Tillie made him feel things that he didn’t know he could feel. From the moment he set eyes on her, actually, before she’d even arrived, he’d felt on the edge of control—teetering unsteadily as he navigated emotions that he’d buried so deep, he’d forgotten how to feel. He was so accustomed to his life of solitude that his reactions had taken him by complete surprise. Before today, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed out loud so freely, or felt the yearning for connection so acutely.
Prior to Tillie’s arrival, everything he said or did had been calculated, but being around her made him want to shake off his austere demeanor and live wide open. It was interesting because as he’d watched Tillie that morning, it was almost as if she embodied the parts of him that had been operating by reflex for years. She was so rigid, so somber, that he had in turn acted completely out of character and let himself be more loose. As he did so, it seemed to give her permission to do the same. Of course, there was still apprehension. The unknown aspects of a new relationship always carried with them some level of tension, but together they seemed to unlock a piece of one another that had been lying dormant for such a time as this.
As he fell asleep that night, a particularly wonderful part of their day played through his head, and he was sure it was a memory that he wouldn’t soon forget. It was late afternoon, and they were about to go see his office. They had just met the Joneses in the backyard, where Tillie had admired the flower garden. He’d watched in awe as the sun caressed her doll-like features, its golden rays highlighting the beautiful smile that spread across her face as she picked a few hollyhocks.
“Tillie!” He’d called her name just to capture her attention in that moment, not willing to let the beauty of it pass without participating in it. When she’d turned and met his eyes, his chest grew fuller with admiration, an ache to touch her filling him, and he wondered briefly how he’d ever lived without her.
He wondered that still as sleep took away the last images of her beautiful face.
“I don’t want to be too forward, William, but I’m anxious to meet the children and begin teaching.” Tillie had arrived in Oregon only three days ago, and one of those days was Sunday, so she felt she couldn’t be too upset that William hadn’t shown her the building where she would hold school.
“Of course you are. I’m glad you brought it up. I’ve been meaning to tell you that we’ll be having dinner with Mr. Hollingsworth tomorrow evening. He owns quite a bit of real estate in Marshfield, and he’s been generous enough to lease one of his buildings to be used as a schoolhouse at a very affordable price. He wouldn’t allow me to sign the lease without an official contract for the teaching position, though. He wants to discuss some details of the lease with you personally.” William had come to the Caldwells’ after he’d closed his office for the day, and Tillie had actually let out a shriek of excitement when she’d heard his knock at the door.
She’d been spoiled over the weekend, as he’d come to the Caldwells’ for dinner both Saturday and Sunday, and had probably stayed longer than was proper visiting with her. Mrs. Caldwell’s long, sideways glances at them hadn’t gone unnoticed, but Tillie was too enamored with William to pay them any heed. Every moment they shared together didn’t seem long enough.
“So, if we meet with him tomorrow, do you think I’ll be able to start school the next day?” Tillie knew she sounded eager, but hopefully, it only portrayed the passion she felt within. I’m going to have my own school!
“I suppose so. I’m afraid that during the summer, most of the children work, so you’ll need to have shortened school hours, or work around their schedules. I wanted you to know so you weren’t disappointed if no one showed up. Besides, you probably won’t be able to get the word out overnight.” William was simply stating facts, but he didn’t know that to her, it seemed as if he was presenting a challenge.
“I’m sure I’ll manage,” was all Tillie said, but she was already forming a plan to prove him wrong. The school would be overflowing with children if it was the last thing she did.
“What subject do you specialize in, anyway? Out of all our conversations, we’ve yet to discuss school.”
We’ve yet to discuss a lot of things, Tillie thought, but she only said, “Theatre.”
William snorted. “Oh, that’s good. No, honestly, what subject will you enjoy teaching the children the most?”
Tillie straightened up, lifting her chin just a bit. “Theatre.”
William wiped the bewildered expression from his face, but not before it cut into Tillie a little bit. Why would he think she wasn’t serious about theatre?
