Loving Liza Jane (15 page)

“Have you known Jon long?” she asked.

“We made a connection almost immediately when we first met as kids,” Ben told her, his eyes going from her to Jon.

“Well, he seems like a very kind and nice man,” she replied.

Ben searched her face. Had Jon already won her notice? And what if he had? He himself had just sent for one Sarah Woodward. He’d best not worry whom Miss Eliza Jane Merriwether set her cap for.

“Good morning, everyone!” All eyes turned toward the crisp voice of Iris Winthrop. She’d situated herself on the platform at the front of the schoolroom, hands folded tightly at her waist. “Students, take your seats, please. Parents, may I have your attention?”

All manner of pleasant chatter ceased as the staunch and snappish woman took control. “She has my attention,” Ben whispered good-naturedly.

Liza tipped her face upward and threw him a half amused, half scolding look.

He turned his mouth down in a hasty frown and immediately straightened, as if duly reprimanded.

“Thank you all for coming out on this first day of school,” Mrs. Winthrop said, as if she were standing in a large lecture theater addressing a roomful of strangers. Not even a hint of a smile cracked her hardened face.

“We want to welcome the new teacher, Miss Eliza Merriwether, who comes to us from Boston. Besides a host of knowledge, I am sure she will introduce a world of culture and sophistication to our children, something I’m afraid this town sorely lacks.” At that, she cleared her throat and pulled back her already perfectly straight shoulders. Several indiscernible mutterings rose up about the room.

“Let us hope that this year of education will prove advantageous for one and all.”

Someone snickered loudly. “Oh, yeah, we’ll take advantage all right.” The male sneer came from behind. Ben turned in the direction of the voice, but Liza ignored the jibe and remained face forward.

Slumped over in an adult-sized desk at the back of the room and laughing quietly was Clement Bartel. His long legs stretched out under his desk, and his face was dirty. Nearby was Rufus Baxter. It was hard to say which of the two was responsible for the unnecessary quip, but Ben would have liked to cuff him for making it. Looking about, he spotted just about every parent but the Bartels and Baxters. It figured.

Of the two boys, Ben thought Clement looked the more unprincipled. He was a big fellow with shaggy brown hair and unkempt clothing. The flannel shirt he wore bore holes, as did his worn-out overalls. Infuriation ran deep at the thought of him or any young man giving Liza even one drop of trouble in her classroom.

Mrs. Winthrop’s voice droned on as he contemplated all the things he might say to the hooligans at the back given half a chance, and then he saw people moving about and quietly making for the door. He caught the tail end of the woman’s speech. “…With that, I wish you all a good day.”

The next thing Ben knew, someone ushered him out the door before he had the chance to say good-bye to his daughter, or wish Liza well, or tell her he would pray for her today.

The presence of low-lying clouds emitted a dewy denseness to the air. Ben sucked in a breath, noting the thick smells of nearby horse dung.

“Muggy today,” someone muttered, moving past him.

“Yes, it sure is,” he agreed, forcing a friendly tone.

“Ben!” called the voice of Jonathan Atkins. “Got time for some coffee?” The man approached with his usual smile in place.

Ben waved a greeting. “I’d love to, my friend, but I have to head over to Emma’s place.”

“Emma Browning?”

“That’s right,” Ben replied.

“Mind if I walk along?”

“I’d be pleased to have the company,” Ben told him.

Jon put a hand to Ben’s shoulder as they started out, sneaking a peek at Molly and smiling. She turned her face in to Ben’s shoulder.

They headed in the direction of town. “Well, so what’s the story on Emma Browning? Does she attend services?” Jon asked, seeming interested.

“Not often.”

“That’s too bad. Any ideas why that is?”

Ben shifted Molly’s dead weight to the other arm. “I’d call Emma a skeptic,” Ben answered. “She’s bitter, particularly toward men and God. I figure that growing up with that abusive, drunken father of hers is what gave her the cynical outlook.”

“Abusive, you say?” Jon’s eyes went from curious to compassionate.

“Yeah. Don’t you remember she used to come to school with bruises?”

“I moved to Hickman about the same time as you, but I guess I don’t remember too much about school. I had my own set of problems to deal with.” He of course was referring to his own rather topsy-turvy home life. The difference with Jon was that he’d found God in his early years due to Reverend Miller’s kindly, fatherly influence; Emma had found strength within herself, building a thick wall of resistance in order to survive.

