Diamonds of yellow light ignited across the smooth blanket of snow between the road and the McIntosh house, but it didn’t distract her from hoping to catch a glimpse of Gabe. He wouldn’t be there. He would be working diligently on his house, snow or no snow, because he was trying to finish it for them, for her. Still, she didn’t look away from his family’s house until after she passed.
She had thought she would get more attention from him once they were a couple, not less, but he was busy building a house and working hard for their future. And she was happily occupied with teaching, so it shouldn’t matter. But it did now that she was in love. Her heart ached with feelings she didn’t know what to do with.
The dusting of snow covered the forest floor, outlining once hidden nests and burrows. A jackrabbit peered at her through the sprigs of a bare branch. She stopped to watch him. At night the sounds along the roadside made her skin prickle, but the quiet of the bright morning after a snowfall made her believe nothing truly bad could ever happen in this land.
Or maybe being in love lightened her heart to everything, save her own imperfections.
Gabe loved her now, but would he always? Her secret involved a strange and inexplicable affliction. Who could see clearly but become suddenly blinded to the written word? No one but her, that’s who. As a child, she had been the only student who could read one moment and not the next, and she learned to hide it well, even from the teacher—her own mother. No one else in class had to study as hard as her or had to memorize passages through the night.
As an adult, it was natural to channel that same determination into her profession, but marriage would expose the truth. A man wouldn’t want her for a wife if he knew she was faulty. A man would be humiliated to have such an odd wife, and surely he would be repulsed at the thought of her impairment being passed to their children. She no longer feared he would laugh at her, but even with his good humor, Gabriel McIntosh would not be able to joke this flaw away if he knew.
That was it then: he could never know. If she could hide it from her mother, maybe she could hide it from a husband.
A husband. That wasn’t something she ever thought she would have to consider. He hadn’t proposed yet, but he had asked her father’s blessing and said he wanted her for a wife. He just didn’t know the whole of what he was asking for.
The rabbit’s long ears twitched, but the rest of it went perfectly still. At once, it looked directly at her and then turned and bound away, as if it had heard her thoughts and didn’t want her defective eyes watching it another moment.
A voice came from behind her on the road. “Miss Owens,” Reverend Colburn called out as he hurried toward her. “Are you on your way to the Roberts’ house?”
“Yes, sir.”
The reverend came beside her, slightly out of breath. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. “I have business with Mr. Roberts this morning. Mind if I speak with you on the way?”
The reverend had gone from the gentle pastor her family often invited to dinner back home in Virginia to the settlement leader who spent months opposing her one request. What could he possibly want to speak with her about alone on a cold morning? “I don’t mind,” she answered smartly before her bewilderment took her voice.
His breath made quick white clouds on the morning air as if he’d been running to catch up to her. “Thank you and good morning.”
“Good morning to you too, Reverend.”
As they walked along the snow-covered road, she glanced back over her shoulder. Smoke rose in grayish brown ribbons from the scattering of chimneys in the village behind her. Two figures in the distance caught her eye, both of them girls about the age of Editha and Eveline Cotter. They each had a pail in hand and were hurrying away from the Ashtons’ shed. What were they doing there so early on a cold morning, and did they have the Ashtons’ permission?
The reverend looked back too. “Is something the matter?”
She gave him a sidelong glimpse, wondering if she should mention her suspicions of the Cotters. She decided against it. “It’s a lovely morning, is it not?”
“Indeed. Miss Owens, I have heard about the lessons you have been teaching lately.” His nostrils flared, and she braced for a lecture. “It is the same report, but comes to me from different parents and even some of your students.”
“Oh?”
“Seems your adding practical instruction to the lessons has changed a few opinions of your teaching. It shows wisdom on your part to make your lessons relate to the children’s lives as they are now, not as they would have been if they were growing up in America. I might have underestimated the importance of corporate education in the settlement.”
She held back a delighted squeal and a disrespectful I told you so and stared straight ahead. “I’m pleased you approve of my lessons.”
The reverend’s voice lost its austere glaze. “I’m not sure how much you know about my wife’s family history, but her ancestors once built a fine brick home and a salt works by the sea in Accomack County. Benedict Arnold burned their home, and her great-grandfather went on to become a captain in the Revolution. Did she ever tell you that story?”
“No, sir.”
“It was one of the first things she told me when we were courting. Her father told me the same story days later. It gave their family a great sense of patriotic pride. Her grandfather and father rebuilt their home and continued the business of making salt from seawater. She has been using their process here, but on a much smaller scale.” He removed his spectacles and wiped them on his shirtsleeve as he continued. “Our second son has shown interest in the chore lately, and even though he is but eight, he says he will one day have a salt works here like his grandfathers had in Virginia. It got my wife thinking about the work of future generations here. She now believes someone in your position could introduce children to a great many skills.”
“I see,” Olivia said, relaxing in the reverend’s company. “Would you and Mrs. Colburn like me to start teaching your children?”
