Romancing the Schoolteacher (7 page)

It wasn't until she was fourteen that she had been invited to sit at the supper table with her parents, and even then they hardly acknowledged her presence until she was older. They were busy discussing their interests.

But these meals with Lindley and his children were something altogether different. Gabe and Dora spoke freely at the table, not hushed or glared into silence. Instead, their father smiled at them.

Mr. Thompson glanced at her.

The corners of her mouth automatically pulled up, and she warmed all over. The sudden thought that she didn't want these suppers to end popped into her head.
Oh, my.
It was far too early in their friendship to have such thoughts. Wasn't it?

But there was something intimate about eating together. And they had done it every night for two weeks. And he was so good and kind with his children, giving them respect in the way he spoke to them and corrected them. In time, the threat of illness would pass, and Mr. Thompson wouldn't require her help any longer. She couldn't bear to think of how lonesome it would be at her table when their suppers together came to an end.

“There's still some spice cake.” She had not had so many sweets in her life until recently. She made sure she always had something for dessert to make supper last longer. But her corset was getting a bit snug.

Mr. Thompson wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I'm afraid I can't stay.”

The children whined. Bridget felt like whining as well but refrained.

Mr. Thompson patted the air with his hand to quiet his children and then spoke to Bridget. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“All right.”

“The miners are meeting tonight to discuss better working conditions. With so many of the miners' children still ill, I was wondering…if…” He rubbed a hand across his mouth, looked down and then back up. “…if I might leave Gabe and Dora here with you until it's over.”

“Oh, dear, the miners aren't going to strike, are they?”

“I don't think it will come to that.”

She hoped not.

“So, then, may they stay with you?” His eyebrows pushed up, and he seemed not to breathe.

That meant she would get to see him later. “Oh, yes. Please do.”

Dora cheered.

Mr. Thompson stood and ruffled Dora's hair. “Thank you. I really appreciate this. I shouldn't be more than an hour.” He put on his hat and left.

A giddiness like a schoolgirl's rose inside her at getting to see him again later. “Who wants a piece of cake?”

Both children raised their hand as though they were in her classroom.

After dessert, Bridget noticed that the heavy mist from earlier had turned into a steady rain. She went to the window and peered out into the inky blackness.

“Your house doesn't rain,” Dora said.

Bridget turned to the girl. “Doesn't what?”

Dora spread out her arms. “Doesn't rain. It's all dry. Ours rains right in our bed. Gabe thought it was me, but it wasn't.”

“The roof leaks,” Gabe said. “Papa had to move our mattress to the middle of the room. He says the mining company needs to fix it.”

Mercy. These poor children and the other miners and their families. No wonder so many of her pupils were sick. She knew the houses for the miners weren't sturdy, but no one should have to live in a house with a leaky roof. She was most fortunate to have the little one-bedroom house she did.

An hour passed, then two. “Where's Papa?” Dora yawned for the seventh time.

Gabe was still trying to hide his tiredness by keeping his mouth almost closed as he struggled against yawns. He was fighting one now and turned away from her so she couldn't see.

“Time for bed.”

Dora reached up thin arms, obviously ready to call it a day. Bridget obliged by picking her up.

“I'm not tir—” Gabe's mouth gaped wide, unable to stop the yawn.

Dora laid her head on Bridget's shoulder. “Are you taking us home?”

She couldn't do that. “How about if you sleep here?”

Dora nodded as her mouth stretched wide again.

“Where?” Gabe asked.

“I thought you could sleep on the sofa and Dora in the bedroom.” She carried Dora to her room and sat her on the bed. She pulled an extra quilt out of her cedar chest and took two of her shirtwaists out of the wardrobe. “Let me get your brother settled in the other room, and I'll be right back.”

Gabe sat slumped against the arm of the sofa but jerked upright when she entered the room. “I'm not tired.” He yawned.

“I'm sure you're not.” She handed him a shirtwaist to use as a nightshirt. “Change into this while I spread out the quilt on the sofa.”

