by Ali Olson
She propped her head up with her hand and looked at Joe’s now-empty seat. Over the course of the day, she had invented and then dismissed several possible reasons for him to be upset. Not one of them truly seemed to explain the anger she had seen the night before. There had to be something more to it that she was just unable to see yet. It was almost as if he felt his guardian was to blame for something. But how could he be to blame for anything serious enough to make Joe that angry? Clearly Joe’s parents trusted him with their only son or they would never have—
Alice sat upright, her heartbeat speeding up as an idea solidified in her head. That was it. It was so obvious, she had no idea why the thought had not occurred to her before. She would need to discuss it with Thomas Lancaster to confirm that her suspicion was correct, but it fit so well, it had to be correct. She smiled to herself in the empty schoolroom. Finally, something in this day had gone right.
Thomas sat in a large chair in the front room of what was now his home and watched out the front window at the gathering dusk as he waited, his foot tapping a rapid tune on the floor. He tried to stay calm and collected, but couldn’t force his body into complete submission, and his toe continued to tap. She would arrive again soon, and his thoughts were in a hopeless tumble that he had yet to sort out. He desperately wanted so many things, and he could see no way to possibly make them all happen.
Just to make Joe to speak to him seemed insurmountable. Was there any way he could also persuade Alice—despite their short acquaintance, he could not help but call her by her given name in his own mind—to consider him as a suitor?
He had no idea, if he was being honest. He sometimes thought she was attracted to him as well, but at other times she seemed to almost dislike him for no reason he could conjure. He could picture her beautiful eyes in exact detail, and something he saw in them last night told him she was interested, but there was another emotion hidden in there. Panic or sorrow or what else, it was difficult to tell.
The sound of horses and creaking wheels turned his attention to the window. The same young man from the previous night sat atop the simple carriage. Thomas rose, then dropped himself back into the chair. There was no sense in getting up and waiting at the door like an overeager child.
That was essentially what he was, though, and he knew of no way to stop himself. He wanted to see her again, and that impulse was so overwhelming and all-consuming that he had found no way to control it. He had only just managed to stay away from the schoolhouse that day, his urge to see her almost desperate.
There was some spark in her, even when she was being surly, that he wanted to bring out. This night might be his last real opportunity to get to that spark; it seemed very possible that she might try to avoid him in the future, for whatever reason that seemed to be hiding inside her mind.
Thomas waited as he listened to the sounds of the women dismounting from the carriage, forcing himself to stay in his chair. Finally, after what seemed much too long, there was a polite knock on the door. He walked with measured strides to the door and opened it, and there she was. Her simple gingham dress only made her beauty stand out all the more, and her hair, hidden under her bonnet in what he was sure was her standard tight bun, exposed her graceful neck. He imagined kissing down that silky skin, being allowed under the protective armor of her clothing.
He could feel himself becoming aroused as his thoughts wandered. It took supreme effort to get his body under tight control once again as he ushered them in and they entered the sitting room, taking the same seats as they had the previous evening. The night before had been almost painful with the constant effort to keep his interest from exposing itself in the most embarrassing of ways, but it was a challenge he was more than happy to face for another night, if it meant he was allowed to be near her once again.
Something had drastically changed since the previous evening, though, and it made his heart beat all the harder. Alice’s eyes were sparkling like mad, and she was looking straight at him. He held his breath, hoping beyond hope that she would give him some sign that efforts to pursue her would not be completely futile.
The moment they were seated, she took a breath, and he waited anxiously to hear what she would say, almost forgetting Mrs. Leach’s presence. “What led up to Joe’s parents’ death?” she asked.
The question stunned him, and it took him a long moment to respond as he attempted to reconcile the question with the thoughts in his mind. Of all the things she might have said, that was not what he had expected at all. After several seconds, he was able to gather his thoughts somewhat and answer, “What do you mean? Other than what I explained last night?”
“Yes. What were the details, the specifics, surrounding their death?”
“They were in a hired coach about twenty miles from San Francisco, when—“
She waved her hand and cut him off, her tone almost urgent. “Not that. I mean, why did they leave? Why was Joe not with them?”
“They had some acquaintances living on the coast they wanted to visit. The friends left St. Louis some years before Emily and Joseph did, and they had long wanted to call on them and stay a few weeks near the ocean. It was too far to take Joe until he was older, so they asked me to watch him while they were gone.”
He still was not positive what this had to do with anything, but she was leaning forward, her expression eager, as she soaked in his words. “So, would they have gone on the trip if you had not been here?”
“No, they—“
He stopped speaking as realization washed over him. His heart thumped painfully. As if by mutual accord, they both stood up and hurried to the stairs, leaving Mrs. Leach bewildered on the couch. Thomas was about to launch himself up the stairs and burst into the boy’s room when Alice’s hand settled on his forearm, sending waves of heat through his body that stopped him in his tracks. In the intensity of the moment, he almost wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a kiss, but she took her hand off him so quickly, almost as if touching him burned her, that he curbed the impulse.
The air around them felt thick, hard to breathe.
