Courting Miss Amsel (22 page)

“But it might be a good thing you’re goin’, ’cause it’ll send a message to – ” Luthenia clamped her lips shut, her face clouding. “Oh, but it won’t matter anymore because . . .”

Edythe frowned. “What is it?”

For a few seconds, Luthenia stood, her lips pressed so tightly they nearly disappeared. Then she sat next to Edythe and took her hand. “I gotta ask you somethin’.”

“Of course.”

“Have I imagined you an’ Joel Townsend lookin’ at each other in a special way?”

Edythe’s heart leaped into her throat. “W-why do you ask?”

“ ’Cause there’s somethin’ I gotta tell you, an’ I don’t want to hurt you. It’d be a lot easier if I was sure I only imagined sparks flyin’ between the two of you.”

Forcing a light laugh, Edythe angled her chin high. “I’ve told you again and again, I have no desire to court anyone, and that includes Joel Townsend.” Even to her ears, her statement didn’t sound convincing.

Luthenia stared at Edythe, seeming to ponder something. “I’ll just out an’ tell you, then. When I went to the mercantile today to fetch the mail an’ newspaper, Wally Scheebeck told me Miz Jenkins had been in, an’ she said Joel and her Maribelle will be gettin’ hitched.”

So the rumors were true. A fresh wave of sadness flooded her frame.

Luthenia nodded, her face somber. “Be good for Johnny an’ Robert to have a woman in their lives. An’ Joel – he won’t be alone anymore.”

“How . . .” Edythe’s voice cracked, and she had to swallow and try again. “How nice for them. Maribelle is . . . is a lovely girl.” Her nose stung too much to continue. She jumped up. “I need to get started on grading papers.” She dashed around the corner before she broke down and made a complete fool of herself.

Chapter
THIRTY-THREE

With Missy sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, books strewn all around her, Edythe couldn’t do what she longed to do – throw herself facedown across the rumpled quilt and indulge in a good cry. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed herself the unrestrained release of emotion. Being the oldest, the one in charge, the one setting the example, she’d always had to hold herself in check. To be mature and responsible. But just once she wished she could weep and pound her fists on the feather mattress and expend all of the bottled-up feelings that swirled through her middle.

Instead she sniffed hard, squared her shoulders, and sat stiffly on the edge of the bed. “Missy?”

Missy, her focus on the book resting on her crossed ankles, didn’t look up. “Hmm?”

“I’m going to start sending letters to schools around Omaha to see if they have need of a teacher next year. Do you have any preferences for where you’d like to live?”

Missy sat up so quickly the braids wrapped around her crown quivered. “What do you mean?”

“I know you wanted to return to Omaha to be near Justus and Eulah when the baby comes, but I was wondering if we should – ”

Missy shook her head hard. “Don’t you like teaching here?”

The emotions Edythe had pushed down tried to rise again. She cleared her throat in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. “Of course I do, but – ”

“Then why do you want to leave?”

Edythe lowered her brows and stared at her sister. “You wanted to leave. You said you didn’t like it here.”

Air exploded from Missy’s lips in a loud huff. She flopped her arms outward. “Since when do you listen to anything I say? I was mad at you for leaving me with Justus, mad because you paid attention to other kids more than you did me, mad at . . . well, just
mad
.” She grinned sheepishly. “But I’m not mad anymore. I like it here. I like Mrs. Kinsley, and Martha’s the best friend I’ve ever had. I don’t want to leave. Can’t we stay?”

Edythe sighed. “No, we can’t.”

“But why?”

Because I’m in love with Joel Townsend and he’s marrying someone else.
Edythe swallowed. “The town council doesn’t like me.”

“Pffft.” Missy made a sound similar to one Luthenia made when she wanted to disregard something. “They could change their minds. After all, the kids really like you. They want you to stay – they’ve told me so.”

Pleasure flooded Edythe’s frame. “But the students don’t make the decision as to who teaches. And the council isn’t planning to renew my contract.” She discovered stating the truth aloud hurt more than thinking about it. She had to swallow again.

