Wooing the Schoolmarm, page 9
The door opened with a soft whisper. She slipped inside and eased the door closed. Henry Cargrave was offering the opening prayer. She stepped to the open pew on the left, spotted Sophia Sheffield motioning her to come and tiptoed down the aisle and joined her in her private box. Thankfully, the door was well oiled. She acknowledged her kindness with a nod and a smile and bowed her head. The aggravating thing was her plan to speak with Thomas alone had failed. He had not appeared. All her shivering and shaking had been in vain. And now, she had to worry about him waiting for her after the service. He knew she would be here. In Pinewood, teachers were expected to attend church.
“I take my text this morning from the book of Revelations…”
Matthew Calvert’s deep, rich voice drew her from her thoughts. She pushed her hood back slightly, lifted her head and looked forward. His gaze shifted, met hers, lingered. Her fingers fumbled, froze. His gaze moved on. She let out a breath and lowered her hands to her lap.
Sophia leaned her way. She pushed her hood away from her ear and inclined her head.
“Matthew Calvert is too handsome for words. And a much better catch than Thomas Hunter.”
Sophia’s whispered words tickled her ear and stiffened her body. She cast a quick glance at those closest to them to make sure they hadn’t overheard, then looked at the older woman. Why had she made such an outrageous statement? The answer lay in the violet-colored eyes twinkling at her from beneath the feather-trimmed brim of Sophia’s green velvet bonnet. The woman had heard Thomas was back and was teasing her.
She settled back against the pew and cast another covert glance around. No one was paying them any mind. Thank goodness no one had overheard! There would be gossip enough sweeping through the village over Thomas’s return—she didn’t need another rumor, about her refusing his hand and setting her cap for the preacher. She would tell Sophia of Ellen’s feelings for Matthew Calvert directly after church and that would be the end of it.
* * *
“Thank you for your kind invitation, Mrs. Townsend. I accept.” Matthew smiled at the plump, elderly woman and shook her husband’s hand. “I’ll see you at tea Tuesday afternoon, Manning.” He watched the tall, gray-haired man take hold of his wife’s elbow and start down the steps, then turned to the next person in line.
“Excellent sermon, Reverend Calvert. Made a lot of sense. I’ll be thinking on it this week while I’m milking an’ caring for the cows an’ such.”
He met the dairy farmer’s strong grip and nodded. “I’m pleased to hear that, sir.”
“My heart, also, was stirred to response, Reverend. I intend to make a stronger effort to draw closer to the Lord, to know Him as my personal Savior in the way you described.”
His heart swelled with thanksgiving. He flexed his squeezed hand and smiled at the farmer’s wife. “Nothing would please the Lord more. He longs for fellowship with His children, and—”
“‘Behold, I stand, at the door, and knock: If any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.’”
Ellen Hall. He held back the frown that started at her interruption.
The farmer glanced over his shoulder. “Hello, Mrs. Hall…Mr. Hall. You quote Scripture very well, Ellen.” The man’s gaze came back to rest on him. “We’ll move on. Goodbye, Reverend Calvert.” He took hold of his wife’s arm and started down the porch steps.
He made a mental note to pay a visit to the man’s farm during the coming week, and turned to bid farewell to the Halls.
“You preached a wonderful message today, Reverend Calvert.”
He ignored Ellen’s flattering tone and inclined his head. “I see you remembered the Scripture I took as my text, Miss Hall.”
The feather trim on her blue velvet bonnet quivered as she tilted her head. She looked up through her long eyelashes and gave him a small smile. “It brings to my mind our dining together the other night.”
“Indeed?” Must the woman turn everything—even the quotation of Holy Scripture—into an occasion for flirting? He shifted his gaze to her parents. “And that reminds me that I must thank you again for the lovely dinner, and again, apologize for my hasty leave-taking.”
“We were sorry you left us early, Reverend.” Conrad Hall shook his offered hand. “Ellen’s recitation of Psalm eighty-four was excellent.”
