Romancing the Schoolteacher

by Mary Davis

  Dora stiffened her shoulders. “Am too. Teacher said I could.”

  Bridget supposed it would be all right, if the woman couldn’t watch the girl. A child her age couldn’t very well be at home alone. “It’s all right, Gabe. She can stay.” Bridget turned back to Dora. She couldn’t just send her away on her own. “You have to sit still and be quiet so the other students can learn, too.”

  Dora nodded eagerly.

  * * *

  Lindley pumped the bellows that fanned the fire in the lime kiln. Even though the day was cool, sweat ran down his face and soaked his clothes. If they didn’t have the kiln hot enough, they couldn’t change the limestone into quicklime and then hydrate it into slaked lime for masonry work. He was in the learning stages of the job, but he’d read up on the process of lime mining, so he knew a bit of what to expect and how things should be done. Gary Bennett, the man who was instructing him, gave him occasional nods of approval.

  A commotion in the yard caught everyone’s attention. Some hysterical woman.

  Then the foreman called, “Thompson, get over here.”

  Lindley handed over the bellows arm to Mr. Bennett and trotted to the foreman. His breath caught in his throat, and he stopped short. “Mrs. Weston, what are you doing here? Is Dora all right?”

  The heavyset woman had dried tears on her cheeks. “She’s gone.” She took in a shuddered breath. “I took my eyes off her for two seconds. I’ve looked everywhere. She isn’t anywhere to be found.”

  Dora? Not his little girl. He should have left his children with his parents or older sister, Rachel, when they’d offered. But he had insisted on having them with him. He’d never been separated from them and couldn’t imagine being so for months. And now his baby was in danger.

  Tears filled Mrs. Weston’s eyes. “I won’t be responsible for a child who runs off. You’ll have to find someone else to look after her. If you find her.” She turned on her heel and strode away.

  The woman had seemed competent, but now he wondered. She couldn’t even keep track of one little girl.

  The lunch bell rang, and men gathered around. One of them asked, “What is it, Thompson?”

  “My daughter is missing.”

  Soon, the men he’d worked with for only a few hours had formed search parties of twos.

  “But it’s your lunch break.” These men needed the rest after how hard they worked. Arduous physical labor. These men didn’t even know him, yet they were not only willing to help, they were eager.

  “A child is missing. Lunch can wait.”

  As the men dispersed, the foreman called out, “Be back by the end of the break!”

  The man who had swiftly organized searchers paired up with him, and they headed back to Mrs. Weston’s home. The man held out his hand. “I’m Marcus.”

  Lindley took the offered hand. “Lindley.”

  “How old is your little one?”

  “Four.”

  Marcus shook his head. “Too young to be off on her own in a town she doesn’t know. And too young for school.”

  “School?” Lindley spun around and took off running.

  Marcus caught up to him. “You have an idea?”

  “She whined last night and again this morning about not being able to go to school with her brother.” When the one-room schoolhouse was in sight, he ran faster and burst through the door.

  All heads turned. All eyes were on him.

  His attention was captured for a moment by the lovely green-eyed teacher. “My daughter. Is she here?”

  Miss Greene pointed to the front row.

  Dora turned and waved. “I’m in school, Papa.”

  Lindley hurried to the front and scooped her up in his arms. “You’re safe.”

  Marcus clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Your daughter?”

  Lindley nodded.

  “I’ll tell the others and call off the search,” Marcus said as he turned to leave.

  Lindley hoped Marcus and the other men still had time to eat their lunches.

  “Search?” Miss Greene asked. “Dora said the woman couldn’t look after her. I thought you’d sent her here.”

  “No, she ran off.” He pulled Dora away from his shoulder so he could look her in the face. “Why did you run off?”

  Dora pointed her finger and looked indignant. “I wanted to go to school.” As if that was a perfectly acceptable reason for running off without telling Mrs. Weston.

  “Don’t you point your little finger at me. You never ever run away from the person I have set to look after you. Do you understand?”

