Belonging (32 page)

As the words of the familiar verse replayed in his head, he felt like laughing for joy. Either that or falling on his face in praise. How could it be that he’d doubted the truth of that Scripture for so long, only to see now that it was completely and faithfully true?

God had done so much more than bring a schoolteacher to Frenchman’s Bluff.

Kathleen drew a deep breath as she opened the front door of the Summerville home, her new husband at her side. For forty-eight wonderful hours, there had been nothing in her world but Oscar. Certainly she’d given no thought to what Mother Summerville’s reaction would be when they returned to Frenchman’s Bluff.

But she was thinking of nothing besides Mother Summerville now. Her stomach was in turmoil, and her palms felt damp from trepidation.

“It’s gonna be all right, Kathleen.”

She looked at Oscar. It surprised her how well he understood her feelings and read her thoughts. Even better than Harold had after many years of marriage.

Her husband nodded, and she drew another quick breath before calling out, “Hello. Is anyone home?”

A
swish
of taffeta alerted her to Mother Summerville’s approach a second before she appeared in the hallway. “Kathleen, I—” She broke off when she saw Oscar. “I didn’t know we had a guest.”

Oscar doffed his hat and gave a slight bow at the waist. “Miz Summerville. A pleasure to see you again.”

Mother Summerville’s response was an almost imperceptible nod.

“I … we—” Kathleen began.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Mother Summerville interrupted. “Now you can see to your children yourself. I have been busy with this school board business. We’ve suspended Miss Kristoffersen’s contract. Very nasty affair. And to think I wanted you to marry that man. You should have heard how Mr. Murphy spoke to me.”

Kathleen turned to look at Oscar, confused and uncertain. Suspended Felicia? School board business? What had happened in just two days?

Oscar gave her a confident glance before addressing Mother Summerville. “Ma’am, I’m not sure what you’re talkin’ about since I haven’t been to town in a few days, but we’ve got a bit of news of our own. Kathleen and I got married.”

“What?
” Mother Summerville reached for the wall to steady herself. “Married?”

“Yes.” Kathleen forced a smile. “On Sunday afternoon. In Boise.”

“But you couldn’t … you didn’t … Who
is
he?”

Kathleen slipped her arm through Oscar’s. “He’s my husband. And I’m Mrs. Jacobson.”

“Where will you live? You don’t think you’re bringing this stranger into—”

“I have a place of my own, Miz Summerville.” There was a firm edge in Oscar’s voice now. “And as soon as the girls get out of school today, I mean to take my family there.”

Something about the way Oscar spoke renewed Kathleen’s courage. “What was it you said about Felicia?”

“We’ve suspended her. She’s going to be fired. If it weren’t for her interference, you and Mr. Murphy … Well … Not that I would approve of him now, but all the same—”

Kathleen turned toward Oscar. “I must see her.”

“I’ll take you.”

“Yes.”

In unison, they turned their backs on Mother Summerville and departed from the house.

Felicia sat beside Walter Swanson on the wagon seat, her arms hugging her satchel against her chest, her eyes turned toward the foothills along the Boise Front. So far, her posture had succeeded in discouraging Mr. Swanson from trying to carry on a conversation with her.

Odd, wasn’t it? She hadn’t been in Idaho all that long—only long enough for the season to change from summer to autumn—yet her surroundings felt more like home than Wyoming had after sixteen years. She would miss those brown foothills and the treetopped mountain peaks beyond them. She would miss the Boise River and the small town of Frenchman’s Bluff. She would miss Kathleen and the Franklins and the Carpenters and the pretty white schoolhouse and the children who filled it. Especially Charity.

She would miss Colin. How was it she had learned to love him and not been aware of it?

Tears blurred her vision, and she was forced to take out her handkerchief and blow her nose.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do, miss?” Walter asked.

“Yes.” The word came out a whisper.

“If you’d just give us a little more time.”

She shook her head. “Time would make no difference.”

“Miss Kristoffersen, I don’t believe you and Mr. Murphy did anything improper. I don’t think other folks’ll believe it either.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“But it does! If you’d—”

“Please, Mr. Swanson. Just take me to the rail station. I’ll be obliged.”

After the third knock on the door without an answer, Colin opened it.

“Felicia?”

He took a step inside. The air was cool, the fire in the stove burned down to coals.

“Felicia?”

He took another couple of steps. Still no answer. Not a sound. Where was she?

“Felicia, I’m coming in.”

He moved into the parlor. Something seemed different to him, though he couldn’t put his finger on what that was. He turned and found the bedroom door open. The bed was made, the room neat as a pin.

He turned around, letting his eyes roam the small room again. That’s when he saw it. An envelope braced against the base of the oil lamp on the bedside table. With a sick feeling in his gut, he stepped toward the table and picked up the envelope. His name was on it, written in Felicia’s distinctive hand. Distinctive because of the lists of words she’d written for Charity to learn. Lists that he’d used too.

“Felicia?”

He spun about to find Kathleen in the open doorway.

