Undaunted Hope (7 page)

“I know you'll like having Miss Taylor as a teacher,” Ingrid said, peering up into her daddy's face.

Michael looked directly at Tessa and responded with a small, rare smile. “I have no doubt I will.”

Speechless, Alex stared at Michael. His brother had been like a dead man walking for the past five years. What was going on here? Was Michael finally waking up?

Under any other circumstance, Alex would have been thrilled. He loved his brother more than his own life. He'd watched his
brother hurt for too long, and he'd been waiting for Michael to put the past behind him and move on with his life.

But move on with Tessa?

An anchor dropped in Alex's stomach. From the moment he'd seen Tessa, he'd been drawn to her in a way he hadn't been drawn to a woman in a very long time. Over the past couple of weeks, he enjoyed seeing her every morning when he walked the children to school, even if she hadn't paid him much attention.

He hadn't forgotten that he wanted to win her affection. Now maybe he needed to carry through with his plan and lay claim to her before Michael beat him to it.

P
lease, Nadine,” Tessa said as she washed the table after dinner. “Please let Edward and Will Junior attend class tonight.”

Nadine shifted the baby, moving the little one out of reach of the towel she was using to dry forks—the same dirty gray towel that everyone in the household used for wiping their hands and faces, and the Lord only knew what else.

Tessa tried not to think about the state of cleanliness of the plates and utensils during meals. Although that evening, Tessa hadn't thought about the lack of cleanliness even one time. She'd been too consumed with her revulsion of the giblets Nadine had served, especially when her hostess explained that the giblets were the feet, head, and bill of the goose they'd recently butchered. Apparently giblets were a special treat. Either that or the children had no taste buds. They'd devoured the waste pieces disguised with gravy faster than Nadine could serve them.

“Edward and Will Junior will benefit from the class,” Tessa
said again as she peered into the noisy front room where the children had raced after gobbling up the giblets.

“They're happy enough in the mine, that they are.”

Tessa turned back to the table and swiped at a splotch of gravy that had congealed on the sticky plank. The floor, the walls, and the stove were just as sticky with a layer of grease and dust that was impossible to wash away, even though Tessa had tried. “But it's dangerous, dirty work. Wouldn't you like to see them have the chance to do something different if they want to?” Tessa had already had the same conversation with Nadine several times since she'd made the decision to have the evening school.

Nadine sighed, and her shoulders slumped under the weight of the baby. Her brownish-gray hair hung in stringy strands around her face. In the overcast October evening, the light from the oil lantern at the center of the table cast shadows upon the woman's face, adding another ten years' worth of wrinkles. “Today's not a good day for it, Tessa,” she insisted. “Not with Mr. Rawlings in so much pain.”

Tessa bit back a tart response. Those of the Rawlings family who worked in the mine were always coming home with injuries: cuts from falling pieces of rock, scraped knees and elbows, burns from the wax that dripped from the candles affixed to their hats. Will Junior had lost his thumbnail last week when a sledgehammer had nicked him. They'd all exclaimed how lucky he was not to have lost his whole thumb.

This time Mr. Rawlings was in pain from having his tooth pulled at the dentist earlier in the day, not a mining accident. As Tessa made her way through the house, she tried to mask her disappointment that she hadn't been able to convince Nadine to let the boys attend school in the evenings. She stopped next
to the settee in the front room where Mr. Rawlings was resting and debated pestering him instead.

But with his arm draped across his eyes and a bloody wet rag hanging half out of his swollen mouth, she spun away and finished buttoning her heavy wool coat. She ducked to avoid being hit by a ball and was careful not to trip over the younger children racing toy horses around on the floor.

“Josie,” she called over the galloping, bouncing, and screeching.

Josie sat on the edge of a chair, peeking between the drab curtains. She let the curtain fall and gave Tessa her attention. With her long hair styled into a coil that Tessa had taught her how to arrange and her face freshly washed, Josie looked less like a girl and more like the woman she was becoming. Josie had been regular in attendance at school too.

Tessa smiled. At least she was having some influence on one member of the household, even if that influence came at the hand of some bribing. It seemed Josie was eager to do anything in exchange for learning how to style her hair, care for her skin, and add baubles to her clothing.