  Dora nodded. “But I had to go to school. Teacher said I could be here.”

  Miss Greene nodded over Dora’s head so he could see but not his daughter.

  Lindley got lost in the teacher’s green eyes but quickly shook himself free. He’d come to find his daughter. And come to Roche Harbor for a job, nothing more. The schoolteacher had her own job to tend to. “I’m sorry for disturbing your class. If it truly is all right for Dora to stay—but just for today—that would be helpful. I will make other arrangements for her care.”

  “You do what you feel is best for your daughter. But it is quite all right for her to stay if you choose. She and Aggie are getting on well.”

  He hated to reward his daughter’s disobedience but had few options. “Thank you.” But this teacher had her hands full already with her classroom of all different ages. He would try to convince Mrs. Weston to take Dora during the day. He headed back to work with visions of the red-haired schoolteacher dancing in his head. Her sweet smile and agreeable nature warmed his heart.

  * * *

  As the other students filed out the door at the end of the school day, Bridget asked Gabe and Dora to stay. She squatted down to the boy’s level. “Do you and your sister have someplace to go after school?”

  The boy shrugged. “Mrs. Weston’s?”

  She knew the woman. She loved babies but could be impatient with older children, especially ones who asserted their own wills. So if Mrs. Weston wasn’t able to watch Dora, then she wasn’t likely able to watch both children after school until their father got off work. “How would the two of you like to come to my house until your father is done with work and comes to get you?”

  Both children nodded. Gabe beamed a smile, and Dora hugged her.

  “Let me write a note for your father. Then we will leave. Go ahead and take a seat until I’m ready.” She wrote the note, telling Mr. Thompson that she had taken his children home with her. And then she wrote her address.

  Oh, dear. What if Mr. Thompson couldn’t read? Just because he sent his children to school, and Gabe was obviously bright and could read, didn’t mean he could. She had several students with more education than their parents, parents who’d never gone to school and couldn’t read. So she drew a map to her house on the bottom of the paper.

  “Let’s go.” She gathered up her satchel and ushered the children out and to her house three blocks away.

  * * *

  Dusk loomed as Lindley approached the schoolhouse. When Mrs. Weston had quit this morning, he hadn’t thought about where his children would go after school until he’d finished work. What would his sisters say about that? He wouldn’t tell them. He hoped Gabe and Dora were still at the school.

  The pretty teacher would be none too pleased with him for being so negligent and for the imposition it must have caused her. After being at the school all day with children, she likely welcomed the break from them in the evenings.

  A sheet of paper addressed to him was attached to the schoolhouse door. He yanked it free and read it. So she’d taken them home. Well, at least she wasn’t stuck at the school. He was once more in her debt.

  He did hope she was trustworthy. After Mrs. Weston, he just wasn’t too confident. And mining companies weren’t known for being picky when choosing a teacher. Any willing person was generally hired.

  He trotted off in the direction of the teacher’s house.

  * * *<
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  When a knock sounded on the door, Bridget opened it. Her breath caught. Though dirty from a day of hard work, Mr. Thompson was still quite handsome. Even though she knew he was coming, and dirty as he was, the sight of him caused her heart to gallop ahead. “Mr. Thompson, I’m glad you made it. Did you have any trouble finding my house?”

  He held up the note she had left pinned to the schoolhouse. “Thank you for the map. I don’t know the streets yet.”

  That didn’t tell her if he could read or not. Many illiterate people were good at covering up their deficiency.

  He cleared his throat. “I am so sorry for inconveniencing you.”

  “It was no trouble. You have sweet children. Please come in.” She stepped back.

  “I’m sweaty and dirty. I just came for my children.”

  How considerate. He’d obviously been raised by a mother who taught him manners.

  He looked past her. “Gabe. Dora. Time to go. Thank Miss Greene.”

  His son stayed seated at the table. “Miss Greene invited us for supper.”