Her expression suddenly changed, losing its passion in an instant. She lowered her eyes and spoke, her voice soft and with none of the force she had shown before, as if she was once again replaced with a meek schoolmarm. “Let me speak to him first, Mr. Lancaster, if you don’t mind.”
He was so ready for action that he had been rendered dumb. He wanted to run up the stairs and talk to Joe, exclaim that he had figured it out; he also wanted to make this woman stop pretending to be less than she was, to stop wearing this mask and show her true self, the one who had jumped up from her chair with fire in her eyes. He wanted to again see the fierce pride that had shone through when she showed him the truth.
Instead, he nodded his assent and waited as she slowly ascended the stairs.
He rubbed his face with his hands, combing his fingers through his hair as he attempted to calm his heart and mind, not to mention his body.
Once she was nearly to the top step, he followed, watching her move down the hallway, her steps soft and quiet. It never occurred to him that she would not know which room was Joe’s until she pressed on the slightly ajar door to his own bedroom. Her startled expression and the blush that rose to her cheeks were extreme for a simple mistake, but he had no mental capacity at the moment to think on it. His mind was already working overdrive, between his concern for Joe and what would happen when Alice spoke to the boy, as well as on Alice herself. He had nothing to spare.
He watched her knock on Joe’s closed door and enter, treading as softly as he could to the door so as not to disturb them. Alice had shut the door behind her, and they were speaking in such low tones that he could not make out their words. It was maddening. There was nothing to do but wait.
He listened to her soothing voice and Joe’s sharp young one, letting the rumble of the incomprehensible conversation flow over him. After no more than a minute, the boy’s voice rose, angry and fu
ll of tears. All Thomas could catch was one heart-wrenching cry: “They’d still be here!”
Thomas hung his head and slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. Now that he knew Joe blamed him for the deaths of Emily and her husband, Thomas felt the weight of guilt. He had never thought about it, but in a way, he was to blame. His visit set off the chain of events. He had loved his sister dearly, and that notion tore at his heart.
Alice’s voice began again, and even though he was unable to decipher what she was saying, it was a salve to his wounds. He closed his eyes, leaned his head against the wall behind him, and listened to the intonations of her voice. After she had spoken for a long while, Joe began once again, but this time his voice was husky, as if from crying, and it had the sound of pleading in it.
Thomas wanted to go in, but he knew better than to do something like that, so he waited. There was a long silence, with only occasional murmuring, and then, at last, Alice left the room, closing the door behind her. He stood up, anxious to hear her report on the events that had transpired, but she gestured for them to move away from the door before speaking. He followed, eager and hopeful.
On the top step of the stairs, Thomas stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He wanted so much more, to hold her close and whisper in her ear, but he managed to keep himself to only a short squeeze and then separation. He was hesitant to cross any lines with her—what if it drove her away?
She whirled toward him. Her eyes, still ablaze, stared straight into his so intently that it seemed she could see straight into his soul. He coughed once, trying to break the tension, and said, “What happened in there?”
Her eyes calmed slightly, though they still looked full of heat and power. Her voice, however, was subdued. “My hunch was right. He blames you for the accident.”
His shoulders slumped. “He has reason to. I never thought of it in that way, but it is perfectly obvious that, had I not been here, they would still be alive.”
This time it was she who initiated contact, putting a hand on his arm again before pulling it away. Her voice held a note of pleading to it that warmed his heart. “You mustn’t think that. It was an accident. No rhyme or reason. You cannot blame yourself.”
He knew she was right, though it did not wash away all the guilt. That would take a very long time.
After a few moments, she said, “We talked it over, Joe and I, and if I am not mistaken, he will start coming around soon enough. He just needs some time. He asked not to be disturbed, but I think you should go to him later tonight or tomorrow morning and have an honest discussion about this. It would help.”
His guilt gave way to disbelief. It was more than he could have possibly expected when she walked in a few minutes before with that fire in her eyes. It was utterly fantastic, so very improbable. “You believe he might actually talk to me?”
She nodded, a small smile breaking through her usually-calm expression. Relief flooded through him and his heart danced. Before he realized what he was doing, he stepped close to her and pressed his mouth to hers, an involuntary expression of the joy that sent him reeling.
Their lips met, one of his hands pressed to her silky cheek, and his mind calmed and blanked for a moment. Then the realization of what he had done rushed through him, alarms ringing in his mind.
He had not planned to kiss her. She was just so damn wonderful that he had done it without thinking. He stepped away, breaking the kiss off after only a short moment, but the damage was done. He wanted to cover his face with his hands, appalled at his idiocy.
And now she was standing there staring at him, completely stunned. He stepped back further, nearly falling off the stair in his haste to put more distance between them. “I am sorry,” he rushed, hoping to rectify the situation before she could storm out, “I should not have done that. Please take no offense.”
He held his breath, waiting for some response.
Her mask dropped into place again, and she turned to face down the stairs, avoiding his gaze. “It was unintentional. I understand, but please do not let it happen again, sir.”
With that she marched down the stairs and into the sitting room. The moment she crossed the threshold, he could hear a lively relation of the events with Joe already beginning. As if nothing had happened between them.
