Family Lessons

by Allie Pleiter

  “I’m...” His voice was broken, filled with a panic she’d never heard from him.

  “Mason...” She kept grasping for words that would not come, and yet every time he heard her speak his name, the pain in his eyes doubled.

  “No!” he said, putting a hand out when she managed a step toward him. “No, don’t.”

  Don’t come near me. Her mind finished the sentence for him, the words scalding. Things had dropped from bliss to disaster in the space of a heartbeat, leaving her with only one word clanging in her head: mistake.

  Mason shook his head. “That was wrong.” He choked out the words as if they tasted foul. “This can never happen. Ever.”

  Holly started to ask “Why?” but didn’t she have the answer already? He, in concert with every other man of her acquaintance, didn’t want her. The moment had gotten out of hand, but once he’d come back to himself, he’d pushed her away immediately. She’d only been fooling herself to think she could have anything more than that—a stolen moment followed by regret.

  Mason turned in a slow circle, like a cornered animal. “No,” he said twice more under his breath. He couldn’t even look at her, and that hurt most of all.

  * * *

  Mason was fighting for air, grasping for control he didn’t have. He turned in a circle, trying to put the world back to rights when it had just burst apart in front of him. He looked anywhere but at her, anywhere but into the clear blue eyes that had pulled him under.

  To feel so much after being numb for so long...It hurt. It pounded as hard as the years of grief, maybe even harder because it had been his own doing. The force of his yearning shocked him. It came up so fast, unleashed like some huge beast by the sheer tenderness of her inscription. A forgiven future. She’d managed to pick the words most able to shred his heart into a thousand wild pieces and he’d lunged at it. Grabbed at the ridiculous notion that such a thing was possible for him, reached for she who held it out to him.

  Reached for that sweet, lovely lady as if he had any right to even hope for someone like her in his life. It was a thousand kinds of wrong, a million kinds of cruel and absolute bliss to kiss her that way. She was so perfect, so achingly kind and full of the wonder he’d lost years ago. When she’d reached for him, slipped her hand around his neck, he’d come undone. He found her irresistible. Blindingly intoxicating. He still wasn’t sure how he managed to stop, and that frightened him most of all.

  What have I done? He tried to pull in enough air to think straight, but nothing helped. He had absolutely no control over the storm raging inside of him. Mason, who always had a plan, who always saw the way out of any situation, was cornered with no escape. He felt too much for Holly Sanders. He could offer her nothing but wounds and scars, and while her tenderness might fool her into thinking she could heal him, he knew better. He was beyond healing. If he could manage one noble thing in this world, it should be to keep Holly Sanders from being sucked into the darkness of his life.

  Tonight had shown him one truth: he couldn’t be near her. That boundless mercy of hers would be both their undoing. And that kiss? That achingly sweet kiss? It could never happen again. The forgiven future she offered? That was her misguided dream, not his bleak reality.

  He turned, fully aware what an awful thing it was to walk away but unable to do anything else. There was no saving anything here—no point in even talking. He knew her; she’d find something tender to say and he’d be lost. There was nothing but hurt for her if he hesitated even one more minute.

  Looking up, Mason spied the one thing capable of shocking his system into clarity. A bucket of ice couldn’t have frozen his pounding heart more than the sight of Rebecca Sterling shutting the schoolhouse door.

  She’d seen all of it.

  Leave it to me, he thought with bile rising in his throat, to hurt Holly even more.

  Mason twisted back to see if Holly’s door was still open, but by some grace she’d already gone inside. Some part of his heart imagined he heard her crying, which wasn’t possible from here. More likely she was pacing her sweet little house, as stunned as he, wondering what in the world had just happened. He looked down, almost startled to see the book he still held, the pink ribbon laced between his fingers. Mason cursed his lack of control, cursed the loneliness Bucky and Cindy’s happiness had stirred up into a storm that left more ruin in its wake than the broken dam.

  Miss Sterling was a friend of Holly’s, so Mason doubted she’d spread any talk, but just seeing her reminded him how much worse things could have been. What if it had been Beatrice Ward or one of her cronies out for a stroll? Holly’s reputation could have been ruined just because he wasn’t strong enough to keep away from her as he should.

