Courting Miss Amsel (16 page)

Chapter
TWENTY-TWO

“ ‘For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord . . .’ ”

Edythe followed along in her brand-new Bible as Reverend Coker read with his usual serious, resounding tone. Memories of Christmases from long ago, and Mama’s sweet voice reading the nativity story from the Bible, winged through her heart – precious memories of Mama sharing how Jesus Christ came to walk earthly soil, adopt human flesh, and fulfill His destiny as the world’s Savior.

“ ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men . . .’ ”

A lump filled Edythe’s throat. Something seemed to pull on her heart, bringing the desire to cry.

“ ‘And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen.’ ” Reverend Coker closed his Bible and smiled at the crowded congregation. “Shall we rise and praise God through song? Let us begin with ‘It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.’ ”

Everyone stood – except the widow Meiner, whose hips gave her trouble, and Missy, who had apparently fallen asleep. Luthenia reached past Edythe and poked the girl. Missy leaped up, her face bright red. As it should be!

The beautiful carol, sung in perfect four-part harmony, echoed from the rafters and chased away Edythe’s irritation with Missy. Chills of pleasure traveled up and down her spine. She sang at full voice, some words winging closer to her heart than others. “Look now, for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing . . .” If only she could capture glad and golden hours . . .

When they finished the carol, Reverend Coker led them in several more, each sung more robustly than the one before. Edythe’s chest felt so full of joy and wonder she could hardly draw a breath, but on she sang, joining her Walnut Hill neighbors in exuberant celebration.

They closed their service with “Silent Night.” The boisterous voices that moments ago had sung “Joy to the World” faded into a sweet melody of heartfelt worship. Repeatedly, Edythe dabbed at her eyes. Strange emotions – unfamiliar but not unwelcome – swirled through the center of her heart.

When the hymn ended, men handed out bags of goodies to the children. Their delighted squeals carried over the happy conversations buzzing through the sanctuary. Mr. Jeffers offered a bag to Missy, who took it with a polite thank-you. Then the girl scurried down the aisle to the bench where William Sholes stood with his parents. The two youngsters put their heads together and chatted.

Edythe frowned. What could she do about Missy’s fascination with the Sholes boy? She set her worry aside as townsfolk greeted her, offering wishes for a merry Christmas. The two little Townsend boys raced over, and Robert plopped an orange in her hands. “Merry Christmas, Miss Amsel!”

Edythe gave the boy a hug. “Merry Christmas, Robert. And what’s this?” She bounced the orange on her palm.

The boy beamed. “An or’nge! It’s for you – for Christmas. Didn’t have a present for you, so I want you to have my Christmas or’nge.”

Johnny held out a fistful of peppermint candies. “An’ these’re from me.”

“Well, my goodness, aren’t I the lucky one?” Edythe cupped the goodies in her palms. “I feel so special! Thank you, boys.”

Robert swung his sack of Christmas goodies, his grin wide. “You’re welcome. I don’t much like or’nges anyway.”

Johnny socked his brother on the arm and shot him a fierce look. Robert yelped, puzzlement creasing his freckled face. Johnny turned an innocent look on Edythe. “I
like
peppermints. A
lot
.”

Edythe swallowed a chortle. What a sweet boy to assure her he wasn’t giving her his castoffs. She stuffed the orange and candies into her pockets, then wrapped both boys in a hug, planting a kiss on the tops of their shaggy blond heads. “And I really like being thought of. Merry Christmas, boys.”

Robert wriggled loose. “Merry Christmas!” He bounded away.

Edythe slipped one of the peppermints from her pocket and pressed it into Johnny’s hand. He flashed a bright smile. “Thank you! Merry Christmas!” He raced after his brother.

Luthenia ambled to Edythe’s side, chuckling. “Those two . . . remind me so much of my own Titus and Timothy. My boys were ornery but bighearted scamps.” She whisked tears away, and Edythe impulsively slipped her arm around the older woman’s narrow waist. Luthenia released another chuckle. “I miss ’em, no denyin’ it, but God was good to plant me in a town where I can spend my love on other people’s young’uns. Reckon you understand that.”

The woman gave a start. “Which reminds me! I want to tell Wally Scheebeck to come by an’ get some of my gingerbread men for Lewis and Jenny. Their mama bein’ busy with the baby, she doesn’t have time for bakin’ these days.” She bustled away, leaving Edythe alone.

