Gingham Mountain (21 page)

“Gladys, you could be in charge of organizing the whole thing. The
children will need help learning the songs and their parts. I think we should insist that they memorize everything.”

Now Gladys was really excited. Hannah surmised that she was a woman who was all for “insisting.”

“Why, I’d be happy to take charge, Miss Cartwright,” Gladys said.

“I’ll help,” Ella offered. The other parents chorused their willingness to get involved, although Hannah noticed Grant stayed silent. Hannah wondered if they realized yet that they’d just agreed to let her keep her job until spring and had quit trying to get Grant’s children expelled. She didn’t point it out.

“We haven’t ever had an Easter pageant in Sour Springs. I think it’s a great idea.” Quincy turned to his wife. “Now, we’d better let Miss Cartwright get on with her preparations for school.”

The angry little mob of parents disbursed in a flurry of cheer.

Ella patted Grant on the shoulder. “Will wanted to come, but I thought he might make things worse.”

Grant nodded silently and Ella left.

Hannah heaved a sigh of relief.

G
rant heaved a sigh of despair.

“They’ll never leave my family alone.” He turned to face Hannah. “They were this mad after yesterday, and yesterday there was no trouble. Just wait until one of your students goes home crying because Sadie beat him in a spelling bee. That bunch will be back.”

Grant noticed Hannah’s hands were trembling as she crossed her arms.

“I can’t believe they let me off as easily as they did. I thought I was done for from the minute they showed up because I was going to quit before I let them drive your children out of the school.”

“Don’t sacrifice your job, Hannah.” Grant put his hat on with a rough jerk of the brim and turned to go. “I don’t expect you to do that for me.”

“I wouldn’t cross the street for you, you idiot.” She grabbed his arm and spun him around.

She only managed to manhandle him because he was turning back toward her anyway in surprise. Grant had one split second after she exploded to marvel at how well she’d kept her cool with that posse of orphan haters. Then she attacked.

“If you think I’d side with that mean-spirited, selfish bunch of vigilantes over your children, you don’t—”

Grant held up both hands to ward her off. “Look, Hannah, I didn’t mean—”

Hannah grabbed the lapels of his flannel shirt. “—have any idea who I am. Why, if you think—”

“It’s not that. I didn’t say—” Grant backed up a step.

Hannah followed him all the way to the wall. “—I’ll stand by and let Sadie get thrown out of school because of the color of her skin—”

“I’m sorry. Really, Hannah. I wasn’t suggesting—” Grant caught her hands where they were shaking his collar. She seemed determined to strangle him to death.

She tightened her grip. “—or slam the door in the face—”

Grant stopped trying to placate her and leaned over her, “Listen, I didn’t mean to imply you had anything against orphans. If you’ll—”

“—of any child—”

All his tension uncoiled like a striking rattler. “—just shut up for a second—” He pulled her hands off his throat.

She yanked away from his grip. “—orphan or not, who wants to learn—”

He just needed her to shut up for a minute so he could tell her how much he appreciated her standing by him, and how sorry he was she had to face down a mob, and how annoying she was, and how pretty, and sweet— He turned her around and trapped her against the wall. “—and let me apologize, I’ll—”

She turned her face up, her eyes flashing with fire and spirit, her cheeks flushed. “—then you’re the most insulting man I’ve ever—”

He couldn’t think of any other way to close her yapping mouth.

He kissed her.

It worked.

She shut up.

He jumped back so fast he tripped over a desk. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Hannah covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide, watching him like he’d grown rattles and fangs and attacked her.

Grant shook his head and felt his brain rattle, so maybe he
was
close to growing the fangs, and he was very much afraid he might attack her again.

Hannah ran her tongue over her lips as if she wanted to wash the taste of him away. “That can’t ever happen again!”

“That can
never
happen again.” Grant couldn’t back farther because of the desk. That’s the only possible reason he went forward instead. And kissed her again.

“Let go of me!” Hannah wrenched away from Grant, which was hard with her arms wrapped around his neck. But she managed, with Grant helping, to pry her hands loose where they’d gripped the hair curling down the nape of his neck.

Grant looked aghast. “That never should have happened.”

“Never, not ever.”

“It’s never going to happen again.” Grant turned his back on Hannah and figured out that if he moved sideways he could get away from her. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? “We don’t even know each other,” Grant added.

Hannah smoothed her hair, which Grant noticed was messy.

He remembered running his fingers through it. How long had he spent kissing her? Her lips were pink and a bit swollen. He looked closer. He moved closer.

Those lying pink lips said, “We don’t even like each other.”

Shaking his head to break the spell Hannah had cast over him, Grant pushed his hat firmly on his head and looked straight at her out from under the low brim. “Oh, maybe we like each other a little.”

“Some.” Hannah’s eyes found his. . .and held.

“But it was wrong.” Grant turned away to prove he could.

“Oh yes, it was.”

“Very, very wrong,” Grant agreed, suddenly furious with her for being so certain, because in his whole life he’d
never
felt anything so right.

At that moment, three dozen children flooded into the room.

Grant saw Hannah’s knees give out, and she caught herself before she fell by leaning against the wall. It was a good thing she saved herself from collapsing because Grant wasn’t capable of moving.

If they’d been a few seconds earlier, the whole school would have walked in on them. By nightfall, all of Sour Springs would know he’d kissed the new schoolmarm in front of all her students. Something like that had to be followed immediately with a wedding, or Hannah would immediately be fired. And if they announced an engagement, Hannah would be fired with everyone’s best wishes for happiness, and Grant would be saddled with a wife—a meddling, potato-burning wife. He looked sideways at her, leaning against the wall, both hands clapped over her bright pink cheeks. An annoying, nosy, beautiful, kindhearted wife who’d offered to sacrifice her job to fight for his children.