“Well . . .” Missy nibbled her thumbnail for a moment, her brow puckered in thought. “What if you didn’t teach? What if we just . . . stayed?”

“We can’t
just stay
. I have to have a way to support us.”

“So get a job.”

Edythe quirked one brow. “In Walnut Hill?” She pictured the business district – a mercantile, a feed and seed store, a small butcher shop that sold mostly wild game, and the requisite barber. The doctor didn’t even have an office, but saw patients in a room in his home. “The town isn’t exactly bustling with opportunities for employment, Missy. Especially for a woman.”

Missy chewed the other thumb. She jerked, her face brightening. “You could get married!”

An image of Joel Townsend flashed in Edythe’s mind. She sucked in a breath so sharply it tickled the back of her throat. She coughed into her fist for several seconds. The coughing dislodged the tickle but not the picture of Joel. “W-what?”

“Married. Martha said Terrill thinks you’re pretty an’ wants to court you.” Missy’s voice rose in excitement. “If you married him, we could move into Martha’s farmhouse with her an’ her ma an’ Terrill. Then we wouldn’t have to leave Walnut Hill at all! Don’tcha see?”

“I see you’re quite adept at planning my life.” Edythe tried not to sound sarcastic, but she didn’t succeed. “I have no desire to marry anybody, including Terrill Sterbinz.” Her heart ached anew. She’d worried that Joel Townsend might be falling in love with her, and it had frightened her. But knowing he loved someone else hurt much more than she could have anticipated.

Missy sighed, her head low.

“So we need to be thinking of where we’d like to go. Give it some thought and let me know, all right?”

Missy shifted her head slightly to look at Edythe with narrowed eyes. Her mouth formed a firm upside-down U. “I want to stay here.”

Edythe reached for her sister’s hand. “I know, but the town council – ”

Missy bounced off the bed so fast two books slid onto the floor and landed with a loud smack. She didn’t bother to scoop them up but stood glaring at Edythe with her hands on her hips. “You’re giving up. And you
never
give up. I’m ashamed of you!” She flounced to the door, her nose in the air. “I’m going downstairs to Luthenia. I’ll ask her to pray for the council to change its mind.
She’ll
be willing to fight for us to stay. And you better start fighting, too, ’cause I won’t leave Walnut Hill!” She slammed the door behind her.

Edythe stared after Missy, her mouth hanging open. She hadn’t realized how attached her sister had become to the town and its people. Knowing Missy wanted to stay should have delighted her – she’d love nothing more than to continue teaching the students of Walnut Hill. But now, even if the council changed its mind and renewed her contract, she couldn’t stay.

How could she remain here, watching Maribelle Jenkins with Joel and Johnny and Robert without her heart breaking a little more every day? She flopped sideways onto the bed, hiding her face in the bend of her elbow. When had the thing she thought she wanted the least become the thing she wanted the most? And why had the desire come when it was too late to lay claim to it?

A light tap sounded on the door. Edythe sat up and sighed. “Missy, you can come on in. I’m not upset with you.”

The door opened a crack and Luthenia poked her nose in. “It’s me. Can I come in?”

Edythe patted the mattress. “I guess Missy told you she wants you to pray for us to be able to stay?”

Luthenia chuckled, shaking her head. She sat beside Edythe, making the bed springs squeak, and curled her work-worn hand over Edythe’s knee. “Keepin’ up with that sister of yours is like tryin’ to catch a sunbeam. Never can quite get a grasp.”

Despite her melancholy, Edythe laughed. Luthenia had gotten to know Missy well. And she’d been a wonderful influence for Missy.

“Your sister asked me to pray the council would invite you to stay another year.” Luthenia’s bony fingers tightened on Edythe’s knee. “I told her I’d be prayin’ God’s will for both you and her. Bein’ the selfish old woman I am, I’d like to have you stay. But not if it’s against what God wants for you.”

Edythe closed her eyes. “Luthenia, you talk about God’s will, but I don’t understand. Does a God in Heaven really care what happens to us down here?”

