Lyn Cote (8 page)

As soon as they were out of sight from the claim, Randolph exploded. “What is this all about, Ellen Elizabeth Thurston?”

She drew in a deep breath. “The infant was left on my doorstep last week.”

“What?”

She repeated the sentence.

“Surely someone else will take the child?”

“I am keeping him.” Ellen kissed William’s forehead.

“Nonsense.”

“Did you notice what I named him?” she asked, hoping he would understand.

That shut him up. “William,” he said finally.

“Yes, William.”

They walked on in silence. Was Randolph remembering how he’d helped her care for their little brother? How they’d wept together when they’d laid him to rest?

Suddenly another thought intruded. Gunther would come for his session this evening, and Randolph probably wouldn’t like that, either. After supper at the Ashfords, she would try to persuade him not to come back to her quarters with her. She wanted to avoid the unpleasantness over her associating with “rude, ignorant immigrants,” as she had heard her brother once say.

Mr. Lang was as far from rude and ignorant as a man could possibly be. And even in Gunther’s angrier moments, he wasn’t exactly rude. And Johann, well, he was a smart and charming boy.

She sighed, feeling frustrated that Randolph had intruded on the life she had built for herself. And still more worrying, she didn’t know why Randolph had come.

Whatever the reason, she had a feeling that Randolph’s visit was going to be a complicated one and might end with a confrontation—if he thought she was returning to Illinois.

* * *

Uneasy, Kurt stood by while Gunther knocked on the door of the schoolteacher’s quarters. Though they’d all washed up before coming, he felt the effects of the uncomfortable heat, even this late in the day. When would cool autumn come?

Miss Thurston opened the door and motioned them inside.

“I brought you flowers, miss.” Grinning, Johann shoved a handful of wilted brown-eyed Susans into her hand.

“Oh, Johann, thank you.” She quickly put them in a jar of water and placed them on the table.

And then Kurt glimpsed a well-dressed man sitting in the rocker—where Kurt usually sat. This must be Miss Thurston’s brother, the one Johann had mentioned. Was this a good visit with family or had the man brought bad news?

“
Guten abend,
Miss Thurston.” Irritation with himself rushed through him, hot and uncomfortable. Why had he greeted her in German?

The schoolteacher introduced Kurt to her brother. Kurt stepped forward and shook his hand, feeling the lack of calluses—this man didn’t work with his hands. Though they stood eye to eye in height, the man managed to look down on him.

“Randolph, Gunther is an adult student of mine. He’s bettering his English and preparing for American citizenship. I’ll be busy an hour or more tutoring him. Perhaps you would prefer to go back to the Ashford’s, after all?”

Her brother responded with a brief and disapproving smile. “I’ll stay. Do you entertain students—” her brother eyed Mr. Lang up and down “—alone in your quarters often?”

Kurt felt a twinge of anger. Was the man insinuating that this was improper? Kurt nearly said something in her defense but contented himself with a pointed look at her brother. Surely he should know his sister would never do anything dishonorable or even questionable.

“So far only Gunther needs adult instruction,” she replied stiffly. “Now we must begin so they can return home while some light still lingers.”

Kurt caught the discontented tone in her voice. Her brother’s visit evidently did not please Miss Thurston. Had Mrs. Steward, her cousin, written to her brother about the child and now he had come to forbid her to adopt William? No, there hadn’t been time for a letter to reach Illinois.

Miss Thurston motioned for Gunther to take his seat at the table as usual. “Mr. Lang, why don’t you bring my desk chair in from the schoolroom and be comfortable?” Then she began speaking to Gunther and looking at the assignments he’d done since their last session.

Gunther replied in a strained voice, no doubt unsettled at having a stranger present during his lesson. The lad had tried to hide his pride at successfully completing all his assignments. Kurt had praised him, and had been looking forward to thanking Miss Thurston for suggesting this teaching arrangement. The brother’s presence had ruined the evening.

But Kurt obeyed her suggestion and brought the chair into the room, sitting opposite her brother and meeting the man’s disapproving gaze, face-to-face.

Johann dragged his wooden horse from his pocket and approached the man. “My uncle made this for me.”

The brother barely glanced at it. “Very nice.” Then he returned his gaze to Kurt. “How long have you and your wife lived here?”

Kurt knew immediately what prompted this question. Another twinge of anger. “I am not married. Gunther is my brother. Johann is my nephew. That is our family now.”

The man looked more chagrined.

“Miss Thurston told us she is from Galena. Are you from Galena, too?” Johann said.

Kurt savored how easily Johann pronounced that pesky “th” sound now.

“Yes, I am” was all the man said.

Kurt tried to think of some topic of conversation, but realized he was content to sit in silence with the man rather than have to make conversation with someone who so clearly did not like immigrants. He listened to Johann tapping his horse’s hooves on the wooden floor, and Gunther and Miss Thurston discussing his writing lesson.

Finally, Randolph Thurston fidgeted in the rocker and then rose. “Ellen, I am tired from my journey. I think it best I take your advice and return to the Ashford’s since I accepted their hospitality for the night.”