He suspected, though, that was not entirely the case for her. The flush of her cheeks, the hesitation before she turned away, and her breathless voice bespoke more than she would admit to.
As for him, that quick touch of their lips had turned him inside-out. His entire body was alive with the electricity of the kiss, the shock that ran through him when their mouths met for that brief instant. He could feel his manhood tight against his trousers and knew he could not possibly walk into the room at the moment. He sat on the top step, regaining control, trying not to think of the lovely Alice and those heavenly seconds. It was an impossible task.
When he was able, he hurried down the stairs to his guests. They were still in the sitting room, both beaming. He had to grin at the pure happiness that lit up both their faces. Mrs. Leach turned toward him as he entered. “Alice was telling me all about what happened. I do so hope things work out well for you, dear.”
For a moment, Thomas thought she was speaking of the kiss. Luckily logic intervened before he said anything and he realized she meant Joe. Thomas shook his head in amazement. “I still have no explanation for how she did it, Mrs. Leach. Miss Crenshaw is a wonder.”
Mrs. Leach smiled and nodded in agreement, but Alice’s expression was the one that caught his attention. She flushed, but looked rather proud of herself and of his praise. He was inclined to kiss her again, but managed to hold himself back. It would not do to make her leave in a huff. Whether she actually wanted to or not, that would be the expected response, and he had no doubt she would do it.
Mrs. Barnes, the elderly housekeeper who normally left earlier in the day for her own home but agreed to stay the past two nights to make a special dinner for his guests, walked into the room and announced that supper was finished. Miss Crenshaw’s attention turned toward the distraction, but his eyes were unable to do anything but stay locked on her.
The three of them sat down to dinner, with Joe still absent. Thomas wanted to say something when Alice Crenshaw purposely sat next to Mrs. Leach, opposite and diagonal to Thomas, as far as she could get while still being polite, but knew there were no words to address the awkward gulf she was creating between them. Before Thomas could do any more than pick up his fork, he heard the front door open and close. There was hardly time to wonder who had burst into his house without knocking when the young man who had driven the women in the carriage ran into the room, breathless. Thomas had been unable to tell outside in the dark, but in this well-lit room it was clear he was no more than fifteen, and bore a strong resemblance to Mrs. Leach.
Mrs. Leach spoke up sharply. “Freddie, what are you doing here? I told you what time to come to drive us home. It is far too early.”
Freddie took a moment to regain his composure, but was unable to fully hide his anxiety. “Mother, it’s Jack. He’s sick.”
Mrs. Leach looked skeptical, but there was a hint of worry stamped on her forehead. “His fever?”
The young man nodded. “It’s gotten much worse. The doctor thinks it’s diphtheria.”
The elderly lady jumped up, and Alice began to rise, too. Mrs. Leach stopped her. “You stay here, dear. I’ll send Freddie with the carriage back for you later and we shall find a place for you to stay for tonight, at the very least. If it is diphtheria, I want you as far away as possible. If you take ill, it could spread through the entire school.”
Thomas wanted to offer for her to stay there the night, and almost did, but he knew that would be a scandalous proposition. He could at least offer some help, though. He stood and said, “I have a buggy, Mrs. Leach. There is no need to send the boy back. I will accompany Miss Crenshaw so she can get a few of her things once you have had time to address the sit
uation at your home.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lancaster. That would be lovely. Please enjoy your meal first. It may take some time before we have plans in place.”
With that, the pleasant older lady was bustling out the door, talking in quick, low tones to her son. Thomas was left there with Alice, for all intents and purposes, alone. He looked at her, secretly excited at the prospect of even a short time spent privately in her presence. This was his chance to find out who she really was, other than a teacher and magic snake-charmer of nine-year-old boys. He knew it would be a trial to his self-control, especially with that kiss still lingering between them, but it was worth the challenge.
Alice turned to him, still standing, and there was anxiety written across her face. He wondered if it was for Mrs. Leach’s ill son or if it was because she was trapped with him, but either way, he needed to help rid her of it. “Miss Crenshaw, will you sit? We have a delicious chicken getting cold, and there is nothing to do but eat it and enjoy some conversation.”
She hesitated, and he wondered for a moment if she might decide to leave despite Mrs. Leach’s directions. Instead, she sat and his heart settled down, relieved. She was going to stay. “So, what shall we talk about?” he prompted, mostly because he was curious to see what she would say.
After a short pause, her lips tilted up slightly into a very tiny smile. She said, “Well, I do have one question that I meant to ask you at the schoolhouse the other afternoon, but there was never a good time.”
He was slightly disappointed she had not brought up what happened on the top of the stairs, but he should have expected as much. He turned his attention to her enigmatic statement. What could she have been wondering about since yesterday afternoon that caused her to smile like that? “What is it?”
“You mentioned that your horse’s name is Hamlet. Why Hamlet?”
Thomas laughed. He had no recollection of even saying the name in front of her, but somehow she had heard it and taken notice, and that amused him. “He was such a somber-looking horse, gray and moody. It seemed to fit.”