“Yeah, I remember that,” Ben said.

Jon kicked a stone clear across the road. “Emma was a pretty thing back then. I imagine she’s downright beautiful now.”

“I take it you haven’t seen her since coming back to town.” Jon shook his head. “Well, I can tell you she’s pretty on the outside, but underneath that façade there’s a raging tigress.”

“No kidding. So why are you going to see her?”

Ben should have known the question would surface. Unsure how much to divulge, he waited for the right choice of words. “I need to ask her about room availability.”

“Oh? You thinking of moving out now that the pretty teacher has moved next door?”

Ben rolled his eyes at his friend, sensing Jon was toying with him. “No, I have—well, I’m expecting some company.”

Jon sidestepped and playfully jabbed him in the arm as they went. “Really? You, a visitor?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“I figured I was your only friend,” Jon teased. “Who is he?”

Ben braced himself. “It’s not a—he.”

Jon halted and hastily grabbed hold of Ben’s arm. Molly laughed as Ben was pulled back. “What are you saying?”

“I’d rather not say anything, if you don’t mind.” Ben removed his arm from Jon’s grasp and resumed hasty steps.

“Come on, this is me, your old buddy. What’s going on?”

Ben stopped again, faced Jon head-on, and simply blurted out the entire story of Mrs. Granger’s departure, his need for immediate assistance, how he’d stumbled onto the marriage ad, and the steps leading up to his decision.

“You’re getting a wife? But Miranda hasn’t been gone more than…”

“It’s been well over a year, Jon. Look at me; I’m toting a fifteen-month-old baby all over town when I should be working at my farm.” To that, Molly let loose a giggle, as if she’d fully understood his remark. Jon instinctively reached up and tweaked her petite nose.

“I understand that, but a wife? I mean—someone you don’t even know. Think about it. What if she’s…?”

“Quite homely? Or has a birthmark with hair growing from it? Forget I said that,” Ben added when Jon sent him a clear look of confusion.

“So it’s settled. Did you pray about this?”

They passed a little bakeshop and whiffed the aroma of fresh-baked bread. “Of course I did,” Ben said, annoyed that Jon would even ask. “And God hasn’t exactly thrown any bricks at me to halt my progress.”

“Sometimes all He asks from us is a little common sense, Benjamin.”

“And I happen to think I’m using a lot of it right now. The truth is, I can’t continue in this mode. My daughters need a mother, and that’s that.”

Seeming desperate to talk some sense into him, Jon’s words started running together. “How do you know this—this future bride of yours even wants to be their mother? Most brides don’t want to share their grooms with anyone for a while.”

The subtle hint at intimacy stirred up an uncomfortable ball of nerves in the pit of Ben’s stomach. Funny, he hadn’t actually thought about sharing his bed with her.

“You think too much,” Ben said in rebuttal.

“And you think too little!”

After both men mulled in silence for the next several yards, Jon finally spoke. “I guess I should be happy, you know, about this whole wife situation.”

Ben delivered Jon a look of irritation. “Why is that?”

The young preacher smiled greedily. “At least now I don’t have to wonder whether or not you have eyes for the teacher. Mighty pretty lady she is.”

Ben concentrated all his attention on a mangy looking dog straight ahead. “It wouldn’t take you long to notice that now, would it? Even that preacher’s license in your pocket hasn’t dissuaded you from looking.”

“I’m not blind,” said Jon with an impish grin.

Ben’s eyes followed the mangy dog until it went behind a building and into an alley. “Well, she’s not your type.”

Jon laughed heartily. “Listen to you. I didn’t mean to get your dander up. You’re the one who brought up the matter of marriage.”

“Fine.” The swine was trying to trip him up. “My dander’s not up,” Ben added coolly. “Here’s Emma’s place.”

“Mind if I go in with you?” Jon asked.

Rather than answer him, Ben took the porch steps, knowing Jon would follow.

Jon opened the door for the baby-toting father and slapped Ben on the back. “After you, Romeo.”

