Carol Ritten Smith (20 page)

“Heck, thought maybe you might have changed your mind.”

“I haven’t!” She pushed past him to walk away, but Lewie kept up.

“Gonna be Valentine’s Day soon. Got yourself a sweetheart yet, ’cause I’m available.”

Miranda halted and nearly snorted. “You? Listen, if the only two men left on earth were you and a bald headed old boar with green teeth, I’d gladly choose him. Now leave me be!” She marched away.

Lewie turned and stomped off in the other direction. He kicked a frozen horse apple across the street. Then he remembered something, which in itself is a revelation for Lewie Hanks. He remembered Pickard’s strategy.
Poetry.
Maybe Miranda wanted a poem or two. Suddenly Lewie knew what to do — he’d send Miranda some love poems. Problem was, he was darn sure he couldn’t write one on his own. Why he could only think of one word that rhymed with ‘Tucker’ and Lewie wasn’t sure it sounded romantic enough.

Maybe he could get hold of a book of sonnets from the school and copy out a few short ones. That’s what he would do! He’d better rush though. He was mighty slow at printing and he only had a couple days.

• • •

Valentine’s Day was so cold Beth allowed her students to stay inside during the noon hour if they so chose. A group of girls circled round the stove, intently staring at its flat top. Occasionally they erupted into giggles.

Curious, Beth went to investigate. In the middle of the stovetop, two apple seeds bounced around like water droplets on a hot griddle.

“Whatever are you doing, girls?”

Inga answered for the group. “One apple seed is a boy and the other is a girl and if they bump into each other it means they are going to get married and have lots of children.”

“I see,” Beth said smiling. It didn’t take a teacher’s certificate to know the girls had named one seed Tom and they were taking turns being the other seed. Ever since the storm, all the girls were hopelessly enamored with him and his charming ways.

She stared at the two seeds on the hot stovetop, and for a lark imagined she was the second seed. The seeds jumped about, popped toward each other, collided and then bounced quickly apart again. The girls giggled uncontrollably while Beth blushed candy-apple red.

“Such nonsense,” she managed, though barely able to conceal her smile as she returned to her desk. Not that she would ever marry Tom. Heavens no! She couldn’t risk it. And children? She had Bill and Davy to take care of. They were plenty.

• • •

That afternoon, Tom shut the shop down early so he could see if Beth needed help decorating for this evening’s Valentine’s dance.

All in all, he thought things were progressing well between them. Tonight he hoped to advance their relationship. He had it all worked out. After the dance, he’d walk her home and this time when he kissed her goodnight, he would show her there was more to kissing than pressing two sets of lips together and some labored breathing. He intended to use his tongue, just a gentle probe until she got the feel for it, and then, if she seemed receptive and venturesome, he’d tease her tongue until she invaded his mouth with hers. The mere thought of it aroused him.

That arousal was quickly squelched when he stepped off the boardwalk at North’s bank and saw Lewie Hanks leave the schoolyard. Tom bristled.
What the hell was Hanks doing at the school?
Something in his gut told him it couldn’t be good. Worried that the reprobate may have harmed Beth, Tom ran to the school and took the three steps going into the schoolhouse in one leap.

• • •

Beth hummed as she cleaned the day’s lessons off the board. She turned and smiled warmly when Tom burst through the door.

“Oh, hello. I didn’t expect you so early. What a fun day! The children spent all afternoon cutting hearts out of crepe paper.” She pointed around the room at all the decorations. “Doesn’t it look pretty?”

“I just saw Hanks leave. What did he want?”

Beth set the brush on the ledge and dusted off her hands. “He was returning a book.”

“A book? What kind of book? I didn’t even know he could read.”

“Yes, I have to admit I was taken aback, too. He borrowed a book of sonnets. Imagine that, would you!”

Tom snorted.

“Oh, Tom, you should have seen how embarrassed he was when I asked him if he enjoyed poetry.”

“That guy is crazy. I don’t want him around you.”

In such a happy mood, Beth paid little heed to Tom’s warning. “Well, as I said, he was just returning a book.”

“What makes him think he can borrow books from the school?”

“Tom, you know people ask to borrow books from the school all the time.”