“Is there something wrong with me teaching theatre to the children?” she asked, resentment creeping into her tone.
“There’s nothing wrong with theatre. I was simply…surprised. You seem so well-educated, I assumed it would be literature or writing.” William ran a hand through his impossibly thick dark hair. He was obviously unsettled by her reaction.
“So are you saying that someone who is well-educated can’t possibly be interested in theatre?” Tillie shot him a scathing look, and she saw panic flash in his eyes.
“No. That’s not what I meant. I just—” William shifted his gaze just to the side of her and stared at the wall, and looked as if he was searching his mind for words to make things right, but after quite a few moments, he still didn’t say anything.
He just…? Tillie narrowed her eyes, then decided to let it go. It would be better for him to think long and hard on this matter than for her to have the last word. She was certain of that.
The next day, Tillie traveled to town with Mr. Caldwell much earlier than was necessary to make it to dinner with Mr. Hollingsworth on time. William had unknowingly challenged her not only to open the school tomorrow, but have it bursting with children, and today was the day she had to orchestrate it all. She was still annoyed at his reaction about her focus on theatre, and when William had left so hurriedly after the subject had come up, it caused her to focus even more intently on proving to him that she was an excellent teacher, and she would be starting an excellent school.
If there was one thing that Tillie had learned in New York City, it was that women loved to shop, and they loved to gossip, and they loved to do the two things simultaneously almost more than they loved to do anything else. So, naturally, she had Mr. Caldwell drop her off at the mercantile so she could catch the gossipers and give them a new topic to spread around the town—Marshfield was getting a school.
When Tillie pushed the mercantile door open, a little bell that was hung on the inside handle jingled, and several women who were perusing the shelves turned at once to see who was entering the shop.
“Hello,” Tillie said softly. She raised a hand and waved indiscriminately at the women, careful to preserve her unassuming nature. She found that women who liked to gossip liked to prey on the weak, and so, if she acted the part, she could get more chatter by seeming weak and easily taken advantage of. Capable women got talked about too, but there was nothing like people’s pity and speculation of your failure to get their mouths moving.
She wasn’t surprised when only half-hearted hellos were offered in response to her greeting. They needed time to study her, but one of these women would be curious enough to come ask questions, and then Tillie would tell them all about the school in Mr. Hollingsworth’s building—and hopefully they knew which one, because she didn’t. Tillie could almost hear the town gossip now. “Oh, the poor dear. She was about the size of one of the children. I doubt she’ll be able to keep control of her classes. They’ll never listen to such a tiny mouse of a woman.”
Tillie smiled because she knew you didn’t have to be big and boisterous to get what you wanted, or to get children to listen to you. But she mostly smiled because she knew her plan would work. William’s eyes were going to pop out of his head when he saw how many children showed up for school tomorrow.
After absently looking over a shelf full of soaps and tonics, Tillie
heard the footsteps she’d been waiting for.
“Hi there! I don’t believe I’ve seen you in here before. You must be new in town. My name is MaryAnne Coombs.”
Tillie turned around, already donning her most polite smile. “Oh, hello. It’s so nice to meet you, MaryAnne. My name is Tillie Thompson,” she said.
The full-bodied red-haired woman looked to be about forty years old, give or take a few years, and most likely had school-aged children. Tillie couldn’t berate the woman for her fake smile, as she was playing the same game, but nothing about this woman’s greeting felt genuine. She was here for one purpose, and one purpose only—to get all the details about Tillie’s reasons for being in Marshfield.
“Well, aren’t you just the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen, Tillie Thomson! You can’t be more than sixteen years old. Where’s your mother? Do you have any sisters? Lord knows we need more women in this town.” MaryAnne looked around the store for Tillie’s mother, as if she hadn’t see her walk in alone. Tillie’s blood grew hotter. She knew she looked young, but sixteen was a stretch. That was Mrs. MaryAnne Coombs’s first jab at her, and she almost wanted to laugh. How the woman thought looking young would make Tillie feel bad, she’d never know.