  “Gabe, don’t argue. We’ve caused Miss Greene enough trouble.”

  Gabe’s shoulders slumped as he stood. “But she cooked fried chicken.”

  Dora beamed up at her father. “I set a plate for you.” She pointed to a place at the table.

  If he went home now, he’d still have to prepare supper. It would be a long while before they ate. And he’d already had a long day at work. And most of all, Bridget looked forward to having the company. She wanted to intervene and try to convince him to stay, but she held her tongue. From behind the children, Bridget nodded to Mr. Thompson to let him know it was truly all right with her.

  “I don’t want eggs again,” Gabe said.

  Dora folded her arms and shook her head. “And I don’t want any more pancakes. I set a place for you, Papa.”

  “I’m sorry for causing an issue,” Bridget said. “Not knowing how late you’d be, I didn’t want the children to go hungry.”

  Dora pressed her hands together. “Please.”

  Bridget could visibly see Mr. Thompson’s resolve crumbling even under the grime on his face. “That was thoughtful of you, but we couldn’t impose.” Though his words said his family would not stay, his stance and gaze said he didn’t have the strength to refuse the invitation. His stomach growled.

  Bridget pretended she hadn’t heard. “May we speak outside?”

  Mr. Thompson moved back, and she stepped out onto the porch. He looked inside. “You two stay there for a minute.” He closed the door.

  “The food is already prepared, and there is plenty, so it really is no imposition. But it is completely up to you. If you say you must go, I will shoo your children out without another argument. But I would enjoy the company.”

  His stomach growled again, and his mouth twitched in recognition. “It does smell awfully good.” He looked down at his hands, which were nearly black with dirt. “But I’m too grimy.”

  “It’s just dirt. I have soap and water.”

  Still he hesitated. “Are you sure it’s not an imposition?”

  He wasn’t one of her students whom she could order to do as she bid. She nodded. “If a little dirt was going to bother me, I shouldn’t be teaching in a mining town.”

  He finally relented.

  She opened the door and stepped inside ahead of him.

  He shifted his gaze from Gabe’s eager face to Dora’s and back. “Since supper is all cooked and a place is set for us, we can stay.”

  His children cheered.

  He rolled up his shirtsleeves and washed his hands and arms up to his elbows twice, as well as his face and neck.

  She doubted most miners would think to wash so thoroughly or even think to scrub their neck. Who was this man? She sat at the table with the children and waited for him to finish.

  Soon he sat at the end opposite her. He reached for his children’s hands and they his. Gabe and Dora each held a hand stretched out to her.

  She took the children’s hands. Never in her life had she had anyone say grace at her table besides her.

  Mr. Thompson gave her a nod. “I would be honored to say the blessing. You did do all the work.”

  She agreed and bowed her head.

  “Father in heaven, we thank You for another day of life and breath in these frail bodies we live in. We ask blessings upon Miss Greene for her kindness and generosity. And we thank You for the bounty You have provided. Nourish our bodies with this food and our souls with Your presence. In Jesus’s name, amen.”

  She had never heard anyone pray for her by name. It was as though God had reached down and caressed her soul. Nor had anyone thanked her so generously for doing so little. Moved by the prayer, she had to blink back tears as she lifted her head.

  * * *

  Lindley set his fork down and sat back in the chair at Miss Greene’s table. He couldn’t remember the last time a meal had been this satisfying. Not that he hadn’t had tasty meals, even in the recent past. This was something more. And for some reason, he felt as though the something more must be Miss Greene herself. It must be her consideration for his children. Not only was she kind and generous, but smart—she would have to be to be a teacher—and patient and…and… He gazed at her.

  No. He wouldn’t focus on her physical attributes. People were more than how they looked. Her green gaze captured him. Eyes the color of the forests all across the San Juan Islands. And chestnut hair that flickered with bits of red in the lamplight. He couldn’t deny that she was lovely.

