by Anna Schmidt
She gave him a rueful smile. “I am trying to sort through the record of the children’s work over the last few years. There is a marked difference in their performance since their mother’s death.”
“Isn’t that to be expected?”
“Of course. After my father died, I was inconsolable, and once I learned his death had not been an accident, but rather he’d been murdered, I was so…angry.”
“Have you told Baxter and his children about your father?”
“I mentioned it at dinner, but Mr. Baxter was not pleased, and I suppose he had a point. Perhaps he thought it would appear that I was attempting to compare their pain to my own. And I guess, unintentionally, I was. On the other hand, from what I learned talking to neighbors and shopkeepers today, Mrs. Baxter was ill and died peacefully in her sleep. My father was brutally murdered and…”
“I see what you mean.”
“I do understand the importance of presenting myself in such a way that the children do not see weakness in me. Several people have already commented that I am far too young and…”
“Pretty?” She looked down at her hands, and he knew he’d made her blush. “That’s a compliment, Miss Porterfield,” he added.
“Thank you.” A moment passed during which she pretended intense concentration on the records before her.
“Perhaps I might offer a suggestion or two. After all, I was once a boy that age, and trust me, I caused my teachers many a long night.”
She glanced at him, and he held out his hand for the records she had been comparing. “This really isn’t necessary,” she protested. “In fact, I should…”
“Now, Miss Porterfield, you do not strike me as a person who lives her life based on ‘should.’ My guess is that you’ll just go off to your room and spend a sleepless night trying to work this out, and as my mother used to say, ‘Two heads are better than one.’ It’s important that you maintain the upper hand from the outset, right?”
She nodded.
“And you do wish to make them understand that—pretty or not—you are the one in authority?”
She sighed and then nodded again.
“Very well then.” He eased the papers from her and held them closer to the lamp. “Eli shows an interest in and aptitude for arithmetic both before and after his mother’s death,” he noted. “And the girl…”
“Ellie.”
“Ellie has made her best marks in reading and spelling.” He handed the papers back. “In your shoes, I would play to their strengths—gain their trust by acknowledging their abilities.”
She glanced toward the hallway that led to Miss Dooley’s rooms. “Thank you, Mr. Grover. I’ll give that some consideration.” She picked up a piece of paper from the pile on the desk. Once again, he had been dismissed.
“Seth,” he said softly, even as his mind warned him against getting too familiar. “Okay, Amanda?”
She nodded. “Thank you, Seth.” It was a whisper, and he realized she was exhausted and very close to tears. Clearly, she was working hard to maintain her composure until he went upstairs. He stood, but did not immediately move toward the stairs.
“You are going to do just fine, Amanda Porterfield.”
“You can’t know that,” she replied softly.
“Well, I know that now we’re having normal conversation at meals. We boarders are digesting our food a lot better than we were when we sat there in silence. That was your idea. You were the one who taught us that, and if you can teach a bunch of grown-ups who already think they know everything, I have no doubt you can handle a couple of kids who know next to nothing.”
In his zeal to make her feel better, Seth hadn’t realized his voice had risen until he and Amanda turned at the sound of a door slamming, and then saw Miss Dooley glaring at them as she clutched her robe to her throat. “Miss Porterfield,” she began ominously, ignoring Seth as she focused her wrath on Amanda.
Seth stepped between the two women. “Now, Miss Dooley,” he began, holding up his hands as if to fend off actual blows, “I can explain everything.”
The landlady stepped around him as though he weren’t there and advanced on Amanda. “Young lady, I have entrusted you with the key to my house, and you repay that trust by breaking one of my house rules?”
“I…” Amanda swallowed as she clutched her books and papers to her chest.
“It is all my fault, Miss Dooley,” Seth interrupted. “I was a couple minutes late getting back. Miss Porterfield was reluctant to allow me in—and rightly so. I persuaded her that you would understand. After all, Mr. Taylor is allowed special privileges because of his unusual work schedule and—”
Miss Dooley turned on him. “If you think you can persuade me to hand out keys to anyone who takes a notion to come and go at all hours… Mr. Taylor has employment that requires…”
He saw that he’d had the desired effect on the landlady. She did not think anyone knew she had provided Oliver Taylor with a key to the front door so he could gain entry after the saloon closed and he had finished his cleaning chores sometime before dawn. The fact that she had been caught breaking one of her own rules frustrated her to near speechlessness.
“I do not need a key, Miss Dooley,” he said. “I assure you that tonight was a one-time event and should it occur again, I will spend the night at the livery with my horse. Agreed?”
Miss Dooley scowled, and he saw Amanda use the opportunity to edge her way toward the hallway and stairs. “I’ll say good night then,” she murmured.
“Not so fast, missy. There is still the matter of you having a gentleman caller without a chaperone present—and at this hour, to boot,” Miss Dooley added as the clock struck eight thirty.
Seth laughed. “Now, Miss Dooley, Miss Porterfield and I both reside in your house, so who is calling on who?”
“Whom,” he heard Amanda whisper.
He chose to ignore the correction. “Surely the residents of your house cannot be expected to avoid running into one another from time to time, and it would be impolite not to inquire after their health, or how their evening was going, now wouldn’t it?”
