Courting Miss Amsel (15 page)

Chapter
TWENTY

“Thank you for bringing treats to share.” Edythe gave Mrs. Sterbinz’s hand a warm squeeze. “Everyone enjoyed the Swedish bread braids.” Edythe’s tongue still tingled pleasantly from the flavor of cinnamon.

“You are very welcome, Miss Amsel.” Mrs. Sterbinz smiled shyly, much like her daughter often did. “Martha and I enjoy baking together.”

“She’s as good at baking as she is at schoolwork.” Edythe slipped Martha’s grade report into the woman’s hands. “Highest marks in all subjects.” She sent a warm smile in Martha’s direction. The girl flushed bright pink.

Terrill Sterbinz stepped behind Martha and reached past his sister’s shoulder to take Edythe’s hand. “She’s got a fine teacher. Thanks for all your hard work, Miss Amsel.” The man winked.

Edythe’s cheeks heated. She jerked her hand free of Terrill’s and glanced down the straggling line of remaining families. Had anyone witnessed the man’s brazen behavior? Her throat tight, she squeaked out, “Merry Christmas.” The Sterbinz family moved on, and others took their place.

Edythe greeted each family with a smile and expressed her appreciation for their attendance. She handed parents grade reports, offering a kind word about every child – even William Sholes, who achieved excellent grades despite his misbehavior. Her heart swelled as she mentioned Louisa’s tender spirit, Jane’s hardworking attitude, or Andrew’s advanced mathematical abilities. Occasionally her voice quavered with emotion. Could her year with them really be half over? It had gone far too quickly.

Edythe forced herself not to cringe when the Libolt family stepped forward. She fully expected criticism from Mr. Libolt. But he gave her hand a quick, impersonal shake, then stepped aside without a word. Stunned by his uncharacteristic silence, Edythe gave a little start when Mrs. Libolt touched her arm.

“Hank and me both enjoyed the program.” The woman spoke so softly and hesitantly, Edythe had to tip forward to hear her voice. “Especially the singing. Been a long time since we heard ‘Stille Nacht.’ Took us back to when we were young’uns.” She closed her eyes for a moment, a sweet smile curving her chapped lips, and Edythe’s gaze flicked to Mr. Libolt. She tried to imagine the taciturn man as a child singing “Stille Nacht,” but the image wouldn’t form. Mrs. Libolt shifted her youngest child, Claude, to her other hip and went on, “You did a fine job tonight.”

Edythe nodded her appreciation for the kind words, making certain she met Mr. Libolt’s gaze directly. Although he didn’t smile in return, neither did he frown. She slipped the Libolt children’s grade reports into their mother’s hand. Little Will and Anna barreled against her for a hug, but nine-year-old Henry opted for a handshake. After wishing her a merry Christmas, the Libolts moved on. Still smiling, Edythe shifted to greet the next family. Her heart somersaulted in her chest when she found her hand captured by Joel Townsend’s.

“Good program, Miss Amsel.”

She’d heard similar words from many other parents, but coming from this man, they meant more. She couldn’t understand why, but his compliment weaseled its way to the center of her soul and lingered. “Th-thank you.” She glanced at Johnny and Robert, who stood at their uncle’s side, beaming up at her. “The boys did a fine job. I was proud of them.”

“It was fun!” Robert rocked in place. “I wanna do a program every month.”

Johnny shook his head at his brother. “Don’t be silly. Christmas don’t come every month.”

Robert hunched his shoulders. “Oh, guess that’s right . . .”

Edythe laughed and tugged Robert into a hug. “If everyone studies as hard the last half of the year as you did the first half, perhaps we’ll have an end-of-the-year program. Would you like that?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Go get your coats an’ things, boys,” Mr. Townsend said, and the boys shot off. He sent a quick glance over his shoulder. “Others’re waitin’, so I don’t want to take too much of your time, but . . . you did fine tonight. Real fine.”

