grabbing the canister from the counter, he scooped sugar into a glass bowl to sprinkle on the cookies before they went into the oven.
Myra gave Benjamin a stern look. “I gonna be in the next room polishin’ the silver.”
Benjamin glanced at Buddy still awake, eyes trained on him. “All right. Buddy has everything under control in here.”
She paused at the door. “I’m sure he do.”
~*~
Tongue pressed against her upper lip, Ruth Ann continued working the ingredients with a heavy wooden spoon. “I’ve never met a man who enjoyed baking. How did you learn?”
“My grandmother, mostly. She loved to bake, and I enjoyed spending time with her.”
“Were you close to your grandmother?”
“Yes. She passed while I was in Texas.”
Ruth Ann set the bowl on the counter in front of Benjamin and reached for his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. I suspect she’s up in heaven, watching us now, pleased to see that I’m sharing her recipe with you.”
Ruth Ann closed her eyes. She imagined Benjamin rolling dough balls alongside his white-haired grandmother. She liked the images it conjured in her mind—images of home and family and warm cookies baking. There was something good and decent about a man like that.
“I dare you to find any more lumps.”
Benjamin pushed the wooden spoon through the dough. “Well done. You’re ready to graduate to pie-making.”
“Y-you know how to make pies?”
“Yep—blueberry, peach, rhubarb, mincemeat, raisin, pumpkin, but apple is my specialty.”
She arched a brow.
“Honest. I even won second place at a county fair when I was fourteen.”
She shook her head and grimaced. Her baking skills suffered grossly in comparison.
“Come on over here, Ruth Ann, and I’ll show you what we do next.” He pinched a blob of dough, rolled it between his palms, and placed it on the pan.
Ruth Ann did the same.
“Next, take the glass and dip it into the dough, then into the sugar, then flatten the balls, like this.” Benjamin proceeded to squash the round mixture with the sugar-laced glass.
They worked quickly and soon had two trays ready for the oven.
“How long do the cookies bake?”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t bake much, do you?”
She shook her head.
“It varies depending on how hot the fire is.” He opened the door and checked the blaze inside. “Hmm, maybe nine or ten minutes. You have to keep a close eye on them so the edges don’t burn.”
She noted the time on her watch pin. While the first batch baked, they continued making dough balls.
“Ruth Ann.” Benjamin waited for her to look at him. “We need to let Joseph know about the incident at Turner’s this morning.”
She frowned and shifted from him, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.
Benjamin placed a hand on Ruth Ann’s shoulder, angling her toward him again. “It’s important that you’re safe.”
She nodded then heaved a sigh. She thought he’d forgotten about the men in front of the mercantile. Benjamin hadn’t said much about her teaching position one way or the other. Would he oppose her now? Her teeth tugged on her bottom lip. And what would she do if he did?
11
Ruth Ann moved from desk to desk observing the marks her adult students wrote on their slates, each one forming the letters that spelled their name. She leaned near Bea’s ear and whispered, “The ‘e’ is backward.”
The older woman wiped the letter away with a tattered piece of white cloth and tried again.
Ruth Ann patted Bea’s shoulder. “Well done.”
Her eyes drifted toward the back of the classroom where a handsome surveyor’s apprentice studied for his upcoming certification exam. She’d been worried he’d oppose her efforts at the Freedmen’s School after Silas Hench had accosted her outside Turner’s store. Instead, he’d offered to escort her to and from her evening classes. Heat flashed across her cheeks when Benjamin caught her staring, pride beaming from his eyes. His presence made it difficult to concentrate on her lessons.
Forcing her attention back to the task-at-hand, she peered over Isaac’s shoulder. “Nice work.”
She surveyed the burgeoning class. In only three weeks, the number of adult students had quadrupled. There were already three adult students for every book and slate she had. Class members filled the benches Benjamin had made. If any more students showed up, she wouldn’t know where to seat them.
Ruth Ann referenced her watch pin. “That’s all for tonight.” She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and shivered. “Remember, Thursday is Thanksgiving, and there will be no class.” She pointed to the bench where Benjamin sat in the back of the room. “There are jars of peaches, green beans, beets, and preserves in the crate next to Mr. Coulter. Enough for every family to take one. Please add them to your family’s supper on Thursday. It’s my way of saying how thankful I am for each of you and your eagerness to learn.”
Thank yous hummed across the classroom as students filed toward the front of the room stacking slates, chalk, and primers on her desk.
A hand rose in the back of the room. “Miss Sutton, when we gonna learn cypherin’?”