Edythe turned to locate Missy but found herself face-to-face with Joel Townsend. Her heart gave a leap of joy she couldn’t squelch.

“Merry Christmas, Miss Amsel.”

“M-merry Christmas to you.” She wished her pulse would slow. She was as breathless as if she’d run a race. To cover her discomfort, she patted her pockets. “Your boys gave me some Christmas goodies – they’re sweet to share.”

Joel chuckled. “They’re racin’ around, getting all their greetings done so we can skedaddle home. I told them they’d have to wait ’til we got back from church to open their presents. They’re fidgety – eager to get home, even if it does mean havin’ to eat my cookin’ on Christmas.”

Edythe surprised herself by asking, “I assume one of their gifts is a meal without beans?”

He threw back his head and laughed. It tickled her that she’d amused him.

“No beans. Beef roast, taters, carrots – I put it all in before we left for church, just like Miz Kinsley explained, so we’ll have us a fine dinner.”

She nodded in approval. “Perfect.”

“But I’d best hurry. Not sure how much longer I can keep ’em away from the presents.” He took a step toward the open double doors at the front of the church.

Did regret tinge his voice? Even though she shouldn’t encourage him, she wanted to chat with him a little longer. “We already opened ours.” She trailed along beside him as he made his way through the crowd and held out her new Bible. “This was my gift from Luthenia.”

Joel paused just inside the doors and admired it. “A fine gift.”

Edythe smiled down at the black leather cover, fondness for its giver washing over her. “I’ve never had a Bible of my own, but I promised Luthenia I would read it.”

Surprise broke across Joel’s face. “You . . . you don’t read God’s Word? But you come to church every Sunday. I thought . . . I thought you were a woman of faith.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t say that.” As soon as the words had left her mouth, Mr. Townsend’s expression turned gloomy. She hugged the Bible tight against her ribs. “Did . . . did I say something wrong?”

He nodded emphatically. “How can I consider courting a woman who – ”

Courting? How dare he blurt out such a thing? And in the church building on Christmas Day. Somehow the word held more meaning on this day in this place. Edythe took a backward step. “I can’t be courted, Mr. Townsend. Especially not by . . . by
you
.”

His frown deepened. “What’s wrong with
me
?”

“N-nothing is fundamentally wrong with you, but . . . but . . .” Edythe reined in her galloping thoughts so she could speak plainly. “You come with a ready-made family. I’ve already raised one – my brothers and sisters. I have no desire to raise another. Besides, I’m a teacher. My heart belongs to my students.” She heard the words and wanted them to be true, yet she knew in the very depth of her being that a part of her heart already belonged to this man who stood staring at her in dismay.

“I see.” His voice was flat, devoid of its usual warmth.

Edythe spun to face the wide door opening. Children giggled, racing each other across the snow-blanketed ground. Horses snorted, bobbing their great heads as if eager to get moving. Folks shifted from foot to foot, visiting with neighbors, reluctant to leave the time of fellowship. Happiness filled the yard. She glanced at Mr. Townsend, who stared silently through the open church doors with pain in his eyes. A pain that matched the ache in her heart.

“G-good-bye, Mr. Townsend.” She whispered the words and fled.

Chapter
TWENTY-THREE

Joel managed to exclaim over the whistle Johnny had whittled for him out of a twig and even delighted the boys by blasting out a warbling trill. When Robert acted downcast because he didn’t have a gift for his uncle, Joel assured him helping with the dinner cleanup would be a fine present, and the boy immediately cheered. Throughout dinner he chatted and behaved as if he overflowed with Christmas cheer. But the enjoyment of a special meal was lost beneath the weight of disappointment.

When dinner was over, he and the boys cleaned up, and he made sure he did lots of teasing to keep the mood light. But when the boys carted off their new toys to play in their room, Joel stopped pretending and allowed his countenance to fall.

She doesn’t want to raise a family.
. . .

Twice in his lifetime he’d opened his heart to a woman, and twice he’d been disappointed. He slumped onto the rough settee and stared into the fireplace. Flames snapped and danced, seeming to laugh at him. He felt every bit the fool.

After losing Susannah to his brother, he hadn’t thought he’d ever find the courage to love again. Then along came Edythe Amsel with her sweet smile and gentle ways, and his heart had stirred to life. How many times had he imagined her in his home? In his mind’s eye, he could see it so clearly. Edythe sitting at his table, cooking at his stove, waiting on the porch with a welcoming smile at the end of a day. . . .