That wasn’t going to happen since Grant had promised himself and God a long time ago, on a cold Texas morning in Houston, that he’d never marry. The day he took six children home with him, he dedicated his life to caring for children nobody wanted rather than having even one speckled-eyed child of his own.

Besides, he didn’t have room for her. He’d have to put her on the kitchen floor.

Next to him.

“Gotta go.” Grant ran out of the building like a man being chased by a pack of hungry wolves, or worse yet, one pretty little woman.

Hannah wanted to send him on his way with a swift kick.

And she might have if she could get her knees to stop wobbling.

Suddenly her spine stiffened, if not her knees. What if he’d kissed her knowing a kiss would make her stay away from him? And by staying away from him, she’d naturally stay away from the Rocking C, which
meant she’d never know for sure what went on out there.

She thought of the few times she’d seen Parrish in action. The man had a masterful front he’d put on for others who questioned whether he should be allowed to adopt children with no mother in the home. Her skin still crawled when she thought of the times Parrish had rested a loving hand on her shoulder while he spoke of his devotion and wanting to help those less fortunate. She’d known full well that the same socalled loving hand would punish her brutally if she didn’t smile and call him daddy for the onlookers.

Grant wasn’t like that. Her heart knew he wasn’t. But what if her heart was reacting to a handsome man who made a public display of his affection for his children? He’d said he never let them go to school. He made it sound like he was protecting them. But what it amounted to was the children were cut off almost all the time. Had Hannah’s intervention stopped him from doing exactly what he wanted to do? Getting his children back home and putting them back to work?

Hannah couldn’t trust her instincts about Grant. And she couldn’t face him.

Hannah closed her eyes and prayed for wisdom. Her prayers kept being interrupted by the memory of Grant’s strong arms and how wonderful it felt to be held.

Stirring restlessly, she knew she couldn’t go out to the Rocking C to inspect again. She didn’t trust herself. Chewing one stubby thumbnail, Hannah decided that as long as he left the children in school she’d know they were released from any hard labor for a few hours every day. So she’d stay away from the Rocking C as long as the children were here. But if Grant pulled them out, she’d have to go back.

She thought of Grant’s head lowering toward her, pulling her close, and something very sweet and rather desperate turned over in her chest. She’d shared lots of hugs with her sisters in her life. But she’d never been held by a man.

She’d seen moths fluttering toward a burning lantern. They’d fly
straight into the flame and be burned, sometimes to death. The moths never learned, or maybe as they burned to death they finally did. Until it hurt that badly, the pull of the warmth and light was too powerful. Even if Grant had done it to keep her from finding out his secrets, mesmerized by the heat of his arms and his kiss, she still felt the pull.

How humiliating!

Even more humiliating, what if he tried to kiss her again? She knew deep in her heart that she might well kiss him back.

While the children settled in their desks, she headed for the outdoors, hoping the sharp cold would ease the burning in her cheeks and cool her crazy thoughts about Grant and how badly he needed a mother in that house of his.

She wanted to—had to—avoid Grant, and to do that she had to keep his children in this school.

H
e had to get his children out of that school!

He practically fell down the steps of the schoolhouse in his hurry to escape whatever had happened in there.

He slammed into something soft. His attention abandoned the disaster that was Hannah, and he saw that he held Shirt Lady in his arms. She leaned toward him; her lips seemed to be pursed. She might be going to kiss him.

A door opened behind Grant and he turned, knowing it had to be the schoolhouse door. Grant looked straight into Hannah’s eyes. She was just a couple of yards away at the top of the three steps. She was flushed, her lips still shiny and swollen, looking as bothered as a woman could be. He knew it was about that kiss. He was mighty bothered himself.

Hannah saw him and her expression turned to horror. He read every bit of what she was thinking. Grant, holding someone else, another woman, seconds after he’d been kissing the daylights out of Hannah.

Lips came at him, and he saw them just in time to dodge. Shirt Lady missed his lips and grazed his neck ever so slightly. He shuddered. Her lips were soggy and flabby and. . .

Hannah made a sound that distracted him from his revulsion. A wounded wildcat growl, part pain, part fury, all dangerous. She was in a good position up there to pounce, too.

Grant braced himself to be buried under two women.

Hannah’s expression of horror and fury changed to utter contempt. She whirled around, her tattered skirt flying, and stormed back into the schoolhouse, slamming the door so hard the whole building shook.

Sick to imagine what Hannah thought about what she’d witnessed, Grant turned back and saw Shirt Lady zeroing in on him again with those disgusting lips. He’d rather kiss one of his longhorns, one who’d just sucked up a river full of brackish water. He ducked before he could commit his third act of stupidity concerning a woman’s lips in less than a minute.

Shirt Lady almost fell, for the second time, because of his clumsiness. Then she staggered and cried out with pain. Her hands tightened around his neck.

He reached up to free himself.

“No, please, be careful. My ankle. I think I sprained it. If I let go, I’ll fall.”

Grant stopped in his headlong effort to free himself from these poison ivy arms. He shook his head to clear it, knowing he was still reacting to Hannah—to what had happened inside the school and out. There was no sense knocking Shirt Lady over just because he was upset with the schoolmarm.

“Sorry. Here, let me get my arm around your waist.”