Miss Dooley grimaced, and he noticed that her skin was paler than normal and there was a sheen of sweat on her brow.
“Miss Dooley, you clearly are not well, and I am so very sorry to have upset you. Please allow Miss Porterfield to escort you to your room while I go to mine.” He nodded to Amanda, who immediately set her books and the records for the Baxter twins on the stairs and came to the landlady’s aid.
“Let me make you some ginger tea,” she said. “It will ease your stomach. My mother always…”
Seth watched the two women walk down the hall before extinguishing the light, waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then making his way up the stairs. He set Amanda’s books and papers outside her door, and once inside his room, he lay on his bed listening for her.
He did not need Miss Dooley to reprimand him. No, once again he reminded himself that his fascination with the teacher—in spite of his determination to have nothing to do with her—would have to stop.
* * *
On her first day with Eli and Ellie Baxter, Amanda brought lessons and exercises to test their knowledge and took Seth’s advice to appeal to their individual interests and strengths. She considered the need for outdoor activity as well, and planned a walk in the intricate desert garden their mother had created on the grounds of the large home.
She felt fully prepared to face the day as she approached the house. But she hesitated when she heard loud voices from within—an argument between Mr. Baxter and his son. Reluctant to have her employer think she had been eavesdropping, she went to the kitchen entrance where the housekeeper was hanging laundry on a line stretched between two saguaro cacti.
“Good morning, Mrs. Caldwell.”
“Good morning, dear. Though
since we are both working for the Baxters, perhaps we might be less formal when we are alone?” She wiped her palm on her apron and offered a handshake. “Name’s Kitty.”
Relieved to have found someone in this house who seemed to know how to smile, Amanda returned the handshake. “I’m Amanda.”
She glanced toward the open door leading to the kitchen. The voices were muffled now, but the argument clearly had not been settled. “I thought maybe…”
“Oh, pay no mind to that. That sort of hollering is normal in this house, especially since Mrs. Baxter died—God rest her soul.”
The idea that a child at any age would dare speak to a parent in such a tone was unthinkable to Amanda. Her confidence wavered. If Eli Baxter could shout at his father in such a manner, how on earth did she expect to win his respect?
“Where is Ellie?”
Kitty shrugged. “Lurking about, you can be sure of that. She’s a sneaky one, all right. Last night, after you left, I heard her moving around down in the library where you’ll be holding your sessions. I went out to see what she was doing, and she was breaking all the chalk for the chalkboard Mr. Baxter had installed last week. Crushing it, she was.”
“I see.”
“I was able to keep one piece before she destroyed that as well. I sent her back to bed, and she went. After that I locked the door to the library—opened it this morning when the family was at breakfast.” She pulled a piece of chalk from her apron pocket and handed it to Amanda.
Amanda swallowed hard but realized her mouth had gone dry.
“Ah, Miss Porterfield, there you are.” Mr. Baxter stood in the doorway, a scowl on his face as he squinted into the bright morning light. “Well, come along. The children are waiting, and you have already made me late for my first appointment of the day.” He turned on his heel and marched inside the house.
Kitty gave Amanda a look of sympathy as she followed her employer through the kitchen and on to the library he had shown her the evening before. The sliding doors were closed, and she saw Mr. Baxter frown as he pushed them open.
Because the heavy draperies that covered the windows were drawn, and no lamps had been lit, the room was dark. Amanda was aware of the presence of her students—Eli lounging on top of the large, heavy table that dominated the center of the room, and his sister standing nearby.
To her surprise, Mr. Baxter stood aside to allow her to enter the room. “I will be home at five thirty, Miss Porterfield, and I will expect a full report of your first day.”
Left standing in the doorway alone with the Baxter twins, Amanda set her satchel on the floor, took a deep breath, and strode to the first of three large windows. She pulled the drapes aside, moved to the other two windows and did the same, and suddenly, the room was flooded with light—and her students were shielding their eyes from the brightness.
“That’s better,” she said as she retrieved her satchel and set it on the table, then turned to Eli. “Mr. Baxter, our first lesson of the day will be the proper use of furniture for its intended purpose. This table is our workspace for our lessons. That chair is where you will sit. The one across from you is where your sister will sit.”
“And where will Teacher sit?” Eli asked.
“Teacher will stand,” Amanda replied. She walked to the chalkboard and pretended to look for a piece of chalk. Behind her she heard snickers, but they stopped when she dug into the pocket of her dress and pulled out the chalk Kitty had given her. “Each morning I will post the work to be accomplished for the day. Each afternoon I will post the assignments to be completed that evening.” She listed the lessons she had planned down the left side of the board, then deliberately paused mid-list and looked around the room. She frowned and checked behind a door that led into a small closet.
As she had hoped, her actions, coupled with their curiosity, brought Eli to a standing position. “Looking for something, Teacher?” Eli smirked.
“My name is Miss Porterfield. Please address me properly or stay silent.” She scanned the bookshelves for effect and then opened a cupboard and rummaged through the contents.
“Miss Porterfield,” Ellie said, “Father does not like it when someone looks into closets or drawers without his permission.”