“Aw, thank you, Mrs. Coombs. I’m always getting mistaken for being younger than I am! I actually just turned twenty years old a few weeks ago, not long before I left New York City to come out here to Oregon.” Tillie smiled her biggest, proudest smile, daring the woman to try to make her feel small again.
The mention of New York City seemed to take MaryAnne’s breath away, and the woman paused for much longer than she was probably aware. “Oh, well, isn’t that nice? What brought you out west?”
“I’m glad you asked. I’ve actually come to start a school. Back east we’ve heard that the people out west are desperate for teachers, and I was fortunate enough to secure a grant for a school right here in Marshfield. It opens tomorrow!” Tillie conveniently left out the part about that grant being contingent upon the successful opening of a school, which was contingent upon marrying the town doctor, which was all possible because she answered an ad for a mail-order bride. She shuddered thinking about MaryAnne finding out that truth, and what she would do with it.
“That’s great news! I have three children who will be so happy to hear that there’s going to be a proper school in town. I’ve been doing my best to teach them at home, but I’m sure a cultured woman from New York City will do a much better job than little old me. I grew up in California, mining as many claims as possible with my daddy during the Gold Rush. He’d come from a well-to-do family in Virginia, so he taught me all he could, but I’m sure my education’s as watered down as the whiskey he used to drink, if you know what I mean.” A callous look crossed MaryAnne’s face a for a moment, and if Tillie had to guess, her father had been a lousy teacher and a mean drunk.
“I think I do.” Despite herself, Tillie felt compassion for the woman. She must have had a hard life, and being nasty to others was the only way she knew how to cope with it.
“Who are you staying with, if you don’t mind me asking?” MaryAnne’s curiosity seemed to trump whatever pain she felt about her past.
“Not at all. I’m staying out in Empire City with the Caldwells. It’s only a temporary arrangement.” Tillie gritted her teeth. Why had she included that little detail? She hoped MaryAnne wouldn’t ask about it.
“Oh, the Caldwells are wonderful people. I’m sure Mrs. Caldwell is taking very good care of you.” MaryAnne looked toward the door, her brow furrowing. “I’m sorry to leave so abruptly, Tillie, but I have to go. It was nice to meet you, dear.” She hustled out of the store, and Tillie turned to watch as she grabbed two boys by their ears. They had run out of the sweets shop across the street a few moments before, and Mrs. Coomb’s was clearly scolding them as she drug them back inside. Their pockets were bulging, probably with stolen candy.
Tillie shook her head. Lord, help me know how to help those kids, she thought.
That night at supper, Tillie was so delighted to be discussing the details of the school with Mr. Hollingsworth that she forgot to be angry at William for his comment the night before. It wasn’t until after Mr. Hollingsworth had left and all the details of the lease had been settled that Tillie remembered how cross she had been.
“I think that went well, wouldn’t you say?” William leaned back in his chair and put his arms behind his head.
“Yes, it did. Mr. Hollingsworth seems to be a very generous man. Thank you for getting him to agree to that lease for the school. I don’t think the people of this town fully realize the impact that a school will have on their community.” Tillie couldn’t hide the passion in her voice, and she paced the room in an attempt to purge some of her nervous energy.
“I agree. In general, I believe people undervalue education, but I find that people in rural areas tend to diminish its benefit further. Labor is the only way they know how to make a living, and not just a living, but a life. They live to work because if they don’t work, they can’t live.” William seemed troubled about the plight of the poverty-stricken people in the community, and it was sweet to see how much he cared.
“I agree, but surely education can help ease that work to some degree. If people can labor with some strategy, they wouldn't haven to work so hard.”
William smiled. “I think most of the children will be eager to learn. I just hope their parents will view their education as the asset it is, and not just as a distraction from their chores. It will be harder in the summer, especially for boys, what with all the farm work that has to be done.”
