by A. J. Goode
Either way, she had behaved like a selfish, petulant child, and she owed him an apology.
She squirmed uncomfortably in the strange bed at the thought of going with him to the school in the morning and apologizing for her harsh words. He owed her an apology as well, but she doubted that one would be forthcoming. Will Baxter struck her as the kind of man who didn’t easily admit when he was wrong.
She finally managed to drift off, only to wake up feeling tired and grouchy as the sun rose outside her window. On the other side of her closed door, she heard footsteps racing up and down the hall as one of the older children pursued a wailing toddler.
James, she remembered. At only two years old, he was terribly spoiled by his older siblings. Edward, just a few years older, was full of mischief when it came to bedeviling his little brother, but his sunny smile and deep dimples seemed to get him out of the worst of the trouble he created.
Just then, she heard Hannah calling out to the boys to be quiet so their guest could sleep. Victoria couldn’t help but smile at that; Hannah’s shouts were louder than any noise her brothers were making.
Micah pointed out that very fact, his twelve-year-old voice changing pitch unsteadily. Victoria waited to hear sixteen-year-old Robert chime in and add to the chaos, but he was apparently absent from this morning’s entertainment. Probably outside taking care of morning chores, she thought.
Robert had seemed sullen and somewhat angry through supper the previous evening. He seemed to enjoy tormenting his brother Micah as much as Edward enjoyed teasing little James. She noticed right away that Micah followed the eldest around with an expression of near-worship on his face, clinging to his big brother’s every word and action, but Robert was quick to push him away with a sharp word or withering comment.
She slipped out of bed and reached for her clothes since it was obvious that she wouldn’t be getting any more sleep this morning. By the time she had dressed in her simple black dress and pulled her hair back into its usual knot at her nape, the hallway was quiet once more. She hurried down to the kitchen, where Hannah was cooking breakfast while the two younger boys tried to set the table for her.
“Good morning, Mrs. Dawson!” the girl chirped. “I hope you slept well. Would you like some coffee? Breakfast is almost ready.”
The older two joined them around the table as Hannah set down a heaping platter of small, fat pancakes. They all joined hands and Robert said a quick prayer.
Victoria poked at one of the odd-looking little pancakes hesitantly as the others dug in. Hannah saw her hesitation and giggled.
“They’re poffertjes,” she explained. “Mother taught me to make Dutch recipes that she learned from her mother, and her poffertjes were always one of Father’s favorite dishes.”
“Mine, too,” Edward said, his mouth full.
“Hannah never makes my favorites,” Micah announced. He stuffed an entire little pancake in his mouth and glared at his sister.
“Oh, Micah, I do so. But your babbelaars take forever to make, and always make such a mess.” Hannah sighed. “Mrs. Dawson, what are some of your favorite dishes? Perhaps I can learn to make them for you.”
Victoria felt a rush of affection for the girl. “Don’t be silly, Hannah,” she said. “You don’t have to cook special meals for me. I’m sure anything you make will be fine.”
“Aw, let her cook for you,” Robert said. “It’s not like she’ll ever have to cook for a husband.” His brothers laughed. Hannah smiled too, although Victoria saw her nearly imperceptible flinch at the insult.
“Are you boys looking forward to going back to school on Monday?” she asked, trying to change the subject. Hannah shot her a grateful look.
Victoria couldn’t have found a better way to dry up any hope of conversation during the meal. All four boys stopped talking at the mention of school, and excused themselves from the table as soon as they had finished eating the rest of their meal in silence. Hannah tried to shoo her away from the kitchen as well, but the young widow insisted on helping with the clean-up.
“I know you’re being paid for my room and board, but that doesn’t mean you have to pamper me,” she said, gathering a stack of dirty plates. “If I’m going to be a member of this household, I may as well pitch in and do my share.”
“That would be wonderful,” Hannah sighed gratefully. She offered Victoria a towel and began washing the dishes. “Robert and Micah really do help with so many things around the house, but I’ve missed having someone to help out in the kitchen once in a while.”
They worked in companionable silence. After a short time, Victoria cleared her throat. “If you don’t mind my asking, why did Robert say you won’t ever have a husband? That seemed a bit cruel.”
Hannah shrugged. “He didn’t mean to be cruel. Teasing me is just his way.”
“But why does he tease you about that?”
Another shrug. “I’ve always been busy looking after Father and the boys. I guess I never had time to think about finding a husband. Now, I’m just too old.”
“Too old?” Victoria laughed out loud. “Hannah, how old are you?”
“I’m twenty-four,” she said with a grimace.
“That’s hardly old. I was that age when I married Jonathon.” Victoria’s voice wavered at the mention of her husband’s name.
“I . . . I’m sorry for your loss,” Hannah told her.
“Thank you.”
“How did he . . . that is, what . . . I mean . . .”
She was spared from having to answer by a sharp knock at the door. Hannah quickly dried her hands on her apron and hurried out of the kitchen, leaving her to gather her wits and force thoughts of her husband from her mind. It wouldn’t do to dwell on the months spent chasing down a diagnosis and watching as treatment after treatment left him weaker than the mystery illness.
