Second Chance Bride (12 page)

Pumping the pedals of the organ, Annie played “Now That the Daylight Fills the Sky” while the congregation sang. This Sunday would only be Scripture reading, offering, prayers, and hymns because Reverend Thompson was on the circuit.

After the hymn was complete, John stood to read the Scripture. “This reading is from the Gospel of John, chapter eight,” he said.

“And early in the morning he came again into the temple, and all the people came unto him; and he sat down, and taught them. And the scribes and Pharisees brought unto him a woman taken in adultery; and when they had set her in the midst, They say unto him, Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou?…Jesus…said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her…. And they which heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the last: and Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst. When Jesus had lifted up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers? hath no man condemned thee? She said, No man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.

“May we all remember these words of our Savior. ‘Go, and sin no more.’” He bowed his head. “Let us pray.”

“Neither do I condemn thee,” Annie whispered. Had Jesus
really
said those words? Well, John had read them from the Bible, so Jesus must have.

Jesus had forgiven the woman. Annie struggled to understand that. Jesus forgave the woman taken in adultery.

“Go, and sin no more,” Annie whispered the words. Her hands shook so much that she had to fold them together. She’d decided she’d sin no more before she left Weaver City. That resolution had been reinforced when she’d assumed Matilda’s identity, but she didn’t realize that Jesus could forgive her—or that
anyone
could.

Thank goodness she didn’t have to play a hymn right away. John’s prayers always lasted so long that she’d have time to recover from her amazing discovery: she’d been forgiven and she wasn’t the only sinner.

What wonderful news. There was hope for her. Jesus had spoken to and forgiven a sinful woman. Jesus reached out to her through the scripture, through His words, through His love, through His forgiveness.

In Weaver City, no one could partake of communion unless the elders and minister believed they were good enough and gave them a communion token. Annie had never been granted one because she was not good enough in their eyes.

But Jesus had decided she was. She couldn’t stop smiling. Jesus forgave her. Jesus had given her a second chance.

So wrapped up was she in her joy that she didn’t hear the end of the prayer until John cleared his throat and said a very loud, “Amen,” which led her to believe she’d already missed several. With a start, she began to play the next hymn.

After that, she turned around on the organ bench and studied the congregation. Tall and solemn, John stood behind the pulpit to receive the offering. Her students and their families watched him, serious and devout.

Would they listen to and believe her? If she got to her feet now and confessed her sins and deception, would they forgive her as Jesus had?

They might, but she didn’t think they would. Not all of them. Even though he’d read the words from the gospel, John probably wouldn’t like his daughter being taught by a formerly illiterate ex-prostitute. Amanda would turn her back on an immoral woman. She could only guess the reactions of the others, especially that flinty stare of Mrs. Johnson. She thought they wouldn’t be as forgiving as Jesus.

Feeling like a coward, she decided not to risk the life she’d stepped into, the life she loved so much.

Not yet.

T
he evening before Thanksgiving, Annie stood back to admire the cornucopia the students had created as Wilber hung it on the front wall of the church. The pictures of squash and wheat and apples poured from the opening in plentiful, interesting colors and shapes.

“Very lovely, Matilda.”

She looked to her right, not surprised to see John there. She’d become aware of his presence in ways most unusual to her: his scent of bay rum, the sound of his confident stride, the feel of his warmth, although he wouldn’t stand too close to her.

She was still amazed that his presence no longer frightened her as much as it confused her. He’d kept his word, and yet she still had no idea how to respond to him. How did a woman act around the town banker? Her ignorance made her feel stiff, nervous and uncomfortable.

“Everything is so pretty.” Amanda danced into the room, her pale green skirt twirling with her. “You are so very talented.” She put her hand on John’s. “Aren’t you proud you hired such a marvelous teacher?”

“Of course I am.” He put his hand over Amanda’s and patted it.

Amanda would fit the role of John’s wife exactly. She had beauty, manners and charm. She knew how to talk to a man, to allow his hand on her arm without flinching. Of course, Amanda found John boring, but Annie knew marriages had been built on much less.

“And you.” Amanda rushed to give Annie a hug. “You must be so proud of your students.” She stepped back and smiled at Annie. “You’re the best teacher the children have ever had.”

“Oh, certainly not,” Annie protested. If so, the children had put up with terribly ignorant teachers.

“I agree with Amanda.” He stood next to his friend and nodded. “You have done a fine job.”

“Thank you.”

“And look at your new clothes.” Amanda placed her hand on the sleeve of Annie’s white jersey. “Cashmere. It’s so soft.”

“It’s actually not new. I just haven’t had an opportunity to wear it before.”

“Isn’t it beautiful, John? Doesn’t our teacher look pretty tonight?”

Too embarrassed to listen for his reply, Annie glanced behind her and noticed the pews were filling. Her students stood at the back of the church, looking uncertain. “I need to help the performers. Will you excuse me?” She hurried toward the students, glad to have a reason to escape for a moment.

