by Ali Olson
Two feelings battled inside her: the pure joy that he was talking about them as if they were already married, and the frustration that he did not understand her need, still, even after all this. She tried to be as clear as possible. “I am not going to Missouri, Thomas, and I will not leave Shasta if I can help it. These students need me, and I am going to work as hard as I can to stay with them. If I am forced out, I will find another town here in California. Teachers are rare around here, and these children need education.”
Thomas sighed in exasperation, and she felt like doing the same. She got up and started dressing, her movements quick and efficient.
He sat up and tried once more. “You don’t have to, you know. They will be fine without you.”
Anger boiled inside her. Why did such a lovely time have to be ruined by the reality outside this room? “Thomas,” she said, her voice unhappy and exhausted. “This was wonderful. Incredible. But you don’t seem to comprehend how important the school is to me. I should not have come here, but I talked myself into this when I felt discouraged. I realize, though, that I need to try, even if it is hopeless, and you seem to be unable to understand that. It would probably be best if we don’t see one another again. You can go back to your farm, but I am meant to be here.”
Before he could respond, she was out the door, twisting her hair back into a tight knot at the top of her head. Her heart ached inside her, insisting she turn around and go back to the warmth of the bed, but she knew she had to resist or she would never be able to leave him—she would be trapped in his sweet embrace. She felt awful for her unkind words, but it was best for them both if this ended immediately.
Outside, the air was cool and the breeze dried the tears she only then realized were falling down to her cheeks. She strode away from the looming house, moving with as much speed as she possibly could without breaking into a run. She needed to go to the schoolroom to retrieve her bonnet and shawl, close it up for the weekend, and then make her way to the Leach home.
She knew there would likely be questions and concern for her well-being when she got there, but she wanted to do nothing more than close herself up in her room alone and weep for what she was sacrificing. It was the right choice, but the price seemed much too high—almost unbearable—and it tore at her heart with sharp claws.
When she reached the house, she wiped away the tears and gathered the bits and pieces of herself into one makeshift whole. It might not stand up to much scrutiny, but hopefully it would be enough to get her through the house if she moved quickly.
One more deep breath, and then into the house she stole, as quiet as she could without appearing to sneak, lest she was caught. It took only a few seconds, however, for Mrs. Leach to come bustling into the hallway. Although Alice kept her face averted to hide the evidence of her emotions she knew she had been unable to completely cover, she could not fool the older woman.
Esther Leach walked up and tilted Alice’s chin, forcing her face up into the light. Sympathy filled the motherly eyes. “What is it, dear? What has happened?”
Alice knew she would be unable to lie to this kind woman, so she simply said, “I would rather not talk about it, Mrs. Leach. I would just like to go to my room, please. I will be fine.”
The final statement was more of a wish than an assurance, but it was enough. Mrs. Leach released her grasp on Alice’s face and shifted her body to allow Alice enough space to enter the house. Before she could steal up to her room, Mrs. Leach said, “I think of you as a daughter, Alice, so I have the same advice for you that I would give them. I have no idea what has happened, but my guess is it has something to do with Mr. Thomas Lancaster. I may be wrong, but if I’m not, just know that love can hurt, my dear. That does not mean you should hide from it or keep yourself from experiencing it.”
Alice dashed through the house, up the steps, and into the sanctuary of her room. She felt like her lungs were unable to gather enough air. Sitting down on the floor, her back to the door, she breathed heavily. She would behave appropriately and maturely tomorrow, but for now, she would let herself mourn.
The time with Thomas had been far too wonderful, and so much of her demanded she let herself be happy, consider her occupation as lost and fall into his arms. Allow him to protect her forever.
But she had to listen to that other voice, the one that reminded her of the excited fluttering in her heart before the first day of school in the fall, the joy when a student completed a task he believed he was incapable of doing, when a student turned his slate to her with pride as he presented his accomplishment. The students she loved so dearly.
Alice kicked off her boots and unbuttoned her dress, climbing into bed still mostly clothed. It was uncomfortable, but she ignored it and drifted off to sleep.
***
Alice spent the following morning preparing to meet with the school board. They had meetings on Saturdays twice a month, and she was sure to be the topic at this one. She would need to go and challenge the board, regardless of what Mr. Wilson might say to punish her. He was capable of slander, she was sure of it, and the trust the two female members put in him would likely overshadow anything she might say, but she needed to try. Conceding before she had done everything in her power was not an option.
The mirror reflected a grim but determined face which looked much older and wearier than it had only a few days before, but there was nothing to do about that. Her losses had settled deep in her bones during the night, aging her.
She held her chin high, took a few more steadying breaths, and left the safety of her room to brave the world, a soldier preparing for battle.
Downstairs was mercifully quiet, and the few family members who were awake did not disturb her as she marched out the door. The weather had turned in the night, leaving the morning gray and cool, with spring rain on the horizon. It would be another hour before the meeting began, so she wandered over to the schoolhouse, the place she felt most at home in the entire town.
Except perhaps Thomas Lancaster’s home, where she could settle into his strong arms and rest her head against his chest, hearing his heart, his good heart, beating.