Hannah reappeared with Will Baxter. Victoria caught her breath as the room suddenly seemed smaller, dwarfed by the man’s height and broad shoulders.
For just a moment, she found herself comparing him to Jonathon. Her husband had been tall as well, but he’d been slimmer and more wiry, and the shopkeeper’s hair was as thick and shaggy as Jonathon’s had been light and neatly trimmed. Jonathon’s easy smile and twinkling eyes had always drawn her in, but Will was more sober and withdrawn, with dark eyes that hid his emotions.
He was completely unlike her husband in every way, but there was something about him that made it hard for her to breathe whenever he was near.
He held his hat in his hands and nodded awkwardly in her direction.
“Good morning, Mrs. Dawson,” he said. “Are you ready to visit the school?”
“Yes, just as soon as I fetch my coat.” In her haste to move away from him, she bumped into a chair. They both reached out to steady it at the same time, and she felt a jolt when their hands touched. It was as though she’d been struck by lightning; her body tingled at the simple touch.
She jerked her hand away from him. “I . . . I’ll get my coat,” she repeated, and fled.
Chapter 6
The walk to the little schoolhouse was uncomfortably silent. Will opened his mouth several times to begin his apology to her, but closed it again each time after glancing in her direction. She was striding forcefully along, practically marching, with her shoulders thrown back and head held high.
Looks like she’s heading to the gallows, he thought. He said nothing until he had opened the door and ushered her inside.
“It doubles as our church on Sundays,” he explained. “There was some damage to the west wall in the fire, but it was one of the first buildings we repaired. I guess we all needed a place to gather while we were fixing things up around here.”
“You must have a wonderful pastor to bring everyone together like that after the fire,” Victoria said softly.
Will was silent again, searching for the right words. Reverend Brown had been one of the casualties that horrible night of the fire, and Will still felt the loss keenly.
The Reverend had been a friend as well as a leader for him and many others throughout the years, offering kindness along with guidance to the residents of Serenity. He was sorely missed, and the town had yet to find a replacement for him.
“We don’t have a pastor right now,” Will said. “I . . . I’ve been leading the Sunday services, but I’m just a poor substitute until we find a new pastor.” He cleared his throat.
“I see. Well, it’s a very nice schoolhouse,” Victoria told him, nodding in satisfaction.
Will tried to see the plain little room as it must look to a stranger. The desks were simple but solid, and the wooden floor was worn in places but clean. There was a small stove in one corner and a pretty maple desk at the front of the room. The building had two windows, both shuttered for the winter, while the small cloakroom near the entrance helped block the wind coming from that direction. He could see the fresh repairs along one wall as well.
“It’s nothing fancy like you’re used to, I suppose,” he admitted.
“It is a bit small,” she agreed. “How many students?”
“Jennie -- that is, Miss Brown, the old teacher -- had twenty-nine students at this time last year, but I don’t know how many of those you’ll have when you start back up on Monday. A few families moved away after the fire, and a few others sent their kids away to other schools. And there may be a few who just aren’t ready to trust a new schoolteacher.”
Victoria shot him a look.
“Hey, Jennie up and left all these kids in the lurch one day,” he said defensively. “Lot of folks around here were pretty angry, including me. I’m head of the school committee and it’s my job to make sure Jennie’s replacement is someone more reliable. We want our kids to have a good teacher who isn’t likely to run off with no warning.”
“And you assume that because I am young than you expected, that I will do the same thing?” She turned to face him, hands on her hips.
“I don’t assume anything, Mrs. Dawson,” he said honestly. “I’m just not as confident about you sticking around now that I’ve met you.”
“I assume you have children who attend the school, Mr. Baxter?” She was smiling at him now, and there was something about that smile that sent a chill down his spine. She looked like a wildcat preparing to pounce on her prey.
“I have a son,” he said, fighting the impulse to swallow nervously. “David. He’s thirteen.”
“And now that you’ve met me, will David be in my classroom?”
“Yes, ma’am, he will.” Ma’am? Why on earth did he say that? He was acting as though this tiny slip of a girl was his teacher instead of his employee.
“So, you were angry when Jennie left, but you’re still willing to trust me. Tell me, what makes you think other parents might not be just as willing to take that same chance?” Her smile changed then, becoming something far more genuine.
Will couldn’t help himself. He smiled back.
“Mr. Baxter,” she said softly, laying her hand on his arm, “I think your concerns are those of a parent more than an employer, and I understand. You can trust me to teach David and all the others. You can trust me not to abandon the town or the children. All I need is a chance to prove myself.”
Her small hand on his arm felt as though it was burning a hole through his warm coat, all the way through to his skin. More than anything else, at that moment he wanted to seize that hand between both of his and feel that comforting warmth spread throughout his body. He was attracted to her in a way he hadn’t been attracted to anyone since Melanie.
Melanie.
Horrified, he drew back from Victoria.
“I -- you’ve got until summer,” he stammered. “You’ve got to keep at least twenty of local children in school until then, with proof that they’ve all improved in their studies. If you can’t do that, then you’re not the schoolteacher this town needs.”
“But you said you don’t know how many students there will be!” she protested.