The morning went amazingly well. Now that the suspense had ended regarding the infamous Hogsworths, Rufus Baxter, Gus Humphrey, and Clement Bartel, Liza decided to concentrate her efforts on remaining positive and upbeat. For the most part, the young men, all sitting in the back, appropriately slumped over for her benefit, had been rather quiet and self-contained. She attributed it to Jon’s morning prayer. Perhaps she could convince him to come every morning at the start of the day.

She’d determined to keep the first day’s lessons light and fun. They started the day by playing a game with arithmetic problems that even the younger children could solve. Next, they took time to share summer activities and then followed that up with a penmanship lesson, copying a segment of the U.S. Constitution. After a hurried recess break, Liza settled in with one of her much-loved books, one she thought destined to be a classic, Black Beauty. The children sat in rapt wonder as she read the first four chapters of Part One. Even the Hogsworth twins sat up straighter, seeming to set the tone for their counterparts.

By noontime, the clouds had not yet lifted, but as the rain held off, she saw no reason that the children could not go outside once more. After issuing rules regarding eating their lunches at their desks, practicing good manners, and screwing down the lids on the ink wells tightly to eliminate the risk of leakage, she instructed them on the proper behavior for outdoor recess.

To keep the process simple she’d listed each rule on a large slate, using an alphabetical system that she hoped to have them memorize in time. Some of the rules were: Always be kind, Bullying is unacceptable, Come in at the bell, Don’t push and shove, Everyone deserves fair treatment, Fair play is expected, and so on. The children seemed to take to the rules immediately, and even the rowdies at the back of the room sauntered past her with nary a comment.

However, she had the strangest feeling that the quiet waters were only temporary; somehow, the day’s hovering dark clouds seemed an ominous foretelling.

After quickly scarfing down her own lunch, she stepped out the back door and onto the porch landing to watch the children at play. At the far end of the schoolyard, a ball game was in the making, as two captains shouted out players for their teams. Not far away, preteen girls huddled close, giggling and tousling their braids when Thomas Barrington and Andrew Warner made quiet remarks in passing. Liza smiled at the innocence of childhood, recalling her own happy, carefree youth.

Oh, Lord, please help me to do the job I’ve been hired to do here, she quietly prayed. Make me worthy of my calling.

“You shoulda been there, Gus. It was durn near the funniest thing I ever did see,” said a male voice on the other side of the building, immediately putting Liza on alert. The boy’s sentence ended on a high-pitched squeak indicating one of the pitfalls of male puberty.

“Yeah? What’d she do?” asked the voice that could only be identified as Gus Humphrey.

“Screamed to the heavens, she did! Demanded we let ’er out. Even promised not to punish us if we did.” Everyone seemed to get a chuckle out of that.

“’Twas the funniest sight we ever seen,” came another voice almost identical to the first, although this one lacked the squawk of male adolescence.

“How’d you do it?”

“Brought us some rope from Pa’s barn. Worked great to tie the door shut.”

“Musta stank somethin’ awful in there,” said a younger, purer-sounding voice, something in his tone signifying respectful awe.

Liza gasped, then piled both of her hands on top of her mouth.

“How long was she in there?” asked Gus.

“Don’t know exactly. When we come back that night to let ’er out, the door was wide open. Someone must’ve heard her squawkin’ and come to her rescue.”

More laughter followed.

Liza tiptoed down from her perch, careful to move slowly so as not to make the porch steps creak. Advancing to the side of the schoolhouse with particular care, she made for the bend at the building and crept around it, not surprised at all to find the Hogsworth twins and Gus Humphrey. She was surprised, however, to find seven-year-old Todd Thompson standing amidst the huddle. Each boy carried on as if he’d just heard the funniest yarn of the century.

“Well, hello, boys,” Liza greeted just as sweet as sugared jam.

The tight little cluster of boys jumped apart. Their gaping mouths returned no greeting. Instead, their faces went from hearty to glum in less time than it would take to melt a snowflake in June. Little Todd Thompson looked the most surprised, his eyes showing every bit of the whites around his honey-brown pupils.

If she hadn’t been so angry, she might have laughed at the boys’ predicament.

“Lovely day, don’t you think?” Each one nodded in sober silence, lining up as if she’d told them to fall into place on the double. She brushed slowly past them, taking care to look directly into each one’s eyes, noting with dismay that no one but Todd required her to look downward to see into them.