Lyn Cote Page 7

  Kurt stared at his boots. This still felt like giving in, like letting Gunther get his own way, making him weak.

  “Miss Thurston has offered private lessons two evenings a week, starting tomorrow. Do you want them?”

  Gunther sent him a look laden with suspicion and folded his arms. “Private lessons? Can we afford that?”

  “She says she is the teacher for Pepin and will teach anybody who wants to learn whenever they can come. Do you want to learn, Gunther?”

  Gunther eyed him as if he didn’t trust him.

  “You did not set Johann a very good example,” Kurt scolded, frowning, and felt the frown lowering his own mood.

  “I couldn’t get you to listen to me,” Gunther objected.

  Kurt bent forward and folded his hands. Their relationship was not the usual between brothers. It never had been. Their father had never “fathered” Gunther.

  Gunther rose. “So I go to school tomorrow after supper?”

  “We’ll go with you,” Kurt said. “Maybe I can learn, too.”

  This thought obviously startled Gunther. Then the lad grinned. “We go to school together—you and me?”

  Kurt shook his head, standing. “Go to bed.”

  Gunther chuckled and went inside.

  Kurt stared at the last of the sunset and thought of Miss Thurston, so pretty and so caring. But she was going to be hurt over this baby and there was nothing he could do to help her.

  *

  On Tuesday evening, Ellen stood in the doorway of the school, waiting for Gunther to arrive. Would he? Or would he skip evening school, too?

  As she waited, she tried not to think of the contents of her sister’s letter, which she’d finished reading before she went to retrieve William from the Brawley’s. The letter’s contents still upset her stomach and played through her mind. She’d thought she’d left matters in the best way she could, but evidently that had changed for the worse.

  She sighed. The autumn days still lingered in a long twilight. Then she saw a trio of shadows approaching. Apparently Gunther was not arriving on his own.

  Holding Johann’s hand, Gunther walked beside Mr. Lang, who marched toward her as if someone behind him had a rifle aimed at his back. The man, whose good looks still caused her some unease, had very definite ideas. Gunther’s head was lowered in obvious uncertainty. She hoped this solution would work for the boy.

  Even as she tried to focus on the important task at hand, her unruly mind kept drifting back to phrases from her sister’s letter.

  I know you couldn’t possibly live with our brother and his wife. It seems to me that Alice brings out all the worst in Randolph. Shouldn’t love bring out the best in a person?

  A very good question, Ellen thought. Was this evidence that her sister was maturing?

  “Good evening, Miss Thurston.” Mr. Lang greeted her as always, with that distinctive European style, making his respect for her plain. She noted that his blond hair waved around his ears, and he needed a haircut.

  She forced a smile, reminding herself that Gunther needed her to make this work. “I see you’ve brought Johann, too.”

  “Yes.” Mr. Lang looked stressed. “I thought he could help me watch the child while Gunther takes his lessons.”

  This surprised Ellen, but it shouldn’t have. She recalled how Mr. Lang had pitched in and taken care of William that night they’d found him. Because of that, she had expected Mr. Lang to side with her about keeping William. But he hadn’t. Now, here he was offering her help, not lecturing her about her campaign to keep William.

  An unusual and complicated man.

  “A good idea,” she replied.

  As she looked at Mr. Lang and was reminded yet again of Holton, more of Cissy’s words played in her mind. I must say that I’ve been surprised by some of our oldest friends. They don’t seem to welcome Holton as they should. Holton dismisses it as just small-town clannishness, but it hurts me all the same.

  Ellen hoped no one would tell Cissy the plain truth. Initially, when others noticed Holton switching his attentions from her to Cissy, she’d crafted excuses. She’d done it foremost to save face but then to protect her sister.

  But maybe I shouldn’t have. Perhaps I should have told Cissy the truth. But would she have believed me? Or put it down as jealousy?

  Ellen forced herself back to the present. “Gunther, I thought we’d do our lessons in my quarters. Come in.”

  Soon she sat at the table with Gunther, and Mr. Lang settled in the rocking chair holding William. Johann played with a carved wooden horse, tapping its hooves on the half-log floor. Accustomed to being here alone every evening, Ellen noticed a difference. The room felt as if it was happy to be filled with more than just her and William. Foolishness, she chided herself.

