“Are there any other questions?” Tillie looked at Mary, then Christina, but both of them shifted their gazes away.
William watched out his office window as several children and their mothers walked down to the school, and was surprised when over the next half hour, more and more children made their way to Tillie’s classroom. He wasn’t quite sure how she’d done it, but somehow she’d gotten word out about the new school, and she obviously had some eager students.
He wondered for a moment if now that she’d gotten her school, her interest in him would start to wane, but he pushed the doubt away as quickly as it came.
He remembered the excitement she’d shown as she entered the school that morning, and he knew Tillie was born to be a teacher. Hopefully she would see that all he wanted to do was support her in that goal, even if she did want to teach theatre. The thought still made him feel unsettled, but perhaps he’d judged those who worked in the arts too harshly before. Tillie was one of the smartest people he’d ever met. He wouldn’t fault her for wanting to teach plays to the kids of Marshfield.
Satisfied that Tillie would be happy with the turnout, William got to work. The morning passed without incident, and he was looking forward to seeing Tillie’s beautiful face at lunch and hearing about her first day. After he escorted his last patient before the break out the door—he had already dismissed his secretary for lunch—he took the middle seat in a row of three chairs along the wall for waiting patients, and let out a sigh. He wondered if he should talk to Tillie about their conversation the other night or not. He didn’t want to drive a wedge between them—their relationship was so new—but he also knew that a sore subject left untouched could fester into a wound too aggravated to remedy without causing pain.
He stood, staring at his feet as he paced the room, mentally preparing to confront the issue head on when someone strode through his office door. He looked up with a smile, ready greet Tillie, when Samantha—a woman he’d taken to dinner once when a patient of his had insisted—approached him.
“William! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. How is everything?” Samantha’s pleasant tone belied her conniving eyes. She was the daughter of Jonathan Whitaker, a wealthy logging tycoon, and the best-dressed woman in town. It was a good thing, too—the fancy clothes hid her less-than-honorable motives well.
“I’m doing well, Samantha. How are you?” William kept his tone even, trying to show as little interest in the woman as possible. It had taken him weeks to convince her that he truly was not keen on marrying her after the evening they’d spent together, and he didn’t want her reading into anything he did or said.
Samantha sat down in the seat next to him and leaned in. “That’s not what I’ve heard,” she said with a wicked grin. Her pointy features were so different than Tillie’s soft, blended ones. However, they did share the trait of jet-black hair. Samantha’s eyes were dark to match, though, and there was no brightness in them like there was in Tillie’s.
“Well, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I assure you, I’m doing just fine.” William gritted his teeth to stop himself from insisting that she get out of his office. He had no idea why she felt so welcome when he was clearly reserving his friendliness for a worthier recipient, but it was clear she wasn’t in a hurry to leave when she leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap.
“If everything is so great, why did MaryAnne Coombs tell me that little teacher you brought here from New York is staying out in Empire City with the Caldwells?” Samantha raised her eyebrows unnaturally high, then let her face settle into a smug expression that did nothing but make her appear more unpleasant.
“Let me repeat, I don’t know what you’ve heard, or from whom, but whatever people think is, or is not, going on between me and Tillie is none of their business. She’s here to teach school. The rest is up in the air.” All true.
Samantha tilted her head back and let out a dramatized giggle. “Oh, William. You always know how to get a laugh out of me.”
William’s blood was already on the verge of boiling when Samantha had the audacity to place her hand on his knee like they were old lovers. He stared at his leg for a moment, deciding if he should move it or just give her a pointed glare that would hopefully make her realize her mistake—although she wasn’t very good at picking up hints—when his door swung open again. This time, it was Tillie.
William jumped to his feet as soon as he saw her, and Samantha’s hand fell away, but the damage was already done. The hurt was etched deeply in the scrunched-up lines between Tillie’s eyebrows, and his heart dropped when the excitement that she’d had in her eyes fell away and left the dark stain of betrayal in its place.
“Tillie, I—” William wanted to explain everything, but Tillie was already halfway out the door. He rushed after her. “Please! Stop!” He didn’t want her to leave angry with him, not with the rift that had already begun to form because of his comments the other night. He was afraid the gap would become too large to mend if she wouldn’t hear him out now.
“Tillie!”
William stopped in his tracks when her tiny frame whipped around, and he took a step back when she squared her shoulders to him, ready to fight. “Why? Why should I listen to anything you have to say? The last time I listened to your opinion, it did nothing but make me question myself, and without even saying anything, you’ve done so again.”
“What do you mean? What did I do?”
“Oh, please. I saw that woman’s hand on your leg, the way she was laughing and playing with you. Do you take me for some kind of fool? I came here, and you liked what you saw at first, but obviously after you got to know me and my unacceptable love for theatre, you decided you’d focus your attention back on the local girls again. It’s not that hard to figure out.” Tillie folded her arms and lifted her chin. She looked so defiant, William knew she probably wouldn’t listen to a word he had to say, but he wanted to try.
