“I’m teasing you,” Alex said softly, and watched as she visibly relaxed and even laughed quietly. He also noticed that her cheeks were just a bit flushed.
“How about a game of checkers?”
Marcail agreed and looked as though Alex had thrown her a lifeline. He set up the checkerboard on the kitchen table, poured fresh cups of coffee, and settled down to play.
eighteen
The talk across the checkerboard was light for the most part, and Alex noticed that Marcail was relaxed around him until the conversation led to her calling him Dr. Montgomery, a name she nearly stumbled over.
Marcail noticed that Alex was an easygoing host who seemed to be a genuinely kind individual, but like all doctors she had encountered, he seemed just a bit too sure of himself. She wouldn’t have called his demeanor outright arrogant, but it wasn’t far off.
As they played, Alex coaxed Marcail into talking about her class, and when she was relaying something that Daisy Austin had said, he interrupted her.
“Since we’re going to be spending the day together, why don’t you call me Alex?”
Marcail hesitated, and Alex allowed her a few moments to think it over. “All right,” she finally said and fell silent.
“You missed your turn.”
Marcail stared at him in confusion. He’d just watched her move one of her checkers.
“It’s your turn to tell me your name is Margaret, and that I can call you by your first name,” Alex explained.
Again Marcail hesitated. “What if my name isn’t Margaret?”
Alex blinked in surprise. “Didn’t I hear your brother-in-law calling you Marg?”
“No. You heard Rigg call me Marc.” She emphasized the hard c. “My family’s nickname for Marcail.”
“Marcail.” Alex tested the name on his tongue and spoke sincerely. “That’s a beautiful name. It fits you.”
Marcail smiled at the compliment. The smile gave Alex courage.
“And may I call you Marcail?”
As he watched her with eyes that were a beautiful sapphire blue, he didn’t seem quite so arrogant to Marcail. She found herself liking him just a little.
“That would be fine,” Marcail told him, and then watched as he concentrated on his next move on the board. Alex took a little extra time, and Marcail’s attention began to roam. A glance out the window told her it was still snowing steadily. Her gaze wandered around the room, and she noticed what a meticulous housekeeper Willits’ doctor seemed to be.
There were wooden pegs by the back door, and his coat, her sweater, and some scarves were all hung neatly in line. Not a dish was out of place in the kitchen. There were high shelves along the wall, which led Marcail to believe his wife must have been a tall woman. All the cups, bowls, and plates were stacked in tidy rows, and beyond them sat Alex’s black medical bag.
Until now, Marcail had taken little more than a glance at the living room, which sat in the long part of his L-shaped house. It was as neat as the kitchen, with a small sofa and chair, two tables, and a bookshelf.
Marcail’s gaze moved to the bedroom door, where she remembered an orderly setting with two wardrobes, a dresser, and the bed. Her eyes slid back to the table where Alex’s Bible was placed before one of the chairs.
Looking at his Bible made Marcail wish she had her own copy on hand. Realizing she couldn’t remember where Alex’s checkers had been, she glanced at the board suddenly and then at the man himself. She found him sitting back in his chair, one hand resting on the table, the other laying casually in his lap. He was studying her intently.
Marcail sat mute under his inspection, not able, for some reason, to take her eyes from his.
“Is there someone special back home, someone who tells you on a regular basis how beautiful you are?”
Marcail could only give a negative shake of her head.
“Since you don’t hear it that often, I’ll tell you. You’re very beautiful.”
Alex watched as she caught her lower lip under her teeth. His voice was filled with laughter when he spoke this time. “You’re beautiful even when you’re trying to chew off your lower lip.”
Marcail’s hand came up as though she’d never realized it was habit. Her action made Alex’s eyes sparkle all the more. Not wanting to make her suffer overly long, Alex stood in one fluid motion.
“I need to go out to the barn to check on Kelsey.” He threw these words over his shoulder as he headed for his coat and boots.
Marcail stood also. “Will you be all right?”
“I’ll be fine. The wind has died down some, and I’ve strung a rope from the edge of the house to the barn. I use it as my guide. That’s why I carried you over my shoulder last night; I needed one hand free.”
Marcail blushed over the reminder, but Alex pretended not to notice. His hand was on the door when she called his name.
“Alex?”
He turned back, his brows raised expectantly.
“Thank you for bringing me out of the cold last night.”
“You’re welcome,” he told her softly, before opening the door and disappearing into a flurry of snow.
“I can’t think why this has happened, Lord,” Marcail prayed in the empty house. “But I want to keep my eyes on You. Alex has been so nice, and he’s not as scary as I first thought, but this feels very strange—this being snowed in with a stranger.
“It was silly of me to come out without my coat,” Marcail continued to share with God from her heart, “but somehow I don’t think it would have made any difference.”
Marcail hovered at the window and continued to pray until Alex came back. She was unaware of the fact that Alex was lingering in the barn and doing a little praying himself.
“Please bless Marcail, Lord, and ease her anxiety over doctors. Help me to be gentle with her, and give her no reason to fear me. I’m so drawn to her, but I fear if I’m not careful, I’m going to scare her away forever.”