“Are you sure you can't convince your Robbie to attend the evening class?” Tessa asked.

“He's too busy,” Josie said with a wave of her hand. “Besides, if he goes, we won't have no time to spend together.”

Tessa shook her head, not surprised by another refusal. She was getting used to the resistance. But that didn't mean she'd give up easily. Michael Bjorklund was the only person in Eagle Harbor who'd made any kind of commitment to attend her class, even after all her efforts informing families about her new endeavor. At least one was better than none. She wouldn't give up hope that with time and patience, the people would begin to see their need.

Tugging up her coat collar and lowering her hat brim, Tessa stepped outside into the fading evening. The day had been damp and foggy. A mix of sleet and snow had begun to fall. Josie had informed her it wasn't unusual to have snow in October, but Tessa had declared it was much too early for winter to begin.

Many of the trees were already bare or covered with a straggling of yellow leaves. She'd been told the boats would soon stop running from “below,” the word used by the residents of Eagle Harbor when referring to the lower part of the state.

Mud squelched beneath her boots and splattered her skirt. She'd learned over the past damp days that most of the coast surrounding the harbor was a mucky sand-and-mud mixture, that there wasn't much clay. The clay the miners used to hold their candles onto their hats was brought over from Sault St. Marie.

Perhaps snow and ice would be a welcome change after all. If the ground was frozen, she wouldn't have to worry about spot-cleaning her skirts every night. Even though the schoolhouse was but a short walk, she was shivering by the time it came into view. She stopped abruptly at the sight of the light emanating from the windows. She hadn't left a lantern aglow and had hoped to arrive well before any of the new students. Obviously someone was early.

With a burst of dismay, she hastened through the mud and wet grass. When she reached the front step, she hurriedly scraped at the soles of her boots and attempted to dislodge as much of the mud as she could, even though the effort was useless since the floor was hopelessly caked with it—both wet and dry—from the pupils who thought nothing of it.

They also thought nothing of the lice. She'd seen enough lice and their eggs on the heads of the children to fill a Cornish pasty.

Tessa pushed open the schoolhouse door and stepped inside,
unprepared for the cozy warmth that met her. Kneeling on the floor in front of the open stove door was Michael Bjorklund, Gunnar and Ingrid's father.

He glanced over his shoulder in her direction, and at the sight of her, he closed the stove door and stood. His fair hair was parted neatly down the middle and combed so that every strand lay flat in submission. He wore a flannel shirt that was buttoned up to his chin and tucked into trousers that, although slightly wrinkled, were spotless.

Her heart warmed at the thought that he took his education seriously enough to attend her class neat and clean.

“Good evening, Mr. Bjorklund,” she said. “It's good to see you.”

“It's good to see you too,” he said, darting a peek at her face before focusing on his boots that were covered in dried mud.

His peek, however, was enough for her to see the eagerness in his expression. Her heart warmed even further. After all the apathy toward her night school plan, she was delighted that she had at least one eager learner. “With the weather the way it is, I wasn't sure if anyone would want to come out tonight.”

“I wouldn't miss it.” His voice gave a tiny squeak, and he hurried to speak again. “Besides, the weather is still balmy compared to what's coming.”

“So I've been told,” she said, moving further into the room and shedding her coat. She took her time hanging it on one of the pegs and then straightened her hair and skirt.

When she turned, she found he hadn't budged from his spot in front of the stove and was staring at her with open admiration. He rapidly dropped his gaze and spun toward the woodbox, but not before she caught sight of the flush creeping onto his cheeks.

“I hope you don't mind that I came early to start the fire,” he said.

“I'm very grateful, Mr. Bjorklund—”

“Michael.”

“I'm very grateful, Michael.” For some reason, using Alex's given name had seemed right. But saying Michael's first name felt unnatural and impolite.

He shook the nearly empty woodbox. “Looks like you're low on wood.”

“Yes, well, I've been waiting and hoping for wood elves to come out every night and fill it while I'm away, but so far they haven't shown up.”

She smiled at her own joke and waited for him to join her. Instead he opened the stove door and tossed in another handful of wood chips without cracking a grin.

“You don't know what I'm doing wrong, do you?” She tried humor again as she made her way to the front of the classroom to her desk. “Do the wood elves expect me to leave them an overpriced apple as a treat?”

