Courting Miss Amsel (12 page)

Chapter
SIXTEEN

Joel held loosely to the wagon traces and hunkered deeper into his jacket. The wind whisking across the plains could cut clear through a man’s skin and freeze his bones. He hoped the youngsters and Miss Amsel wouldn’t be too cold with those windows open.

He snorted, his breath momentarily hanging like a cloud under his nose. Cold had to be better than smelling rotten eggs. When he’d entered the schoolhouse, the stench had nearly knocked him backward. William Sholes must’ve buried those eggs weeks ago to get that much stink out of them. Joel shook his head. It was a devilish trick, but hiding them in the stove was clever – nobody’d know they were there until the heat popped their shells.

Giving the reins a little flick, he pondered William’s penchant for mischief. He’d seen Lloyd Sholes twist his son’s ear for fidgeting in church and scold him for disobeying an order. From all appearances, the boy received proper instruction. William knew how to behave properly, he just chose not to. Joel whispered a quick prayer of gratitude for Johnny and Robert. They could easily be resentful, troublemaking boys, given all they’d lost at such a young age, but they were loving, well-mannered boys instead. He intended to do all he could to make sure they stayed that way, too.

And Miss Amsel would do her part. He glanced down at his arm where her fingers had pressed into his sleeve. Such a prim and proper lady – she probably hadn’t even been aware she’d touched him. But he’d been aware. The touch had gone clean through the thick bulk of his coat sleeve to his flesh, the same way the gusting wind was now doing. But instead of chilling him, her touch had warmed him all the way to his toes.

He was thirty-two years old and smitten for the second time in his life. Without warning, images of Susannah filled his mind. Small, fine boned, with an airy laugh – the way he imagined a fairy might laugh when amused. He’d tumbled head over heels for Susannah Mohler, and she’d liked him back. Until she met his brother John.

Joel’s fists tightened on the reins. He’d loved his brother fiercely, but it had taken a heap of praying to forgive John for stealing Susannah from him. Seeing his brother so happy had helped, even if he’d had to move away to keep from giving in to jealousy. Buying the land in Walnut Hill, miles from his father’s farm in Geneva, had given him the space he’d needed to let his broken heart heal.

He gave the reins a tug, guiding the horse to turn in at his lane. His little log house waited, plain in appearance but welcoming all the same. His place of refuge, of peacefulness. Eagerness to go in, to sit in front of the fireplace and warm up, made him snap the reins. The horse broke into a trot.

He drew the horse to a stop outside the barn and hopped down. Releasing the horse from the rigging, he heaved a big sigh and admitted aloud, “Susannah wasn’t meant to be mine.” The horse blinked at him, and Joel rubbed the animal’s nose. “Nope. God surely has somethin’ else in mind for me. And I’m wonderin’ if it might be . . .”

He didn’t allow himself to finish the thought out loud. He’d lost Susannah to John. The town might very well lose Edythe Amsel to another school if the Sholes boy kept up his tomfoolery. He shouldn’t set his hopes on courting the schoolmarm. But as he led the horse into its stall and forked hay into the feeding box, he couldn’t help wondering how much more inviting his little house would be if a wife – if Edythe Amsel waited on the other side of the sturdy plank door.

Edythe burst through the front door of Luthenia’s home, propelled by a stout wind. The mingled aromas of beef and vegetables reached her nose, and she inhaled, allowing the scent to chase away the remembrance of the one that had clung to the classroom all day despite the wind coursing through the windows.

Luthenia stuck her head around the corner. “You’re home earlier’n usual – thought you’d stay an’ do some cleanin’, since it’s Friday.”

“I’ll go over tomorrow morning and do the necessary mopping and dusting.”

Surely by tomorrow the rotten egg smell would be completely gone. She’d left two windows cracked, just in case. Placing her books on the table beside the door, she started to unbutton her coat.

“Before you get yourself all undone, could’ja run to the mercantile?”

Edythe didn’t want to refuse Luthenia’s request, but the unpleasant day had exhausted her. Besides that, she was ready to be out of the cold wind.