“ ’Course He does!”

Looking Luthenia in the eyes, Edythe asked quietly, “Then why have I always had to take care of everything myself? I took care of my mother when she was ill. Then I took care of my brothers and sisters. And my father. And now my students.” She picked up the Bible resting on the little bedside table and flipped it open. “I’ve been reading this, like you asked, and again and again I find Scripture that indicates we’re loved and that God gives strength, peace, and comfort. But it must not be for me.”

Slowly, reverently, Luthenia lifted the Bible from Edythe’s hands. She laid it across her knees and turned pages. “Have you read the book of Mark yet, Edythe?”

Edythe nodded. She’d gotten as far as Romans.

“Do you remember the story about the rich man who came to Jesus an’ asked what he could do to inherit eternal life?”

Edythe crunched her brow, trying to recall the story. “He claimed he’d been a good person who had obeyed the commandments.” “And what did Jesus tell him he needed to do?”

Glancing at the open book on Luthenia’s lap, Edythe replied, “Jesus instructed the man to sell all he had, take up his cross, and follow Him.”

“That’s right. But the man couldn’t do it – he was very wealthy, an’ he couldn’t bring himself to let go of what he had. Edythe . . .” Tears pooled in the older woman’s eyes. “You got the same pride as the rich man in the Bible. You aren’t holdin’ tight to gold an’ such, but you don’t want to let go of bein’ in charge. You’ve had control for so long, lettin’ somebody else take it from you feels like weakness. But if you’d ever just lean into God’s strength instead of relyin’ on your own . . . why, you’d discover joy like you’ve never had before.” She flung her arm around Edythe’s shoulders and squeezed. “Just let go, Edythe, an’ trust Him to guide you.”

A tug-of-war more fierce than any she’d moderated on the schoolyard took place in Edythe’s soul. Desire to lean into God’s strength – to discover complete trust that the Lord would carry her – battled with the long-held practice of seeing to her own needs. She clenched her teeth and spoke between them. “I . . . don’t know how . . .”

The arm on her shoulders tightened, and Luthenia lowered her head. Her eyes slipped closed, and her lips moved, although no sound emerged. Edythe sat very still, uncomfortable, yet unwilling to disturb the dear woman while she talked to the God she trusted, followed, and loved. Although Edythe didn’t hear a word of the prayer, she knew Luthenia was lifting her and her needs to God. Her muscles ached from sitting so still and stiff, but she remained until Luthenia let out a mighty sigh and slid her arm away.

Luthenia rose. “Reckon I might as well tell you, I been prayin’ ever since you came for God to do whatever it takes to bring you around to the knowledge of His love an’ care for you. Knowin’ the year’s endin’ soon, an’ knowin’ you’re fixin’ on leavin’, I just now asked Him to act swift.” She shook her finger in Edythe’s face. “So you be watchful, Edythe Amsel. God’s gonna move, an’ when He does, you’ll finally understand.” A knowing smiled tipped up the corners of her lips. “Yep, you’re gonna understand.”

Chapter
THIRTY-FOUR

Rain fell steadily Tuesday and Wednesday, creating a gray curtain that dampened more than Edythe’s clothing. Walking to school in the rain was even less pleasant than trudging through snow. Although the temperature had risen somewhat with the arrival of March, being soaked left her feeling chilly and out of sorts.

The children were impatient with indoor activities after enjoying the days of outdoor play, and William Sholes – after a brief respite from prank playing – renewed his orneriness in earnest. Edythe caught herself looking forward to the last day of school when she’d be able to tell the boy farewell for good. Then her heart sank, realizing how many painful good-byes would accompany the one to William.

Luthenia had promised to pray for God’s will, and Missy believed that meant she’d be staying in Walnut Hill. She refused to discuss any other possibilities, frustrating Edythe. Without telling her sister, Edythe sent out letters of interest to every school in Douglas County. Surely one of them would have need of a teacher, and she and Missy would be close to Justus and Eulah, Albert and Loren, and Frances and her husband, Clyde, again. Missy would be devastated when they had to leave at the end of May, but Edythe believed she’d accept a new town in time, just as she’d accepted Walnut Hill.