“No. Not the basic subjects, anyhow. She enjoys teaching them at home. She would like the children to get to participate in some of the practical lessons, like the ones you have been teaching lately. If you would allow them to.”
“I’m sure it could be arranged.”
“And she wondered if other children in the village might like to learn about salt making. If you thought they would, you could organize the class and she would demonstrate the process for them as a group.”
“What an interesting proposal.” She swallowed her desire to point out she had wanted to teach the children as a group all along. It was called school. She nodded agreeably instead. “The children would enjoy learning together. Would I plan for such classes to be held at your home?”
“We haven’t decided yet.” He settled the eyeglasses back on and wrapped their golden wire ends behind his ears. “Like I said, I have heard good reports about your new lessons. I wanted to speak with you directly about your methods before I consider any more suggestions. What prompted these new practical lessons?”
As the Roberts’ house came into view, she slowed her pace. She couldn’t let a private conversation with the reverend about education end without mentioning the one thing the settlement still needed. “After Mrs. Vestal passed away, I realized I needed to start integrating the children’s lives into their lessons. It has sparked their attention to learn other things. There are a variety of trades represented in our group, but all of the skills have not yet been taught to the next generation. Mrs. Vestal died with her pottery wheel in their barn, untouched since we arrived. I don’t know if anyone else here knows how to make pottery.”
“Perhaps you could find out. And maybe we should introduce the children to more trades by having others teach too.”
“Yes.” Excitement bubbled inside her. “And we could bring in some of the older children, who might not have considered a profession yet. Perhaps they could train for a skill that might otherwise b
e forgotten.”
“Yes, just not firstborn sons since they will learn their father’s profession.”
“Of course.”
“And not every day.”
“Certainly not.”
Reverend Colburn grinned. “God has given you zeal for teaching children, hasn’t He?”
“He has.”
They stopped walking when they reached the Roberts’ property. She glanced up at him and saw him not as the overseer of the settlement whose opinion dictated her life, but as a pastor who cared for the people. “Reverend, the village needs a schoolhouse. It would certainly make these group demonstrations easier on the families… and on me.”
The Roberts children spilled onto their porch and called excitedly to Olivia. She gave a quick wave.
Reverend Colburn looked over her head at the children. “Continue what you have been doing, for now at least. I will discuss these matters with the elders.”
Chapter Fourteen
A week passed without another mention of school from Reverend Colburn, and then another. Olivia waited up for her father after the elder meeting each Wednesday night, hoping he would tell her if the subject of education had been discussed, but he said nothing. Last night, as she’d sat at the table preparing lessons by lamplight, he’d come in at a quarter to midnight and barely grunted goodnight to her as he trudged up the stairs.
She hoped to catch him this morning before breakfast and before his early chores and press him for information. She lit a second oil lamp in the kitchen when footsteps scuffed the floor behind her parents’ closed bedroom door. It had to be her father. He was always up first.
Boiling water rumbled in a pot on the stove, and she checked the eggs inside it. Almost done. They would cool in time for breakfast, but not before her father came out. She wanted to have something fresh to offer him to slow his morning routine long enough for her to ask if Reverend Colburn had mentioned their conversation to the elders.
Richard wrangled his suspenders over his shoulders as he stepped into the kitchen. “You’re up early.”
“Good morning, Father.”
“You beat the sun today.”
“Had a lot on my mind.”
Richard plunked a kettle on the stovetop and drew a tin mug from the shelf. “I take it you heard about last night.”
“From whom? You were the last person I saw before I went to bed and the first person I’m seeing this morning. What did I not hear about?”
“The new schoolhouse.”
“Schoolhouse?”
“The elders agreed to build it for the settlement.”
Olivia dropped the pot’s lid onto the stove with a clank. “It will be built? Finally? This is wonderful news! Why didn’t you tell me last night?” She waved a hand, dismissing her own question. “Was it Reverend Colburn’s suggestion?”
Richard gave a tired chuckle at Olivia’s enthusiasm. “No, no. It was Christopher Vestal who convinced the last reluctant elders it should be a priority. He kept bringing it up until everyone agreed.”
“Mr. Vestal? How kind of him.” She wrapped a folded towel around the pot handle and carried it to the back door to drain the water. “Where will it be built?”
“On the sandy lot across from the chapel—”
“Just as I’d hoped! When will they build it?”
“Mr. McIntosh said we should be able to raise the structure walls in a couple of weeks, but since he is already committed to expanding the stable on the Fosters’ farm, he can’t finish it for a while.”
“Oh,” Olivia said on a breath, wondering what another undefined while meant.
“But Gabriel volunteered to finish it. His brother and a couple of the Ashton boys are going to help him.”
“Has Gabe even finished his house yet?”
Richard glanced at the front window. “I’ll let him tell you that himself. He will be here any minute.”
“Here?” She smoothed her hair. “Why so early?”