The thought set her own heart to thumping heavily, but she tried to ignore it. Now was not the time for memories of Thomas. She needed to keep her mind clear if she planned to accomplish anything that morning.
Her steps brought her to the schoolhouse, and Alice looked at it with tears stinging her eyes. She did not enter the classroom she knew so well. Instead, she sat on the small fence that surrounded the building and studied the place she considered to be her sanctuary. A tiny, fragile construction, built when Shasta first grew from a few mining shanties and saloons into a true township. The paint was peeling, and it looked weathered in the dull morning light, but being there helped mend her heart a little. It was where she belonged.
The cool air seeped through her shawl and into her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps along her arms, yet still she stayed in that spot, unwilling to move. She thought of the hundreds of tiny special moments she had experienced within its walls, and her breath hitched as she considered the possibility of never entering it again.
If she needed to, she would be strong and find a new place to teach, but leaving the profession altogether was simply not an option, as much as she wanted it to be. She stayed in that spot until she was chilled through and a cramp had begun in one of her legs. When she finally rose from her place on the fence, her body ached, but she felt stronger. The threat of tears had faded. It was time to face the board.
Although few townspeople ever attended the school board’s meetings, they were held in the large town hall with the doors thrown open to the public. When Alice entered, the two severe female board members were listening as Mr. Wilson finished saying something with such vehemence that she was sure it was about her.
Her assumption was confirmed when he turned toward the sound of her footsteps and grinned a dark, vengeful smile. He shook his head. “Here she is, ladies, the conniving woman he
rself.”
Alice was about to retort, to argue for her position, when he continued, “This Miss Crenshaw has lied to us all and should be made accountable for her actions.”
Anger burned in her stomach, warming her despite the chill. If he was going to try to use her secret teaching methods to get her kicked out, she would fight and argue until they understood how much it helped the students. “I teach—“
Again she was stopped. Mr. Wilson’s voice bowled over hers. “How dare you think you could hide your marriage from us? For years! Well, no longer. Do you deny that you are married to a Mr. Ben Longmont, a common thief who was jailed for his crimes?”
Her anger fled as Alice stared in stunned disbelief. How had he found out? “Yes, but—but—“ her voice and mind failed her, and she drifted into silence.
Mr. Wilson nodded, satisfied. “As you see ladies, she is not fit to teach here, or anywhere, for that matter. I move we dismiss this woman as the town educator and contact all nearby townships to ensure that they are not subjected to her sinful presence.”
She hardly heard his words, her thoughts turned inward as she attempted to comprehend what she had heard. There was only one person who knew about her marriage, and Thomas would never tell Wilson a thing like that… would he? He wanted her to go with him to Missouri, but was he desperate enough to orchestrate this just so she would give up her quest to continue teaching in the west?
She tried to invent alternatives. It was possible Wilson had overheard them talking somehow. But if he had, and he knew of her afternoon alone with Thomas, then he would have accused her of those improprieties as well, not just the marriage. Wilson must have gotten the information from somebody, and it had to be Thomas. There was no other option.
Everything clicked into place. She had hoped, prayed, that he would be a better man than Ben, but it was stupid to believe he would not manipulate her for his own ends. He probably felt he was helping her. Protecting her. That made it no more forgivable. Her heart, which she thought was already broken beyond reason, crashed apart as if made of glass.
She needed to get out of there. It was too much. As the two women before her agreed with the odious man and began discussing a replacement teacher, Alice turned and left the room, trudging to the Leach home, utterly defeated. This time, she made no attempt to walk quietly, but nobody bothered her. Mrs. Leach stepped into the entryway for only a moment, but did not speak as Alice walked past without looking at her.
In her room, Alice sat on the bed and stared out the window. She felt adrift, without any mooring or hope of rescue. What could she possibly do now?
Chapter Seven
It was Saturday afternoon before Thomas gave up hope that Alice would return that day. He was aware of the school board meeting, and that it must have long since ended, and yet there was still no sign of her. He had been running through their time together in his mind repeatedly, and he could sit and wait no longer. All day, his body had ached to take action, and now it was time at last.
Once decided, he left the house to saddle his horse Hamlet, and in mere minutes he was riding to town. The movement of the large animal under him was soothing, and the cool air helped clear his head, which had been a muddle the entire day. He wanted to be with her, and damn it all, he would make it happen no matter what the stubborn girl had said. He had seen in her eyes that their blissful afternoon was more than a single dalliance—he just needed to make her aware of it.
During his brief ride, he watched carefully for Alice but saw little else. It felt like it had only been a few seconds when he found himself in front of the Leach residence, a home he had come to adore for the raucous family as well as the one inhabitant he came to see, but this time he hoped that the family was not there, as unlikely as that might be.
He wanted to speak with Alice privately, to find a way to make this woman he desired so much understand that he loved her and wanted to marry her. That was not a conversation to have with a house full of children tumbling about their ears.
