Dearest Mum
I have time for only a few lines this morning. I’ll be seeing the school where I’ll be teaching. I can’t wait to tell you all about it later.
Love
Fiona
Fiona dressed quickly, then blew out the lantern and drew open the curtains, revealing a sky barely tinged with pale ribbons of dawn. Quiet as a whisper she slipped from her room and hurried through the house to the kitchen, hoping Gray hadn’t yet left for the fields.
She stepped into the kitchen and closed the door softly behind her. When she turned, she spotted Broderick seated at the table, sipping coffee. With each sip he drooled, and it ran in little rivers down his chin, soaking the front of a dishtowel that had been tied around his neck.
“Good morning.”
He gave her his lopsided smile. “An early bird, are you?”
“I’m eager to see the school. Have I missed Gray?”
Just then the door was shoved open with the toe of a boot and Gray entered, carrying two enormous jugs of milk. For a moment he merely stared at her, as though surprised to see her up and dressed at such an hour. With a scowl he set the jugs on a clean towel by the backdoor before wiping his hands on his pants.
Feeling a need to be useful Fiona motioned toward the stove. “I’ll bet you’re both hungry. I could make some breakfast.”
Gray’s scowl deepened. “No one but Ma cooks in here. It’s her way.” He turned to his father while pouring coffee into a cup. “Milking’s done. I’d best get to the fields. You sure you want to go to the barn?”
The older man set aside his coffee. “Always been more at home there than here.”
“But there, no one’ll hear you if you should fall.”
“Either way, no one’ll care.”
Gray paused with the cup halfway to his mouth. “I’ll care.”
His father tugged on the makeshift bib and blotted his mouth. “I know, son. Give me a hand up.”
Gray wrapped a big arm around Broderick’s waist and easily lifted him to his feet. As the two shuffled toward the back door, Gray called over his shoulder, “Maybe you could fetch the lunch Ma made for us. It’s there on the table.”
Fiona picked up two linen-wrapped parcels and two jugs of water before following the men to the barn.
Once there Gray eased his father down onto a hard bench and handed him a sturdy stick. “This should help you get around some. You can probably feed the chickens, but I don’t think you should bother with the pigs. Let Flem handle them.”
Broderick gave a grunt of scorn.
“He’ll do it if you tell him to. And ask his help to get up to the house for a midday meal.”
“Shouldn’t have to ask my own son for help.”
“It’s just Flem’s way. He’s careless.”
Gray hitched the team to a wagon. After setting the food and water in the back he helped Fiona up, and climbed up beside her. At once the hound, that had appeared to be asleep at Broderick’s feet, jumped up to the hard wooden seat and settled himself between Gray and Fiona, with his head resting on Gray’s knees.
Gray ran a hand over the dog’s ruff. “If Flem needs to find me, I’ll be cutting the north field today.”
His father nodded.
“Don’t try to do too much.”
Another nod and a quick wave of hand in dismissal before the older man visibly slumped on the bench.
Gray flicked the reins and the team leaned into the harness. With a creak of leather and wheels, the wagon rolled out of the barn and across the backyard toward the distant meadow.
Fiona saw Gray turn once to glance at the figure still seated on the bench where he’d left him. Then he gave his full attention to the team as they started up an incline.
“Did your father’s stroke happen recently?”
“I guess it’s been a month or more now.” He glanced over. “It doesn’t sicken you to see him... that way?”
She grasped the edge of the seat as the wagon lurched. “Sicken me? What a thing to say. You’re lucky he’s still alive.”
“That’s the way I see it, too. I told him as much. But he thinks he’s become a burden now that he can’t do all the things he used to.”
Fiona glanced up at the thin, pale light struggling to break through the clouds. “I guess it’s hard for a man to see his wife and sons doing what he once did,” Her voice lowered. “I’d give anything if I could take care of my father. I wouldn’t mind if he couldn’t do anything more than lie in his bed the whole day. I’d gladly feed him, shave him, as long as I could hear his voice.”
Recognizing her pain, Gray stroked the dog’s head to keep from staring at her. “How long has he been gone?”
She looked away, hoping she could speak over the lump in her throat “Two weeks.”
They rode for nearly a mile in silence, and Fiona found herself grateful for Gray’s quiet presence. The last thing she wanted was to answer questions, or talk about things that could still bring her to tears. As if sensing that, he didn’t press, but left her alone with her thoughts.
She studied his big hands, holding the reins between his knees.
He gave one of his rare smiles. It seemed to transform his entire face, lighting those midnight eyes, revealing a dimple in his cheek. “I like this time of day best.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I like knowing the day is fresh before me. Like a field that hasn’t been harvested yet.”
“You like cutting crops?”
Again that shrug. “Harvesting. Plowing. It’s hard work, but it satisfies me. I like the rhythm of it. And the look of it when it’s done. All those perfect rows, and knowing I shaped them.”
She looked out over the fields of wheat and corn, seeing for the first time how precisely they’d been laid out. “They’re perfect. And so pretty.”
Gray flushed with pleasure, wondering why her words should please him so.
“Why isn’t Flem with you? Doesn’t he help with the farm chores?”
