The Promise Bride

by Gina Welborn

  Luanne pressed the back of her hand against her nose. She sniffed again.

  He picked up his brown tweed coat. He tossed it over his shoulder, one hooked finger keeping it from falling to the floor, and started toward her. “Are you feeling under the weather?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” Luanne eased sideways so he could exit through the door. The bustle beneath her navy plaid skirt bent under the pressure of sliding against the chalkboard, but remaining far away from Roy Bennett took precedence over keeping her skirt clean. One sympathetic glance, one expression of concern, and she’d throw herself in his arms with such abandon she’d be fired for sure.

  If he didn’t believe her insistence that she was fine, Roy Bennett was gentleman enough not to accuse her outright. He stopped on the threshold and offered her one of his sigh-evoking smiles. “I look forward to seeing you this evening at dinner.”

  Luanne nodded, giving him the same placid grin she’d perfected for dealing with Professor Tate. As soon as he closed the door behind him, her breath caught. The tears she’d held at bay fell. How would this work out?

  The wall clock chimed the top of the hour. Seven A.M.

  Luanne straightened her shoulders and wiped her face with the back of her hands. A letter would solve this. Two, actually. One to Mr. Tate explaining her refusal. One to Roy Bennett asking him to cease building a fire for her classroom. That was the simplest solution. Starting now, she would avoid him. As much as possible, at any rate. She had her involvement with church, school, and the Ladies’ Aid Society to keep her occupied. New plan: be polite but disinterested during family dinner, then disappear for evening charitable causes as soon as the dishes were cleared.

  Yes. That’s how it would work out.