Tillie didn’t respond this time. She knew William was right, but she hoped that enough people would be curious about the new woman from New York City that the children would at least fill it up tomorrow. She hoped MaryAnne Coombs was telling everyone in town.
William stood from the table and walked toward her, and Tillie instinctively found herself stepping back. She didn’t mean to be so closed off, but after William’s comments the night before, she found thick walls growing around her heart. His words had found a tender spot within her that she hadn’t realized was there. Apparently, she still had a chip on her shoulder from feeling like the novelty teacher back in New York, and then if she factored in her parents’ death in the theatre fire, it was no wonder she felt so put off by William’s comments, but she didn’t want to be. Not really. She just didn’t know if she could let William in without knowing he supported her and believed in her one hundred percent.
“Please, William.” Tillie put her hands up, and William’s chest bumped into them. Despite herself, the touch was shockingly exhilarating.
“What is it, Tillie? If I did anything tonight that wasn’t welcome, please, tell me now so I can correct my course.” William’s soulful eyes were pleading just as much as his words were. Maybe even more.
It wasn’t tonight, is what Tillie wanted to say, but she didn’t want to have a discussion about theatre because she was afraid of learning William’s true feelings about it. His disgust had been so evident, and right now, there was still a chance that she’d misunderstood. If she discovered that he really detested the thing she loved most, Tillie wasn’t sure if she would be able to stay in Marshfield.
“I’m sorry. It’s nothing.” Tillie let her arms fall to her sides, and she wished her defenses would fall so easily.
The pleading look in William’s eyes left, and was replaced by a look that Tillie had seen few times since she’d arrived. She’d tried to define it, and she’d lain awake at night thinking about it long after William would leave, but until tonight she hadn’t been able to identify it. Right now, though, as they stood only a foot apart, Tillie recognized the longing in his eyes like an old friend. She recognized it because she’d felt it so many times herself.
“I’m afraid I owe you an apology, William,” Tillie said.
William raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Yes, I—I’ve been so fo
cused on the school, and then trying to adjust to being here in Oregon,” and self-preservation, “that I have neglected to ask how you’re feeling about everything. If I’m not mistaken, there’s some amount of sadness in your eyes. Is everything all right?”
William let out a long breath. “Actually, to be honest, I’ve been kicking myself about our arrangement.”
Tillie’s heart sank. Perhaps he really was regretting asking her to come here.
William must have seen the change in her face because he quickly said, “Oh! Not in the way you think. No, Tillie, I regret agreeing to this courtship. I want you here, Tillie. Here in this house. With me.” William took both of her hands in his.
Suddenly, the misunderstanding about his comments the night before seemed to be of little significance, and Tillie welcomed the expansion and lightness in her heart that felt a lot like the beginnings of love. Part of her wanted to fall into William’s arms and let him love her how he so clearly wanted to, but a big part of her heart was still under lock and key. She had to be logical, and she reminded herself that no matter how great someone seemed on the outside, there was always a possibility that it was just a charade. She’d made their arrangement so she could be in control of her choices, and she wanted to be sure she was making the right one if she chose William.
“Tillie?”
William had clearly grown nervous in Tillie’s long pause, and it pained her to do so, but she pulled her hands away from him and took a step back. For someone she felt so fondly about, she sure was stepping away from him a lot that night.
“Thank you for sharing your feelings with me, William, but I need more time. I just want to get to know you better.” Tillie’s stomach filled with something heavy as she said the words, and she wondered if being logical was always the correct choice. Because right now, that heavy something felt a lot like regret.
William’s brow furrowed, and Tillie wanted to kick herself for being so careful. His eyes searched hers for a moment as she studied his face. His lips looked impossibly soft, and she wondered what it would have been like if she’d just let herself agree to move forward. She wondered if his kisses would be as wonderful as she dreamed them to be.
Tillie's Theatre (The Alphabet Mail-Order Brides Book 20) Page 5