Her lips trembled with her smile. “Thank you, Mr. Townsend. The children worked very hard.”

“I’m sure they did, but I wasn’t speakin’ of the children.” He risked another quick glance behind him, then lowered his voice. “You brought everybody together tonight . . . gave ’em a reason to be proud of their kids an’ proud of the school. You did real good, Miss Amsel.”

Edythe’s face flooded with fire. She knew she would never forget his words, his expression, or the way he made her feel. Competent, talented, wanted. Her chest ached with the desire to thank him for recognizing the depth of her care for the children. But her voice seemed to have fled. All she could do was offer a nod and hope he read the appreciation in her eyes. His expression softened, and somehow she knew he understood.

He started to move on, and she remembered the boys’ grade reports. “Wait!” The word burst out, and he sent her a startled glance. She waved the reports. “The boys’ . . .” Her voice cracked.

He grinned and reached for the reports. His fingers brushed hers as he took the folded pages from her hand, and a delightful tremor traveled from her fingertips all the way to her scalp. She giggled, the sound similar to the one she’d heard leave Missy’s lips when the girl flirted with William Sholes. She clamped her hand over her mouth. He gave another dimpled grin and then clumped away.

Ducking her head, Edythe brought herself under control and then managed to turn her attention to the Wolcotts. But even as she hugged Ada and praised the little girl’s tremendous progress in reading, her stomach trembled. She’d grown to love these children, yes, but a part of her recognized the stirrings of love for someone else, too. And that feeling had no place in her heart.

“There you are, Joel.” Wally Scheebeck pushed a crate across the counter. “Looks to all be there.”

Joel peeked in the box, grinning. Wouldn’t the boys be surprised to find toys under the tree on Christmas morning? They’d pored over the Montgomery Ward catalog, circling nearly every item on the six pages committed to play items. Not being a wealthy man, he couldn’t indulge the boys’ every wish, but he thought they’d be satisfied with iron mechanical banks, tin soldiers, and a chariot pulled by a tin horse painted in similar colors to their own dependable Jody.

“Lucky they came today,” Wally said, swishing his palm across the wood counter to remove bits of sawdust. “Tomorrow’s Sunday an’ the day after that’s Christmas – if they hadn’t come today, you’d have some disappointed young’uns.”

“True enough.” Joel balanced the crate against his hip. “They’d still have gifts to open – I got ’em each a new shirt an’ britches, an’ I’ve got apples, peanuts, and a striped stick candy for their stockings. But that’s not the same as toys.”

“Nope. Runnin’ the store like I do, my young’uns seem to think every toy on the shelf is meant for them rather than for payin’ customers.” Then he chuckled. “ ’Course, at Christmas, it’s hard not to indulge ’em.”

If Joel had endless cash on hand, he’d indulge Johnny and Robert. Probably spoil them good. Maybe it was best he had to limit his spending.

“Will we see you an’ the boys at the church Christmas service?”

“ ’Course. Wouldn’t miss it.” Joel looked forward to this service every year, when the whole town came together to hear the Christmas story read from the Bible, sing carols until their voices were hoarse, and then visit. Although every church service held meaning for Joel, the Christmas one was extra special with its focus on the Gift sent into the world by God so long ago. “Will your family be there?”

“Sure will.” Wally’s chest puffed. “It’ll be the first time to take baby Wallace out, y’know.”

“Doc gave the go-ahead, huh?” Joel figured the women in town would flock around Mrs. Scheebeck and that new baby. Women’s fascination with babies didn’t make much sense to him – newborns were about as pretty as baby birds and didn’t do much more than cry and sleep. But women cooed and carried on like babies were the most clever thing around. Would he feel differently if the babe were his own?

