Falling for the Teacher

She hurried across the entrance hall to the library, lifted the small game table from its place in the corner and carried it back to set in front of his chair.

He reached for her hand, pulled her close and placed his mouth by her ear. “Distract...doesn’t hurt...her.”

The warm breath of his whisper tickled her cheek. She swallowed hard and gave him a quick hug. “Thank you, Poppa. I didn’t know what to do. I’ll remember.” She straightened and stepped back.

He pulled the drawer in the table open and began placing the red and black wood disks on the inlaid game board. Memories of him teaching her to play the game caught at her throat. A deep breath steadied her and she moved a Windsor chair into place on the other side.

“Rachel. Come...play.”

Her grandmother glanced up and shook her head. “Sadie will play with you, Manning. I’m mending Cole’s coat.”

“No. Want...you to...play.”

Her grandfather waved her away. She stepped to the chair she’d occupied earlier and picked up her book.

“Let you...go...first.”

Her grandmother laughed, laid Cole’s coat on the settee, walked over to the game table and seated herself. “That is so very gallant of you, Manning. But we both know it will make no difference. You always win.”

She watched her grandmother reach to slide a checker forward and moved quietly toward the settee. Her grandfather lifted his head and looked at her. She made sewing motions and pointed in the direction of the back porch. Grabbing Cole’s coat with the threaded needle stuck in its sleeve, she snatched a skein of black embroidery wool and a pair of scissors from her grandmother’s basket and hurried out the door.

* * *

Cole stopped and stared through the tree trunks at the glowing lamp on the Townsends’ porch. His pulse jumped at recognition of the slender figure seated in its circle of light.

He frowned at the unwanted reaction, lifted his lamp high to give Sadie ample warning of his coming and walked out of the woods and up the garden path, stopping at the bottom of the steps. “Good evening.”

She nodded, then glanced toward the kitchen door beside her, no doubt wishing she could flee his presence. Why didn’t she? For that matter, as fearful as she was, why was she sitting outside at night? He climbed the steps, set his lamp on the railing and leaned his shoulder against the post as a signal that he would come no closer. “It’s a hot night.”

“Yes.”

She looked at him but avoided meeting his gaze, as always. The tension, the wariness in her reached him from halfway down the porch. Clearly she wanted him to leave. His obstinacy rose. “Being so still with no breeze brings out the fireflies.”

“I hadn’t noticed. I’m busy.”

A pointed hint. But for some reason she wasn’t running away from him, and he intended to take advantage of it. Perhaps some time spent talking together would prove to her she had nothing to fear. “I used to run around and catch fireflies when I was a kid. I tried to see how many I could capture in one night. I guess everyone—” Something fluttered at the corner of his vision. A bat flew under the porch roof and swooped toward the lamplight on the table.

Sadie squealed and jerked to her feet. Her chair crashed over and something clanked against the floor.

He leaped forward and waved his arms through the air, driving the bat toward the railing. It swooped low between the porch posts and disappeared into the night. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips at the sight of Sadie pressed back against the house wall with a blanket over her head and shoulders. “You can come out, now. The bat is gone.”

“Are you sure? I hate bats!”

His smile widened to a grin at her muffled words. “I’m sure.” He set her chair aright and scooped up the objects that had fallen when she jumped up—a pair of scissors and a spool of black wool thread. She’d been sewing. He straightened and looked her way, eyed what he’d thought was a blanket now dangling from her hands. “That’s my coat. What—”

“I’m mending it.” She freed a hand and smoothed back her hair, straightened her collar.

He was rather sorry she did. She looked less self-contained and standoffish mussed up like that. Pretty, too, with her cheeks flushed and— He frowned, laid the scissors and yarn on the table. “That’s kind of you, but not necessary, Sadie. It’s not your fault it needs to be repaired.”

“I’m afraid it is.” She held the torn sleeve forward for his inspection. “Nanna sewed the sleeve together.”

He looked at the large red stitches puckering the wool of his sleeve, then lifted his gaze to her face. “And you thought it necessary to fix the sleeve before I saw it?” How little she thought of him. And without cause. He took a breath to calm the anger tightening his gut. “I’ve grown to know your grandmother quite well in these past few weeks, Sadie. She’s a wonderful woman. If she...mistakenly sewed my sleeve together, it doesn’t matter.”

