Romancing the Schoolteacher (11 page)

Mr. Halsted dipped his head toward her. “We are all pleased to meet you, Miss Greene. You may call me Emmett.”

The young ladies had eager gazes. Their smiles pressed into thin, upturned lines, as though they wanted to speak but were forcibly keeping their mouths closed. One even appeared to be holding her smile between her teeth. But all three remained silent.

Bridget wondered why. She dipped her head to the man. “Emmett, I'm honored. Please call me Bridget.”

“I'm honored.”

“Well, you must call me Winnie,” the sister who wore a burgundy calico dress said.

“And me Edith.” In blue calico.

“Just Cilla for me.” Yellow calico.

“I couldn't believe Lindley didn't tell one person in the family about you.” Burgundy calico.

“You will have to give us all the details about yourself.” Blue calico.

Bridget didn't know which sister to focus on. They practically spoke on top of one another as though a dam had ruptured. And she daren't try to squeeze in a word. There wasn't room.

“You're the schoolteacher.” Yellow.

“Dora and Gabe told us all about you.” Blue.

“I was a schoolteacher until I married Emmett.” Burgundy.

“Have you lived on the island long?” Blue.

Bridget tried to nod, but the next question came too quickly and several more after that.

Lindley held up his hands. “Not all at once.”

His sisters apparently hadn't heard him and kept talking.

Emmett shrugged, his gaze on Lindley. “You tried.”

Or maybe they were ignoring their brother? Had he told them ahead of time not to deluge her with questions?

“Your dress is lovely,” one sister said.

Dora patted Bridget's dress.

“The color of your hair is lovely,” another said.

Dora patted Bridget's auburn hair.

“Everything about you is lovely,” the third sister said.

Dora squeezed Bridget around her neck. “I love her!”

From his uncle's arms, Gabe stretched out his hand and touched her shoulder. He apparently didn't want to be left out but knew better than to try to talk while his aunts were engaged.

Lindley tried again to quiet his sisters, to no avail. So he looped Bridget's free arm through his and walked away with her.

“Lindley! What are you doing?” one of his sisters asked.

“Taking Bridget away from you clucking hens.”

Winnie scooted around in front of them and blocked their way. “No, you don't.” She took Dora from Bridget and handed her to Lindley. Then she wrapped her arm around Bridget's. At the same time, Edith hooked her arm through Bridget's now free one. Cilla pressed in behind them, squeezing out the men and children.

And that was how one disentangled a person from a situation. An expert move. Had they planned that?

The sisters ushered her toward the door.

Bridget glanced back at the men. Lindley stood slack-jawed, and Emmett smiled, shaking his head. Dora and Gabe waved.

“You are coming to dinner.”

“We have most of it prepared.”

The ladies jostled around to all get out the door. Not one of them looked back to see if the men and children were coming.

“We made a pie and a cake and cookies last night.”

“We didn't know what you preferred.”

Bridget couldn't keep up with who was saying what. “Dinner?”

“Yes. At Lindley's.”

“I hope you like chocolate.”

“We'll have it ready in a trice.”

“And peach.”

“You won't have to do a thing.”

“But his place…” She couldn't imagine how his small house could accommodate all these people. And with the roof leaking. “Will we all fit?” Even her house would be stretched with them all.

“Of course.”

Bridget glanced at the darkening clouds. “But it looks like rain.”

Cilla giggled, much like Dora. “What does that have to do with you coming to dinner?”

Edith looped her arm through Bridget's. “Then we better hurry before the clouds burst.”

The sisters hustled her down a road away from the mining camp. She wanted to correct their direction, but they were busy discussing what needed to be done first upon arriving. They would soon realize their error and turn around.

Instead, they ushered her up the path of a quaint, yellow cottage with white shutters. Bigger than her own. Bright pink rhododendron bushes stood sentry alongside the walk, and large lilacs guarded at the corners of the house.

“What? Who?”

Gabe and Dora ran ahead to the door.