“Doc says it’s fine ’long as we bundle him up good an’ don’t let nobody cough on him.” Wally’s grin stretched across his thin face. “He’s really somethin’, Joel. Growin’ like a weed – still tiny, for a month-old baby, but doin’ good.” The man heaved a sigh. “Our prayers’ve been answered for sure. Need to get him to church an’ tell God how thankful we are to have him.”

For a moment, Joel experienced a pang of jealousy. But he pushed the emotion aside and bounced the crate. “It’ll be good to see you all in church again. I best be gettin’ back. I left the boys alone, and Robert gets fidgety if I’m gone too long.”

Joel swung open the door and nearly plowed headlong into Miss Amsel, who bustled across the boardwalk with her head down. “Whoa!” The word left his lips involuntarily, and she looked up, surprise widening her eyes.

“Excuse me!” She clutched mittened hands to her throat.

Joel chuckled. His breath hung heavy on the crisp air. “No harm done. Here . . .” He held the door for her. “Get on in there out of the cold.”

But she remained on the porch and stared at him, standing so still he wondered if her shoes had sent down roots. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought she was looking at a ghost.

“Miss Amsel?”

She gave a little start. “Please forgive me. My mind . . . it wandered for a moment.”

He laughed. “Christmas’ll do that to a person.” He released the door, and it slapped into its frame. “You doin’ some last-minute Christmas buyin’?”

She rubbed her lips together and looked off to the side. Her mind sure was wandering. What had her so lost in thought? Finally, her head bobbed, shifting the knitted scarf that covered her hair. “Yes. Well, actually no.”

Joel chuckled softly, puzzled by her strange response.

She grinned sheepishly. “I suppose it is last-minute, but I haven’t done any shopping at all yet. I-I’ve been so busy at school.”

“Ah.” Her dedication to her students continued to impress him. “Well, last-minute’s better than not at all.”

She hung her head. “I hope my family echoes your sentiments.”

“How’s that?”

When she looked at him, he read remorse in her pinched expression. “My first year away, and I didn’t mail any packages home. Although our Christmases were never elaborate, I always tried to do . . . something. They’ll surely think I’ve forgotten all about them.”

Joel was struck once again by how little he knew about the schoolmarm. The town council had announced she’d come from Omaha, and town gossip had it she’d been jilted by a beau, which was why she wouldn’t let any men get close to her. He knew she’d lost her mother when she was younger and he suspected she held a lot of sadness over it. But most of her life remained a secret.

He braved a question. “Got a big family, do you?”

“Pretty big.”

“They all back in Omaha?”

Two town ladies he didn’t know well bustled up the walk.

They smiled and chirped, “Merry Christmas!” Joel returned their greeting, and Miss Amsel shifted aside, allowing them to enter the mercantile. He expected her to follow them in – it was cold out here on the porch, and she had shopping to do – but she stayed outside. However, she kept her face angled away from him, presenting her profile. He didn’t mind the view. Gave him a chance to examine her without her knowing it.

She spoke in a distant voice, almost as if she was talking to herself. “My brothers and sister – besides Missy, of course – reside in Omaha. As does my father.”

Joel had only one brother, and he was dead. His folks and his aunts and uncles were gone, too, which left just him, Johnny, and Robert. Much as he loved the boys, he’d give most anything to be part of a big family Christmas like the ones they’d had with his relatives when he was small. “Kind of lonely, bein’ without family this time of year,” he mused.

“And sometimes it can be a blessing.”

Joel wanted to ask her what she meant, but the bulky box resting on his hip bone reminded him he’d left the boys alone far too long. He inched toward his wagon. “I need to get home. I reckon the boys an’ me will see you in church on Christmas, but just in case we don’t get a chance to talk to you, have a merry Christmas.”

Her brow crinkled as if she was confused. Then she offered a small nod. “Thank you. Merry Christmas to you. Please greet the boys for me.”