Alex continued to pray and think of ways to make Marcail feel at home. Having many books in the house, he hoped she would feel free to sit down and become absorbed in one before he returned.
In an attempt to give Marcail some privacy, Alex didn’t rush back to the house. He eventually slid the barn door back and made his way through 15 inches of wet snow. The wind was still blowing, but not as hard, and Alex thought he might be able to get Marcail home.
But then, why risk it, he reasoned to himself. The damage is already done.
nineteen
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Marcail. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You were gone so long, I thought you might have become lost.”
Alex shook his head. “The wind has died down, and I could see the house as I moved from the barn.”
“If it’s that clear maybe I should head home. I mean, you’ve been very kind, but I really hate to take advantage of your hospitality or wear out my welcome.”
Alex was tempted to tell her she could stay for the next 50 years and not wear out her welcome, but he kept this thought to himself.
“Even though the wind has died down and it’s stopped snowing, the sky looks like it could dump again at any moment. I’m sure you have things to do at home, but we had both better stay put for the time being,” Alex told her reasonably.
Marcail nodded and then glanced around uncomfortably for something else to say. It was still a little unbelievable to her that she was snowed in with this man. Since it was still early, it was also hard for Marcail to face the fact that they were going to be together for the remainder of the day. She was wondering what they would find to talk about when Alex spoke.
“By the way, what were you doing out in the snow, and where is your coat?”
“My coat is at the schoolhouse. I was working after the children left when I noticed the snow coming down. I’d never seen it snow before, and I—”
“You’d never seen it snow before?” Alex interrupted her.
“No, and
I never meant to wander so far from the school—”
“But I thought it snowed in Santa Rosa once in a while.”
“It does, but I’ve only lived there since I was nine. The two times it did snow, it was in the middle of the night and had stopped before I got up.” Determined not to let Alex interrupt her again, Marcail quickly finished her explanation. She then fell silent.
Too busy thinking about how terrified she must have been, Alex wasn’t about to break in again. He pictured her wonder and delight over the snow, and then without warning, her terror in finding herself blinded by the wind and stinging flakes, lost and freezing. A thought suddenly occurred to him.
“Were you hurt yesterday in any way?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“You didn’t fall or anything?”
“I did fall once, but I’m not hurt.”
Alex eyed her speculatively, wanting to believe her but afraid her fear was overruling her good sense. “I think you might find that, as a doctor, I’m really not so bad,” he told her quietly.
Alex watched as Marcail’s face heated. It made the skin on her cheeks look as soft as rose petals, and even though Alex told himself he was embarrassing her, he could not drag his eyes away.
“Could I have another cup of coffee?” Marcail finally said in a small voice, all the while telling herself not to bite her lip.
“Sure.” The question was enough to tell Alex that even if she was hurt, he was not going to know about it. He turned toward the stove, and Marcail once again sat at the kitchen table.
“If you like to read, I have a shelf full of books in the living room.” Alex said as he filled her mug. “I need to do a little baking, so please, make yourself at home.”
“Can I help with anything?”
“I don’t think so, but I’ll let you know.”
Marcail wandered into the living room then, and even though the light was dim, she could see the titles. She selected a fat volume from the lower shelf and went back to the kitchen table.
Alex had to quell the impulse to turn and begin talking to her once again. She fascinated him, and he found that he couldn’t hear enough of her voice, or watch too many of the expressions on her face when she talked. Alex worked in silence for about 20 minutes, mixing dough for bread, before Marcail spoke.
“Where is the ulna?”
Alex turned to her with a wide-eyed expression, but Marcail didn’t notice. She was bent over one of his medical textbooks, studying it intently.
“In your arm,” he told her simply.
“Where?” Marcail finally looked at him.
Alex raised his right forearm, pinky side toward his curious houseguest, and then drew the fingers of his left hand down the outside of his forearm from wrist to elbow.
“It’s the bone right here on the little finger side of the forearm.” Alex watched as Marcail inspected her own forearm and then went back to her reading.
Alex returned to his mixing bowl with a smile on his face. He found himself selfishly hoping it would continue to snow for days—anything to keep this precious girl close to him.
The sun broke through the clouds at about 2:30 that afternoon. The day had been spent in various pursuits, some idle, some intense, but all enjoyable. Marcail was becoming less tense as the day wore on, and Alex, as he offered to take her home, hoped that she would be a little more receptive to his suit in the very near future.
Even as the thought occurred to him, another thought, much more painful and dark, crowded into his mind. It came to fruition as he and Marcail approached her house and found several men from town, including Rowie Kilmer, in her front yard.
“Miss Donovan,” Mr. Flynn called to her as Alex held her under the arms and lowered her to the bottom step of her porch. “We were just about to organize a search for you.”
“Oh, Mr. Flynn, I’m sorry you were worried.”
“Well, we’re just glad that Dr. Montgomery found you,” he assured her warmly. “You must have gone out early this morning, since the fire is out in your stove.”