He’d never been a man given to fanciful reflections, but somehow it’d been easy to picture her as a part of his life. He shook his head, trying to send the persistent images away. She didn’t want him or his boys. Besides, he knew better than to yoke himself with an unbeliever. How could two become one without a solid faith in God at the center of their relationship? It was impossible. He needed to put any thoughts of courting Miss Amsel from his mind.

Giggles erupted from the boys’ room. The cheerful sounds contradicted the deep sorrow holding Joel captive. He thumped his feet on the floor and rose to pace the room. He ran his hand through his hair, agitation making his movements jerky. The third time past the fireplace, he stopped and braced his hand on the rough wood mantel. He stared into the fire, which was beginning to die as the logs were consumed. Fires died without fuel. Maybe love would fizzle out, too, if it went unfed. So he’d starve himself of Miss Amsel’s company. No visiting at school, no searching her out at church, no stops at Miz Kinsley’s. The boys might fuss some, being denied Miz Kinsley’s cookies, but he’d be firm.

Heaving a sigh, he mumbled, “It’ll be easier to be firm with them than with myself. That woman is near impossible to resist.” He drew his hand down his face, releasing a heavy sigh. “Heaven, help me . . .”

“Y’know, Missy’s old enough to stay by herself if you change your mind.”

Edythe glanced up from reading
The Nebraska Times.
Luthenia stood poised at the front door, her hand on the doorknob. The woman wore her nicest dress – a navy blue worsted with a creamy lace collar. The ivory comb Edythe had given Luthenia glistened in her hair, making her look very elegant. Embarrassed by her own shoddy appearance, Edythe tugged the tattered collar of her mother’s old robe closer around her throat and wriggled more fully into the pillows on the parlor settee. “I’m staying in.”

“Seems a shame you have to miss the New Year’s Eve service.” A winsome smile played on the older woman’s face. “It’s a fine time for the townsfolk. Lots of food, lots of merrymaking . . . sayin’ good-bye to the old an’ ringin’ in the new.” She tipped her head, her expression hopeful. “I’ll wait if you want to hurry an’ get gussied up.”

For a moment, Edythe reconsidered. Missy’s sniffles, the result of staying out too long on an iced-over pond with some of the other town children yesterday, made her grumpy, but she didn’t require constant care. Her sister’s illness was a flimsy excuse to miss the service.

After an entire week away from the busyness of school, Edythe longed for a little excitement and noise. But surely Joel Townsend would be at the New Year’s Eve celebration. The church building was small. She couldn’t possibly avoid him if she went. So she had to stay home.

“I need to be here in case Missy needs something.” Edythe forced herself to smile. “Besides, a quiet evening before school starts again on Tuesday will be good for me.”

Luthenia huffed, reminding Edythe of Missy. “You’ve had a slew of quiet evenin’s of late. Why, you haven’t left the house since Christmas – not even to check the mail. Seems to me what a young woman needs is a little noise an’ excitement.”

Edythe nearly laughed – once again Luthenia had voiced her thoughts nearly verbatim. Stifling her smile, she answered, “You go on and have a good time. Don’t worry a bit about Missy and me.” She lifted the newspaper and pretended to read, humming to herself.

Luthenia sighed. “All right, then. I’ll be back shortly after midnight. No need to wait up.”

“I’ll leave the lamp lit for you. Happy New Year, Luthenia.”

Her landlady grunted in reply. Cold air whisked into the room when she stepped out the door. Her footsteps on the porch boards
clip-clopped
and then faded away. Silence fell like a club, and melancholy instantly gripped her. Edythe hadn’t realized how dismal the house felt without its mistress. Luthenia’s cheerful chatter and constant movement filled the little dwelling with life.

Setting the newspaper aside, she padded to the window. Wagons rolled past, all aimed for the center of town, where the church stood. Should she get dressed and go? Missy would likely sleep all evening. She whirled away from the window and flumped back onto the sofa. Hadn’t she decided she must stay away from Joel Townsend? That meant no town gatherings, no socializing, and no –

She stopped herself before silently declaring “no church.” Luthenia expected her to attend, her own mother had encouraged it, Missy needed it, and Edythe had developed a yearning for it that mystified her. She would go to services each Sunday at the little steepled chapel. “But no other town gatherings,” she stated aloud, her voice echoing in the quiet room.