“Will do.” He plopped the crate in the back of the wagon, then tipped his hat. By the time he’d settled on the high wagon seat, she’d disappeared inside the store. He flicked the reins, setting Jody into motion. Her comment about it sometimes being a blessing to be far from family haunted him. Whatever kind of life she’d had before coming to Walnut Hill, it must not have been pleasant. Sympathy squeezed his chest, coupled with a strong desire to make things better for her.

His heart skipped a beat as an idea settled in. Clearly, Miss Amsel needed a family. And he had a ready-made family in need of a wife and mother to make it complete. He and Miss Amsel were perfect for each other.

She just didn’t know it yet.

Chapter
TWENTY-ONE

Edythe moved slowly between the mercantile’s aisles, fingering items. The usually well-stocked shelves looked picked over, mute evidence that many shoppers had already made their Christmas selections. The women who’d entered a few minutes ahead of her kept Mr. Scheebeck busy with a lengthy grocery order, giving her time to peruse the shelves and select Christmas gifts for Missy and Luthenia.

Unbidden memories from past Christmases clouded her mind. She’d done her best to make sure each of her siblings had something to open on Christmas morning, but the gifts were always handmade or practical items – never the things the children wished for. Her part-time job as a clerk and Pa’s odd jobs when he felt up to working hadn’t allowed for extras. She’d always felt guilty at Christmastime, as if she’d let everyone down. Surely there had been happy Christmases when Mama was alive and they all lived out on the farm – the days before Pa’s bitterness fell like a thick wool blanket over their lives – but those times were buried under too many years of unpleasantness.

She rounded the corner, her gaze drifting to the window where Mr. Townsend’s wagon had stood just a few minutes ago. She’d been thinking of him – thinking of his kindness – when he’d stepped out of the mercantile as if stepping directly out of her thoughts. Unnerving. Yet she’d stood and visited with him. Had opened up a small piece of herself to him.

The dread she’d experienced the night of the school program returned. The man was weaving himself into the fiber of her life. But she couldn’t allow it. She could
not
give her heart to a man, no matter how handsome and kind he might be.

Mama had told her love was a wondrous thing, and Edythe admitted a part of her thrilled at the glorious feelings Mr. Townsend conjured within her. Never had her heart felt so light and fluttery as when he praised her. But beneath the warmth of blossoming affection resided an icicle of fear. If he felt the way she suspected, and if he asked to court her, she’d have to say no.

Marrying Joel Townsend meant becoming an instant mother to someone else’s children. She’d already given fourteen years of her life to raising five children not her own – and she was still responsible for Missy. In addition, marrying meant she’d have to give up teaching, the dream she’d had for so long, the dream she’d only now achieved. Her heart plummeted as she faced the truth. She wanted freedom. No matter how appealing she found Joel Townsend – no matter how endearing his nephews – she did not want to be a surrogate mother to the orphaned boys and she did not want to give up her career. Somehow she must detach herself emotionally from Mr. Townsend.

“Miss Amsel?” Mr. Scheebeck bustled up beside her, brushing the front of his work apron with both palms. “You doin’ all right?”

Although she couldn’t honestly say she was all right – her emotions were tied into knots – she flashed a halfhearted smile and set aside her inner reflections. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“All right. Holler if you need me.” He ambled back to the counter as the door opened and another customer entered on a gust of chilly air.

With Mr. Scheebeck busy again, Edythe forced herself to complete her selections. She preferred personal gifts, but the lack of merchandise limited her options. For Luthenia she chose two lace-embellished handkerchiefs and an ivory hair comb. The creamy ivory would look lovely against the older woman’s brown-and-gray-streaked hair. Missy’s recent infatuation with a boy proved she was growing up, so Edythe selected a bottle of lilac-scented toilet water, several lengths of ribbon, and a package of hairpins. Usually Missy wore her long hair down her back in unruly waves, but she was old enough to begin pinning it up. They might even have fun doing each other’s hair.

