Donovan's Daughter (The Californians, Book 4) (39 page)

"With her approval?" Marcail went on serenely, and
Alex had to fight a smile. He knew her well enough to
know she was not as calm as she appeared.

Richard was tempted to lie in answering that question, but the direct, dark-eyed gaze of this diminutive
teacher made him feel as though she could read his very
thoughts.

"I can see my answer in your hesitation. Please do not
think me rude, Mr. Duckworth, but unless your mother
contacts me personally, I couldn't consider returning in
the fall."

"But Sydney needs you." Richard hoped to appeal to
the teacher within her.

"I love Sydney dearly, but I would say that what he
needs most is to be living with his mother and father.
Surely you've a competent teacher where you live."

"We're moving here," he told her simply, as if this
solved everything.

Marcail was surprised, but it did not change her answer.
"I'm sure Sydney will be very pleased about that, but as
far as my teaching is concerned, I've given you my answer."

"I'm willing to pay you-"

"Please, Mr. Duckworth," Alex cut in, his voice not
overly loud, but firm. "My wife has given you her answer."

Richard had nearly forgotten the other man's presence. He looked between the two and felt a little ashamed
of how pushy he'd been. The doctor was very protective
of his wife, and Richard was the first to know the feeling.
His mother hated the mere sight of his Beverly.

"I apologize for my rudeness. I'll let my mother know
what you've said, and hopefully I can persuade her to
reconsider."

Goodbyes were said all around, and Richard went out
the door. His shoes could be heard on the boardwalk for
some moments.

Marcail turned to Alex, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"Did that really happen, or did I dream it?"

Alex shook his head in wonder. "It happened all right,
but I'm not sure when it will really sink in."

"What do we do?" Marcail wanted to know.

"We do what we've been doing all along; we just keep
praying." Alex pulled her into his embrace and held her
once again.

"For right now, however," he spoke after a moment,
"I'd like us to forget about Mrs. Duckworth, her son, and
the school long enough to see what my wife brought in
her basket."

Marcail smiled and opened the top to reveal a splendid
picnic lunch. Alex's brows rose in delight, and he eagerly
put his "out to lunch" sign on the door. He then took his
wife to a private, shady glen, where he could enjoy her
company and her cooking for the next hour.

Cordelia Duckworth's entire body trembled with the
emotions running through her. Richard had gone home that day and tried to persuade her to reconsider. Their
argument lasted more than a week; it had been a nightmare. Cordelia had stood her ground, even amid threats
of never seeing Sydney again.

On the last day, mother and son had had a huge row,
whereupon Richard had stormed out of the house. Cordelia had looked up to see Sydney in the doorway. She
really scrutinized his face for the first time in days, and
knew that what was going on in his own house was
tearing him apart.

Richard and Beverly had never visited much before,
and Sydney's home with her had been a peaceful one.
Now it was one fight after another, and the feud was over
a woman Sydney loved with all of his heart.

At first Cordelia had been so jealous of Marcail that
she could hardly see straight, but lately Sydney had
begun to give more of himself to his grandmother than
ever before. She knew it was time to put aside her pride
and admit that Marcail Montgomery was the best teacher
Willits had ever had, not to mention the best thing that
ever happened to Sydney.

Now, because of her love for her grandson, she was in
her carriage and headed for the Montgomery home.
School was scheduled to resume in three days, and all
Cordelia could do was hope that Marcail would reconsider.

Marcail heard the approach of the carriage and looked
out, thrilled to know Sydney had been allowed to come
for a visit. She took a moment to recover her poise when
the black-garbed figure of Mrs. Duckworth emerged
from the carriage.

"I'm sorry for coming without an appointment," Cordelia began, "but I hope you'll agree to see me anyway."

"Of course," Marcail told her warmly. "Please come
in.

Marcail held the door open, and then followed Mrs.
Duckworth inside. With the older woman's back turned,
Marcail took a moment to wipe her damp palms together. She then realized with a start that she was
wearing a pink calico dress and her hair was hanging
down her back. Mrs. Duckworth was taking in the small
house and didn't notice Marcail's look of chagrin.

"Please," the young hostess said, suddenly remembering her manners, "won't you have a seat in the living
room?"

Marcail had to force her hands to her sides. The
temptation to wring them and flutter about was nearly
overwhelming. What did this woman want? A sudden
thought came to her, and Marcail's heart thundered with
concern.

"Mrs. Duckworth, is everything well with Sydney?"

Cordelia took in Marcail's suddenly pale features and
felt the first stirrings of warmth for this woman. She also
noticed the way the living room was set up like a bedroom and felt guilt-not a comfortable emotion. Into
what had she forced this young couple?

"Sydney is very well, Mrs. Montgomery," Cordelia
finally answered her. "I thank you for asking."