Miss Thurston swiveled to face her brother. “I’m sure you are tired. Get some rest. Mr. Lang lives close to Martin and Ophelia—I was going to have him tell them you are in town and invite ourselves to supper tomorrow after school. It wouldn’t do not to see them while you’re here.”

“Good. I want to see their place, too.” Mr. Thurston nodded toward Kurt. “Nice meeting you and your family. Good night.”

Kurt heard the last sentence and did not believe it for one moment.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Randolph.” Miss Thurston dismissed him with a wave of her hand and turned back to Gunther.

The man left quickly.

Kurt heard the baby stirring in the basket. He went over and picked him up to find the child needed a fresh diaper. As he changed the child, he wondered not only what had brought Randolph Thurston to Pepin, but what it was about the man’s presence that seemed to agitate Miss Thurston.

After the lesson ended, Miss Thurston rose and said, “You two go on. Mr. Lang will join you soon. I want to have a few words with him.”

Kurt paused in the middle of her room. As the lads left, Johann chattering as usual, Gunther cast a quizzical look over his shoulder.

“Miss Thurston?”

She looked distressed. “I hope you weren’t offended by my brother’s...coolness. He is always a bit formal, but—”

“It is fine,” he said, bending the truth.

“Very well, then.” Her smile looked strained. “I will see you Thursday if not sooner.”

After the long day, the schoolteacher’s hair was beginning to slip from its pins. He found he was clenching his hands to keep from reaching out to touch the silken threads of gold that the summer sun had gilded in her light brown hair. The impulse caught him off guard and hurried him to the door.

“Yes, Thursday.” He nodded, swiping his hat from the peg and heading outside. “Good night.”

As he rushed to catch up with his brother and nephew, many thoughts swirled in his mind. Why had the brother come? Perhaps he’d come to persuade Miss Thurston to leave?

The thought of her being removed from their town felt like someone slamming a door inside him. The school had become the center of their community and Miss Thurston had brought such life to Pepin. He remembered the lift he’d felt when Johann and the other children recited the preamble, and thought of the change he’d already seen in Gunther after just a few lessons with the teacher.

Kurt, however, refused to contemplate just how much she’d added to
his
life. He must not think such thoughts. Even if, by some circumstance, he felt he could pursue her, he would simply cause trouble for her. Her brother’s obvious disdain made that clear.

The thought hit him like acid, burning into his heart. The truth was, he was no good for Miss Thurston. And there was very little he could do about that.

Chapter Eight

B
efore supper that evening, Martin took Randolph outside to show him all he’d done on his land over the past year, leaving Ellen alone with Ophelia. As soon as the men were out of earshot, Ophelia exclaimed, “Did you know Randolph was coming?”

“No.” Ellen held William and rocked the cradle with Ophelia’s baby with her foot.

“Why is he here?” Ophelia was making gravy and busily stirred the contents of a large cast-iron skillet.

“I wish I knew.”

“Do you think someone told him about...” Ophelia nodded toward William.

“The post doesn’t move that fast and if you didn’t write him, who would?”

“Well, you know I wouldn’t have written a word to Galena about all this. I hope my mother doesn’t get wind of it.” Ophelia sounded really worried.

“Even if she does hear of it, she wouldn’t dare say anything against my character,” Ellen said, trying to sound convincing.

“Humph,” Ophelia made the sound. “You witnessed the scene she enacted when she visited here only last year. Do you think your brother’s worried about Cissy? I mean do you think there’s some trouble concerning her and Holton?”

Since this unwelcome thought had occurred to her, Ellen frowned. “Cissy did say that some people were less than welcoming to Holton.”

“I wonder why...” Ophelia turned her attention to her gravy.

Ellen shrugged, leaning down to kiss William’s forehead. The truth was she missed him during the long school days apart. She didn’t need to burden her cousin with the truth about Holton or discuss Alice. Ophelia knew Alice all too well already.

“Remember when Randy got too big for his britches,” Ophelia asked, using her brother’s childhood nickname, “and we all called him ‘Boss’ and played pranks on him?”

Ellen thought of her brother’s disapproval of her choice to live here and teach school and felt that he probably still thought of himself as boss.

* * *

Ellen sat beside Randolph as he drove the wagon they’d borrowed from the blacksmith, with William asleep in the basket at her feet. They were on their way home. During dinner with Ophelia and Martin, Randolph repeated his excuse to their cousins for coming to Pepin. But tomorrow Randolph would head back to Galena and he still hadn’t told her why he’d really come. By now, Ellen’s nerves had been stretched tight enough to snap.

Finally in the dying light of day, she and Randolph approached the schoolhouse. He helped her down and lifted the basket, then followed her to her door.

She opened the door and inside, lit a lamp on the table. Then she turned to her brother. “Perhaps, Randolph, the time has come for the truth. You must have wanted something to come all this way and for such a short stay. What is it?”

After setting the basket down by her bed, Randolph put his hands together and worked them. She sat in the rocker and waited, listening to the crickets and cicadas outside.

He finally cleared his throat. “Ellen, it’s time for you to give up this nonsense and come home where you belong.”