After she paid for her selections, she slid a fat envelope across the counter to the mercantile owner. “I need to post this.” She hoped Justus would forgive her mixing Christmas wishes with a request, but she needed him to ship Missy’s belongings to Walnut Hill. If her sister was staying, she’d need more clothing and other personal effects.

Mr. Scheebeck squinted at the envelope. “Won’t go out now ’til the day after Christmas.”

“That’s fine.” She followed the man to the corner that housed the post office and watched him don his little blue hat. He found a stamp and pasted it into place for her while she checked her mail cubby. No letters waited for her, and for a moment, disappointment tried to take hold. Then she scolded herself for the silly thoughts. Hadn’t she left Omaha to find freedom? Then why feel disheartened when her brothers and sister did not send her Christmas greetings?

In the letter to Justus, she’d included messages for her other brothers, Albert and Loren, and her sister Frances. But she didn’t enclose a note for Pa. He wouldn’t look at it, so there was no sense in wasting precious paper writing to him.

“All stamped an’ in the bag, ready to go out on the twenty-sixth.” Mr. Scheebeck returned his postman hat to its nail and swished his palms together. “You want me to wrap any of them things you bought? I still have some nice paper left – be glad to fancy them up for you.”

“That would be very kind of you, Mr. Scheebeck. Thank you.”

The man wrapped her gifts in bright-colored paper and bound each with red or green ribbon. Edythe marveled that her simple gifts could look so elegant. The packages bedecked, he shook out a discarded gunny sack and stacked them inside it. “So nobody can peek ’til you’re ready,” he said with a chuckle.

Edythe started to thank him, but he bent over behind the counter, disappearing from view. When he emerged, he held an oblong wooden box sporting a huge red ribbon. He pushed it across the counter to her. “This here is for you. Chocolates. Ordered ’em in from Chicago.”

Edythe took the box, stunned into silence. She’d sold candy when she’d worked at the store in Omaha, but she rarely got to taste it. “What an extravagant gift!”

“Young’uns insisted on it. They think an awful lot of you, Miss Amsel.” His voice turned gravelly, as if he’d embarrassed himself. “Hope you’ll like it.”

Edythe blinked, fighting the sting of tears. “I’m sure I will. Please thank Lewis and Jenny for me.”

“Will do.”

His reply mimicked Mr. Townsend’s, bringing the man back to the forefront of her thoughts. “G-good day, Mr. Scheebeck. Merry Christmas.” Edythe tucked the box of chocolates under her arm, lifted the gunny sack, and hurried outside. She turned her attention to her surroundings, trying to chase away the image of Joel Townsend that plagued her mind.

During her time in the mercantile, clouds had rolled in. They shielded the sun, making the day feel much colder. She shivered and sped her pace. The air smelled crisp and clean, and she walked briskly, her feet crunching on firm-packed snow and her breath hovering around her head in wisps of white that billowed and dissipated. Her gaze drifted across the rows of houses where lanterns glowed behind lace curtains. Tiny, quiet Walnut Hill . . . a lovely town.

A family town.

Her feet slowed. Joel’s face once again loomed in her memory. Blue eyes fringed with thick lashes. That boyish dimple that appeared when he smiled. A handsome, clean-shaven, sincere face. A lump formed in Edythe’s throat. If things were different – if she were different – she’d be flattered to have a man like Joel Townsend look at her with tenderness in his gaze. But things weren’t different, and she couldn’t accept his attentions.

She forced herself to resume a swift pace. As she rounded the corner to Luthenia’s house, she made a decision that stung more fiercely than the cold air that nipped her nose. It would be impossible to separate herself from Joel and his nephews if she remained in this little community. If she couldn’t bring her errant heart under control, she and Missy would have to leave Walnut Hill.

“Why do we have to go to church today?” Missy gave her long brown tresses furious swipes with Edythe’s brush. “It’s not Sunday.”

