Belonging (5 page)

His curiosity surprised him. What did it matter who wrote to her or what the relationship was? She wouldn’t be in Frenchman’s Bluff for long. These single female teachers never were. And it would be the children who suffered because of the board’s tight fist with a dollar.

He scowled. If he felt so sure that would happen, that Felicia Kristoffersen had come to their town only to find a husband, why was he allowing Charity to spend so much time with her? Wouldn’t it be better to limit their interactions as much as possible? He could have told Charity she had her own chores to do rather than let her join her teacher at the school.

A few minutes later, as he climbed the steps of the building, he heard laughter coming from inside. When he stopped in the doorway to the classroom, he observed two women—Felicia Kristoffersen and Kathleen Summerville—on their knees, the fabric of their
skirts dampened by wash water as they scrubbed the floor, and his daughter seated on a stool, watching them, a dirty rag in her hand.

“Papa!” Charity slid off the stool and darted over to him. “You should hear Miss Kristoffersen’s story about when she learned to ride a pony. It’s funny.”

Colin glanced in Felicia’s direction. Her cheeks were flushed. From the laughter or from embarrassment?

Kathleen rose from the floor. “Have you come to help, Mr. Murphy?”

“Actually, I wondered if Miss Kristoffersen might need me to take Charity back to the store.”

“Oh, no, Papa. I wanted to go bake cookies with Phoebe and Suzanne. Can I? I mean, may I? Mrs. Summerville said I could when I was done cleaning the blackboards, and I’m done. Aren’t I, Miss Kristoffersen?”

Felicia swept a few strands of honey-brown hair off her forehead with the back of her hand. “Yes. You’re finished, Charity. Thank you for doing such a good job.”

“Can I … I mean,
may
I”—she looked toward her teacher and received a nod of approval—“go over to Phoebe’s and Suzanne’s, Papa?”

“It’s close to lunch time,” he answered. “You don’t need to be filling up on sweets before you’ve had a decent meal.”

Kathleen moved toward him, a soft smile curving the corners of her mouth. “The girls would be delighted to have Charity join them for lunch. And you needn’t worry about her eating too many cookies and spoiling her appetite. Mother Summerville will see to that.” She placed her hand atop Charity’s dark hair. “You would be sure to eat your lunch first, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” his daughter answered, eyes sparkling.

“Then you’ll let her?” Kathleen finished.

Colin realized he’d been outmaneuvered. Done in by a woman’s pretty smile and a child’s pair of pleading brown eyes. “I suppose you can go for a couple of hours. But then it’s straight home. You’ve got chores still to do.”

“May I go now?” Charity started for the exit without waiting for his reply.

“Yes,” he called after her.

“Thank you.” Kathleen touched his forearm, as she was prone to do whenever they stood near each other. “My girls so enjoy Charity’s company. It’s good for them to play together.”

He nodded before turning his eyes toward Felicia. “Is there anything you need me to do, Miss Kristoffersen?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Murphy. We’re almost finished here. Charity and Mrs. Summerville made the morning’s work much lighter.”

“Well then.” He took a step backward. “Guess I’d best return to the mercantile. Good day, ladies.”

“Good day, Mr. Murphy,” they replied together.

He started to turn, then stopped. “Mr. Reynolds over at the post office gave me a letter for you.” He moved to where Felicia knelt on the floor and put the envelope in her outstretched hand.

He would have been hard-pressed to describe the expression that crossed her face. Displeasure? Fear? Revulsion? It was there and then gone, so fast that he wondered if he’d seen her expression change at all.

“Thank you, Mr. Murphy.” She stuffed the letter into the pocket of her skirt.

He gave her a nod before turning and walking away, saying a final good day to Kathleen as he passed by her.

Helen Summerville’s voice whispered in Kathleen’s mind.
“Go after him, Kathleen. Ask him to walk you home. If you would just show some interest in him …”

Show some interest in him? That was almost laughable. She’d all but thrown herself at Colin Murphy, and he hardly knew she was alive. No, that wasn’t fair. He knew she was alive. He just had no interest in her.

Kathleen felt like crying, and it wasn’t because she’d lost her heart to Colin. Oh, he was the nicest of men. A man of integrity. A good father. Looked up to in the community. Unquestionably handsome. But those weren’t her reasons for wanting him to notice her. No, her reasons had to do with her mother-in-law. It was Mother Summerville who’d decided it was time for Kathleen to find herself another husband, and it was Mother Summerville who’d decided Colin should be the stepfather to her granddaughters. And Mother Summerville was not one to have her wishes thwarted.

“Mrs. Summerville … Kathleen?”

She turned to face Felicia, hoping the other woman wouldn’t see how close to tears she was. “I’m sorry. I was woolgathering. Would you mind terribly if I went home? Mother Summerville wasn’t expecting me to send Charity over to play with my girls, and I really should be there.”

“Of course it’s all right.” Felicia rose from the floor. “You’ve been a tremendous help. I’m grateful to you.”

“You’re most welcome.” Kathleen removed her apron from around her waist and draped it over her left arm. “I’ll see you at the picnic on Sunday, if not before.”

“Picnic?” Confusion flitted across Felicia’s face.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Hasn’t anyone told you? I thought for certain Mr. Swanson would have. The women of Frenchman’s Bluff are planning a welcome picnic for you after church on Sunday.”

“They are?” Something in Felicia’s voice revealed more than she probably would have liked—her uncertainty, her trepidation, perhaps even her loneliness.