“I’m out of tea,” Luthenia continued. “Now that the weather’s turned wintry, I rely on a cup o’ hot tea of a mornin’ – it unstoves my old bones.” She sighed. “Meant to go myself, but I started cuttin’ squares out of some old clothes – thought to make a little quilt for the comin’ Scheebeck baby – an’ the time got away from me.”

Edythe smiled. Luthenia had the busiest hands of anyone she’d ever known. How could she refuse a favor for such a giving woman? She rebuttoned her coat. “I’d be glad to.”

Luthenia disappeared around the corner, and Edythe heard a kettle lid clang. Her landlady’s voice carried from the kitchen. “While you’re there, you could check the mailboxes.”

Even though Luthenia made a daily trek to the mercantile in search of a response to the letters Edythe had sent to her siblings, asking them to keep Missy, the trips had been in vain. Could her letters have gotten lost in the mail? Such things did happen. She didn’t want to think her brothers and sister were ignoring her. From long ago, she heard her mother’s voice:
“Don’t borrow trouble, Edythe.”
Tears pricked behind Edythe’s eyes. If only Mama hadn’t died, Missy would have a secure home.

Edythe called, “Where’s Missy? Maybe she’d like to bundle up and go with me.”

Luthenia bustled back through the doorway and into the parlor, wiping her hands on her ever-present apron. “She’s upstairs. I think she’d welcome the chance to get out. Been cooped up here with me for weeks.” She quirked one eyebrow. “Doc deemed her well enough to be out an’ about. Kinda surprised you didn’t take her to school with you.”

“Not knowing whether she’d be staying, I didn’t think it wise to start a routine.” Edythe moved past Luthenia to the base of the stairs. “Missy?”

Floorboards creaked, and then the bedroom door squeaked open. “What?”

“I’m walking to the mercantile for some tea. Put on your coat and come with me.” Edythe took care to avoid using a demanding tone, hoping Missy’s hackles wouldn’t rise. To Edythe’s relief, her sister came down the stairs with her coat draped over her arm. Edythe greeted her sister with a smile. “It’s chilly, but I thought you might enjoy a short excursion.”

Missy shrugged disinterestedly, but she slipped on her coat and buttoned it to her throat. Edythe wrapped her own scarf over Missy’s head. Satisfied that her sister would be warm, she gestured to the front door.

The two walked elbow to elbow down the street. The cold air stung Edythe’s nose. She heard Missy sniff a time or two, as well, but to her credit, the girl never complained. They reached the mercantile, and Missy scurried inside, releasing a little shiver. She went directly to the potbellied stove in the middle of the store and aimed her backside at the grated door. Edythe moved to the counter and rang the little bell that sat on the corner of the scarred wood top. Several minutes passed before feet pounded from upstairs, and Mr. Scheebeck burst through the doorway at the back of the store.

He scowled at the front door. “Thought I’d put out the
CLOSED
sign . . .” He ran his hand over his thin hair, smoothing the wild wisps into place, and then spun on Edythe. “What’cha need, Miss Amsel?”

Accustomed to a businesslike but personable demeanor, his brusqueness took Edythe by surprise. “I came for tea, and to check our mail cubbies.”

“Tea . . . tea . . .” He fumbled around on the shelves for a few seconds, his hands clumsier than Edythe had ever seen. Finally he located a box of tea leaves. Plunking it on the counter, he barked, “That it?”

Edythe frowned, concerned. “Mr. Scheebeck, are you all right?”

His eyes darted toward the back of the store. “What? Yes. Me? I’m fine. It’s my wife. It’s . . .” He gulped twice, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his skinny neck. Leaning close, he whispered, “It’s her time.”

It took a moment for his meaning to soak in. Then Edythe jerked upright. “Oh!” But the baby wasn’t due until late next month. Involuntarily, her gaze swung to the ceiling. Somewhere in the rooms above the mercantile, Mrs. Scheebeck labored to bring forth a child. Fear smote Edythe, followed by a longing to offer a prayer for a problem-free delivery and a healthy baby. She should hurry back and tell Luthenia so her landlady could pray for Mrs. Scheebeck and the new babe.

“We’ll get out of your way, then. Would you like me to put out the
CLOSED
sign?”

