Chapter 3

© Copyright 2007 by Elizabeth Delayne



The next week, Matthew was back at school.

From then on it was his grandfather that brought him and his grandfather that picked him up at noon. Nothing more was said, and Matthew just seemed to fit into the classroom.

The weather turned cold and Rachel was forced the next Saturday to use a portion of her meager savings to buy a winter coat that was better for the climate than the one she had brought form home. The balmy Charleston air was so different than here with the plains, and the mountains at their backs.

The new coat made of leather and wool was perfect. She held it up to her and breathed in the warm leathery scent.

“Why don’t I help you with that?”

She turned and around to see who was speaking to her. She’d seen him around town at times, when he came in for supplies, the man with the scar that made his face look haggard, his countenance deadly. He watched her, his eyes seemingly intense—dark, deep with regret, sadness—or some other plaguing emotion. She’d seen it before. All too often. It matched the scar, running from near the corner of his eye to his cheek.

Neither were uncommon when a man had to fight his way through a war.

He took the coat from her and held it up so she could turn around and slide her arms inside. She tugged it around her and hugged herself, enjoying the feel of leather. It had to be one of the better reasons to come out west.

“Lovely.”

“Thank you sir.”

Actions of a gentleman, she told herself. No proposal, or argument against one. Just simply actions of a gentlemen. Rachel nearly sighed with relief.

Millie came up. “Made a decision?”

Rachel smiled and Millie nodded toward the man.

“Mr. Shatler. Come back in for supplies?”

“Supplies, yes ... and some other things. Mighty fine things in this store, Mrs. Barton.”

“Thank you.”

He looked toward Rachel. “You should get the coat. You make it look like something that could be found in one of those big city stores.”

“Oh, are you from the big city, Mr. Shatler?” Rachel asked.

“Born and bread in New York. Before the war, that is. Seemed a lot more peaceful out here.”

“It is,” Rachel agreed, then turned to Millie. “I guess that’s a yes.”

“Come on up to the front and I’ll put it on your account. Mr. Shatler,” she said, giving him a nod and a warm smile she gave all of her customers.

“Mam,” he said, nodding first toward Millie, then Rachel. “A good day, to you both.”

Rachel watched him leave, then frowned at her friend. “You don’t like him.”

Millie hesitated, then shrugged. “You get to know people, working in this store. He’s not from around here, not one of the farmers. A loner. Comes down from the mountains, is all Jasper can figure. He stocks up for the winter, then you won’t see him til spring. Usually stays to himself.”

“Really?” Rachel looked at the door where the man Millie called Shatler had left.

“First time I’ve seen him hold a conversation outside of me or Jasper,” Millie patted her back. “But then, when a pretty young school teacher shows up in town, everyone wants to have a look.”

* * *

On Saturday morning, Reverend Peterson had a surprise for her. The little clapboard house he’d had built was complete. It was a simple place, a single room with a cast iron stove, a small bed and a little table and chair. There was a small window, and beside it hung a small skillet and an even smaller pot for cooking. There was a lantern, and a box of supplies sitting on the table.

She could stand in the middle of the single room and almost reach out and touch every piece of furniture. The porch was nothing more than wooden planks placed directly on the ground, but it was put there as the Reverend’s wife had offered her an extra rocking chair that someone had donated to the parsonage when their daughter was born.

Still, she could close the door if she wanted and do a little dance. She had her own place. She had a job in a wonderful little town, students and a home. If she had any other dreams, for now, this was an overflowing of blessings. She no longer had to share the room with a three year old child, who shifted and turned in the bed, who had a tendency to wake up in the middle of the night and want a story from her roommate.

Her first guest was Millie Barton.

“It’s nice ... not much room for entertaining,” Millie said as she stood in the center of the room. She bumped into Rachel as she turned around.

Rachel laughed as she moved to stock the fire in the stove to ward off the chill. “And who am I going to entertain?”

“Why, you could invite me over for tea. The table and chair are already by the bed. Provides a seating for two.”

“Well, then. I guess I’ll need to go buy me a little china tea set.”

“I know the perfect place for you to buy one.”

“Really?” Rachel laughed–as Barton’s store was the only place in town that carried such frivolities.

“We can set you up like a queen.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“It’s nice,” Millie said at last, taking in the room again. “You’ll be okay until it rains or snows and it all melt in.”

“Why?”

Millie looked up. “You’re not supposed to see the sky, through the roof. No wonder it’s so cold in here. I bet Edmund did the roof. He tends to be a little lax at times.”

Rachel frowned. Would this mean she would be back at the Peterson’s until more work could be done?

Millie patted her arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to the Reverend. That way it won’t look like you’re the one who’s doing the complaining.”

Great. Another thing to worry about. The town had really come together to provide a place for her, not to mention the big slate board that hung at the front of the church or the desks that would sit in neat little rows during the week.

“Why don’t you come over to the store where its warm, and I’ll see if we can get this taken care of today,” Millie slipped her arm through Rachel’s. “Besides, just about anywhere’s going to be warmer than this drafty house.”