“The town has a special Christmas service.” Edythe pinned the cameo her mother had given her for her thirteenth birthday to the banded collar at her throat. She touched the ivory profile. At times like these, she missed her mother so badly her chest felt empty. “Luthenia said everyone goes – it’s a tradition in Walnut Hill.”

“But it isn’t
our
tradition.” Missy smacked the brush onto the dresser and whirled to face Edythe. “So why do
we
have to go?”

Edythe drew in a breath, searching for patience. “It’s the town’s tradition, and we are part of the town.”
For now
, she added silently. “Besides, it won’t hurt us to go. Here.” She plucked a ribbon from the assortment she’d given Missy earlier that morning. “Let me tie your hair back – it’ll show off the pretty embroidered collar Luthenia made for you.”

Missy turned around but folded her arms over her chest. “You said everyone goes?”

Edythe’s hands paused in brushing her sister’s hair into a tail. She met Missy’s gaze in the mirror. A conniving glint entered her sister’s eyes as she gave a nod.

“I suppose I can go, then.”

Edythe’s fingers trembled slightly as she tied the ribbon in a neat bow. “Does your sudden interest in attending have anything to do with a certain young man?”

Missy giggled. “It sure isn’t because I want to listen to Reverend Coker!” She touched her hair, smiling at her own image, then spun around and made a sour face. “Church is boring, Edie. And it doesn’t seem fair to have to go on Christmas.”

Sinking onto the edge of the bed, Edythe caught Missy’s hand and tugged her down next to her. “Missy, about church . . . I know I didn’t take you much when you were young, and I think I made a mistake.” Edythe considered Luthenia’s peaceful countenance, her giving ways. The older woman reminded Edythe of her mother. “Mama took great stock in attending services, and before she got so sick she always took us. But after she died – ”

Missy’s lips pinched tight, her gaze narrowing.

Edythe ignored her sister’s rebellious look and continued. “It was easier to stay home. But church was important to Mama, so I think it should be important to us.”

“Forever? Or just while we’re stuck in this town?”

Stifling a sigh, Edythe put her arm around Missy’s shoulders. “For at least while we’re here. We can decide later if we want to continue going somewhere else.”

Missy shrugged, dislodging Edythe’s arm. She bounced up and checked her image again, tipping her head one way and then the other. “This collar is babyish. Do I have to wear it?”

Edythe nearly choked. Luthenia must have spent hours meticulously embroidering the tiny forget-me-nots and trailing vines on the crisp white muslin. Couldn’t Missy appreciate the older woman’s efforts? “You’ll hurt Luthenia’s feelings if you don’t.”

Another huff left Missy’s lips. Edythe was growing weary of Missy’s dramatic expulsions of breath. “All right. But just for church,” her sister said. That devious grin twitched at her cheeks again. “I’ll tell her it’s too nice to wear while I’m eating – I might soil it.” She flounced out of the room before Edythe could form a reprimand.

Rolling her eyes heavenward, Edythe wondered when Missy had become so self-centered. She couldn’t remember behaving so inconsiderately at her sister’s age. The thought drew her up short. She’d had no opportunity for selfishness – responsibility had been thrust upon her far too early. Her irritation melted away. She would allow Missy a bit of self-indulgence. The time to grow up would come soon enough. And being around Luthenia and the churchgoing members of Walnut Hill would provide good examples for Missy to follow.

She reached for her gift from Luthenia – a Bible bound in black leather with gold gilt letters. She hadn’t wanted to accept such an elaborate gift, but the older woman had waved away all her arguments. Then she’d teasingly said, “ ’Sides, I wrote in it. Can’t send it back!”

Edythe opened the front cover and read the message again.
The Bible that is falling apart usually belongs to someone who isn’t.
She puzzled over the odd transcription. It didn’t make sense to her, but Luthenia sometimes possessed a strange sense of humor. She had no time to decipher it now – she needed to head downstairs or she’d make them all late to the Christmas service.

Hugging the Bible to her chest, she bustled down the stairs.