“I see why that’s an easy conclusion to come to, but you’re wrong, Tillie. That woman in my office is nothing but a meddling busybody who likes to stir up trouble wherever she goes. I’m sure she’s quite pleased with herself if she’s witnessing this little exchange we’re having right here in the street. Honestly, Tillie, there’s nothing between us. Why would I do that to you? Why would I bring you here just to push you away? It doesn’t make any sense.” William took a hesitant step forward, like she was a jittery animal that might dash away if he came any closer.
“People have done crazier things. Perhaps you wanted to try something new, and when you decided you didn’t like it, you tossed it aside.” Tillie swallowed hard, and for the first time, William could see what looked like heartbreak behind the anger and betrayal she was protecting herself with. That hurt look gutted him.
“You’re wrong.”
Tillie let her arms drop to her sides, and she met his eyes with a cold, blank stare, all emotion pushed down to a place that was no longer visible to him. “We’ll see.”
Tillie stormed back to the school and packed up her things. She’d planned on staying to work on the script for the Independence Day play after the children left at noon, but not after what she saw at William’s office. She knew she couldn’t stay nearby. Eventually he would come over here and try to talk to her again, and she didn’t know if she could stay strong when he started to be sweet. It was easy to be angry right now, but eventually that anger would fade. She had to get away.
After she swept the floor and pulled all the curtains closed, Tillie gathered a few things from her desk and put them in her reticule. She turned to take one last look at the classroom, and paused for a moment as she looked at the clock. After the encounter she’d just had with William, she felt like a fool for allowing herself to get carried away in her feelings for him that morning. She fervently wished she’d never come to Marshfield, and the contract she’d signed with Mr. Hollingsworth—which had so recently been her only sure footing—suddenly felt like a ball and chain.
/> What was I thinking coming here?
The thought echoed in her mind as she walked toward Empire City, hopeful that the fresh air would do her good, and that she would run into Mr. Caldwell sooner rather than later. It was a long walk, but he would be coming to pick her up soon anyway. At least she would be far away from William.
After Tillie left, William told Samantha to get out of his office, and he didn’t even bother being polite. After the trouble she’d just caused for him, he didn’t care if he hurt her feelings with his abrupt tone. She was a troublemaker, and he wanted nothing to do with her. In fact, he would tell his secretary that Samantha Whitaker was never to be allowed in his office again.
Now he just had to figure out what to do about Tillie. He’d tried to explain the type of person Samantha really was, and that he didn’t want anything to do with her, but getting Tillie to listen was the problem. She hadn’t wanted to hear a word he'd said, and he couldn’t imagine what he could do to get her to change her mind. She didn’t seem to be the type of woman who would appreciate a grand gesture, but he needed to figure out something to get her attention. Something that would prove to Tillie that he wanted her. Figuring out what that something was would be difficult since he still didn’t feel like he knew her very well, but he had a few ideas about how to get around that.
His stomach was in knots knowing that she didn’t trust him now, and that she was so obviously hurt. He couldn’t eat anything during his lunch, and by the time the end of the day came, he’d worked himself into a dither about what he was going to do. He had never been so grateful to enter the sanctuary of his home and shake off the day.
That night as he lay in bed, he ran through a few different scenarios in his head to get Tillie to listen to him, but nothing felt quite right, and he couldn’t risk botching this plan to fix things between them. He had to get it right the first time, and he decided it was better not to talk to Tillie at all than to say something that might make things worse. He needed someone to keep him updated on what Tillie was doing with the children at school and in her day-to-day life so he would know how best to approach her when the time was right.
Suddenly, the image of Joshua Reed—a boy he’d seen a few times for various medical issues over the years—walking over to the school that morning popped into William’s head, and something inside him let him know that Joshua was the answer to his silent plea. He would ask the boy to report on Tillie at the end of each day so he could stay informed on what they were doing in school, and how Miss Thompson seemed to be acting.
A small percentage of the worry William had been feeling seemed to ease once he’d established the first phase of his plan, and he could breathe easy for the first time since Samantha had set foot in his office that day. Before he fell asleep, he felt certain that Joshua Reed would tell him something useful. William felt confident that he and Tillie would be back on good terms before the week was out.
Chapter 7
The next morning, Tillie stood at the front of the classroom, ready to greet her students by ten minutes to eight. She was feigning a smile and trying to ignore her aching feet from walking halfway to Empire City the previous afternoon. The walk had been a welcome challenge for the first hour, but after the second, Tillie’s feet started throbbing, and she’d convinced herself that Mr. Caldwell had completely forgotten to pick her up by the third. It wasn’t until hour four that she finally saw the Caldwells’ horse coming over the small hill she’d been trudging up.
Later that same night, she’d endured several hours of awkward silence—not wanting to talk to the Caldwells about William—and completely unable to focus on any other topic. She’d taken herself to bed extra early, but had tossed and turned for hours wondering if she would ever be able to work things out with William, or if her time in Marshfield really would come to an end after the summer was over. When it was obvious that sleep wasn’t going to come, she’d gotten up and lit a lamp on the desk in her room so she could work on the script for the Independence Day play. As she’d written, she’d wondered what Madam Wiggie would say when she showed up on the school’s doorstep in September and asked for her teaching position back. Then she’d worried that it wouldn’t be available.