“I’m sure it was, sir.”
“Father, please, Reverend Calvert was simply following your admonition to strong discipline for children. My small entertainment was of little importance compared to that.”
His gaze was drawn by the movement of Ellen’s hand. She tucked the collar of her velvet cape closer around her chin and protruded her bottom lip in a small pout. “I’m certain your adorable, young wards profited from your firmness, Reverend.” The pout morphed into another smile.
He held his silence, dipped his head in response. How often did she practice those coy through-her-lashes looks? He couldn’t imagine Willa Wright doing such a thing. But he did, there and then. And the image conjured of the prim-and-proper schoolmarm indulging in such an activity made his lips curve into a smile and his hunger to see her grow.
He skimmed his gaze over the people climbing into carriages, strolling home on the walkway or visiting with each other in the yard, but did not see her neat, trim figure among them. He’d missed her. She must have left before he reached the door. His smile died.
From the corner of his eye he saw Simon Pritchard step through the church door, pause and lean heavily on his cane. He made the Halls a polite bow. “Excuse me, please.”
He stepped to the elderly man’s side. “Mr. Pritchard, it’s good to see you well again, sir. May I help you down the steps?”
The silk of Ellen Hall’s long skirt rustled. He cast a sidelong glance her way. The young woman was pretty, very pretty, as the admiring glances of the men gazing up at her from the yard testified.
“Thank you, Reverend, but John’s brung the carriage. He’ll fetch me.”
“Very well, Mr. Pritchard.” He smiled and placed his hand on the elderly man’s bony shoulder. “Perhaps one of these Sundays John will come inside.”
“I ain’t ’spectin’ that to happen anytime soon.” The old man snorted, shook his head and shuffled toward the steps.
He turned and went inside and swept his glance over the empty pews. “Thank You, Lord, for the privilege of ministering to Your people. Settle Your message of truth in their hearts and spirits that it may bear fruit for Thee, I pray. Amen.”
He picked up his notes from the pulpit, closed the Bible and headed for the back door, his footsteps echoing in the empty church, the disappointment of not seeing Willa after the service, of not being able to share with her the news of the change in the children clouding his otherwise satisfying morning.
* * *
“Have you given your kitten a name?” Willa stood at the base of the steps of the side porch, reached toward the kitten curled up in Sally’s lap and stroked between its small pointed ears with her fingertip. It was the only spot available. The rest of the purring ball of fur was covered by Sally’s little hands.
Sally’s nod set her blond curls bouncing. “I named him Tickles, ’cause his fur tickles my face when he sleeps under my chin.”
“I see.” She stared at Sally’s beaming face and blinked back the tears that smarted her eyes. She could hardly believe the change in the little girl. “I think that’s a wonderful name, and an excellent reason for choosing it.” Perhaps Matthew Calvert had allowed Sally to have the kitten in her bed? And if so, had she given up her mother’s glove?
“I could have named him Scratchy, ’cause that’s how his tongue feels when he kisses me.”
Sally giggled, a sound so joyous that it brought her own laughter bubbling up.
“Watch this, Miss Wright!”
She turned and looked at Joshua. He drew back his arm and threw a small piece of branch.
“Fetch it, boy! Fetch the stick!”
The puppy beside him barked, ran around in circles, then raced back to plant his front paws against Joshua’s knees. The boy leaned down and petted his dog, looked up and gave her a sheepish grin. “I guess he hasn’t learned the trick yet, but he will. He’s a real smart dog.” His brown eyes were alight with pride and love for his dog.
Her heart swelled. “I’m sure he is, Joshua.” She squatted, drew her cloak over her long skirts that ballooned around her, and rubbed behind the dog’s ears before she gave in to the urge to hug the young boy. “Does this fellow have a name yet?”
“Yes, ma’am. I call him Happy, because that’s how he makes me feel.”
Oh dear. She blinked. Blinked again.
“Well! What’s going on here?”