On Thursday, Martha approached Edythe during recess with a reminder from Terrill about their dinner in Lincoln Valley on Friday evening. Her face flushed as she whispered, “He’d like it if you’d wear your red dress. It’s his favorite.”

Edythe managed to smile and reply, “It’s my favorite, too.” But as Martha scampered back to her lunch bucket, Edythe decided she would not wear her red dress on Friday. She’d make sure, by the evening’s end, Terrill understood she was not interested in being courted. Not by him.

When Edythe came down to breakfast Friday morning, Missy glanced up from the breakfast table and dropped her jaw in shock. “Edythe!”

Edythe smoothed her hands over the skirt of her frock. Once a lovely shade of dove gray with white lace, the dress had faded over the years to a dingy dead-mouse hue with yellowed lace and a tattered hem. But it had been Edythe’s favorite dress for several years, so she hadn’t been able to discard it, regardless of its worn appearance. Today it provided the perfect means of letting Terrill Sterbinz know she had no desire to dress to please him.

Luthenia turned from the stove, her gaze bouncing from Missy to Edythe, where it traveled from her neckline to the hem of her dress and up again. Her brows rose, and she chuckled low in her throat. “Never seen you wear that dress to school before.”

“I’ve never planned to dig soil and pot seeds with the students at school before.” Edythe glided to the breakfront cabinet and removed a coffee cup, her chin high. “I can’t wear one of my good dresses for such a messy activity, can I?”

Missy gawked at her, her breakfast neglected. “But, Edie, we’re goin’ to Lincoln Valley for supper. I wore my best dress.” She indicated her blue skirt and shirtwaist. “Martha said she’d be dressin’ up fancy, too. You’ll just look silly in that old rag.”

Edythe poured coffee into her mug. “Perhaps Terrill shouldn’t have made plans to leave directly from school without asking me what would be best.”

A loud huff exploded from Missy. “You’re doin’ this on purpose – trying to make him mad, aren’t you?” She scooted her chair back so quickly the legs screeched against the wood floor. “I told you I wouldn’t expect you to marry him if you didn’t love him, but can’t you at least give him a chance?” She clattered up the stairs.

Edythe turned and caught Luthenia sending her a frown. She scowled back. “Are you going to lecture me, too?”

“If you don’t want to go to dinner with Terrill, you ought to just say so instead of playin’ tricks.”

Edythe plopped the cup onto the table with force. Coffee sloshed over the edge, creating a dark puddle on the scarred wood. “I’m not playing tricks!”

“Mm-hmm.” Luthenia returned to stirring eggs in the pan.

Edythe started to storm upstairs, but then remembered Missy was there. So she charged into the parlor. She stood in the middle of the room, her shoulders slumping. Luthenia was right – wearing an old dress as a means of dissuading Terrill from paying attention to her was no better than William Sholes dipping Jane Heidrich’s pigtail in the inkwell to garner her attention.

She returned to the kitchen on leaden feet. Luthenia handed her a rag, and she mopped up the mess she’d made on the table. “I guess I’ll go change my dress. The seed potting can wait until Monday.”

Luthenia gave Edythe’s cheek a gentle pat. “I think that sounds like a fine idea.”

Edythe changed into her green bustled skirt and lace-embellished shirtwaist. Missy fussed, “Martha said Terrill likes your
red
dress.”

Edythe snapped back, “Well,
I
like the green!”

In retaliation, Missy lagged behind rather than walking beside Edythe all the way to the school. The gloomy sky of days past had cleared, promising a clear sky of robin’s-egg blue. The sight of the blazing orange sun breaking through a backdrop of pink and dusky lavender should have given Edythe’s heart a lift, but Missy’s attitude colored Edythe’s. By the time she reached the schoolhouse, irritation boiled under her skin.