Will wasn’t listening any more. He had to get out of that tiny room before he suffocated. “I have to get back to my store,” he said. “Can you find your way back to Hannah’s house on your own?”
“Of course.” She looked offended, and he really couldn’t blame her. He was behaving like a crazy man. His resolve softened. “But really, Mr. Baxter, we still have so much to discuss. Where shall I find the supplies I need? Is there a class list so I can familiarize myself with some of the names --”?
“I’ll send David over with the class list later today,” he blurted, desperate to escape. “I--we -- that is, you can meet one of your students. ”
“But--”
“I really have to go now, Mrs. Dawson.” And with that, Will turned and fled.
Chapter 7
Victoria had a chance to meet some of her students and their families the following day, when she attended church with Hannah and her brothers. It was a brief, strange experience that felt more like a town meeting than a worship service, but there was something comforting about Will’s rumbling voice as he led them.
He didn’t give much of a sermon. Instead, he read a few choice passages from the Bible and talked about healing after a loss. Even as a newcomer to the town of Serenity, Victoria felt the warmth and encouragement in his words. A quick glance at the smiles and nods all around her showed her that many felt the same way.
Near the end of the service, she noticed a young blonde woman who seemed unaffected by Will’s words. The woman sat near the Visser family, her back ramrod-straight and her face completely expressionless. Her clothes were rumpled and untidy, and several strands of dirty-looking blonde hair had escaped from her braid to hang limply around a narrow, pinched face. A man sat beside her, holding her hand.
Victoria made a mental note to ask Hannah about the couple later.
“And now, as most of you know, our new schoolteacher has arrived,” Will announced.
Victoria snapped back to attention as heads turned in her direction. She tried to smile but felt more like crawling under the seat in front of her.
“Please take a moment to welcome Mrs. Dawson to our town,” he continued. “And don’t forget, school will resume tomorrow morning.”
Her face burned as he finished up a few announcements and led them in one final prayer. She hated being the center of attention, and yet she felt as though all eyes were upon her. Hannah gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before they rose to file out the door.
Once outside the little building, Victoria was peppered with greetings and questions. Parents wanted to know where she was from, what type of teaching experience she had, what sort of plans she had for teaching their children. Their attention was friendly but nearly overwhelming.
Just when she thought she might scream and run away from it all, she heard a familiar voice break through the chatter, calling her name. Turning, she saw Caroline Phillips pushing her way through the crowd.
“Caroline!” Victoria flung her arms around the other woman in an impulsive hug. They’d only known each other for a short time during their train ride, but at the moment she seemed like an old and dear friend.
Caroline hugged her back and kept one arm protectively around her shoulders. “Let me introduce you to a few of these ladies,” she said. She gestured toward a plump, smiling woman who had been asking questions with such a thick accent that Victoria had no idea what she wanted to know. “This is Johanna VanDam,” she said. “Her husband Pieter owns the mill where Adam works. Her boys are Joris and Gerrit, those two over there who are running around with David and Micah.”
“Velcome to Serenity,” Johanna said slowly, beaming with pride as she spoke the words. “It is good to have a teacher again.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“And I’m Nellie Conway.” There was something rather intimidating about the red-haired woman who spoke up next, but Victoria liked her at once. “You’ll have four of mine in your classroom. Abby, Asa, Seth and Neil. The two little ones will be good for you, b
ut you just give a holler if you need me to send Mr. Conway in with a switch to make the older ones listen to you.”
“Oh, my!” Victoria gulped.
“Don’t let Nellie frighten you,” Caroline murmured as the women wandered off to greet other families. “She comes on a bit strong, but she’s a good soul through and through and the closest thing Serenity has to a doctor. I’m told she stitches up wounds and sets bones when needed, too. And I’ll never forget the way she helped Adam when his lungs were full of smoke after the fire last fall.”
Victoria met more families, their names and faces blurring together in her mind no matter how she tried to keep them all straight. After a while, the crowd finally began to thin as families began to leave for their homes. “Who is that?” she asked in a low voice, nodding toward the silent women she had noticed during the service.
“That’s . . . Grace,” Caroline sighed. “Grace Anderson. Her baby was one of the poor souls lost in the fire. I wrote to her while I was gone, but she never answered me, and she just won’t let anyone help her. Her husband is at his wits’ end.”
The young schoolteacher’s heart went out to the woman.
“I tried to visit her yesterday,” Caroline continued, “but she didn’t seem to hear anything I said. Her husband is trying to convince her to meet the Orphan Train in Grand Rapids so they can adopt a child, but she won’t even talk to him about it.”
Of course she won’t, Victoria thought but didn’t say. She can’t just replace her baby so soon any more than I could replace Jonathon right away. She needs more time.
“I know it’s rather short notice, but please join us for Sunday dinner,” Caroline asked her as they walked back toward the building. “I want to hear all about your first few days here and find out how you’re getting along with the Vissers. The girls have been begging to see you, too. Emily’s even planning on making some of her wonderful buttermilk biscuits to impress you.”
“Well, I’ve never be one to pass up an opportunity for buttermilk biscuits.” Victoria smiled, suddenly hungry. “Are you sure it’s no bother?”