“Be careful. It’s my drafty house, you know.”



Warmer, with a flood of people there for weekend supplies, Rachel settled down in the back corner of the store with a cup of Millie’s coffee, and to her delight a letter from her twin sister Rebekkah.

Having talked to her husband about the roofing situation, leaving it to him to talk to the Reverend, Millie sat down with her. “So what’s new?”

Rachel laughed, “I haven’t even opened the letter yet.”

“Savoring it?”

“A little, I guess.”

She got a letter from her sister at least once a week, but it still felt so different than hearing from her every day, from across the room.

Laughing until late at night.

Knowing each other’s thoughts before the other. It was easy to remember her. She had the same face, the same smile. It was just hard not seeing her, face to face.

“Rachel?”

“Sorry,” she laughed and opened the letter.

It began the same, with the same script. She told of news and of how their parents were doing. Of the weather, of a new book.

And then she sprung her news.

“She’s going to have a baby.”

“Your sister?” Millie frowned. “Does this mean you’ll be going home to be with her?”

Rachel scanned the letter. “It looks like they expect the baby to arrive at the beginning of the summer. So, she hopes that I will be home in time for the birth. Oh, Millie!”

“Well, I have to say congratulations.”

“I just wish I could be there now.”

“Now, don’t go wishing that. We finally got us a school teacher. We can’t loose her.”

“No. I signed a contract and made a promise. I knew I would miss things ...”

“Well,” Millie said, “would it help if I told you Jasper and I think we might be expecting another child?”

“Mille!”

Mille laughed. “Shh. We haven’t exactly told anyone yet. We’re waiting. Just to make sure. But it’s one of the reasons Jasper is expecting me to sit down for awhile. We lost our last one. And we lost another before Jeffrey.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We have more to celebrate now. I know he’ll have a school when he grows up. Whether you’re the teacher or not, there will still be a foundation for him. It’s important to Jasper and I. We both had good strong educations back East. Even me.”

Rachel shook herself, still reveling in delight for her friend, “You’ll have to tell me everything. About the baby.”

Millie just laughed again. “I’ll make it a priority.”

* * *

James fixed the roof, but not because he’d have chosen to do so himself. No, it seemed that people in this town thought he should be doing things for the pretty school teacher. For months, he’d done his best to ignore the talk, to stay away from the ruckus, but people just kept up.

It wasn’t just that he didn’t want another wife. He’d had the best.

What irritated him the most, was that if people wanted to find a husband for the pretty young school teacher there were men, family men even, around. Tom Woolery had three children and had lost his wife to pneumonia. And there were minors in town, good men, just used to being on their own.

No, the people in this town wanted a wife for him because they felt sorry for him.

And that bothered him the most.

So he fixed the roof without complaint, and he would do a good job. He would check for other things that might need fixing, because otherwise they would be calling on him again and again.

He’d had a wife. She was the best. And just because she was ... didn’t mean the love stopped.

He missed Anna.

Missed her with every breath in his body. He sometimes just lay awake at night and made himself believe she was there beside him. So he could just listen to her. As if she was still there. As if there was still a way to tell her all there was left to say.

She’d always had so much to talk about, so many whims.

So many dreams.

He double checked the roof from above, and when he was fairly sure it was water proof, he made his way down. Of course, it would probably take a good rain to tell, but then, someone else in town could do the repair.

And if they called on him again ...

He would just do the job. Again.

He spotted Rachel as she walked down the planked wooden sidewalk. Her head was down against the wind and she was huddled into her coat.

He’d hoped to be gone before her return. He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea.

Still, when she looked up he was surprised to find her gaze not welcoming.

“Fixed your roof,” James said as he picked up his supplies.

She stared at him for a moment. “Thank you,” she said at last.

“Reverend Peterson asked me to do the favor.”

“I’ll make sure to thank the Reverend instead,” she said. “And I would have known, as head of the school board he is over such things.”

“I just don’t want you to think—”

“Right. I know. You don’t want me to think that you did it for me or that there would be any reason you would want to do anything for me, as it might rub off as approval for how I handle your son,” she walked passed him. “I think you’ve made it abundantly clear.”

She was angry at him, he thought. It was what he wanted. The clarity. The barrier against the cursed voices of the town sympathy.

“Mr. Forester.”

For a moment, he thought he would ignore the summons. But slowly, he turned around. She stood on the wooden planks of the grand level porch makeshift. Her hands were buried in the pockets of her coat.

And her eyes. Her eyes were hard.

“Just so you have everything straight, I’ve never once made any untoward statement or move toward you. Nor do I wish to consider marriage or courtship or anything close to whatever you are refusing to a man that acts as if I’m the worst of the earth ... undeserving as a friend of his child. So do not worry. You don’t have to worry about my out-of-place esteem for you. If I had any before, I’ll make sure to transfer it elsewhere.”

She turned then, walked into her house, and shut the door behind her.

The click echoed throughout the clearing.

And straight into the headache that had brewed itself in James Forester’s head.


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