Conversation ceased. All eyes shifted to her. “I don’t know, Francis. With so many of you and only one of me, we are progressing slower than I had expected. We’ll need to be at a point where most of you can work independently so that half the class can receive instruction in arithmetic while the other half can practice their reading.” Ruth Ann tapped a slate pencil against the edge of her jaw line. “Hmmm, I’d say it won’t be until mid to late spring.”
Eyes dropped and smiles faded. Others shook their heads. Grateful for any opportunity to learn, none gave voice to their unhappiness.
“Thank you, Miss. We appreciate what
you doin’ for us.” Francis tipped his head in her direction. Many others echoed his gratitude as they funneled out of the schoolhouse.
Ruth Ann collected the McGuffey readers and placed them on the shelf in the supply closet.
Benjamin followed with the slates and slate pencils. “Don’t be discouraged, Ruth Ann. You’re doing a wonderful job.”
She pressed her palm against her temple and sighed. “I sense their frustration with their slow progress. It’s important that they learn arithmetic soon. Too often, they’re taken advantage of when selling their crops or buying items in some of the local stores. Many Negroes travel a long distance to buy from Mr. Turner because of his reputation for fairness and honesty.” Her hand trailed the shelf where the books sat stacked in neat rows. “I don’t want to let them down.”
“You won’t, but be patient.” Benjamin held her by the arms. “They’re learning. I hear improvement already.”
She nodded and removed the key to the supply closet from her pocket. “We’d better get going. It’s already half past eight.”
Benjamin opened the door to the potbelly stove then closed the valve. He picked up a poker and pushed the logs away from one another, spreading the ashes in a thin layer. “What if you taught reading on Tuesday evenings and arithmetic on Thursdays?” He closed the door and leaned the poker against the wall, then brushed his hands against his pants. “If they’re all doing math, you wouldn’t need to worry about whether or not they could work independently.”
“I’ve considered that, but I don’t like the idea of waiting a week to reinforce their reading concepts.” She slipped into the cape Benjamin held for her. “I’m positive their progress would slow nigh unto a standstill, and some are already frustrated with their sluggish improvement.” She paused and put her lessons and books in her satchel. “I know they’re disappointed, but I’m confident it’s better to stay with this course.”
~*~
Benjamin removed the haversack from Ruth Ann’s hand. “I’ll carry that.”
“Thank you.” She locked the door with the larger of the two keys on the ring.
When she faced him, the moonlight lit her features. Disappointment and doubt still lingered in her eyes. Even sad, she was the prettiest woman he’d ever escorted. “No thanks necessary. It’s really very selfish of me.”
Ruth Ann cocked her head.
He extended his arm. “Now your arm is free to take mine.”
A gentle smile graced her lips as she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. He brought his arm snug against himself, enjoying her closeness as they walked.
“Perhaps I should offer arithmetic on Saturdays,” she said.
“You’re already teaching the young ones Monday through Friday and the adults two evenings each week. You’ll wear yourself out.”
“But—”
“I think what you need is patience.”
A heavy breath pushed from her lungs. “You’re right.”
Seeing Ruth Ann lost in contemplation, worrying that she would let her students down, tugged on his heart. But why? This wasn’t his problem, nor was it a problem that she couldn’t resolve with a bit of patience. But it did matter. He wanted her world to be perfect, as silly as that sounded—to be her protector and her problem solver. There had to be a way. He just needed to think.
As they approached the path beside her home, Benjamin broke the silence. “What if I taught arithmetic to half the class while you taught reading, and we switch after the first hour?”
She paused. Eyes narrowing, she faced him.
He swiped his palm over his face. He didn’t know anything about teaching arithmetic. She would think him ridiculous now.
Ruth Ann took a step backward, her arm slipping from his hold. “I can’t believe you would—”
“I know, foolish idea, huh? What do I know about teaching arithmetic? However, I do know numbers. They are my strength, and you’d be—”
“No, Benjamin, it isn’t a foolish idea. It’s a brilliant one.”
He hooked his thumb through his belt loops and straightened his shoulders.
“But what about your certification exam? You need to study.”
Desperate to find a solution for her problem, he hadn’t given any thought to the exam. He’d figure something out. “You let me worry about that. I’ll manage.”
Her smile broadened, revealing the twin beauties in her cheeks.
“I just can’t believe you’d go to all this trouble to help my students.”
Her students? Is that what she thought? Maybe he was going about this wooing thing all wrong. He narrowed the distance between them. “Not for your students, Ruthie. For you.”
A gentle sigh slipped from her lips. “My father called me Ruthie when I was a girl.”
Benjamin cringed. Why had he called her that? She was a grown woman, not a child. He resisted the urge to crawl under the hydrangea bush nestled against the porch. “I didn’t mean to imply…I mean I don’t see you as…ugh.” His eyes drifted away from hers, too embarrassed by his slight. “Sorry, it just slipped out.”