  And she said she prayed before meals, so she was likely a Christian, too. But he couldn’t figure out why she was almost in tears after grace. That would be something he might never know. It would be rude to ask directly about something so personal.

  “Supper was delicious.” He regretted what he must say next but said it anyway. “We’ll get out of your way now. Time to go, children.” He leaned forward to stand.

  She spoke quickly. “You don’t have to go. We haven’t had dessert yet.”

  Dora clapped her hands. “Yay! Dessert!”

  Dessert? “Dessert would be nice.” He settled back down but then stood fully when she leaped from her chair.

  “It’s nothing fancy. Just applesauce.” She returned to the table with a jar. “I canned it last fall.”

  He had always loved applesauce. How long had it been since he’d had any? Eight, maybe nine years. Before he was married. “Cinnamon?”

  “Yes. I hope that’s all right. Since I just make it for myself, I always add cinnamon. But I might have a jar of peaches or cherries if you prefer.”

  She seemed nervous.

  “I love cinnamon.”

  She gripped the ring of the lid and tried to twist it off without success. “These are difficult sometimes.”

  He held out his hand. “Allow me.”

  She handed it over without a fuss. His older half sister would have struggled with the lid until her hands bled, wanting to prove herself capable.

  Grasping the jar and the ring lid, he twisted. The ring slid in his hand. He tightened his grip and tried again, still without success. Oh, please don’t let me fail. Not in front of her. Not with a silly jar. He took a deep breath and jerked the ring and jar in opposite directions. The ring broke free.

  Dora clapped again. “Papa is strongerest.”

  Setting the jar on the table, he took his table knife, put the edge under the lip of the lid and lifted, breaking the seal. Air sucked into the jar with a gasp, releasing the lid.

  After the large jar of applesauce had been consumed, he said, “We really must be going. I need to get Gabe and Dora to bed. Children, carry your plates over to the sink.”

  Gabe and Dora did as he bid them. Dora’s eyes were already drooping. She held out her arms, and he picked her up. Her head lolled onto his shoulder.

  At the door, he said, “Supper was delicious. We’ll reciprocate.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”


  He supposed she thought he was like all the other miners and couldn’t afford it. He would prove her wrong. “I insist. It won’t be as tasty as your cooking, but we do all right. And you don’t have to worry about my children after school hours. I will make arrangements for them.” He couldn’t believe his earlier lack of judgment.

  “I’m sure they could walk home with the Bennetts’ children and stay there until you are off work.”

  He knew Gary Bennett, the one who had trained him today. He was a good man. “Thank you.”

  That had been a better meal than he’d ever cooked. After the fuss he’d made to his family about him being able to care for his children, they would say that this proved he couldn’t.

  But there was no shame in accepting help now and then.

  And Miss Greene had been very accommodating and generous.

  Chapter 3

  The next day, when Bridget welcomed her students, she was not surprised to see Dora Thompson among them. Bridget knew it had been too late by the time the Thompsons had left her house for Mr. Thompson to find someone to look after the girl.

  The four-year-old marched up to her desk as though she had always been in school. “Papa said I could come to school as long as I don’t cause no trouble and you say I can.”

  Bridget nodded to the girl. “Go sit with Aggie.”

  Dora twirled around and flounced over to where Aggie sat. Aggie broke into a big smile.

  Yesterday had actually been a little easier than usual with Dora and Aggie keeping each other occupied. She’d had to warn them only twice to keep their voices down. Whenever Bridget threatened to separate them, they fell into a hushed whisper. Until yesterday, she had never had a day where Aggie didn’t come up to her desk at least once to complain she was bored. And occasionally danced in the corner.

  But Bridget could see that now that the girls were friends, their play had become more animated throughout the day. And even though they were as quiet as church mice, they distracted not only the students but Bridget, as well.

  Bridget would have to find a solution if she was going to get any teaching done. She dismissed the students for morning recess and sat out on the stoop to watch them while reading the next hour’s lessons.