Snatching up the newspaper again, she rattled the pages to make some noise. With determination, she forced herself to focus on reading. She’d purchased a subscription to
The Nebraska Times
so she could use it as a resource at the school. It arrived in her mail cubby a full week after its release, but the information was still valuable.

She’d been amazed at how little understanding her students possessed of the world outside of their town. The newspaper brought bits and pieces of the world to them. Eventually, she intended to require her oldest students to write their own essays on world events. But for now, she simply assigned articles to read. But she couldn’t assign something on which she was unaware. So she needed to read it, too.

Flipping the pages from front to back, she scanned the headlines. The words “Married Women’s Property Act Adopted” captured her attention. She angled the page to catch the lantern’s glow. As she read, her heart began to pound. She finished the article, then crumpled the paper in her lap and stared unseeingly across the quiet parlor. Mixed emotions made her belly churn. What a difference it would have made for her family if this act, adopted in England, was law in America.

Memories tugged Edythe backward in time to her earliest recollections on Grandfather Keiler’s farm. How Edythe had loved the farm! Just a simple sod house on a square of treeless plain, miles from town. And so much work to do – feeding the chickens and the baby pigs and helping Mama in the garden . . . Yet joy existed on that plot of ground.

Part of it, surely, was Grandfather’s pride of ownership. Even as a very small child, she had recognized the effort required to build a farm on the untamed plains. But Grandfather had worked willingly, pouring his heart and soul into the land. He had bequeathed the property to Mama – his only living child – on his deathbed. But Mama was married to Pa, which gave Pa ownership of the land.

Edythe crunched her eyes, images exploding in her brain. Pa walking behind the plow. She carrying a water bucket so Pa could quench his thirst. Pa backhanding his moist lips, smiling in thanks, and returning to work. Ma greeting Pa at the end of a day with a smile and a kiss. Those days at the farm, despite hard work and battling nature for a harvest, were happy days.

Edythe couldn’t recall a single day of bitterness from Pa, no slump to his shoulders – not even when their crop dried up from lack of rain. “We still have land,” Pa had declared, his head high. “A man who owns land is never wanting.”

And then the railroad men came.

She bent at the waist, across her own lap, crushing the paper beneath her arms. The men had promised Pa money to lay track on the land. Money sounded good – especially since they wouldn’t receive a return on their failed harvest. Mama asked to see the contract, but the men said Ma had no standing – their dealings were with Pa, the legal owner of the land.

Had they known Pa couldn’t read? Pride prevented him from admitting the inability. He wouldn’t dare divulge it to men in fine suits with fancy words on their tongues and glib smiles on their faces. Without reading a word of the contract he made his X. After the men left, Mama read the papers from beginning to end. Tears ran down her face when she pointed out the lines that declared the land now belonged to the railroad, not the family. Pa refused to believe it – said Mama certainly had misunderstood. But he had no choice except to believe when the railroad men came and ran them off the acres Grandfather had crossed an ocean to claim.

In Omaha, Pa took a job cleaning stalls in a livery, but never with his shoulders square or his head raised high. Shame and bitterness became his constant companion. The bitterness broke him down, and when Mama died, he disappeared into melancholy.

Edythe sat up, surprised to find the crumpled newspaper damp with her tears. She wiped her eyes and then flattened the paper as best she could against her knees. She pressed her fingertips to the article. In England, women – even married women – could now legally own property. No longer would their holdings automatically transfer to their husbands.

“America needs such a law.” Her voice cracked on the whispered declaration. Had a similar law been in place when the railroad men came, Pa wouldn’t have been tricked out of Grandfather’s hard-won land. Mama could read – she would never have signed her name to the contract. And Edythe’s family might still be living happily on Grandfather Keiler’s farm.

Resolve filled Edythe’s middle, straightening her spine. When attending normal school, she’d overheard some younger women discuss suffrage – forcing the government to bestow the same voting rights on women that men legally possessed. At the time she’d ignored their talk. Her focus had been on earning her teaching certificate. Now the idea of supporting suffrage returned. She still wanted to teach – none of
her
students would be handicapped by an inability to read – but a new desire burned within her soul.

The town council might disapprove, but Edythe couldn’t worry about them. Whatever she could do to bring this English Act to America, she would do it.