He tossed Hamlet’s reins over a post and bounded up the porch steps. It was torture to knock and wait for it to open, his adrenaline coursing through him, making his hands itch for movement and speed. He did pause, though, when he noticed that the house was almost silent. As much as he had hoped it would be quiet, the oddity of it struck him and left him with a feeling of foreboding.
A young woman he never met before opened the door, but her features were so similar to those of Mrs. Leach he guessed it was the recently-returned daughter, back from wherever she had been. He was too impatient to ask. “I need to speak to Alice, please. It’s important.”
The girl looked worried and uncertain. “Wait here just a moment, sir.”
She closed the door, leaving Thomas standing outside, waiting. He rubbed his hands over his face and neck, his heart hammered in his chest. What was taking so long?
When the door opened once again, but with Mrs. Leach there instead of Alice, his worry only grew. She was pale, and her surprise at the sight of him had no sparkle of delight he had come to expect from the pleasant woman. It was even more upsetting when she stepped outside and closed the door rather than inviting him in.
He could wait no longer for an explanation. “What’s wrong? Is Alice hurt?” he asked in a rush.
Mrs. Leach’s shrug didn’t dissipate his fears, and he was about to enter the house with or without her permission when she answered, “In body, she is fine, Mr. Lancaster.”
The formality struck him, though her words at least helped to calm him somewhat. What was going on?
The woman continued, “She has been dismissed by the school board. They found out about a marriage in her past.”
Shock coursed through him. How had they found out? Mrs. Leach continued, her voice softening. “Don’t let that stop you from liking her, dear. It was long in her past, and though she hasn’t spoken to me of it, I’m sure she had good reason to keep it hidden. She’s not at all what they are making her out to be.”
Thomas made no attempt to explain that he had known about the marriage. There was only one thing he wanted at the moment, and it simply could not wait. “I need to see her,” he said, moving toward the door.
Mrs. Leach shifted slightly, fully blocking his entrance. “I am sorry, dear, but I have promised not to let anyone in to see her.”
He waved the statement away. “I’m sure she does not want to see the townspeople or school board, but she wants to see me.”
Mrs. Leach’s pitying look was enough to make the realization wash over him. Alice had not asked Mrs. Leach to bar just anyone from the house: she had asked her to keep him away specifically. His chest felt too tight as he turned away.
He would not storm the house and demand to be seen—not yet, anyway. He shuffled back to Hamlet, wondering what to do next. There was no way he could go back to his house and just sit and wait. Alice was stubborn enough to separate from him completely if she thought it was for the best, no matter how much it hurt them both. No, he needed to do something. But what?
There was one person he knew was the center of all this, and that was the person he had to call upon next.
He found Mr. Wilson’s house with little difficulty. The whole town was talking about his declaration about the schoolteacher and the scandal of a married woman, a woman who had known carnal relations, educating the children, and it was easy to cut in with a quick question without arousing notice.
He said nothing of his recent carnal relations with the same woman, but it was on the forefront of his mind as those married women spoke as if they were pure while Alice was tainted somehow. She was the most pure, perfect person he could imagine. He was seething by the time he knocked on the large white door that guarded the man who had brought all this down around Alice’s ears.
Mr. Wilson’s home was one of the older, more stately homes in town; Thomas saw instantly that he must be a man of wealth and influence. That might be a barrier for Thomas and his goals, but if he could just us
e those facts against the man, there might be a way to turn the tides and force him to reinstate Alice.
The door was answered by a quiet, pretty serving maid who responded to his request to see Mr. Wilson in the most quick, efficient, impersonal way he had ever seen. He was let into the large sitting room, which appeared to have been decorated to elicit awe rather than give comfort. Lowering himself into a straight-backed chair covered in red velvet, he waited for Mr. Wilson, a man he found himself disliking more and more, as impossible as that had seemed even a few minutes before.
While he waited, he listened to the silence of the house. It seemed barren of life, inhabited only by ghosts—certainly no normal person could live in such a desolate place.
That was why he was so surprised when a young woman sauntered in with knitting needles and yarn in one hand. She curtsied to him in a most elegant manner, but her face bespoke her annoyance. “I have been sent to sit with you while my father is otherwise detained, sir.”
As angry as he was, the appearance of this girl caused him to pause. He bowed politely before asking what was on his mind. “Are you Mr. Wilson’s daughter?”
That was the only possibility, of course, yet it seemed impossible to him that a man as devious as Mr. Wilson should have a daughter, even one as dour as the woman before him. Despite his skepticism, she nodded. “I’m Clara. I am very sorry to be a bother, but he told me it might be a long while before he would be able to come down, so I am here in his stead until he finishes his meeting. “
What could he say to that? She dropped into one of the many uncomfortable chairs in the room, choosing one that was distant enough for propriety’s sake without seeming rude and began to knit. She seemed to have no intention of starting a conversation, which was fine by him, as it allowed him to sit and simmer without forcing pleasant chit-chat.
How could this man destroy a poor woman’s reputation, after all she had done for the school and the children, just for his own revenge? He wanted to break apart the house looking for him, and then force Wilson to do something to fix the situation, though he had no idea what that could be.