“He wanted to plan the school building with you before you went to teach today.” Richard pointed to the kettle. “Make me a cup when that’s ready, would you?”
“Of course.” When he reached for the knob of the back door, she said, “Father, wait.”
He turned back and raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you when I interrupted the elder meeting that night. I did what I felt I had to do, but I never meant to disappoint you.”
Richard nodded once and squeezed her hand gently. “Nor I you.”
A light knock rattled the window in the front door, and her father waved Gabe inside. The atmosphere changed when he stepped into the house, not in any nameable way. His presence made her forget her sleeping family, her plans for the day, when she took her last breath. If they married and these feelings remained, they would never get anything done.
Richard kept his voice quiet as he spoke to Gabe. “She knows about the schoolhouse. I’m going to the barn. The rest of the house is still sleeping. Stay for breakfast if you like.”
Gabe removed his brown felt hat and threaded the brim between his fingers. “Thank you, sir.”
As soon as the back door closed behind her father, Olivia hurried across the room to Gabe. Gleeful, she wanted to toss her hands around his neck and celebrate the elders’ decision in his arms. But after the reaction she received the first time she initiated affection, she kept her hands to herself. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Can you believe it? They finally agreed.”
Gabe opened his arms, hat in one hand, and embraced her. The scents of soap and gray leaf lumber mixed with his masculine air. “I wish I could have seen your face when you heard the news.”
“I doubt it has changed much. Father only told me a moment ago.” She pulled away first. “He said you were coming to speak with me about the building plans.”
“That’s part of the reason for my visit.” He grinned down at her, awaiting her response to his baited statement. At least his desire for her hadn’t lessened during their time apart.
She almost asked what he meant just to continue the intrigue, but at the moment she was more excited about the schoolhouse, though only by the faintest degree. “I have never planned a building’s design before,” she said as she led him to the table. “I’m not sure what help I could be.”
He slid a chair out from the table for her. “Something tells me you have every detail of the schoolhouse pictured and have for a very long time.”
“True. But the way I have pictured it over the years has changed.”
He drew a pocket-sized notepad from the lining of his coat and sat beside her. “What are some of the things that haven’t changed?”
She cast her gaze to the ceiling. “A long room with windows on both sides for light and fresh air… four tidy rows of single desks… my desk and a long blackboard at the front of the room...” She kept the next part of the vision to herself: the score of adoring students and the look on their faces when she fumbled over her reading and they realized she was a fraud. She shook her head, trying to erase the image. “And bookshelves on either side of the blackboard.”
Gabe’s pencil scratched the notepad as he sketched a floor plan. Then he made quick marks beside each line of wall. “Something like this?”
“I’m sure whatever you build will be lovely.”
He pointed his pencil to the little marks. “What about these dimensions? Do you think that will be the right size for a schoolhouse?”
The marks were a mixture of numbers and letters. A short burst of dizziness passed behind her eyes. It left as quickly as it came, but she still couldn’t make sense of the marks. “Sure. Looks fine to me.”
“Really? Because I am only kidding. There is no way we could build it that big.”
She tried to read the marks again and envisioned a dark monster holding its hand over her eyes, just as she had imagined it her whole life. Even Doctor Ashton had told her it was not some unseen evil force that disrupte
d her ability to read, but some physiological malfunction they just didn’t have a name for. It was time she stopped the childish picture of an imaginary monster, but how? She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Lord, help me.”
Gabe widened his eyes. “That bad of a joke, huh?”
“Oh, not because of you.” She chuckled at her poor timing. “I was thinking about something else.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“It was definitely something. You looked like you saw a… I don’t know… a monster.”
“A what?” She flinched and regretted it.
He grinned a little. “You can tell me.”
No, she couldn’t. Not about that. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” She forced a sweet smile and pointed to his notebook. “So how big would the building need to be?”
He watched her for one long moment and she waited for him to press her again. Finally, he returned his attention to the page. He erased his marks and scribbled. “How about this? It will be about the size of our schoolhouse in Virginia.”
“Yes, much better.”
He started a new sketch. “And eventually, you can have twenty single desks, but if you want to open the school this year, I suggest we do something like this…” He moved his hand to reveal a drawing of a long narrow table and bench. “Seat four children at each table, and line them up like this,” he said as he filled in the floor plan with drawings of tables and benches.
As she watched him sketch, she wondered if any of her students would be interested in learning carpentry. “Do you think I could gather the children one day to watch you build one of the desks? You could explain the building process, sort of like a demonstration in carpentry?”
“Sure. Why not?” he answered casually. Then he winked. “I’ll try to behave myself in front of your class.” He went back to sketching. “With all the men helping on the structure, we should be ready to raise it in a couple of weeks. Jonah has been clearing some of their land for pasture, and he said we could have the wood. Can you wait a few weeks for the carpentry demonstration?”
The Uncharted Beginnings Series Box Set Page 36