She loaded her arms with a few pieces of wood for the stove – she’d get it going to fight away the morning’s chill and then let it die out, as it would become unnecessary in the afternoon. It gave her pleasure to thump the wood into the stove and then close the door with a solid
bang!
As she turned toward her desk, she heard feet scuff around the corner from the cloakroom
.
Was Missy coming to complain about something else?

Without turning around, she flung her hand upward and sniped, “I don’t want to hear another word from you. Stay outside until the other children arrive.”

An “ahem” rumbled – deep and laced with amusement.

Edythe froze in place. Very slowly she angled her head to peer over her shoulder. Joel Townsend stood in the cloakroom doorway, an impish grin bringing out the single dimple in his left cheek. Edythe wished she could dissolve into a puddle.

“M-Mr. Townsend . . .” She turned to face him. Surely the heat in her face exceeded the roaring blaze in the stove’s belly. “My humble apologies. I – I thought you were Missy.”

His grin climbed higher. “I had my share of scuffles with my brother. I reckon I understand.”

Resuming her teacher poise, she asked, “What can I do for you?”

He took two forward steps, his boots echoing on the wood floor. “Wanted to let you know” – streaks of red brightened his cheeks – “Johnny and Robert are goin’ with Maribelle Jenkins after school today. She’s gonna pick them up an’ take them to her place, let ’em play with the litter of pups in her barn. Thought it best to tell you, so you wouldn’t be concerned. They’ve never gone with Maribelle . . . before.”

Edythe hoped the dismay that filled her heart didn’t reflect in her face. “I – I think that sounds fine. They . . . they need to become acquainted, since . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to voice the words
she’ll be marrying you
.

“Yep. Well . . .” He inched backward. “I reckon you’ve got things you need to be doin’, so I’ll just . . .”

“Yes. I should be . . .” Couldn’t either of them complete a sentence? Edythe stomped her foot lightly against the floor. “Thank you again for alerting me to this change in routine, Mr. Townsend. Have a g-good day.” She abhorred the stutter, yet at least she’d managed to speak with a shred of normalcy.

He touched the brim of his hat and clumped out the door. Edythe followed slowly, allowing him time to reach his wagon and leave the yard before stepping onto the porch. Children swarmed the side yard. Even though it was early, she gave the bell’s rope a tug. At the resounding ring, the children scooped up their books and charged toward the schoolhouse.

Missy pranced by with her nose in the air, but the others greeted Edythe enthusiastically. The moment the children slid into their desks, Andrew Bride jammed his pudgy hand in the air.

Edythe acknowledged him while moving up the middle aisle toward her desk.

“I was talkin’ to Pa at supper last night about how we been learnin’ about seeds an’ how they grow.” The boy wriggled in his seat, his eyes round and bright. “I told him we was gonna plant beans in a pot so we could watch a plant grow right here in school, an’ he said he had a better idea.”

Oh, he did, did he?
“Yes? What was that?”

Andrew sat up a little straighter, his chest puffing importantly. “He said the schoolyard needs a tree or two. ’Stead of planting itty-bitty beans in a pot, why don’t we plant a tree so’s we can have some shade?”

William Sholes slapped his knee and exploded with laughter. “Now I know why Andrew’s so lame-brained – he takes after his pa!” He pointed at Andrew, who hunched into his seat in shame. “It takes years for trees to get big enough to give off shade, dummy. You’d hafta stay in school ten years or more to see it happen.” He snorted. “ ’Course, dumb as you are, you might be in school more’n another ten years – ”

Every irritation from the morning reared up and launched itself at William Sholes. Edythe screeched his name. “William!”

He threw a lopsided grin in her direction. “What?”

She marched to the boy’s desk, took hold of his ear, and yanked him out of his seat. His grin disappeared. The boy yowled, struggling to get loose, but she held tight. “You have spoken out of turn for the last time in this classroom. I have repeatedly cautioned you about treating others kindly, yet you persist in despicable behavior. Well” – she gave his ear a shake, earning another howl of pain – “it will not happen again because you will not be here to mistreat another classmate.”

Releasing his ear with a shove, she pointed toward the door. “Go home!”