  Well, his feelings for her, and hers for him, wouldn’t be an issue any longer—he’d see to that.

  Walking back to his house, Mason clamored for some kind of plan to set things right. He had no other choice than to cut himself off from her completely. The trouble was that there was only one way to do that, and it happened to call for doing the one thing that would make tonight hurt worse: he had to make her hate him. As long as she held him in her stubborn regard, she’d be able to unravel him when his guard was down. Hadn’t she just proved that?

  He looked at the book in his hand, ran his finger over the soft sheen of the ribbon. He’d read the book tonight—sleep would elude him, anyway—but come tomorrow, he’d give it back in such a way that she’d never forgive him.

  It didn’t matter that he’d never be able to forgive himself...he was already unforgivable.

  Chapter Twelve

  Holly sat in church feeling hollow and frail. Normally, Sunday mornings were among her favorite times. Worship was always sweet here. But today she sang the words of the hymn without attention, heard the words of the sermon but didn’t listen. She couldn’t get over how foolish she’d been. When God had brought her to the idea of sharing her faith with Mason, she’d been so bold, so arrogant that she’d actually thought that bringing Mason closer to God would bring him closer to her, too. She’d believed it might even be the first step in gaining his love.

  Didn’t she know better by now? Hadn’t she learned that she could never be the sort of woman to catch a man’s affections so boldly? To catch a man’s affections at all? Who was she to think she could—or should—love Mason Wright?

  Mason hadn’t shown up in church with the rest of the Selection Committee. Mason hardly ever went to church, and she knew that. She’d always known that. Why had she made herself believe she could change him? Perhaps God could change him, and His word was in Mason’s hands now, but that proved little comfort. Yes, she’d followed God’s leading, and he’d accepted the book. As for her heart...The sting of that rejection was only doubled by the truth that she had only herself to blame. A mistake of her own fool notions, not God’s prompting.

  A hand on her shoulder pulled her from the dark cloud of her thoughts. Holly looked up to see Charlotte peering at her, Sasha decked out in Sunday best beside her.

  “Are you all right, Holly?”

  “Of course.” Holly pasted a smile on her face and touched the bright yellow ribbon in Sasha’s hair. She felt a pang as she wondered if her own hair ribbon was now haplessly in some mud puddle behind Mason’s house. “Why do you ask?”

  Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “Because you never sit in back and the service ended five minutes ago.” She nodded around the empty sanctuary, then sat down beside Holly. “Sasha, see Mrs. Hicks in the doorway there? Why don’t you ask her to take you out to your father. He’s out by the lemonade, I’m sure.” Every Sunday after church the Ladies’ Society set out lemonade on the town square, but Holly couldn’t bear the thought of being out there today. “What’s troubling you?”

  “I’m tired. So much has happened this week.” That wasn’t exactly a falsehood, but it wasn’t a complete answer by any stretch. If only I’d listened to my own good sense, Holly wanted to say, then I wouldn’t have gotten my hopes tangled up
in this miserable mess to start with.

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Charlotte sat back, smiling. “It’s been a whirlwind. A happy one, though. Sasha is wonderful. I’m so glad you listened when God gave you the idea to keep the children here. Sasha and I thanked God for you last night. Is it all right if she comes with me when I help out in the schoolhouse tomorrow? She’s only four, but she loves being there and I don’t think she’ll be any trouble.”

  Yet more weight pressed down against Holly’s weary shoulders. Her class was about to nearly double in size tomorrow, and she wasn’t ready. She’d need a month of Sundays to pull her jumbled thoughts together. If she needed a distraction from thoughts of Mason, there were plenty to choose from—if she could manage to focus. “Of course she’s welcome.” Charlotte’s happy face was a welcome reminder that Holly had managed to do some good. Acting on God’s call to her had resulted in new families like Charlotte’s. “She looks adorable this morning. And so happy.”