“Not people like Hanks. He’s sick in the head. He’s dangerous,” Tom growled.

“Well, I never
felt
threatened. Besides he was here for less than a minute. What could possibly happen in that short of time?”

“Beth, you’re so damn naïve!” he scoffed.

Beth felt her temper flare. “I am
not
naïve!”

“A man like Hanks? You here all alone? There’s no telling what he might have done.”

“But he didn’t and I really can’t — ”

“If he ever comes around here again, I want you to leave immediately. You hear me?”

Beth was furious.
How dare he order me about as if I were his property. He has no right telling me what to do!
She walked right up to him and said, “Now, you listen to me, Tom Carver.” She poked his chest with her finger. “I’m a grown woman and I make my own decisions about who I do or do not see.” Another poke. “And what Mr. Hanks chooses to do has nothing to do with me.” Poke. “If it bothers you that he comes over here, then tell him!” Poke. “Not me!” Poke.

“Don’t worry, I will!” he growled.

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Tom slammed the door behind him with such finality Beth thought her heart might stop.

She held her breath. Surely Tom would come back through the door with a big grin on his face saying it was all an elaborate joke. But he didn’t and now her lovely afternoon of making hearts and dreaming romantic thoughts was ruined … and it was all Tom’s fault.

Tears threatened and she blinked them back. She pulled open her desk drawer and picked up a lacy, red paper heart. “Do you want to know what else we did today, Tom Carver?” she said with no one but the four walls to listen. “We made Valentines. This is the one I made for you.” She held up the dainty heart in both hands and carefully tore it in two. Then she burst into tears, for it felt as if Tom had done the very same to her own heart.

• • •

Tom started in on himself before he’d made it to the bottom step.
You jackass! What’s the matter with you, talking to her like that? She did nothing wrong and you lit into her as if it was her fault that Hanks was at the school. She was happy before you arrived and now she’s mad as a hornet. You need to apologize. You need to turn around, march up those steps and beg for her forgiveness.

His foot was on the first step when he heard someone call his name. He spotted Davy running across the school toward him.
Oh, hell, not Davy. Not now.
Tom blew out his frustration in a resigned sigh.
Well, maybe with any luck, this won’t take long.
Tom stepped down and waited.

Davy was winded when he arrived and it took a moment for him to catch his breath. “Tom, I gotta ask you a question.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Do people kiss at a Valentine’s Dance?” The boy had a worried, almost distasteful look on his face.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Penelope has been following me around all day and if I go to the dance, she’s gonna want to kiss me, sure as shootin’.”

Tom smiled ruefully. “Well, Bud, sorry to tell you, but some people do kiss at the Valentine’s dance.” Though he knew it wouldn’t be him and Beth.

“Then that’s it! I’m gonna ask Beth right now if I can go to Gordie’s house for the night.”

Before Tom could convince Davy to hold off for a moment, the boy was inside the schoolhouse and Tom’s opportunity to apologize was gone.
So much for luck.

Scowling, he returned to the smithy, telling himself he’d come back in a half hour to apologize. But when he unlocked the wide doors of the shop, there was a farmer waiting to have his horses’ hooves tended to. By the time Tom finished, it was too late. He’d have to apologize at the dance.

• • •

The fiddler at the front of the classroom was sawing out a lively polka and the dance was in full swing when Tom arrived. He sidled along the back wall, greeting folks as he went, but more intent on scanning the room for Beth. He felt hollow in the pit of his stomach knowing it would be his fault if she decided not to come.

His spirits lifted when he spotted her sitting on the far side, sandwiched between two women, both of whom were talking nonstop around her.
Maybe you could get back in her good graces if you just sauntered over there and rescued her.

Her eyes darkened when he headed in her direction.
Then again, maybe not.
He could practically see steam rising about her.
Damn!
She was still seething from the afternoon’s spat. He watched as she quickly extricated herself from the two women and made a hasty retreat, skirting around to the other side of the room.

He tried a different approach, and she moved again. Each time he attempted to come close to her, she eluded him like quicksilver until he eventually gave up his pursuit. No point in appearing desperate. He poured a cup of coffee and sat beside the coffeepot. He faced the agonizing fact he might have lost Beth for good and that thought seared his gut worse than the strong brew.