Lindley came up as close to her as he could with his sisters gathered around. “We've moved.”

That made sense. Since he wasn't a miner, he wouldn't stay in a company house. His change in status was going to take some getting used to. “This is nice.”

“Gabe and Dora are excited to each have their own room. We have a kitchen and separate sitting room. Much better than the company houses. But they are going to be repaired.”

Edith squealed. “I just got hit by a raindrop. Hurry inside.” She ran up the walk and through the doorway.

A drop hit the side of Bridget's nose and another on her hand. Then they splatted here, there and everywhere.

Everyone ran for cover. Lindley ushered her in, his limp more pronounced.

The house smelled of fresh bread, stew and sweets. Though cozy, everyone fit comfortably.

Dora held out her arms. “No rain.”

“What does that mean?” Winnie asked. “It went from dry to pouring out there in a matter of a couple of seconds. There's plenty of rain.”

Gabe spoke up. “Our other house leaked.”

Winnie jerked her gaze to Lindley.

He cringed and shrugged. “It wasn't that bad. We were always dry and warm. I made sure of it.”

“I'm hungry,” Emmett said. “When's dinner going to be ready?” Kind of him to distract the sisters.

Lindley gave his brother-in-law a nod of appreciation.

The ladies shooed the men and children out of the kitchen and scurried around.

Bridget stood near the door. “What can I do to help?”

All three sisters shook their heads, but Edith spoke. “Oh, you get comfortable, and let us do the work.”

That wouldn't be right.
“I can't sit idly while you all bustle around doing the work.”

Winnie came over and gave her a hug. “I love you for that. You can slice the bread.”

The meal was delicious, and the afternoon flew by.

Father and uncle carried the sleeping children to their rooms.

When Lindley returned, he sat next to Bridget on the sofa in the sitting room. “I'm sorry about my sisters.”

She'd had a lot of fun with his family. “Don't be.” She would have liked to have had a sister or two.

“They haven't scared you off? They can be a bit much.”

“Not at all. I like them a lot.”

“The rain has let up. Shall I walk you home?”

She was reluctant to leave the camaraderie. But in truth, the three sisters had worn her out more than a classroom full of children. His sisters had welcomed her and treated her like one of them. But the looming clouds wouldn't recess for long.

Lindley retrieved Bridget's Bible, shawl and hat.

“You aren't taking her away from us, are you?” Winnie asked.

“The rain has stopped for the moment. I think this is a prudent time to take her home.”

Lindley's sisters each hugged her in turn and told her they adored her. “We hope to see you again soon.”

After pinning on her hat and wrapping in her shawl, Bridget stepped outside with Lindley.

He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “Honestly, please don't let them scare you. They really are harmless.”

“They didn't frighten me in the least. I like your sisters very much. I haven't had so much fun since I was a child.”

Bridget saw the tall stacks of the lime kilns keeping watch over the town to the east and remembered her early-morning inference. “How old are boys when they're first sent down into the mine?”

“Too young. Why do you ask?”

“I have a student—well, had a student, Troy Morrison, who had to quit school to work at the mine to help support his family.”

“If his family needs the money, he will be working somewhere, whether at the mine or someplace else.”

“I know. It's so sad that parents have to choose between schooling for their children and putting food on the table. Troy was supposed to come for tutoring but hasn't. I hope his father isn't preventing him. He probably doesn't think his son needs any more education, but he has so much potential and a desire to learn. He's bright like Gabe. He just needs a chance.”

“And what do you want me to do? Talk to his father?”

“That might help. Maybe if there was a requirement at the company that a person had to be of a certain age before being hired.”

“I'll put that in my report to the investors. But I don't expect them to care. And even if the mine company didn't let him work for them, he would find other work.”

“Oh, I know. Just that you'll try is wonderful. Thank you.”

With her house in sight, a drop the size of a half-dollar splatted on the ground in front of her, then two, then five.

Lindley hurried her up onto the safety of her porch a few moments before the clouds released their bounty in a rush.