His smile faded. He seemed to consider his words carefully before saying softly, “Flem likes to sleep late. How do you like your room?”
She blinked at the abrupt change of subject “It’s fine. I’m afraid I left it cluttered. I hope your mother won’t take offense. I didn’t have anywhere to put my clothes, so I set them on the bed after I straightened it.”
His eyes narrowed in thought. “What you need is a line for hanging your clothes. I’ll string one tonight after supper.”
“There’s no need. You have enough to do.”
“It’s no trouble.”
“Then I thank you, Gray. A line would be grand.”
As the wagon rolled along a dirt path, Gray slowed the team. “Would you like to see my favorite spot?”
“I’d like that.”
With careful maneuvering, the wagon veered off the path and followed a narrow trail. Up ahead Fiona could hear the sound of rushing water.
As they rounded a bend, Gray brought the team to a halt and stepped down before reaching a hand to help her.
A short walk later he paused and pointed across a chasm to water tumbling down rocks. “This is Paradise Falls.”
Hearing the pride in his voice, she tried not to show the disappointment that washed through her. She’d been expecting a vista sweeping for hundreds of yards, with water rushing over steep cliffs into swiftly moving water below. Instead there was just a narrow river tumbling over rock ledges into a stream.
“Is this all there is?”
He nodded. “In the spring, when the snow melts, the Paradise River roars through this area on its way to the mighty Superior. Sometimes, when it overflows its banks, it floods the fields. When it recedes, it leaves rich silt behind. That’s why my father chose this place for his farm when he was no older than I am now. Thanks to his choice, we have the richest soil around.”
It was, Fiona thought, the most she’d ever heard Gray say at one time. When he realized how much he’d revealed, his cheek
s flushed and he coughed to cover his embarrassment.
He shifted to watch the flight of a hawk, then returned his attention to the falls. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
“It is. Yes.” And it was, she realized. If it lacked the magnificence of Niagara, there was still a pristine beauty about it. Here in the middle of a wilderness, the foaming water, tumbling over rocks, then spilling down, down until it met the rushing stream below was an amazing sight.
“It would be nice to come here one day and just sit listening to the thundering of the water.”
He nodded. “I do that sometimes. When my chores are finished. There’s a peace here.” He glanced at her, then away. “It seems I always come here whenever there’s anything important happening in my life.”
“That’s lovely. I suppose, then, it’s only right that I should come here today, before seeing the school where I’ll be teaching.”
“I thought so.” Gray led the way back to the wagon and helped her up to the hard seat before flicking the reins. After following the trail for several miles the team left the dirt path and started across a recently plowed field.
Gray pointed to the distant woods. “There’s your school.”
Your school.
The words shivered through her, giving her an unexpected thrill.
She could see, standing in a clearing, a log cabin. Though she sat perfectly still, there was a little voice in her head that was shouting for joy. She clasped her hands together tightly.
“My school.” Her voice wavered, and she hoped he hadn’t noticed.
“It’s been vacant for three years now. Don’t expect too much.”
“I won’t.” But she couldn’t help herself. She sat up straighter as they drew near.
It was little more than a log shack. The wooden steps leading to the porch had been warped by the elements, and tilted precariously in the middle. The hinges of the door had given way and it hung half open, swaying slightly in the breeze.
Off to one side of the school an outhouse lay toppled on its side, the wood so rotten the walls had caved in.
Gray climbed from the wagon and offered his hand to help Fiona down. As before, she felt the strength in him, and beneath the strength, the gentleness, as though he were taking great care with her.
The hound bounded off, sniffing the ground.
“Going to need some cleaning.” Gray climbed the steps and forced the door open. As he did, the second hinge gave way and the door fell to the porch with such force it broke through the rotten timbers, leaving a gaping hole in the porch.
“Watch your step now,” he called when he saw Fiona coming up behind him.
She paused in the doorway and looked around with a growing sense of dread. There was a hole in the roof that had allowed the leaves of trees to blow inside. The floor was littered with branches and leaves, as well as the remains of several dead animals. There were chinks between some of the logs big enough to allow forest creatures to crawl through.
Gray sighed, the only sign of his displeasure. “I didn’t bring nearly enough tools. Just a broom and dustpan, and a shovel. I’ll get someone in town to come out and seal those walls with pitch, and mend that hole in the roof.”
He walked to the wagon and retrieved the things he’d brought, then handed her a water jug and her lunch. “I’m sorry to leave you with all this.”
“As your mother pointed out last night, it isn’t your responsibility.” Fiona set aside the food and water and managed a weak smile. “You have your chores to see to, and I have mine. We’d best get to them.”
He climbed up to the seat of the wagon. Before he could flick the reins the hound came racing from the nearby woods and jumped up, settling himself beside his master.
“I’ll come by at the end of the day. If you’re still here, I’ll drive you home. If you want to head home before I get here, I understand.”
Fiona nodded, and lifted a hand to shield the rising sun from her eyes as he tugged on the reins, turning the team toward the distant fields of wheat.
Straightening her shoulders she picked up the broom and dustpan and started up the rotting steps of the school. Maybe it wasn’t the ivy-covered place of her dreams, but it was hers now. And she intended to make it a welcoming place for the students.
