Redemption

Jake’s hands moved up to grip the armrests and then, as if he sought a distraction, he smoothed the lap robe that concealed his lower limbs. What there was left of them. One was longer than the other, Alicia noticed, for the small quilt outlined Jake’s right knee and draped from it. The other leg was even more damaged, it seemed, missing above the knee.

She felt a surge of pity for the man who displayed such bravado, and yet recognized that he would not appreciate her softening toward him. “I really need to talk to you,” she said after a long moment.

“Jason!” It was a bellow that would have done credit to a bull, she thought, as his voice reverberated from the bare walls and floors of the hallway. “Come here,” Jake called, no trace of patience marring his sharp tones.

“I’m fixin’ supper, Pa.” Thin and reedy, the boy’s voice held apprehension in its depths, and Alicia knew, without a doubt, that he was aware of her presence.

“Shall I come get you?” Jake asked, his voice a harsh whisper now, a sound that was more awe-inspiring than the bellow had been. It had the desired effect, for the narrow-shouldered lad who pushed open the kitchen door and stepped into the hallway did so with haste.

“Are you in trouble?” Jake asked, leaning forward in his chair as he turned it to face his son, using swift movements of both hands.

“I dunno,” Jason said, his jaw set, his dark eyes flashing defiance.

“Do you know this lady?” Jake asked.

The boy nodded, tossing a look of appraisal at Alicia before he studied the floor at his feet. “She’s my teacher,” he said sullenly.

“Why is she here?”

Jason’s head came up abruptly and his eyes widened in surprise. “Ain’t she told you already?”

Jake shook his head. “I’m waiting for you to tell me.”

“Let her do the talkin’,” the boy said, and Alicia thought that, for one so young, he wore an immense chip on his shoulder. He spoke almost as an adult, uttering more words in these few moments than he’d delivered in her classroom all week. The boy was bright, there was no doubt about that, for when he deigned to turn in an assignment, it was far superior to the other two boys of his age. Not only was he bright, she thought grimly, he also was in trouble—of that she was dead certain.

Jake looked at Alicia again. “You’ve got one minute to talk,” he said gruffly. “If the boy’s done some mischief, you’ll have to take care of it. That’s your job, lady. You have him seven hours a day. If you can’t control him, it’s not my fault.”

“But his behavior is your problem, Mr. McPherson,” she returned bluntly. “And he is definitely a behavior problem.”

Jake cast Jason a long look. “Back in the kitchen with you,” he told him. “And close the door.”

Without an argument, Jason did as he was told, but his parting glance in Alicia’s direction was filled with defiance and, she thought, a touch of fear. She’d never attempted to instill fright in a child, and she didn’t plan on starting with this one, but he must learn respect.

“He needs some sort of guidance,” she began, unable to speak the words that would condemn the child, that would make his life any more difficult than it already was. Having Jake McPherson as a father was problem enough. Motherless, and part of an unstable household, the boy didn’t stand a chance of making anything of himself. Unless Jake took hold and changed his style of fathering.

“He gets guidance.” Jake looked at her from dark, angry eyes. “He doesn’t need any Goody Two-shoes coming around trying to reform him. He’s a boy, and boys get in trouble once in a while.” He settled back in his chair and his chin jutted forward. “What’s he done?”

Alicia felt like crying. For no earthly reason whatever, she felt tears burn against her eyelids and she turned aside, lest they be visible to the man before her. Not that he’d be able to make them out in the dim hallway, where tall, narrow panes of fly-specked glass on either side of the front door provided the barest minimum of light.

Beyond the wide parlor doors only gloom existed, apparently, for the curtains appeared to be closed tightly. At any rate, the man would have to peer intently at her to notice whether or not her eyes were shiny with tears.

This house…this man…the boy in the kitchen—all merited her concern, and that rush of emotion that threatened to melt her reserve held her stock-still where she stood.

HE WAS A MAN ISOLATED by his own choice. He admitted it freely to himself, and knew that the people who lived in Green Rapids were fully aware of his desire for solitude. Seldom in the past had anyone crossed his threshold, only the train of servants he’d hired intermittently, and then watched depart.