William stood staring at her, rubbing his ear. “W-whaddid you say?”

Her finger still aimed at the door, she lifted her chin another notch. “I said go home. You are dismissed.”

William lowered his hand. His ear glowed bright red. “For the day?”

“For the remainder of the year.” Gasps echoed through the schoolroom. Edythe sensed more than a dozen shocked gazes trained on her. “I’ve had my fill of your disrespectful, unacceptable behavior, and I won’t tolerate it one more minute.” She spun and charged for her desk. “Go home, William. And do not return.”

Ignoring the rows of stunned faces, she looked directly at Andrew. He’d slid so far down in his seat, it was a wonder he hadn’t fallen off the edge. “Sit up,” she ordered, and he did. “I think your father has a fine idea. Even though this class of students won’t have the benefit of shade from trees we might plant today, your children will certainly be grateful we had the foresight to plant them.”

A plan quickly formed in her mind. “On Monday, wear your oldest clothes to school. With all the rain we’ve had lately, the ground should be soft enough for us to dig. Andrew and Lewis, each of you bring a shovel and buckets. I’ll make sure I have Mrs. Kinsley’s wagon, and we shall make an excursion to the Platte River to dig up two or three seedlings for transplanting in the schoolyard.”

William stood rooted to the floor beside his desk, looking as distraught as Edythe had ever seen. Instead of shooing him out the door, she pretended he wasn’t there. With a smile, she added, “I think it would be a fine idea to have a class picnic while we’re at the river.”

A murmur of excitement rippled across the room.

Edythe snatched up a pad of paper and pencil. “Let’s see, what will we need for a picnic?” She tapped her lips with the pencil. “Sandwiches, of course. Who would like to bring sandwiches?”

Martha, Ada, and Louisa all raised their hands.

She smiled and wrote their names on the pad. “And maybe . . . apples?”

Henry Libolt nearly came out of his desk in excitement. “I can bring half a bushel, Miss Amsel! They’re a little wrinkly from bein’ in the cellar all winter, but they got plenty o’ taste left in ’em, Ma says.”

She nodded at him. “Thank you, Henry. Now, every picnic should end with dessert. Might someone bring cookies?”

“I’ll make some!” Sophie Jeffers waved her hand in the air. Her younger sister, Patience, chirped, “I’ll help.”

Edythe rewarded the girls with a beaming smile. “Excellent. And Missy and I will bring jugs of ginger water. We’ll have a grand time at the river on Monday, digging our trees and enjoying a time of relaxation.” She slapped the paper pad onto her desk and glared at William. “Why are you still here?”

The boy’s face mottled with anger. “You can’t dismiss me from school.”

Edythe moved toward the boy, her skirts sweeping the floor. “I am the schoolmarm of Walnut Hill. I have the right to decide who attends school and who is dismissed. William, you are dismissed.”

With a growl of frustration, William spun and stomped to the back of the classroom. “You’ll be sorry! Wait an’ see!” He bolted around the corner.

With a smile of triumph, Edythe marched to the teaching platform. “Grade three, please come to the recitation benches. Everyone else, open your books to the next story and read quietly.”

Although the students remained somewhat subdued, the day passed with no other conflicts, and at three o’clock Edythe stood on the porch to observe their leave-taking. Johnny and Robert scurried to the Jenkinses’ waiting wagon. They started to climb into the back, but Maribelle patted the seat beside her. The boys used the wheel as a ladder and clambered aboard. Edythe’s heart lurched as the wagon rolled away.

The other children scampered in various directions, and only Martha and Missy remained on the porch with Edythe. Martha muttered, “Wonder where Terrill is. Figured he’d be here early.” She wandered to the middle of the yard and peered down the road with her hand cupped over her eyes.

Missy nudged Edythe none too gently with her elbow. “You picked a good day to dismiss William.”

Edythe frowned at her sister. Missy had witnessed William’s misbehavior on days past, and she’d certainly heard him speak so abhorrently to Andrew. He deserved dismissal. She’d had good reason to send the boy home.