Amanda turned and looked directly at the girl. “How do you know he didn’t give me permission?”
Eli immediately came to his sister’s defense. “Because he just wouldn’t. What is it you need?”
“I was looking for a Bible, Mr. Baxter. I did not see one among the collection when I met with your father last evening. It is customary to begin the day with a reading from the Scriptures, as well as a prayer.”
“We don’t pray,” Ellie murmured.
“And since we don’t go to church, we ain’t got no Bible.” Eli glowered at her.
“That would be ‘We do not have a Bible,’ Mr. Baxter.”
The girl glanced at her brother. “We learned the Lord’s Prayer when we were at regular school,” she said softly.
“Excellent suggestion. You have just earned an extra minute of recess, Miss Baxter. Well done.”
The twins stared at her, and she hoped they could not see that her last statement had been an impulse—one that apparently had worked.
“I don’t get it,” Eli grumbled. “How come she gets…”
“Oh, did I not explain the reward and penalty aspect of our lessons? Well, we will get to that eventually—once I have located a Bible, and we have properly begun our day.” She closed the closet door. “I suppose we might make do with the prayer for today.”
“Mama had a Bible,” Ellie volunteered. “It’s upstairs in the attic with her things. Want me to get it?”
“Not today. For today we will say the prayer and move on to our work. I’ll make sure to bring my Bible tomorrow.” Amanda straightened her posture, bowed her head, and waited for the twins to do the same. Neither moved. “Is there a problem?”
“Ellie offered to bring Mama’s Bible. You forgot to give Ellie her extra time at recess—her reward,” Eli said.
“I did not forget, Mr. Baxter. Not everything in life brings a reward. Some things are done simply to solve a problem. Other things are done out of kindness or a need to set something right.”
Amanda folded her hands in prayer as a reminder and once again bowed her head, taking care to keep her eye on the children. She noticed Ellie followed her example, but Eli stared out the window. “Our Father…” She continued alone until she heard Ellie quietly join her for “…forever and ever. Amen.”
When she looked up, Eli was glaring at her. “Where’s the justice in not giving my sister her reward?” he demanded, his arms folded tightly across his chest.
Amanda was definitely making this up as she went along, but so far she had managed to engage both children, and she saw that as a minor victory. “If you and your sister would please be seated, Mr. Baxter, I believe you have identified a topic worthy of discussion.” She waited while Eli flung himself into one of the leather-upholstered straight chairs at the table. Following his lead, Ellie took the place opposite him.
“Very well. Now let us consider the words of the prayer. What does the word ‘hallowed’ mean?”
“Holy?” Ellie guessed. Eli rolled his eyes.
“What else?” Amanda asked, focusing her attention on Eli.
“I don’t know. In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m the dumb twin.”
“I refuse to believe that, Mr. Baxter. Any young man who would feel so passionately about his position that he would have the confidence to stand up for his beliefs as you did earlier is not dumb. Perhaps ill-advised, but not dumb.”
His eyes widened. “You were listening?”
“I expect the entire neighborhood could listen. I did not hear the actual words exchanged, but the tone was there, and clearly, you were adamant on your position. However, we have digr
essed from the topic at hand. What is another possible meaning for the word, Mr. Baxter?”
“I give up. Maybe ‘special’ or…”
Amanda wrote both his and Ellie’s answers on the board. “Now consider the phrase ‘forgive us our trespasses’—what are trespasses?”
“I thought you were going to explain your rewards and penalties system,” Eli complained.
“That will come, Mr. Baxter. Please use the dictionary to find a definition of the word ‘trespass.’”
She pointed to a thick tome resting on a pedestal stand near the window.
To her amazement, he did. She wondered why she had worried at all. These children were hungry for knowledge, hungry to show off what they already knew. She turned to the board and wrote other words from the prayer for them to define. For the first time, she felt hope that she might succeed in teaching them after all. If she could…
“Miss Porterfield?” Eli was standing next to the fireplace, pulling papers and books from her satchel and laying them carefully on top of the cold ashes left from the previous night’s fire.
Amanda swallowed, and instinctively forced herself to remain calm. “What do you think you are doing, Eli?”
“Eli? What happened to Mr. Baxter? I mean, if you refuse to address me appropriately…”
From seemingly out of nowhere, Kitty came storming into the room. “You put those things back in that satchel, young man.”
“Or what?” Eli sneered.
Kitty held up a baseball glove and a butcher knife. “Funny how accidents can happen,” she said calmly. “As for you, little miss,” she continued, turning on Ellie, “don’t think I’m not prepared to tell your father why he’ll be needing to buy more chalk.”
To Amanda’s amazement, neither child protested. Eli stacked the papers and books and dropped them on the table. Ellie looked as if she might actually burst into tears.
Kitty glanced at Amanda and smiled. “Please continue, Miss Porterfield,” she said as she left the room.
With her confidence now shaken, Amanda pointed to the words she’d written on the board. “Please copy these words, and be prepared to give me clear definitions of each when we meet tomorrow. For now, we will explore your skills with numbers.” She wrote four arithmetic problems on the board.