Oh, dear. What to do now?
She couldn't invite Lindley inside her house. That would be inappropriate without a chaperone. And he couldn't walk home in this. He would get soaked, so he'd have to wait until it let up again.

Since they were stuck on her small porch, there was a question she had wanted to ask but hadn't felt it was her place. Now that they were courting, it wouldn't be inappropriate. With the rhythmic drumming of the rain in the background, she asked, “Tell me about your wife.”

“Doreen?”

She nodded. She wanted to know a little about the woman she was invariably being compared with.

“She was pretty. I was nineteen and she was seventeen when we married.”

Pretty? That was his first thought of his late wife? “Did you love her very much?”

“I suppose.”

What kind of answer was that? “You married her. You must have loved her.”

“I came to love her…in a way. Our marriage was arranged by our fathers. I knew since I was twelve I would marry her.”

She sucked in a breath. “Arranged marriages are archaic and barbaric.”

“That's a little drastic. It really wasn't so bad. Doreen was a nice girl. Sweet.”

“But you were forced to marry someone you didn't love.” A forced marriage for men wasn't so bad. They didn't seem to care about or need love the way women did. Men could do as they pleased and order women about. And women were expected to mutely obey.

Lindley smirked. “I wasn't literally forced, not at gunpoint or anything.”

“But you still weren't allowed to marry for love. Didn't you want to?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. It was easier that way. I didn't fret over who I would marry, wonder if a girl liked me or not, or if I'd get my heart broken like so many of my friends. It all worked out. I counted myself fortunate.”

“Fortunate?” She couldn't believe his cavalier attitude. “What about her? Did she count herself fortunate? Being forced to marry someone her father told her she must? Maybe
she
wanted to marry for love.”

His mouth cocked up on one side.

Did he think this was humorous in some way?

“After we married, Doreen confessed that she was in love with me.”

Bridget's breath caught in her throat, and tears burned her eyes. “How heartbreaking. She loved you, and her feelings weren't returned. You probably have no idea how sad that is. Unrequited love.”

* * *

Lindley had never felt bad about his marriage before. But now he did. He'd never viewed it from Doreen's side of things. He had been selfish to not consider her feelings. “It's not like I mistreated her or anything. We had a good marriage. Arranged marriages don't have to be bad. My parents' marriage was arranged, and they love each other very much.” He wanted to convince her it had been all right.

“So have you already found a husband for Dora? A man who doesn't love her? A man who might be cruel to her or ignore her? A man she doesn't want to marry? Would you force her?”

“Arranged marriages don't have to be like that. They can be good.” Why were women always so impractical? He didn't like Bridget thinking unfavorably of him. “No. I won't force Dora to marry anyone she doesn't want to. She can marry for love. Are you happy?”

The pained look in her eyes told him she wasn't.

“I saved Doreen from a racing freight wagon when I was twelve. It was coming straight for her. Being deaf, she couldn't hear it or people shouting at her. I didn't think. I just ran and knocked her out of the way.”

He rushed on. If he could explain it all, she would understand. “Her father is a wealthy businessman. My father saw an opportunity to better my standard of living, so he leveraged my act of stupidity. She was unharmed but for a few bruises. I wasn't so fortunate—my leg was severely broken by one of the wagon's wheels. Maybe somewhere deep inside, I felt as though they owed me something in exchange for my permanent limp. But I did truly care for Doreen. Who else was going to marry a girl who couldn't hear? Her father probably knew that, too.”

She stumbled back against the door. “You're ashamed that your wife was deaf.”

“No.”

“But you never would have told me, would you?”

“It wasn't important. See, you're all upset over something silly.”

“Silly? You think love is silly?”

“Of course not.” His stomach hardened. “This is why arranged marriages aren't such a bad thing.” She was being unreasonable. He would not be judged unfairly because of actions and decisions that had been out of his control. “Maybe our ancestors had it right by arranging marriages. Fewer hurt feelings. So to save Dora a lot of heartache, maybe I will find a good husband for her.”