Housekeepers were hard to come by, a fact Jake was only too aware of. A decent cook would come in handy. As it was, his only household help was a widow lady who picked up their laundry once a week, then delivered it back to them a day or so later.

Beyond that, he and Jason were on their own, except for the occasional visit from his brother’s family. That the boy needed a woman’s touch was true. That he was likely to be the beneficiary of such a luxury was out of the question, unless some miraculous creature turned up on their doorstep and waved a magic wand over the household.

The woman who stood before him did not fit that description. Yet, she held his interest, as had no other woman in his recent past.

“I repeat, madam—what’s the boy done?” Hearing the harsh tone of his own voice, Jake restrained himself a bit. If Jason was really in trouble, he needed to know. “I’m sure I can handle the problem, once you fill me in on the details,” he continued, forcing his voice to be civil.

From the kitchen door, a scurrying sound that might have been mice, but was, no doubt, Jason’s attempt at eavesdropping, caught Jake’s attention. It was just as well, he decided, that the boy hear what his teacher had to say.

“He broke the windows in the schoolhouse today,” she said quietly. Her eyes offered a mute appeal, glancing up at him, shining with a film of tears, unless he was mighty mistaken. “Not all of them,” she was hasty to add. “But the two closest to my desk.”

“Where were you when it happened?” he asked, his gaze focused upon her person.

“Sitting at the desk, going over my pupils’ work. I’d just let school out for the day.” She looked at him directly. “Before you ask, I have to tell you that Jason did not attempt to hide his mischief. He stood not more than ten or twelve feet from the building, and when I looked out through the first broken window, he lifted another rock and threw it at the one closer to where I normally sit.”

“You’re telling me you saw him break the windows?” His heart sank within him. Jason was belligerent at times, hard to handle for the past year or so, but his actions today went beyond mischief.

The woman only looked at him, as if she would not further verify the story she’d told. It was no doubt true. She had no reason to lie, or even stretch the truth. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. The boy needs help, and he won’t accept it from my hand. He resents authority.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Jake said. “I’ll find some appropriate punishment to deal out, and settle the matter.”

“At least he’ll know you’re paying attention, won’t he?” she asked quietly.

Jake’s head came up abruptly, and his glare dissolved any small amount of amity he’d projected. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“He seems to be asking for you to notice him, and he doesn’t care how he accomplishes it, Mr. McPherson. This isn’t the first time he’s been in trouble.”

Jake winced inwardly. She was right. He’d received a note from the sheriff, asking for reparations when Jason had ruined the flower bed in front of the bank. The boy had come home with a black eye more than once, and his trousers were continually needing repair, where he’d fallen in the dirt, tussling with several boys in town. But then, fighting was something all boys indulged in, Jake had told himself.

Now he viewed the signs he’d ignored—and didn’t relish the picture they drew.

“Do you have another idea, Miss…” His voice trailed off, wondering for the first time just who this woman was.

“I’m Alicia Merriweather,” she said. “I teach the first six grades at the schoolhouse. Jason has been a student in my classroom for almost two years.”

“You’ve been in town that long?”

Her smile was cool. “You don’t get out and around much, Mr. McPherson. I’ve lived here for a bit over two years.”

“My social life has nothing to do with you,” he said harshly.

“I’ve had articles in the weekly newspaper,” she said. “I’d have thought you read the Green Rapids Gazette, and might even have recognized that there was a new teacher at the school.”

She was smart-mouthed, he decided. A woman who spoke her mind. He could just imagine the sort of articles she wrote. A smile begged for existence on his lips as he considered her. Her writing was no doubt aimed at cleaning up the saloons and driving the women who worked there out of business.

“Get to the point, Miss Merriweather.”

She inhaled and her ample bosom rose in response. He’d never been overly fond of women so well endowed, but she was well-formed, if a bit too full-figured for his taste. Even so, the dress she wore concealed a shape beneath its folds that would bear further study. And suddenly that idea appealed.

“I think Jason should be made to come to the schoolhouse, and at least sweep up the mess he made, and then help me board up the windows until I can get Ben from the hardware to replace the glass.”