Delicate fingertips grazed his chin, directing his eyes toward her again. “I like it, Ben.” Her voice faded to a whisper. “It’s…special, like you.”
Ben. He never liked the shortened version of his name and always insisted on people calling him Benjamin. It emanated respect. He liked the sound on her breathy lips, however, hinting at something only they shared.
Benjamin’s palm slid across her skin until it cupped her jaw. She rested her hand atop his as he cradled her cheek, all the while trembling at his touch. His gaze wandered to her mouth. Her lips called out to him, begging for a kiss. Desire surged through his veins. He was drawn to her, the way moths succumbed to flames. One kiss and he’d be doomed, forever at her mercy for another. Benjamin lowered his chin. Soon his mouth would find her moist, soft…fingertips?
Feathery light words floated in the evening air. “Not yet, Ben.”
He groaned. She’d done it to him again. “All right.” He rested his forehead on hers. “I’ll wait a while longer, Ruthie.”
She gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, lingering a moment before climbing the porch stairs.
“Ruthie, wait.”
“We mustn’t. You agreed, and I can’t stay out here any longer without risking Mama’s ire.” She tipped her head toward the window where her mother watched through the lace parlor curtains.
Benjamin took the stairs two at a time. “You’ll need this.” He handed her the satchel he’d been carrying.
“Oh, right.” She bit her lip. “Thank you.”
“But don’t think I wouldn’t mind getting a chance to hold you a bit longer.” He tucked the same wayward curl behind her ear. “If that’s what you had in mind.”
Eyes wide, she gasped, opened the door, and stepped inside. “Good night, Ben.”
He chuckled as he made his way down the stairs. The click of the latch returned his attention to the porch.
Her head poked through a space no wider than her shoulders. “Oh, I almost forgot. Sarah asked me to remind you that dinner will be served at noon on Thursday, and you’re not to be late. She’s looking forward to tasting your award-winning apple pie.”
“I’ll be here.” He grinned. “I look forward to eating the delicious meal you ladies plan on making without Myra’s help.”
“We can cook you know, Benjamin Coulter.” She disappeared behind the beveled glass door.
Benjamin whistled as he made his way home to the Petersons’ boardinghouse. He may not have gotten that kiss yet—but he would, eventually. He was growing more confident that Ruthie, and her kiss, were worth waiting for.
~*~
Ruth Ann poured the steaming tea through the sifter into each of three porcelain teacups on the kitchen table then offered one to Mama and Sarah. “Ben has—”
Mama’s brow lifted. “Ben? I thought he preferred Benjamin.”
“Yes, well I—” Ruth Ann’s cheeks f
lushed but she was determined not to let mama goad her. “I mean, Benjamin has offered to teach arithmetic during my evening classes.”
Sarah lowered the cup from her upturned lips. “Really? It seems like someone can’t spend enough time with you, little sister.”
“He’s just being kind.” She spooned sugar into her tea and stirred. “With so many students, we are progressing very slowly. His offer means we can begin arithmetic much sooner than I had originally planned.”
Sarah grinned. “Yes, I’m sure that’s why he’s doing it.”
Mama set three slices of apple cake on the table then positioned herself between her daughters. “I am growing fond of Benjamin. He is a very smart young man with a bright future in spite of his upbringing.”
Ruth Ann smiled and reached for a plate.
Mama slid the dessert away from Ruth Ann. “That one is for Sarah. I cut this one especially for you.”
Ruth Ann stared at the piece of cake in front of her. Her slice was twice the size of the one Mama had cut for Sarah. Why did Mama do this? Why did she tell her she was too plump to find a beau then offer her such large portions? It took considerably more will power to refrain from eating the dessert once it was on her plate. “I shouldn’t eat all of this, Mama.”
Mama’s hands fluttered in front of her face. “Nonsense. You love dessert, and apple cake is your favorite.”
“It is my favorite, but I’m trying to eat less sweets.” She moved to the counter and cut the wedge in half, returning a portion to the serving dish.
Mama’s lips thinned, and she folded her arms across her chest. “Sarah had suggested lemon cake, but I had Myra make this especially for you. You have been working very hard lately.”
“Thank you, Mama.” She placed her hand on her mother’s arm. “I do appreciate it, and I am having some. I just don’t want such a big piece, that’s all.” She took a small bite and swallowed.
“Please do not trouble yourself on my account.” Mama stood, removed Ruth Ann’s plate, and scraped the remainder into the garbage.
“Mama—”
“I am going to bed. Good night.” The swinging door whooshed closed as Mama’s uneven cadence faded into the parlor.
A Love Restored Page 12