As people entered the church, Annie inspected the crowd and attempted to estimate the number in attendance. She noticed that the sheriff stood in the doorway. After that, Annie was too busy to notice anything.

The students recited President Lincoln’s proclamation with only a few errors. Loud and enthusiastic applause followed. Then the older students staged a tableau of the landing of the Mayflower, followed by the girls singing hymns of thanksgiving. The program ended with Mr. Johnson declaiming about the blessings of Thanksgiving in the home, and a psalm sung by Amanda. After John’s benediction, Annie checked the time. After days of work and preparation, the program had taken less than an hour.

“Beautifully done.” Mr. and Mrs. Johnson shook her hand.

“I was proud of my boys,” Mr. Bryan said, shuffling toward her. He looked so very ill and thin; she could understand why his sons had to help so much. “Didn’t know Wilber could learn all those words.” He shook his head. “Wish he could spend more time in school—” Before he could complete the sentence, his body was wracked with coughs.

“It’s all right, Dad.” Wilber led him to a chair. “I’ll get you some punch.”

In the small back parlor of the building, the church ladies provided refreshments. On this warm November evening, the crowd moved outside to socialize while Annie returned to the sanctuary to take down the decorations.

“Very well done, Miss Cunningham.” The sheriff stood in the doorway to the parlor with a glass of punch in each hand. “I thought you might like something to drink after all that work.”

“Thank you, Sheriff.” She took the punch from him and sipped it.

“And maybe a little help with the decorations. All your students have left you here to clean up while they eat. Some have even headed home.”

When he reached to remove the cornucopia from the wall, she realized that it was handy to have someone taller and stronger do part of the work. “I appreciate your assistance, Sheriff, but I suspect you have another reason for not joining the group in the parlor.”

“What?” He looked at her, uncertain of her meaning.

“I’ve seen your attempts to escape from Amanda Hanson.”

His expression of surprise and—what else had she seen in his eyes? Sadness?—made Annie wish she could take back her words.

“I’m sorry,” she hurried to say. “That was ill-mannered and interfering.”

He smiled ruefully for an instant before he assumed his usual impassive expression. “Just startled me. I thought I’d hidden my efforts to stay away from Miss Hanson pretty well.”

“Why would you want to do that? She’s lovely.”

“Yes, she is.” He shook his head. “She is also a singularly persistent young woman who gets an idea in her head and won’t let go, no matter how impractical and foolish that idea is.”

“You believe her interest in you is foolish?” Annie considered his statement for a moment and realized its validity. In her experience with the upper class, they’d always made it obvious Annie wasn’t one of them. However, in Trail’s End, as the schoolteacher, she hadn’t been aware of exactly where the line was drawn, especially not after Amanda’s warm welcome and the kindness of the parents and students.

“I can’t believe Mr. Hanson would be happy to see a former gunfighter courting his little darling,” the sheriff continued.

“But if Amanda wanted that…?”

“I don’t have any money.” He shrugged. “I didn’t hold up stagecoaches or rob banks in my youth. I have a fairly honest streak in me and I live on what I earn. I don’t have nearly enough money to keep her in handkerchiefs much less those fancy gowns she loves. And can you imagine her standing over a hot stove to prepare dinner?”

“I can’t believe Amanda’s going to give up.”

“I don’t allow myself to yearn for what I can’t have.” His eyes met Annie’s. “The sheriffs and schoolteachers of the world don’t get to marry into families like the Sullivans or the Hansons. I don’t even think of it.”

“Would you like to?” she put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, there I go again. I’m sorry.”

“What I’d like doesn’t matter. It’s what I know. I figure Miss Hanson will get tired of chasing me, and life will be easier for both of us.”

Annie saw Amanda glance in the sanctuary from the yard, her smile widening when she saw the sheriff.

The sheriff followed Annie’s gaze to see Amanda heading inside. “Have a nice evening,” he said to Annie as he grabbed his hat and dashed out the door.

“Drat the man,” Amanda said as she entered the sanctuary at the exact moment his boots disappeared. “He seems absolutely determined to get away from me.” She threw herself into a pew and sighed. “I do not understand why. Other men enjoy my company.”

Annie settled next to her. “Then why don’t you flirt with those other men?”

“Oh, la, I do, but I’ve know them forever. The good ones are married and the others, well, the others are stuffy or ne’er-do-wells or gamblers or just not…interesting.” She frowned. “Or they want to marry me for my father’s money. You know,” she sniffed, “it’s difficult to be courted because Daddy has money.”

“I’m sure.”

Amanda waved her hand. “This discussion is much too gloomy. Tell me, where did you get the lovely fabric to make the cornucopia?”