“Actually,” Marcail explained with an embarrassed smile, “I got caught out yesterday.”
Marcail failed to notice the change on Mr. Flynn’s face or how still the other men had become. Alex, on the other hand, did not miss a single expression.
“Are you saying that Dr. Montgomery is just now bringing you home?” Mr. Flynn questioned her softly.
“Well, yes,” Marcail continued, still unsuspectingly. “I got caught in the white-out yesterday, and as you know, the sky didn’t clear until just a short time ago.”
Since she was moving up the steps toward the door, Marcail again missed the men’s faces. She called over her shoulder that the men could come inside out of the cold, but she didn’t immediately notice when they failed to follow her or respond.
Once she was out of earshot, Alex spoke to Mr. Flynn, whose eyes were leveled on the younger man.
“You know better than to think what you’re thinking, Stan.”
“I realize that, Alex,” he answered, his voice measured. “But have you given any thought as to how this is going to be received?”
“I’ve given it plenty of thought, but there wasn’t much I could do. Maybe the board would feel better if you had found Miss Donovan’s body frozen somewhere here in the woods, instead of healthy and completely innocent about what is going through your minds.”
Mr. Flynn nodded, his expression pained, and Alex let his gaze wander to the other men. Most were very worried. One wore a smirk that Alex wanted to wipe off, and Rowie was clearly furious.
Marcail came back to her front door. When she could see that no one was going to come in, she thanked the men, closed the door, and restarted the fire in the stove. It briefly crossed her mind that the men were acting strangely, but within minutes her thoughts were on the late hour of the afternoon and how much she wanted to get done before bedtime.
twenty
Alex had to turn his face away from the pain and confusion he saw in Marcail’s eyes. He had not approached her at church for fear of making a bad situation worse, but the desire to sit next to her, put his arm around her, and tell her everything was going to be fine was overwhelming.
But telling her such a thing would be a lie. Everything was not going to be fine, at least not for a while. Alex knew with a dreaded certainty that in order to make things “right,” Marcail was going to have to make some painful decisions. He missed every word of the sermon while he prayed for Willits’ young schoolteacher.
Marcail was cut to the quick when Allie Warren walked past her without a word. She knew her friend had seen her, but Marcail watched as Allie kept her face averted, even when she called a greeting to her.
It had taken half the morning, but the innocent Miss Donovan finally understood that this sudden, cold treatment from the people at church had to do with her spending a night at Dr. Montgomery’s home. Her first reaction was shock, and then outrage at what they must have been thinking.
It didn’t seem to matter that she’d have frozen to death if Alex hadn’t rescued her. In the eyes of the townspeople, she had acted outside the bounds of propriety, and that was not to be tolerated. Feeling lonely and rejected, Marcail walked home from church alone. It was the first week she hadn’t been asked to join one of the town’s families for Sunday dinner.
She spent the day praying, overcoming her hurt, and working on her lessons for the following week. It was almost a relief to realize that she wouldn’t have to see anyone but her students until the following Sunday. Marcail, who still did not grasp the severity of the situation, hoped that everyone would be over their upset by then.
Marcail looked into the uncertain faces of the six children in her class and wanted to cry. She had hovered around the door for an hour after she rang the bell, finally accepting the fact that most of the town’s families were not going to send their children to school.
The Austins, Vespermans, and Whites had sent their children, and after
Marcail directed them to read silently in their readers, she sat at her desk and decided what course of action to take.
First of all, she knew that the children who had come to school deserved her undivided attention as well as all the instruction she could offer them. Second, she would dismiss a little early and pay a visit to Mr. Flynn. Marcail, after coming to these conclusions, settled down to the teaching at hand.
“Mr. Flynn, I would be happy to stand before Mrs. Duckworth and the entire school board and attest to the fact that Dr. Montgomery was the soul of propriety while I was in his home.”
“I have no doubt that he was, Miss Donovan, but you’ve watched Mrs. Duckworth; you’ve seen the way she runs things in this town. You know that the hands of all the people whose buildings and businesses are owned by her are tied.”
“In other words,” Marcail spoke with a sinking feeling of dread as his words finally became clear to her, “you want my resignation?”
“I’m afraid I do.” He spoke with visible regret. “I was coming to see you about it this afternoon.”
“And if I refuse?” Marcail asked, telling herself not to cry.
“Then the majority of your class will not be receiving an education, because they will be kept out of school as they were today.”
Marcail had thought the way Mr. Flynn’s hands were tied concerning Sydney was awful, but this was atrocious. Her voice said as much when she spoke.
“And if I went to Mrs. Duckworth myself?”
“As before with Sydney, it would only make matters worse.”
Marcail sat in silence for a moment. Mr. Flynn could only watch her. At length she stood.
“The word ‘quit’ has never been a part of my vocabulary, Mr. Flynn, and I don’t care to add it now. I’m going to continue to teach at the Willits school whether there is one child in my class or 30. Maybe when the people in this town grow tired of having their lives dictated by one woman, they’ll send their children to be taught. It’s my hope that if enough of you take a stand, you can make a difference.”