“Yes, yes, that’s fine. Good-bye, now.” The man scurried around the corner as he spoke.

Missy dashed to Edythe’s side and tugged on her coat sleeve. “Is his wife having a baby?”

Edythe nodded. “I wonder if I should take Lewis and Jenny to Luthenia’s with me so they’re not underfoot.”
And if – Heaven forbid – a tragedy occurs, they won’t be here to witness it.
She tipped her head, listening intently. Not so much as a peep of childish noise reached her ears. Perhaps Mr. Scheebeck had already shuffled the children off somewhere.

“Edie, can we go now?” Missy sounded irritated.

Edythe sighed and pocketed the little box of tea. “Very well. Let me – oh!” She yanked the box from her pocket and stared at it. “He didn’t record my purchase.”

Missy snickered. “He probably won’t even remember you were here.”

Edythe tended to agree, but she wouldn’t walk out the door without pledging to pay for the tea. Feeling like a burglar, she scrounged under the counter and found a piece of paper and a pencil stub. She wrote a note reminding Mr. Scheebeck of her visit and placed it near the cashbox under the counter.

Missy put her hand on her hip. “Done now?”

“I must check the mail.” Edythe headed for the cubbies in the back corner of the mercantile.

“That eager to be rid of me, huh?”

Underneath the belligerence in her sister’s voice, Edythe heard a note of melancholy. She turned slowly. “Missy, no matter what you might think, I’m not eager to be rid of you. I love you. I want what’s best for you.”

“Then, why can’t we go back to Omaha?” Missy’s lower lip poked out petulantly. “You could teach there, and I can be near my friends. Do you
have
to teach in this town?”

Edythe had chosen Walnut Hill to separate herself from Omaha. From Pa. From all the unhappy memories. “I made a commitment to the town council and to the children of the town. I can’t go back on my word.”

Missy folded her arms over her chest, her brows crunched downward. “So you’re just going to ship me off to someone else?”

Edythe closed her eyes for a moment, gathering patience. “We have to find a place for you to live, Missy.”

“But I want to be with you.” The girl’s expression turned pleading.

Edythe sighed, wishing she had the means to care for her sister.

“Too bad I’m not a boy,” Missy continued. “I could do like Albert and Loren, an’ just go off on my own. They were only fifteen when they left home, an’ nobody complained.” She chewed on her thumbnail, a sign of distress. “Then I wouldn’t be a bother to anybody. Nobody worries over boys.”

Edythe wrapped her sister in a hug. “I worry over our brothers, just as I worry over you. But boys are usually more independent, and it’s easier for them to find honorable work. Girls are . . . different.” Edythe shuddered to think of the jobs some young girls took in the big city just to eat and keep a roof over their heads.

Missy huffed in Edythe’s ear, but she didn’t try to pull away.

Edythe gave her another squeeze, then stepped back. “Let me check the mail cubbies and then we need to hurry back to Luthenia’s. That stew is probably scorched by now.”

A slight grin creased Missy’s face. “She’s a good cook, isn’t she? Almost as good as you.”

So rarely did anyone praise her cooking, Edythe paused for a moment to savor the compliment. Then, with a smile, she dashed to the mail cubbies and peeked in the boxes. Luthenia’s was empty, but a lone, thick envelope waited in Edythe’s box. She pulled it out, her heart pounding. Justus’s bold, messy script filled the front of the envelope.

Missy scooted to Edythe’s side and peeked at the envelope. “From Justus?”

Edythe nodded.

“Well, why are you just standing there? Open it.”

Edythe wasn’t sure why Missy sounded so eager, but she automatically followed the command. Her hands quivering, she tore the flap loose and pulled out a bulky wad of folded pages. She unfolded them and glanced at the variety of handwritings – a missive from each of her siblings. Her heart pounding with hope, she began to read. Missy leaned against Edythe’s arm, reading too as Edythe whisked through each page.

As soon as they’d read the last letter, their gazes collided. Missy appeared smug, but Edythe felt certain her expression reflected disappointment.

“They all said no,” Missy confirmed.

Edythe nodded, folding the letters again.