She jerked her head up and looked straight into Matthew Calvert’s brown eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, warmth flowed across her cheeks. She yanked her gaze away from his, let go of the dog and started to rise.
“Allow me.”
She stared at his outstretched hand, remembered the tingling warmth of his touch when he’d helped her from his buggy and wished she had never yielded to the children’s pleas for her to come see their pets. Irritation spurted through her. What was he doing home so soon anyway? The way he had been smiling at Ellen, she’d assumed she would have plenty of time to see the pets and leave.
She placed her hand on his palm, ignored the strength, the feel of his hand holding hers and rose.
The kitchen door squeaked open. “Joshua and Sally, you catch up those animals and come inside now. Dinner’s ready.” Bertha Franklin stepped to the edge of the porch and squinted down at her. “Why, Willa, I didn’t know you were here. Did you want—” The older woman’s gaze dropped, her eyes widened.
She jerked her hand from Matthew Calvert’s grasp. “The children asked me to come and see their pets. They— You see, I found them, the pets I mean, and—” she took a breath, pulled herself together “—and I have a proprietary interest in them.” Bertha was staring at her. Were her cheeks red? They felt on fire. She leaned down and picked up the kitten’s basket.
“Bye, Miss Wright!”
“Goodbye, children.”
She fussed with the lid of the basket. Joshua and the puppy scrambled up the steps and followed Sally and her kitten inside. Bertha’s footsteps crossed the porch.
“Remember me to your mama, Willa.”
“I will, Bertha.”
The door closed. She heaved a sigh, placed the basket on the porch and turned. Matthew Calvert had a definite, amused glint in his eyes, and something more. Something that brought that heat back to her cheeks. She looked down.
“I’m glad you came when the children asked, Miss Wright. I wanted to speak with you, and I thought I had missed you after church.”
When you were talking with Ellen? The thought steadied her, fortified her against the oh-so-charming reverend. She stiffened her spine.
“I wanted to tell you that your suggestion about the kitten worked. Sally cuddled it all night. Her mother’s glove stayed on her nightstand.”
Tears welled. She took a breath to control them. “I’m so pleased for Sally’s sake.” She brushed at a bit of dried leaf clinging to her cloak, groped for the resistance his soft words had undermined. Think of how he behaves apart from the children. She lifted her chin and met his gaze full on. “Thank you for telling me, Reverend Calvert. Good afternoon.”
He didn’t move out of her path. She stumbled to a stop. So did her heart. Mindless things, hearts. She took a step back.
“I also wanted to tell you that I have discussed plans with the church elders to begin a Sunday school class for the young children.” He smiled.
She stared at that oh-so-warm and sincere smile and her racing pulse slowed. Thomas smiled like that. Suspicion reared.
“They decided to have the class meet in the schoolhouse as it is close by and will be convenient for those who live outside the village and must drive to church. Of course, we need someone to teach the children.”
Of course. He’d wanted to talk to her because he needed yet another favor. Would she never learn?
“The elders suggested I ask you. And I wholeheartedly agreed. You are wonderful with children, Miss Wright.” His gaze captured hers. “Will you accept?”
His smile and his compliment left her cold. She shook her head, drew breath to explain that she could not teach children about a God she did not believe in, then clamped her lips shut. If the elders found out about her lack of faith, they would dismiss her and hire another to teach in her place. She was trapped into accepting. Unless…
She drew back her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Please thank the elders for considering me for the position, Reverend Calvert, but I feel there is someone better suited than I to teach the Sunday school class. A person with whom you share a mutual belief in ‘firm discipline’ for children. I suggest you ask Miss Hall to teach the class. I’m quite certain she will be eager to do so. Good day.”
She swept by him and hurried down the stone walk toward the road. Thomas. She jerked to a halt. Thomas smiled and came toward her. She glanced back over her shoulder. Reverend Calvert was still standing by the porch steps watching her. Trapped again. She took a deep breath and moved forward.