Marcail was so relieved she sat down in a chair. A
moment later she was up again, mentally chastising
herself for her breach of manners.

"May I get you some coffee, or something else to
drink?"

"No, I won't be staying-" Cordelia stopped midsentence, realizing how thirsty she was. "Some water,
please."

Marcail hurried to serve her. After she'd watched Mrs.
Duckworth refresh herself, she sat once again and waited,
this time in silence.

"I'm sure you must be curious as to the reason for my
visit," Cordelia started, and Marcail determined to listen. "I realize we are many days past August 1, but I
wondered if you might consider teaching again this fall."

Marcail bit her lip. This reason for the older woman's
visit had passed through her mind, but she had dismissed it as impossible.

"Why?" was all Marcail could think to say.

Why Cordelia seemed taken aback.

"Yes. I mean, you must have looked for someone else,
and I know you really don't want me as your teacher.
Quite frankly, I don't think I could take another year like
the last, another year of not having the whole town
behind me. It was so hard to teach that way."

Cordelia looked ashamed. Richard was right; she had
set herself up as a kind of queen in this town, and
everyone hated her because of it.

"Last year is behind us, and I promise you it will not
happen again. Richard is taking some of the properties
off of my shoulders and-"

"Is that what you want?" Marcail knew she'd interrupted and been impertinent to boot, but suddenly this
invincible figure was showing feet of clay, and Marcail
was not as intimidated as she'd been before.

Cordelia sighed, seemingly not at all offended by the
question. "It's taken some time, but, yes, it is what I
want. I'm going to be traveling, and in truth, I'm tired of
carrying the full weight on my own." The admission so
surprised both women that they were silent for the space
of a few heartbeats.

"I would love to come back and teach," Marcail said
after some moments. "But it would have to be under the
terms I mentioned to you previously, including my hair
and dress."

Cordelia's eyes roved over Marcail's trim figure. "I'm
sure that will be fine. I'll tell Stanley to work out the
details with you. Neither Richard nor I will be on
the school board, and I know that Stanley Flynn and the
other men have only the town's best interests in mind."

Cordelia stood then, and Marcail followed suit. She
moved toward the door, and Marcail thought she seemed
defeated. At one time the thought might have pleased
her, but not now.

"Thank you for coming, Mrs. Duckworth," Marcail
said when it looked as though she would leave without a
word.

"I don't suppose we'll be seeing much of each other in
the weeks to come, but Sydney keeps me informed."
The older woman paused and looked Marcail in the eye.
"He thinks the world of you, did you know?"

"I realize that. I think quite of bit of him too."

"Yes, I can see that you do" was all the older woman
said as she moved out the door, pulled herself into the
carriage, and went on her way.

As the coach pulled away from the house, Cordelia
contemplated the serene loveliness of Marcail Montgomery's face. Her home was small and a bit run down, but
she seemed as content as a queen in a palace. Cordelia
thought about her own home with its servants and beautiful furniture, and knew in an instant that it had never
given her an ounce of happiness or peace.

"Her happiness comes from another source," Cordelia whispered as the coach moved along, and for the
first time she forced herself to think about all Sydney
had told her of his faith in Jesus Christ.

"'I'm worried about this sudden depression you've
fallen into," Alex teased Marcail as she nearly danced
around the kitchen. It was the first day of school, and she
was so excited she could hardly eat. In fact, she hadn't
even sat down. She'd had a piece of bread in her hand at
one point, but had laid it down and now couldn't find it.

With only three days to prepare, she kept thinking of
new items she wanted to take back to school. Alex hadn't
seen her standing still since he arrived home after Cordelia Duckworth's visit.

"Is my dress too low?" Marcail asked suddenly, her
huge eyes watching her husband's face with concern.

"Simply scandalous," Alex answered with a mock
shake of his head. The fabric of the lavender dress was
nearly to her throat. "You really should try to eat."

"I will," Marcail called as she darted back into the
living room for yet another missing schoolbook. Alex
decided to sit back and let her run.

Marcail insisted they leave an hour early so none of the
students would arrive and find her not in attendance.
She had thoroughly cleaned the room two days earlier,
but the first thing she did upon arriving was reach for the broom. Alex sat at her desk and watched her, a myriad of
emotions running through him.

He was nothing less than thrilled that she had regained her teaching position, but they had been growing
so close, and this was one more thing to take her mind
from her husband.

Lord, he prayed silently, I really believe she loves me, but
the time hasn't been right for her to say the words. Please help
her. Please help her to see that I would never reject her.

This continued to be Alex's prayer that day and in the
days to follow. As before, he did not know the Lord's
timing, but as Alex continued to surrender his will and
trust in Him, he found God to be sufficient.