“It would to Nanna...if she knew.”

There was a glitter of moisture in her eyes. He looked into their brown depths and suddenly understood why she hadn’t run inside when he appeared. “That’s why you’re working here on the porch in this heat, isn’t it? So she won’t realize what she’s done.”

She lifted her chin. “I’ll have your coat finished by the time you’re ready to go home.”

There’d be no changing her mind, judging from her protective tone. “As you wish. You can lay the coat on the railing by my lamp when you’re done. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go tend to Manning’s needs.” He turned and walked toward the other door.

“Cole...”

He looked back her way.

“I do thank you for your kindness to my grandmother and for the help you give my grandfather...no matter what your reasons.”

He could have done without that reminder of her distrust. Would he always walk in the shadow of Payne’s dark deed?

Chapter Seven

He was kind to her grandparents—she couldn’t deny that. She simply wanted to know why. Sadie fanned her face with her hand and stepped closer to the window as Cole strode down the garden path toward the woods, his mended suit coat a dark shadow over his arm, his lamp lighting his way. Both Poppa and Nanna thought highly of him. It was clear they trusted him. They seemed to have forgotten that his brother had also been pleasant and helpful until—

She jerked her gaze from Cole’s broad shoulders, his strong, powerful arms moving in rhythm with his long strides. She hadn’t forgotten. She wished she could. But the memories, the nightmare never stopped, and coming home had made them more powerful than ever. There were so many reminders—chief among them Cole, so like Payne with his dark eyes and black beard. Every time she looked at him she remembered.

The yellow glow of his lamp swept forward, passed over the garden bench where he carried her grandfather to enjoy the morning sun every day, moved across the ground and slid over her grandmother’s small, wood wheelbarrow sitting by the corner of the fence. Cold gripped her. Shivers coursed down her spine. She wrapped her arms about herself and absently rubbed her upper left arm, her gaze frozen on the small, painted cart. If Poppa hadn’t sent that logger to fix the split handle, no one would have heard her scream over the noise of the saws....

She whirled from the window, tried to order her thoughts, but the unwanted memories flashed, one after another, into her head—Nanna asking her to pick berries for a pie...the smell of the warm blackberry patch...the sun-dappled path...Payne stepping out from behind the trees...

“No!” The protest burst from her constricted throat. She grabbed her skirts and ran from her bedroom, rushed down the stairs, across the entrance hall into the library and sagged against the door, shaking and gasping for breath. She drew in air, replacing the remembered scents of Payne’s sweat, forest loam and the crushed blackberries beneath her as she fought him with the scents of wood smoke, leather and candle wax and a hint of bayberry—the smell of safety.

She closed her eyes and thought about Nanna teaching her how to cook and sew and do needlepoint, of Poppa teaching her to read and showing her how to play checkers and drive the buggy, of how wonderful life had been before her world had been torn apart.

Her ragged breaths evened and her pulse slowed. The quaking eased to an inner trembling. She opened her eyes and looked around the moonlit room, drinking in the sight of all that was dear and familiar. The settle with its hooked-rug pad and worn pillow. Poppa’s chair by the hearth with the flat stone and hammer he used to crack open butternuts and hickory nuts close by. His desk.

The peace she sought fled. She stared at the gaping space on the desk’s bookshelves where the green leather business ledgers should be and shoved away from the door. Payne Aylward had stolen her grandfather’s money and robbed her of her dreams. She would not allow his brother to harm her grandparents.

But would he? Cole was so gentle with her grandmother and so thoughtful of her grandfather. And he had brought her the umbrella and left her his raincoat during the storm. And he’d saved her from the bat. Those were not the actions of a cruel man. Still...

Her breath shortened and she wrapped her arms about herself and rubbed her arm, thinking back to those moments on the porch. How foolish she’d been to blind herself in Cole’s presence by throwing his suit coat over her head, but she’d been so afraid of the bat she’d forgotten to be frightened of Cole. Yet once again, he had not seized the opportunity to—

Oh, what she was thinking? Perhaps Cole was not cruel like Payne, but that did not mean he wasn’t as dishonest. She mustn’t allow herself to be swayed from her purpose by his acts of kindness. There had to be a reason why he was spending his time doing these things for Nanna and Poppa, and it was up to her to discover what it was. She was certain it had something to do with the books, else why would they be missing?