Once the sofa was ready, Gabe climbed between the folded layers. “When's Papa going to be here?”

“Soon.” She hoped. She was concerned something might have happened to him.

“I'm gonna stay awake and wait for him.” His eyelids drooped.

“You do that.”
While you lie right here.
If she told him to go to sleep, he would probably try all the harder to stay awake.

When she returned to the bedroom, Dora still sat on the edge of the bed with her feet dangling and her head down, hunched over. Her slow, steady breathing indicated that she was asleep. How the girl had not tumbled headfirst onto the floor was beyond imagination.

Bridget knelt and carefully untied her little shoes and then slipped them off. She exchanged the girl's dress for the shirtwaist and tucked her under the covers. Dora didn't appear to wake up during the whole process.

She slipped out of the room and checked on Gabe. His soft snore proved he was asleep, as well.

She went to the window and peered out again. Rain came straight down. And there still wasn't any sign of Mr. Thompson. She put a log in the fireplace, and the flames jumped to life, licking at it. She added another.

Sitting back in her rocker, she picked up a book. Unable to concentrate, she set it aside and retrieved a quilt block she was piecing from her sewing basket. She could sew and worry at the same time. But that too proved futile. She set the cloth aside and gazed into the fire.

Lord, please keep him safe.
She hated to think of these children losing both their parents.

A knock sounded on her door. She startled, jumped up and answered it.

Mr. Thompson stood, dripping on her porch.

“You're safe!”

A smile pulled at his mouth. “Did you think I wasn't?”

“I—I just didn't know. You said an hour. And the rain. Anything could have happened.”

“Sorry I'm late. The meeting ran longer than I anticipated.”

Remembering the children sleeping, she lowered her voice. “Come in out of the rain.”

He shook his head. “I'm a soggy mess. I don't want to dirty your house. I'll just collect my children and not inconvenience you any further.”

“They're asleep. I thought they could stay here the night. I can take them to school with me in the morning.”

He stared at her a moment before speaking. “I wouldn't want to impose on you.”

“It might be difficult to carry them both. They'll be soaked as well before you get home. I would hate for them to get sick over a perceived inconvenience. Which, I assure you, it is not.”

He studied her. “I fear I have already taken far too much advantage of your kindness, eating your food and leaving my children in your care after school.”

Was he going to turn her down? It was his prerogative. But it really was no inconvenience. The children were already asleep.

“I would appreciate not having to drag them out in this weather. May I see them?”

“Of course. Wait here a moment.” She returned quickly with two towels. One she tossed on the floor beside the door, and the other she held out to him.

First, he removed his hat, shook the water off and tossed it to the floor of the porch, then did the same with his jacket. He took the towel and dried his hands and face. “There. I'm not so bad now.”

No, he wasn't bad at all. “You can stand on this towel.” She pointed to the second cloth on the floor.

He stepped over the threshold and closed the door. “Thank you.” He patted the worst of the rain off his pants with the towel he'd used on his face.

She motioned him forward and put her finger to her lips. “Gabe is over here.” She led him to the sofa in the sitting area in the corner.

He knelt beside his son and brushed a lock of hair off Gabe's face. The act was so tender and loving. Gabe didn't stir.

Bridget couldn't imagine her father ever doing anything so affectionate. Her parents had never been cruel nor hit her, but they had high expectations. If she didn't want to be reproached or put aside, she had better do as she was told. No love or compassion, just expectations. It wasn't until she'd come to know the Lord that she had felt anything like love. She hadn't known what she had been missing.

This man loved his children deeply. And if he loved them, then maybe he could come to love her.

He stood and gave her an inquiring look to ask where Dora was.

She led him to the bedroom and pushed open the door, staying in the doorway. She never imagined a man in her bedroom. But she knew there was nothing inappropriate or intimate about it. He was simply checking on his daughter.