“Colin?”

“I think she’s gone.” He held the envelope toward her. “I just found this.”

She approached him slowly.

“Read it, please. I … I’m not sure I can.”

Kathleen took it and withdrew the slip of paper. Her eyes perused it, widened, and returned to him. “Oh, Colin. She still believes you and I are to be married. She … she wished us great happiness. That’s why she left. Not because she lost her teaching position.”

Colin rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t understand. Where would she—”

“I think I know,” Kathleen answered darkly. Then she touched his wrist, saying with urgency, “But that doesn’t matter now. Go after her. She can’t have gone far. We just arrived back from Boise a short while ago, and we didn’t see her on the road.”

A man stepped into the kitchen. That cowboy who worked for Gilchrist. Jacobson. He’d seen him dancing with Kathleen on Saturday night. “You can take the buggy tied up outside,” he said.

“Don’t worry about how long it takes,” Kathleen added. “I’ll look after Charity when she gets home from school.”

Colin didn’t hesitate any longer. He strode toward the door.

“And Colin?”

He stopped and looked behind him.

“Tell her that Oscar and I are married, will you?” Kathleen moved to stand beside her new husband. “Tell her we’re happy.”

He felt a moment of stunned surprise, then he laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell her.”

He ran outside, jumped into the vehicle, took up the reins, and drove the Summerville horse and buggy out of town.

There had to be a touch of irony in that.

The rail station could be seen in the distance, and seeing it seemed to make Felicia’s heart break all over again. She didn’t want to leave, even though she knew she must. For everyone’s sake, she must.

“What’s that ruckus?” Walter said, drawing in on the reins.

Only then did she hear something. Galloping hooves and a man’s shouts.

Walter twisted on the wagon seat. “We’re being hailed.”

“Wait up, Walter!”

She recognized Colin’s voice. Her stomach sank and her pulse raced.

“Wait!”

Go on, Mr. Swanson. Go on. Don’t wait.

The thunder of hooves came closer.

She squeezed her eyes closed. She heard the buggy stop, heard Colin’s boots hit the ground, knew that he strode toward her side of the wagon.

“Felicia, where do you think you’re going?”

“Away,” she whispered.

Strong hands closed around her waist, and suddenly she was airborne, lifted off the wagon seat and then set gently on the ground. Her eyes flew open.

“You’re not going anywhere, Miss Kristoffersen. Not until I’ve done this.”

His lips claimed hers in the kiss she’d longed for, even when she hadn’t known it. The kiss was gentle, yet it sent her senses reeling. She felt turned upside down and wrong side out. His arms gathered her closer, and she felt their hearts beating as one. Oh, if they could only stay like this forever. If they didn’t have to face the world.

His lips parted from hers but moved only an inch or two away. “Kathleen sends her best.”

She opened her eyes, wondering how he could say such a thing.

He watched her closely. “She said to tell you that she and Oscar got married and are very happy.”

“Oscar? Married?” She frowned, confused. “But she … and you …

“We were never engaged, Felicia. Not ever.”

“Truly? It wasn’t just a secret?”

“Truly.”

Kathleen had tried to tell her but she hadn’t believed her. She’d believed … Mrs. Summerville.

“But there are still her accusations,” she said. “Mrs. Summerville’s. People still might think—”

“The parents are rallying. You’ll be teaching again in no time. No one believes her.”

Hope blossomed in her heart, yet it still seemed too good to be true. “It would be better if I go. There wouldn’t be any more gossip. And I’ve had a letter. It’s possible I might be able to find my sister.”

“Don’t go. If you want to find your sister, I’ll help you. We can look for her together.”

“Together?”

Once again he drew her close. Once again he captured her mouth with his. How could she have lived to be twenty-six years old without knowing how wonderful a kiss could be? It stole her breath and turned her mind to mush. And it drained the very last of her weak resistance.

He must have felt it go, for he lifted his head a few inches and said, “Come back, Felicia. Don’t leave Frenchman’s Bluff. Don’t leave the children.” He brushed his lips against hers, and his voice
lowered. “Don’t leave me. You’ve taught me so much already, but I have so much more to learn.”

She smiled a little. “What have I taught you, Mr. Murphy?”

“More than you could imagine, my love. But it’ll take me a lifetime to find the words to tell you.”

EPILOGUE

F
RENCHMAN’S
B
LUFF,
I
DAHO,
N
OVEMBER
1898

A cold wind buffeted Felicia’s back as she locked the door to the schoolhouse. When she went down the steps, she had to hold on to her hat to keep it from blowing away.

“Mrs. Murphy!”

She smiled as she stopped and turned. She never tired of hearing someone call her that. Sometimes, even after three months as Colin’s wife, she needed to pinch herself, just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“Glad I caught you, Mrs. Murphy.” Joe Reynolds hurried toward her. “Got a letter for you. I figured you’d want to see it right away.” He waved the envelope in the air. “It’s from that orphanage place in Chicago. Dr. Cray’s.”