“Didn’t I tell you? I received a package from my friend Miss Palfrey. She sent papers and pens and yards of lovely fabric.”

Amanda laughed. “Oh, Annie, did you ever think that she sent the material so you could make new clothes for yourself?”

“No, the students—”

“The students can use
some
of it. I’ll come by and pick some lengths for Lucia to make you a few new basques.” She stood. “Daddy’s probably ready to go home. Why don’t you come to our house after church Sunday for dinner?”

How should she answer the invitation? Annie didn’t want to spend time with Mr. Hanson, concerned that she’d encourage his attentions.

“Don’t worry about my father.” Amanda laughed. “He’s courting a very nice widow in Fredericksburg who’s much closer to his age.”

When she walked into the Hanson house on Sunday, Annie noticed immediately that it was more expensively furnished and impressive than the Sullivans’. The parlors were larger and more cluttered, the dinner table groaned under the number of dishes and the walls of Amanda’s bedroom were covered with pink velvet.

“Let’s look at the stereopticon,” Amanda said after they’d eaten. “We ordered some new slides I know you’ll love. Come over to the sofa and I’ll show you.”

Amanda pulled a tall metal stand across the table and placed a piece of cardboard on it.

“I’ve never seen one of these,” Annie said, inspecting the object.

“Oh, you’ll love it. Look through there.” She pointed at an oddly shaped oval opening. “This one is of the pyramids in Egypt.”

A wonder took place before Annie’s eyes. She felt as if she were there, in this place called Egypt, as if she could reach out and touch the oddly shaped structure even though she knew it was merely a picture on the card Amanda had placed in the stereopticon. Although she felt sure a pyramid was the triangular building in the foreground, she had no idea what it was or where Egypt was or why anyone had built such a thing.

“Here’s a picture of an abbey close to Yorkshire.”

Amanda continued to put in more slides. Something the French were building called the Panama Canal, the countrysides of England and France, views of New York and Chicago and San Francisco. As she watched them, Annie realized how ignorant she was. Oh, she’d worked so hard, but she had so much more to learn, so very much more.

She’d come across a few of these places in her reading, but she’d had no idea the cities were so much bigger than Weaver City, which was the largest place she’d ever been. She’d learned from the picture in the stereopticon that New York had lots of tall buildings and crowds of people—more people than Annie had ever seen in one place at one time.

What was the Panama Canal? Where were these other places and why were they important? She suspected she should know most of them in order to teach history, but she didn’t.

Her mind in a swirl, she leaned back against the sofa. She’d worked so hard and she still didn’t know enough, not nearly enough. Amanda knew all this because she’d lived in an educated household and had gone to school. For years.

How would she ever learn it all? It would take the rest of her life. But she only had a few weeks.

“Matilda, are you all right?” Concern wrinkled Amanda’s forehead.

No, she was not all right but she couldn’t confess that now. “A little overwhelmed,” she said. “I’ve never imagined these places looked like this.” She sat up. “Do you have more slides? I’d like to see them all.”

Because Annie had shown so much interest in the stereopticon, Amanda sent it home with her. She spent the rest of the day looking up the places in the history book and making notes. By midnight, she’d learned a great deal about Egypt and Greece, but so much remained for her to study. Tomorrow, she decided, she’d show some of the slides to the class and then assign a place to every child to report on, using the books Miss Palfrey had sent. She would learn as the students did for as long as she could.

With Minnie in her lap, Annie settled on the front step of the schoolhouse and leaned against the door. It was nearly dusk. The students had left hours earlier and she’d been reading the seventh-level history book ever since. Dates and names flitted hither and yon in her brain but refused to organize themselves there. Her head ached as if she’d hit it several times with the book. That probably would have been easier than reading the volume and nearly as effective.

Leaning forward, she dropped her head into her hands and tried hard not to cry. She’d believed she’d made it, that she’d learned enough, that she’d become a teacher. How stupid and pretentious of her. She’d listened and read enough to learn words like
pretentious
but the real facts—what the older students had to know—still eluded her no matter how much time she spent trying to stuff the knowledge in. Each new fact raised more questions which made her realize how much more there was to learn. On top of that, history seemed interconnected. To understand the American Revolution, she had to understand the Magna Carta, the history of England and much more.

As she considered the situation, the wind swept through the grove of trees around the schoolhouse. The branches waved noisily and the leaves shook, whispering secrets to each other.

Weary, she felt so weary and old and…foolish. Heedless, as her father had always said. She took a deep breath. She hadn’t thought of him for months, not since she’d become Matilda Cunningham. Now he came back to mock her, to tell her that he’d been right, she never planned ahead.

She hated that.

Dear God, please help me. I know I’ve sinned by telling this lie, but now I want to be the best teacher I can. Please help me.
As she prayed, she let her pain pour out wordlessly, knowing that God heard her. Finally she whispered, “Amen,” but kept her head bent.