She’d shuddered thinking about going back to New York and having to act in order to support herself. Would that be her only choice after this? She hated to think so. Not only because of her stage fright, but also because she really had seen a future with William, and despite everything, she was still sad that dream seemed so out of reach. It just felt impossible to salvage at this point.
"Nothing is impossible if it’s truly meant to be.” Rebecca’s positive voice popped into Tillie’s head, and she smiled in spite of herself. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. Perhaps she really had misunderstood William the other day when they’d talked about theatre. And what if he really was telling the truth about that woman in his office? Even though her heart still felt raw from the hurt she’d endured that day, Tillie had made up her mind that she would listen to William if he tried to talk to her again, and she had fallen asleep the night before hoping that he would.
Now that she was at school, she caught herself glancing out the windows that faced the street—this time not to see if students were coming, but to see if William was. Or maybe even just to catch a glimpse of his thick brown hair or his muscular frame. Her stomach danced thinking about the feelings that had stirred within her when he’d helped her hang the clock. She’d felt there was something between them since the moment they met, but the day before, she began to realize that maybe it was even stronger than she’d realized. Although, at this point, she’d probably ruined everything.
The jostling of the door pulled her out of her contemplation and back into reality. Unfortunately, it wasn’t William coming to make things right, but Mary Ellen, who would play Betsy Ross in their Independence Day play—although the girl didn’t know it yet.
“Good morning, Mary Ellen. How are you?”
“I’m doing well, Miss Thompson, and how are you?”
“Fine, thank you. Where is your brother?”
“Oh, he was walking with Joshua Reed. I don’t know what’s held them up, though. They were right behind me when we got into town. They must have stopped to talk to someone.” Mary Ellen glanced over her shoulder.
“I’m sure they’ll be here soon. You may read quietly until all of the rest of the children arrive.”
“Really?” Mary Ellen’s eyes lit up. “Free reading time?”
“Of course. Do you not have a lot of time to read at home?” Tillie couldn’t imagine a life where reading wasn’t encouraged. Madam Wiggie had always made education such an important pillar of their lives. Tillie had always had access to books and plenty of time to read.
“My mama wants us to read, but Papa thinks it’s a waste of time. He has a list of chores a mile long for us to do around the house and on the farm while he works all day. I sneak in some reading whenever I can, but it’s not often. One time, when I was supposed to be milking the cows, I gave them extra hay and sat down on the milking stool to read for a minute before I started. Papa happened to be walking by on his way to the house and saw me. He was so angry, he took my book away for months. He told me he burned it, but then Mama snuck it under my pillow one night. I never read while I’m supposed to be doing chores if Papa’s home now.”
Tillie’s eyes widened. “Well then, I won’t take up any more of your time. Read away.”
After a few minutes of silence, the door opened again and Joshua Reed walked in with Caleb, Mary Ellen’s brother. Mary Ellen glanced up from her book for a moment, catching Joshua’s eye. Tillie didn’t miss the blush that turned the girl’s cheeks pink before she buried her head in her book again.
“Hello, boys. It seems most of the class is waiting until the very last second to show up today. I really hope no one is late on the second day of school.” Tillie opened the top drawer of her desk and reached for the bundle of slate pencils she’d gathered at t
he end of class the day before. She’d just untied the string that held them together when Joshua cleared his throat, getting her attention.
“Actually, ma’am, I heard some of the other kids talkin’ after we were dismissed yesterday, and I don’t know if you’ll have too many showin’ up today. I think the Coombs kids are comin’, but that’s probably all.” Joshua looked down at his feet. It was obvious that it pained him to be the bearer of bad news.
Tillie’s brow furrowed, both because of the message about the other children, but also because she felt horrible that she’d misjudged Joshua. He’d seemed bullheaded and hard to reach, but today, in this smaller group, it was clear that he was sensitive and helpful. “Hmm. I wonder why. Do you think it’s because of the play?”
Joshua wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
Tillie’s heart sank. Of course the children would be uncomfortable having to perform so soon. Perhaps she should have waited a bit longer to tell them. “Well, no sense waiting around for them. We have work to do.”
Just then, the door opened again, and the Coombs children walked in. The sight of the six children together made Tillie realize just how many parts would be left over after they were each assigned theirs, and she started to worry about what she would do with the rest of her script. Despite the fact that she’d spent half the night working on it, there were still a few minor tweaks to make, but it was good enough that she could at least give these six children their parts so they could start practicing. Hopefully more children would show up within the next few days. She really needed each child who had been there the day before to make this play come together.
“Combs children, come sit in the front row, right side. Joshua, Mary Ellen, and Caleb, front row, left side.”
Tillie's Theatre (The Alphabet Mail-Order Brides Book 20) Page 7