  “I’d forgotten how exhausting little girls can be.” Charlotte paused, cocking her head to one side. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  I have no idea. I don’t know whether my heart is opening up or breaking in two. “Yes, I’m fine. Just tired and a bit anxious.”

  Rebecca, resplendent in her Sunday best, came down the church aisle with a frown on her delicate features. “I’m afraid I won’t ease your mind. Holly, we have to talk.”

  Charlotte picked up on Rebecca’s serious tone. “I’ll leave you two to your business. See you tomorrow, bright and early.”

  Rebecca huffed as she perched on the pew next to Holly, who began to wonder if she’d leave the sanctuary before supper. “Sunday school isn’t going well.”

  “Mary Turner is usually wonderful with the children.”

  “I’m sure she is, but Patrick and Liam are giving her fits, and it’s only been ten minutes. Ned Minor’s gone in there to help, but I think our problems extend beyond Bible classes.”

  Holly felt a headache blooming behind her eyes. “The days will be a challenge this week, no doubt about it.”

  Rebecca folded her hands. “Not just the days, I’m afraid.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I caught Liam coming in late last night. He’s been sneaking out.”

  Holly really had chosen the best orphan to slip out and run for help during the robbery. “Sneaking out? To do what?”

  Rebecca looked as if Holly’s headache was catching. “He says ‘nothing,’ but I don’t believe him. He had the look of someone who’d just learned a whopping secret. Or been up to serious mischief. When I pressed him, he gave me some clever speech about needing wide-open space, that being cooped up in the schoolhouse was making him ‘itchy.’” She offered Holly a sympathetic look. “All the boys are rattled about not being placed, and I’m afraid it’s coming out in unfortunate ways. I caught Patrick threatening to dump a cup of lemonade down Friedrich’s back just now.” She placed her elbow on the pew rail and rested her head in one hand. “And Miss Ward saw the whole thing.”

  Miss Ward would have volumes to say about that. Something involving hooligans in Sunday school and the criminal tendencies of vagrants, to be sure. “I half expect her to be standing in the back of the schoolhouse tomorrow morning taking notes. And not on vocabulary.”

  Rebecca managed a sad smile. “Oh, well, Liam showed some very fine vocabulary just now, and I’m sure Miss Ward was taking careful notes. Pastor Turner currently has him standing in one corner. Patrick is in the other.”

  Holly was almost afraid to ask. “And Friedrich? Tom?”

  “Tom’s the only one who hasn’t been trouble. As for Friedrich, I mentioned his fine singing to Mrs. Turner, and won her good graces instantly. He’s joining the choir.” Rebecca’s hands tightened on each other as she added, “If he stays.”

  Holly put a hand over Rebecca’s. “Of course he’ll stay. They all will.” She yearned for the confidence she had yesterday, but it eluded her. Everything felt out of reach this morning...except for God’s grace, and the certainty she felt through it that the children belonged in Evans Grove. “We’ll place the boys and Heidi, I’m sure of it.” She stood up and smoothed her skirts. “I suppose I could give the children such a heap of work they’ve no time to wander off. Would that help?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. For some of them it will be their first day in school.”

  “Their first day? So late in the year?”

  Rebecca nearly grimaced. “Their first day ever.”

  Holly felt as if a giant mountain had just risen up before her. “Well,” she said, pushing a stray hair back into place, “I always did say I enjoyed a challenge.”

  * * *

  “Very good, Lizzie. That is indeed a fine ‘L.’ Did you know it’s the first letter of your name?” Holly leaned down and wrote “Lizzie” is large capital letters on the top of Lizzie’s slate. “Try to copy that.”

  Lizzie looked up at her. “What about Bobbins?”

  Holly had to smile. “Bobbins is a very complicated name, so we’ll save that for later.”

  One of the older town children didn’t even bother to raise his hand—a sign the classroom’s structure had been skewed out of control today. “Why does she get to bring a toy to school?” The injustice of it pinched the corner of the boy’s eyes.

  “Michael, we raise our hands in this class.”

  “Ma’am,” he shot back far too sharply, “we don’t get to bring toys to school.”