Dora lay on her back in the bed with her arms spread wide and her mouth hanging open. One arm hung off the bed on the far side.

Mr. Thompson rounded the bed, tucked her little arm under the covers and kissed her forehead. Then he bowed his head and closed his eyes. He was praying for his daughter. That must have been what he had done for Gabe, as well.

How sweet. Tears pricked her eyes.

Careful to keep his boots from thumping, he strode out of the room, and she followed him to the front door. “Thank you for letting them stay here. You're right. It wouldn't be good to take them out in this weather. I can't thank you enough.” He looked down at the wood floor. “I've still made a mess.”

“It's only water.”

“And mud from my boots.”

“The floor can be cleaned.”

He opened the door, stepped out and then put on his wet coat and hat. “Thank you again.” He stepped off the porch into the wet, dark night.

She wished he didn't have to leave. She wished they were a family. But he had to, and they weren't.

She watched long after he'd disappeared. She thought of the boy he'd once been who'd been lost on a stormy night such as this.
Lord, keep him safe.
When she could feel the damp air seeping through her clothes, she shut the door.

How could she have such strong feelings for a man so quickly? How could she not for a man so tenderhearted? She hadn't felt like this about any other man in town who had shown her attention. She was curious to see where their budding friendship led.

And her growing feelings.

She turned out the lamp and blew out the candles, save one that she took into the bedroom with her. She readied herself for bed, blew out that candle and slipped in next to Dora. The little girl must have sensed her presence, for she rolled over and snuggled up to Bridget. She in turn reached an arm around the small form. Content, she let herself imagine what it would be like to have these children as her own.

And, of course, their father.

* * *

Lindley lay on his back awake, listening to the rain on the roof…as well as inside this poor excuse for a house. The meeting had gone well this evening. Some of the miners were skeptical at first, as Marcus had been. They were afraid of losing the jobs they already had.

Miss Greene's question haunted him.
The miners aren't going to strike, are they?

He would do everything in his power to keep that from happening. Not one of them could afford to go a day without pay.

He rolled onto his side. The rain plunk-plunk-plunked into the three pots. Sleep evaded him. Was it the sound of the rain? No. He closed his eyes and listened. Something was missing. He listened harder.

Gabe and Dora.

He couldn't hear them breathing. His son's ever so soft snore and Dora talking in her sleep. His children weren't here. He didn't like being alone at night when it was raining. It was lonesome. Even having two helpless children nearby was comforting. But they were safe. Safe with Miss Greene.

Bridget. He tried out her name in the empty darkness. “Bridget.”

He would like to use her first name but hadn't been invited to. Maybe he would ask if it would be all right. Or maybe he would just use her first name and see how she reacted.

She had cared enough to worry over his safety.

He hadn't wanted to leave her this evening, either time. He was comfortable around her. But also on edge. Though he felt at home with her, he didn't know if she felt the same. He'd meant to ask her several times, but then he'd gotten nervous. If she didn't return his affection and turned him away, he knew it would hurt.

Courting hadn't been like that with Doreen. He'd known they would marry and hadn't had to worry about doing something stupid or wrong. He also hadn't had to wonder if she liked him or even loved him. They would marry regardless of either of their feelings. He had come to love Doreen in a way. But these feelings he had for Bridget were different.

Confounding.

Unsure.

It had been easier knowing Doreen couldn't turn him down or away. She was stuck with him long before they ever married, thanks to their fathers.

But Bridget might not return his affections. He would rather think she did than have his feelings crushed. At least for now.

His children were fortunate to get to stay with her. He knew he spent every night at her supper table, but he wanted more.

So much more.

For now he would settle for spending all afternoon Sunday with her. If she would agree to another picnic.

T
he next day while Lindley sat outside eating his lunch, Marcus and the other men talked in hushed tones of their meeting the previous night. In the light of a new day, some of the men were more pleased with the prospect of better conditions and others more fearful of retribution. Lindley would need to tread carefully so no one would be penalized.