Chapter Ten
Everyone they walked past stared and smiled. Willa threw a sidelong look at Thomas waving and calling out greetings, and tugged her hood forward. She forced yet another smile and waved at another couple, the carriage rumbling by.
“Must you be so…exuberant, Thomas?” She breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped off the Stony Creek bridge and turned onto Brook Street. It wasn’t far now.
“How can I be otherwise when I have my promised bride walking at my side, Willa?”
“I am not your promised bride.” She gave him a cool look. “We have been discussing how you walked out on our wedding, remember?”
“Tom!”
She glanced across the road at the hail.
Thomas turned slightly and waved to the man slouching against the hitching post in front of Nate Turner’s Wagon Shop. “Good afternoon, Arnie.”
“For sure it is you, Tom!” The wheelwright grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Meet me later. I’ll be at Jack’s.” The young man straightened, swept off his hat and made her a deep bow. “Good afternoon, Miss Wright.”
Mocker! He knew she did not appreciate his flirtatious teasing. Arnold Dixon had a very unsavory reputation. She lifted her chin, turned her head away and quickened her pace. Tom? Arnie? She hadn’t known Thomas was friends with Arnold Dixon. And had Mr. Dixon been speaking of Johnny Taylor, another man of low repute, when he asked Thomas to join him?
“Whoa, slow down, Willa, honey. I want—”
“Do not call me ‘Willa honey,’ Thomas.” She put a chill in her voice. “Nor ‘your bride’ nor any other such—” the word endearment stuck in her throat “—such…thing. You have no right. You forfeited that privilege when you de— When you left. I am Miss Wright to you.”
He smiled and took hold of her elbow. “Now, Willa—”
“Miss Wright. And don’t speak to me in that condescending tone.” She pulled her elbow from his grasp and slipped her arm inside her cape where he could not reach it.
His features tightened.
“I know you’re angry about my leaving the way I did, but I don’t think you want to be acting that way, Willa. After all, you said everyone thinks you told me to go west after my dream. That being the way of it, they will all expect us to take up our plans to be wed again now that I’m back. You can tell that from their smiles.”
“Then they shall be sorely disappointed.” She caught her breath at her slip of tongue and started back down the path. Hopefully, he hadn’t noticed.
“Is that what you’re going to tell that nosy neighbor of yours? And suppose you tell me what that means.” He gave her a speculative glance. “You agreed to accept my suit again.”
She stopped and lifted her head. Mrs. Braynard was on her stoop, looking their way. She looked up at Thomas, took a breath and told him the truth. “It means I agreed to again accept your court, but I do not care for your presumption that my willingness to do so means our relationship is as before.” She lifted her chin and confessed her plan. “I shall, of course, honor my word—for a few days—but then I shall tell Mrs. Braynard, and everyone else, that I have discovered I do not esteem you highly enough to marry you.”
He rubbed his chin, then slowly nodded. “I see. Well, I guess I understand that.” He narrowed his eyes, focused on hers.
She wanted to turn away, to avoid the intensity of his gaze, but held her ground.
“You don’t want everyone to know I up and left you like I did.”
She sucked in a breath at his bald statement, fought back tears at the cruelty of his words.
His expression changed into one she was quite certain was meant to show contrition, but it fell short of the mark.
“I made a bad mistake, Willa. I admit that. But what I did isn’t the same as your pa deserting you and your ma.”
She stiffened, clenched her hands. How dare he bring up her father! She never should have told him about him.
“Now don’t get riled.” He smiled down at her. “All I want is another chance to prove how much I love you, Willa, honey. I guess a few days is long enough to do that, then we’ll go ahead with that wedding we had planned.”
“No, Thomas. I—”
“Will most likely change your mind.” His hand pressed against the small of her back, urged her forward on the path. “How is your mama, Willa?”
She glanced up at his abrupt change of topic, stared at the hard edge on his smile, at the dark glint in his eyes. What had happened to his charming ways? She didn’t know this man. Unease settled like a stone in her stomach.