  She’d had dozens of such exchanges today. It seemed every single student was acting out frustrations, anxieties, or just plain orneriness over the nearly doubled size of the class. The room felt hot and tight despite the fresh spring day. It didn’t help that she’d barely slept, and that Beatrice Ward had shown up ten minutes before the morning bell to give Holly her undisputed opinion on the “inborn weaknesses of the poor.” Thank goodness Beatrice had left for a luncheon with Miss Sterling. Things were difficult enough as it was without a full day of her “supervision.”

  “Michael Walworth.” She walked over and stood in front of—nearly over—the boy. “When you are thousands of miles from the only home you’ve ever known, when you have been witness to a horrible crime and been cooped up in this schoolhouse for days on end and when you are in a brand-new home with people who seem nice but you hardly knew before yesterday, then you can bring a doll to class, too.” Her words were sharper than she would have liked, but Michael Walworth had stomped on every last nerve she had today.

  Normally, her school days flew by in a flurry of activity and learning. Today crept along like molasses. When Holly finally stood up and signaled the end of the school day, everyone in the room—and probably even Bobbins—breathed a sigh of relief. The children tumbled out of the schoolhouse and into the yard like a stampede. Even Holly was desperate to get outside under the open sky and sunshine.

  Watching the children—for it had been agreed that the last half hour of school would be out of doors for everyone to ease the tension of some children going home and others not—Holly spied Rebecca coming wearily up the street. She didn’t envy Miss Sterling her luncheon one bit; Holly would be hard-pressed to say who’d had the more burdensome afternoon.

  As they stood together supervising the play yard, Holly tried to offer sympathy between disciplinary commands. “How was luncheon? Tom, put that stick down!”

  The resulting look on poor Rebecca’s face said everything. “Very, very long.”

  Holly put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry to say I’m not surprised. I got an earful this morning, and Miss Ward told me she was going to corner you for lunch. Patrick, let the little ones play with that ball.”

  “And here I thought my father was the most opinionated soul on God’s green earth. I believe Beatrice could best him.” One corner of her mouth turned up. “Or if not, she could surely wear him down.” Rebecca scanned the yard. “Galina, don’t go near that puddle!” She turned b
ack to Holly to ask, “How were the children?”

  Holly shielded her eyes from the sun as she guessed how long it would take the “conversation” between Patrick and Michael to descend into an argument. Or worse. Michael had looked ready to throw a punch for the last hour. “Honestly? Awful. I think it will take you, me, Charlotte and maybe even Amelia Hicks to keep the peace tomorrow.”

  “Goodness. Maybe we should call in the sheriff instead.”

  Rebecca had meant it in jest. She couldn’t know that would be the one thing guaranteed to make tomorrow more awful. “Oh, I don’t think it’s come to that,” she managed, feeling the twist in her chest that had kept her up most of the night. “But I might send a few of them over to be locked up. Liam, give that back!”

  “Don’t tell Miss Ward. She’d march them over there herself. I’m glad the children are already outside. They’d best enjoy themselves while they can.”

  Holly glanced up at her tall companion. “What do you mean?”

  “Simply put, we can’t afford another incident. Not if the boys are to stand any chance of getting placed. While I’m not fond of the idea, the children are going to have to stay in the schoolhouse. No wandering, no one outside unless directly supervised.” Rebecca glanced over at Liam. “Most especially our little redheaded shadow over there. If Beatrice ever found out he was wandering the streets last night, those boys would be on the next train to Greenville.”

  “That will be a challenge. They’ve been complaining about being cooped up as it is. I got an earful when I asked Liam about wandering about.” Holly lowered her voice. “I hate to say it, but the way he talked, I don’t think last night was the first time. And I don’t think it was just Liam.”

  Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m sure you’re right. I know they’re anxious, and feeling left out with so many of the girls placed, but we can’t let it escalate into something that will ruin their chances. I hate to be so strict, but I don’t see any other way to keep them controlled. Do you?” She looked understandably dubious. It would surely be a long night trying to occupy those boys and Heidi. “We have to place them—and soon.”