Kathleen’s heart went out to her. “You must think we’re terrible for not giving you a bigger welcome on the day you arrived, but this is why.”

“No, I—”

“You’ll be the guest of honor on Sunday, and everyone from miles around will be there to welcome you. I promise, we really are delighted you’ve come to Frenchman’s Bluff.”
Almost everyone, anyway.

Relief filled Felicia’s gaze. “Thank you, Mrs. Summerville.”

It wasn’t often that Kathleen felt sure of herself, sure of what the future held, sure of others. At least not since her husband’s death. But she felt sure about this: she and Felicia would become friends. Mother Summerville might be predisposed to dislike her, but that wouldn’t sway Kathleen’s feelings in the least.

“Please, call me Kathleen,” she said, smiling.

Felicia returned the smile. “I would like that very much.”

“I look forward to introducing you to others on Sunday, Felicia. Now I’d better go.” She gave a little wave as she hurried from the classroom.

Felicia walked to one of the desks pushed against the wall and sat down. She allowed the silence of the room to wrap itself around her as she considered the sweet news Kathleen had delivered. A potluck after church to welcome her.

Felicia hadn’t realized until that moment how worried she’d been because of the absence of a welcoming committee on her arrival. But it seemed they’d been waiting for Sunday, and that
made perfect sense. Sunday was when those who lived on the farms and ranches came to town to attend church, the day of the week when everyone took off to honor the Sabbath, to rest and be with their families.

“I’m sorry, Lord. I let myself worry too easily, don’t I? How much better it would be if I relaxed and trusted in You to make it all work for my good.”

She put her hands on her thighs, ready to push up from the chair, but the crinkle of paper reminded her of the letter in her pocket. A letter from Gunnar. Her stomach tightened. Why had he written to her? What more could her “cousin” have to say? They hadn’t parted on the best of terms.

Drawing a deep breath, she opened the envelope and removed the single sheet of paper.

Felicia,

I write to you, hoping you have come to your senses. Rolf remains willing to take you for his wife. There is no need for you to be alone. You belong here with us. It was the wish of both Uncle Lars and Aunt Britta that you stay and marry Rolf. You know this to be true. After their many kindnesses to you through the years, we cannot believe you have chosen to repay them this way.

Are you so ungrateful for the life they gave you? You were nothing but a dirty little orphan when they took you in. You never wanted for anything after they brought you home. They even paid for your education. But you know as well as I that they meant you to teach the Kristoffersen children who would be born to you. Not to go off to teach strangers. Come back where you belong. Rolf is waiting.

Gunnar

Felicia wadded the paper into a ball and shoved it into her pocket, along with the envelope. Cousin Gunnar could await her reply until doomsday for all she cared. As if she would consider marrying any of his sons. Especially not his foul-tempered eldest. The idea made her stomach turn. Rolf Kristoffersen didn’t want a wife. He wanted a slave. He wanted someone who would silently and obediently keep his home tidy, cook his favorite dishes, and warm his bed during the cold Wyoming winters. She shuddered at the thought of Rolf’s large, sausage-fingered hands on her body. Never. She would rather starve to death. She would rather go unloved her entire life than tie herself to the likes of him.

She drew in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She wouldn’t starve to death. She had a position that would allow her to support herself. She had a cozy home to live in. Although she wouldn’t grow rich working as a schoolteacher, she wouldn’t go in want either. And as a teacher, she would know the love of children—of many, many children—without needing to give herself in marriage to someone she couldn’t love and respect. She would chart her own path. So help her, she would.

With new resolve, she rose from the desk and finished her cleaning chores in no time at all. Then the supplies went back into the storage closet, the desks went back into their neat rows, and everything was in readiness for the first day of school. The satisfaction she felt made her wish the school year was starting tomorrow rather than next week.

She’d made the right decision coming to Frenchman’s Bluff. She would make a home for herself here. She would win the children’s affection, and she would teach them far more than they expected. That was her promise to herself—and to God.

As she left the schoolhouse, she paused on the steps and closed her eyes. “Bless this building, Lord, and all who enter it to learn. And help me be the very best teacher these children could have.”

FIVE

Colin stood in the doorway of his daughter’s bedroom, listening as she said her bedtime prayers, hands folded and eyes tightly closed.

“… and God bless Mama, who’s with You in heaven, and Papa, who’s with me right here on earth. Amen.” She got up from her knees and slipped between the sheets.

Colin went to the bedside, leaned down, and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, pumpkin.”

“Goodnight, Papa.”

“Sweet dreams.”

She turned onto her side and closed her eyes. “You too.”

Colin turned out the lamp on her bedside table and left the room with silent footsteps, knowing his daughter would be sound asleep before he finished descending the narrow staircase to the ground floor. He envied her ability to fall asleep so quickly. It seemed to him that he’d spent more time tossing and turning in his bed than sleeping in it. Especially in the years since Margaret died.

In the parlor, he settled into his chair and picked up the envelope that held the letter from his mother-in-law. He turned it in his hand several times but didn’t remove the letter. He knew what it said.

Olive Day was nothing if not consistent. He supposed he
couldn’t blame her for wanting him to return to Ohio. Her husband and only child were dead. It was natural that she would want to be close to her granddaughter. And maybe he was wrong for refusing to leave Frenchman’s Bluff. Maybe it would be better for Charity to be near her grandmother. Olive would dote on her, there was no doubting that.