Mr. Pickard asked Beth to dance, and while they twirled around the room, Tom watched in grim silence. In fact, he spent the better part of the evening guzzling coffee, watching Beth in the arms of other men, and wishing he’d kept his big mouth shut this afternoon.

It seemed to Tom that the one making the most progress on the dance floor was Beth’s brother, Bill. Annaleese Hewn was obviously head over heels in love with the chump. The sight of them enjoying the evening stuck in Tom’s gizzard, making him feel even worse.

“You’re not dancing tonight?” Mary asked.

He glanced sideways, noticing for the first time his aunt had sat down beside him.

“I would,” he said, “but the one I want to dance with seems to have an aversion to me.”

Mary didn’t need to ask to whom he was referring. “I thought things were coming along fine between you and Beth. What happened?”

Tom ran his forefinger around the rim of his cup. “I did something I shouldn’t have.”

Mary frowned. “Tom Carver,” she scolded, her voice low, but stern, “that girl is young. Don’t you be taking liberties with her.”

“Calm down, Mary, it’s not what you think.”

“Then you better explain just what I should be thinking.”

He was almost embarrassed to tell her. “This afternoon I saw Lewie Hanks leaving the school and I kinda got testy. Said a few things that maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“To Lewie?”

“No, Beth.” He raised his hand. “Please, don’t say it. I know it was stupid, but it just came out.”

Mary quietly snorted with indignation. “Men! They’re all a bunch of fools. Poor Beth.”

Now he felt even worse. He stared down at his freshly polished boots, thinking he wasn’t much better than the muck he had scraped off them earlier. “Yeah, well, now she won’t let me get within ten feet of her to apologize.”

“So you’re going to sit all evening and mope. Land’s sakes, I’ve never known you to be a quitter.” Mary brushed down the folds in her skirt as if she were brushing crumbs off her lap. “Do you remember that horse you used to have when you were a kid? The one that was tricky to catch?”

“Sally?”

“Yes, Sally’s the one. Remember how you spent hours trying to catch her and when you finally gave up and went for another horse she’d come right up to you?”

A sly grin slowly spread across Tom’s face. “Are you suggesting I try to make Beth envious?”

“I am saying no such thing. But it’s obvious she likes to dance, and most of the men here can’t find a beat even if they were handed a stick and a drum. It’s a crying shame she’s out there getting her toes stomped on when she could be dancing with you.” Mary stared her nephew straight in the eye. “Of course with you sitting all night like you’re part of that chair, how would she know what she’s missing?”

In all the years Tom could remember, Mary’s advice had never been wrong. Maybe he should dance. It was either that or go home, and since going home offered no hope of reconciliation, Tom asked Mary to dance.

He liked dancing and he’d been told many times he danced well. If that was true, he had Mary to thank. When Mary’s boys and Tom were gangly teenagers, she insisted they learn to dance or at least to master the basic dance steps. So for three Saturdays in a row, the rug in the Betner parlor was rolled back and six clumsy boys paired up and stumbled through waltzes, polkas, and two steps. At the time, Tom thought it was a big waste of time. He was thankful now that Mary had been persistent.

He danced several sets, but Beth paid him no heed. So much for ignoring her and hoping she’d approach him. He decided on another tactic. When he was dancing with Mrs. Brown, Tom maneuvered his unsuspecting partner around the floor until they were adjacent to Beth and her partner. Then he stepped sideways. “Oops, sorry,” he said when he bumped Beth’s shoulder, “an accident.” He grinned and shrugged apologetically.

Beth gave him a glare, cold enough to have frostbitten him, but Tom merely smiled and danced away, feeling rather pleased. At least now he had her attention.

Whenever Beth danced with a new partner, Tom deliberately bumped into them, each time saying the same thing, “Oops, sorry. Accident.”

• • •

Accident? My left foot.
Beth knew exactly what Tom was doing. There was no way on God’s green earth she would dance with him, though she found dancing with Lars Anderstom an ordeal.

“Ew are rather tense, I tink,” said Lars. “Are ew not happy vith my dancing, Miss Patterson?”