His words sounded prepared and practiced, and Ellen heard Alice’s voice in them. “My home is here now,” Ellen said, keeping her tone light. “Please come to the point.”

“Alice is expecting.” He paused as if waiting for a response.

Looking her brother in the eye, Ellen said the only words she could. “I felicitate you.”

“My wife needs family—needs you—home in this time of stress.” Randolph dropped his hands.

They both fell silent.

“Is she having a difficult pregnancy?” Ellen finally asked.

“The doctor says she is merely suffering the usual discomforts.”

“Then I fail to see why I am needed.” Ellen waited.

Randolph’s jaw worked as he evidently prepared to come to the point. “I’m afraid that Alice is having trouble keeping house help. The Irish girls can’t seem to come up to the mark anymore. And with her feeling so badly... Ellen, it’s your duty to come home and help out. Alice isn’t strong enough to—”

“Alice is as strong as an ox,” Ellen said blandly and rose. “I would suggest Alice learn to treat the Irish girls better and then she’ll have no trouble keeping house help. Let me be clear, Randolph. I will not come home to keep house for Alice.”

I have no intention of returning to Galena. Ever.

“Alice said you’d be difficult,” he said, obviously disgruntled. “She wrote this note for me to give you.” He handed her the letter, but wouldn’t make eye contact.

She unfolded it.

Dear Ellen,

I’m sure you will refuse to come back, even though it is your duty as the unmarried sister to help your family. So let me just say this. Gossip is buzzing about Cissy and Holton. I don’t know why people waited so long to begin commenting about Holton switching his attentions from you to your younger and much prettier sister, but they did. I think your leaving town prompted a resurgence of the gossip. Cissy is finding all this talk distressing. I have done my best to put a good face upon the business. However, if you don’t come home, I’m afraid I won’t be able to carry this off. If you love your sister, you will come home and save her embarrassment.

Sincerely,

Alice

The letter and its veiled threat left Ellen aghast. She looked into Randolph’s face, shadowed in the lamplight. The letter was dreadful but it might serve a purpose. Cissy had said it well—Alice brought out the worst in their brother. Maybe the time for revelation had arrived.

“Do you know what Alice has written me?”

“No.”

She handed the note to him. “Here. Read it.”

He accepted it reluctantly and then glanced down. Barely a minute passed as he read it. His face reddened in the low light.

“Randolph, you are my brother and I love you. But I don’t think you realize that your wife shows a very different face to you than she does to me or even Cissy. Or the Irish girls who’ve left your employ.”

Halfheartedly, he began, “You’re reading something in this note that isn’t—”

“No, Randolph, you and I both perceive the meaning plainly. And in your heart, you know that trying to bring me home now is selfish on Alice’s part. That’s why you’ve delayed and delayed telling me why you came.”

Her brother sank onto the bench by her table, staring at the single page in his hand.

Ellen waited.

“I haven’t wanted to admit it to myself,” he said, not looking up. “But when you left so abruptly, Alice and I had an argument. A neighbor woman had said something sharp to me about Alice knowing why you’d left.”

Ellen didn’t reply. Randolph must work this out for himself.

“What am I going to do, Nell?” he at last asked. His use of her childhood nickname touched her. “After reading this, I can’t deny it any longer. I’ve married a vain, selfish woman.”

“I don’t know what you can do except stand up to her. By ignoring it, you’ve been condoning her behavior.”

He nodded slowly. “I’m sorry I didn’t speak up when I first sensed matters weren’t right between you and Alice.”

“You are in a difficult position.”

“And you are, too,” her brother said, his voice becoming stronger.

“What?”

“What about this foreigner, this Mr. Lang?”

Ellen felt herself starch up on the outside and soften on the inside, an odd combination. “What about Mr. Lang?”

“I’d have to be blind not to notice how
friendly
the two of you are.”

Ellen sent her brother a repressive look. “If you are implying that there is anything between us other than friendship—”

“Perhaps on your part, it’s only friendship. I am a man and I know when a man is interested in a woman. Mr. Lang is interested in you.”

Ellen half-turned from him. “Then he will be disappointed. I have no interest in romance now.”

Her brother grumbled. “I know who’s responsible for that.”

“I don’t want to speak of Holton—”

Randolph changed subjects. “You shouldn’t have gone so far away, Nell.”

“I am happy here. And now I have William.”

“Martin told me that the town is against your keeping this foundling.”

Her heart lurched but she answered calmly, “The town will get used to it.”

Randolph sat a few more moments before he rose to leave. “My boat is expected early in the morning. I will write you when I get home. And don’t worry about Cissy. I’ll take care of everything.” He turned.

She rose and threw her arms around him. “You can handle this, Boss.” She used the old name to try to lift his mood. “Give my love to Cissy...and Alice.”

He hugged her close. “We lost our parents too soon. Perhaps if they’d still been here...”

She choked back sudden tears. “I wish you traveling mercies.”

After their farewells, she watched him drive up the track toward town in the moonlight.

Dear God, help my brother. He will need it to succeed.