* * *
Fiona set aside the broom and surveyed the inside of the schoolhouse. It had been swept clean of all debris. She had polished the little stove with sand until it gleamed, and decided she would now tackle the scarred wooden teacher’s desk, and then the crude tables and chairs that served as student desks.
Her gown was filthy. Her hair hung down in damp strings. But she was satisfied that she was making progress.
She looked up at the sound of a wagon. As soon as Gray brought his team to a halt, a boy jumped out of the back carrying an array of tools and supplies.
What’s this?” Fiona hurried over.
“You need help if you’re to get your school ready.” He turned to the boy. “This is Will VanderSleet. Will, this is Miss Downey.”
“Miss Downey.” The boy’s cheeks bore bright spots of color, and he avoided looking directly at her, staring instead at the toe of his shabby boots.
“Hello, Will.” She glanced over the boy’s head to Gray. “Do you think one lad is enough to see to all the repairs needed here?”
“Will’s been doing odd jobs around Paradise Falls since he was old enough to carry his pa’s tools. He’ll do just fine.”
At his words, the boy stood a little straighter.
“Well, then.” She smiled at Will, who flushed and looked away. “I’ll be grateful for your help, Will.”
Gray was already climbing up to the seat of the wagon. She took a step toward him. “You can’t stay?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. No time.” He flicked the reins and as the wagon lurched ahead, his hound raced alongside, tail wagging with excitement.
Fiona watched as the boy took his time walking around the outside of the building before climbing the rotting steps to inspect the inside. A short time later, while she scrubbed years of dirt from the wooden desk, she heard the sound of hammer and saw. By the time she’d turned her attention to the tables and chairs, she realized that the roof no longer showed any daylight. She glanced up in surprise to see that the hole had been patched. Will was busy attaching new hinges to the door.
When that was finished he cleared his throat. “Ma’am?”
Fiona looked over.
“I’ll be tearing out the old porch and steps, before I replace them. You might want to step outside now before I start. Otherwise, you’ll have to stay in here until the new porch and steps are in place.”
“Thank you, Will.” She got to her feet, pressing a hand to the small of her back. How long had she been bent over these tables? Long enough to have her muscles protesting.
Once outside, it felt good to be in the sunlight. She walked a short distance to a stream and knelt on the banks, plunging her hands up to her elbows, before splashing water over her face and drinking deeply. With a sigh of pure pleasure she remained there, enjoying the cool water and the whisper of breeze that ruffled her hair. It would be so easy to stay here just this way for the rest of the day. Instead she found a shady spot beneath a tall oak and unwrapped the linen towel Rose had prepared the night before. Inside were several hard-boiled eggs, thick slabs of bread slathered with blackberry preserves, and an apple. Just looking at all that food, Fiona realized she was ravenous.
She walked around to the front of the schoolhouse, where Will was prying the last of the steps away. “It’s time for some lunch, Will.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t think to bring any, Miss Downey.”
“That’s all right. Mrs. Haydn made enough for both of us. Come along.”
She led him to the shady spot and divided the food. For a moment the boy looked at it as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. Then, with a shy smile, he tucked into his food, and Fiona did the same.
; “How old are you, Will?” Fiona watched as he bit into an egg.
“Fourteen, come winter.”
“So young to know so much about fixing things.”
He flushed. “My pa could fix anything. He let me work alongside him and taught me all he could.”
“Is your father busy today?”
“My pa’s dead. And my ma. I live with my uncle.” He said the words so matter-of-factly, she caught her breath.
“I’m sorry, Will.” She looked away, wondering if she would ever be able to speak of her father’s passing with an equal lack of passion.
When at last Fiona sat back, she gave a sigh of pure contentment. “I can’t remember when such simple food tasted so grand.” She drank from the jug, then passed it to Will.
“It was good.” The boy wiped his mouth with his sleeve and took a long drink of water. “Thank you, Ma’am.”
He returned to his work while Fiona folded the linen towel and carried the jug to the stream to fill it.
Hearing the sound of a horse she turned, expecting to see Gray. Instead she saw Flem just climbing down from the seat of a wagon.
“What’s this?” He flashed her a brilliant smile. “I came here expecting to see the new teacher, Miss Downey. Instead I find some poor, filthy creature who looks like she’s been mucking stalls.”
His smile was so infectious Fiona couldn’t resist returning his with one of her own. “Oh, Flem, it’s just been the grandest day. Will here has repaired the roof and door and is now replacing the steps and porch. Look at the fine work he’s done.”
The boy beamed at her words of praise.
“And what of that?” With a look of derision Flem pointed to the toppled outhouse. “Anyone with half a brain would’ve made that the first order of business.”
Stung by his words, Will hung his head.
“Well, it is important, of course.” Fiona knew her cheeks were bright pink, but it couldn’t be helped. After all, an outhouse was an indelicate subject. Besides, he’d made it sound as if Will had made a terrible error in judgment. She could see that the boy felt ashamed. “There’s still time to have it in order before the students start school next week. I think Will made a wise choice to start on the schoolhouse before dealing with that.”