Michael stirred the burning embers with a stick, tossed it in, and closed the door. Finally he turned to face her with raised brows as if he didn't quite know what to make of her rambling.

She apparently would need to use a more direct route of conversation with Michael. “I've asked the students to bring wood from home.”

He nodded. “In past years, the teacher was always responsible for gathering wood for the stove. But then we've only had male teachers . . .” His voice trailed off at the realization of the current situation.

She inwardly cringed. Was he another one of those people who didn't believe females should be teaching? “I didn't realize
it was my responsibility to gather wood. In that case, I'll begin to do so right away.”

He frowned.

She hoped he wouldn't say that gathering and chopping wood was a man's job too. If so, she would have to give him a stern lecture about how she'd been chopping wood since she was a young girl, technically since her mom had died and she'd taken over the care of her younger siblings.

“Maybe we can figure out something,” he started. But his words were cut off by someone rattling the schoolhouse door.

Another student? Her pulse leapt at the prospect.

The door swung wide, and amidst the whirling of wind and sleet, Alex barged inside. He swiped off his flannel bowler hat and stomped his boots, dislodging mud.

For a moment, like Michael, she could only gape.

Alex raked his fingers through his untidy hair and shrugged out of an oiled cloak. “You haven't started class yet, have you?” he asked and tossed her one of his devastating, heart-stopping grins.

As he hung up his cloak, his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. She couldn't stop herself from thinking back to the sight of him at the lighthouse last week when he'd been bare-chested and she got a leisurely view of his impressive physique.

Don'
t think about it, Tessa
, she chided herself, as she had whenever her mind strayed to thoughts of him. Her disappointment at learning he was the assistant keeper was still too keen, although she knew it shouldn't matter in the least. “A very fine man completely ruined,” she'd muttered to herself on more than one occasion since her discovery.

He rubbed his hands together and blew into them. His blue eyes sparkled as he looked between her and Michael. “Are we
ready to start then?” he asked, winding his way through the rows of benches toward her.

“I didn't think you were coming,” Michael said.

“I changed my mind.”

“Why?” Michael's voice was hard.

Alex shrugged and continued toward the front row. “Maybe I realized how much I could benefit from Miss Taylor's attention.”

Michael's brow dipped. “I'm sure you did.”

Alex winked and said, “I'm eager to reap the benefits of her superior teaching skills.”

Michael shook his head and started toward the front of the room too.

As Alex neared the first row, he stared at her openly and boldly. Even though she was tempted to glance away—and knew she should—she decided to stare right back. She didn't want him to think his presence in the classroom had any effect on her, though strange waves were rippling through her stomach.

He plopped into the spot normally occupied by Gunnar and Ingrid and smiled up at her innocently—too innocently. “So what are you going to teach me today, Miss Taylor?” His gaze dropped to her lips and lingered there.

The waves in her stomach rose and fell harder, and she couldn't think of a coherent response.

“Or maybe I'm the one who needs to teach you a thing or two,” he said softly.

Oh, heaven.
She swallowed hard. She had to think of something to say, and quick. But to her utter embarrassment, she was speechless.

Michael had made his way to the first bench. He sat down next to his brother and bumped Alex with a force that nearly sent him toppling off his seat.

“Sorry,” Michael said. “Lost my balance.”

“Sure you did.” Alex righted himself, his grin only widening.

Tessa spun to face her desk. She reached for a paper and was tempted to use it to fan her cheeks, which she had no doubt were flushed. But she refrained.

“I thought you were watching the children,” Michael whispered, none too quietly.

“They're responsible enough to be home without us, especially Gunnar.”

“I told you I didn't like the idea of leaving the light unattended.”

“And I told you I'm only staying for a little while.”

Michael's long sigh told her his exasperation went deep. “It's your shift and you need to cover it.”

“Everything will be fine,” Alex said earnestly. “Gunnar's keeping his eye on it, and if anything happens, he'll come get me.”

“But you're the one who doesn't care about getting an education.”

“Like I said, I changed my mind.”

She smiled at their bickering, reached for the lesson plan she'd prepared, and walked to the blackboard. She couldn't fault Alex for changing his mind. In fact, she was glad he'd come to his senses and realized his need for bettering his education.