  “Gunther, I am not going to be teaching you as a child, but as an adult student.” She had given this a lot of thought and had rehearsed this speech in her mind. She looked directly into the young man’s blue eyes, so like his handsome brother’s. No wonder he’d gained Amanda’s attention.

  “Gunther,” she began, “you have much to learn about English and American history and government if you are to be a knowledgeable American citizen. But I’m only going to teach you if you are interested in bettering yourself, preparing yourself to vote intelligently in the future. Do you want to learn?”

  Gunther looked surprised. “I thought it had been decided already.”

  “I can present lessons,” she said, “but I can’t make you learn.”

  Gunther glanced at his brother, then lowered his gaze to the tabletop. Ellen waited while Gunther thought, and her mind drifted back to the letter.

  Please write soon and tell me you’re happy up there in the wilderness. If you aren’t, we can bring you home where you belong.

  Home where I belong. Holton’s duplicity had robbed her of her home forever. Her emotions tumbled downward. Despair gripped her, but she wrenched herself from its grasp.

  “What do you say, Gunther?” she asked more sharply than she’d intended.

  The young man raised his eyes to her.

  “Yes, I want to learn about this country’s history, its government and I want to get better at English.” Gunther’s words tumbled out in a rush.

  Relief rolled through her. “Yes, I can help you with speaking English, and also with reading and writing proficiently. And I will teach you American government and history—”

  “That will not take long,” Mr. Lang interjected, an edge to his voice. “This country is not a century old, even. Germany’s history goes back over a thousand years.”

  Ellen heard the wounded pride in Mr. Lang’s tone. He’d left his country behind. As a stranger in this new place, he was counted as less than others.

  Gunther snapped, “I don’t care about Germany. I want to be American. You brought us here. This is where I will live.” Jabbing his chest with his thumb, he added, “Where I will take a wife.”

  Ellen thought of the Ashfords’ low opinion of Gunther. Obviously Gunther hoped that gaining education would help change their minds. She hoped so, too. “Then shall we begin?”

  Gunther nodded to her. “Yes, please.” His tone no longer was angry.

  “Since you mentioned it, I think we’ll start with helping you improve your pronunciation of English sounds.” She began with the difficult “th” sound.

  As she helped Gunther learn to position his tongue between his teeth to make this sound, she noted from the corner of her eye Mr. Lang and Johann silently mimicking her. So she would be teaching three, not one.

  A strange feeling came over her, and she realized that sitting in her quarters and helping Mr. Lang and Johann and Gunther while Mr. Lang held William was close to how she felt when with Ophelia and Martin. This was a disturbing thought, which triggered a disturbing sentence from Cissy’s letter.

  You must plan to come home for a visit at Christmas. Holton and I will meet you at Moline and bring you home in our carriage.

&
nbsp; She lost track of what she was saying to Gunther as the words rang in her mind. Home, Cissy had written. But she felt she would never go home again. She’d lost her parents to typhoid a year ago; her brother to his mean-spirited, pretentious wife and now her little sister to Holton.

  Despair over these injuries weighed like lead shot in her midsection.

  Then William gurgled in Mr. Lang’s arms. The man smiled down at her child, and his expression touched her heart. She would leave the past behind and make her own family here. With William.

  Oh, God, please make that come true.

  Chapter Seven

  Removing his hat, Kurt hesitated at the school door. Today after Sunday worship, everyone had shared a potluck picnic on the school grounds. Now the school board was going to hold a school dedication, an event new to him.

  He found himself looking for Miss Thurston, as he’d been doing all day. And all day he’d overheard bits of conversations about her and William. No one approved of her keeping the child. Had Miss Thurston heard them, too?

  Holding Johann’s hand, Kurt entered the school and sat on their usual half-log bench at the back of the room. Johann was excited about something but when Kurt asked, the lad had just grinned. Kurt noted that the three men who’d been elected to the board—Mr. Ashford and Martin Steward and another man he didn’t know—sat in the first row along with their families.

  Miss Thurston, dressed as fine as a fashion plate, sat at her desk. She wore a stylish dress of some shiny dark blue material. With her bearing both graceful and striking, she overshadowed the other women in the room. He tried not to stare at the lovely picture she presented, something he found he was doing more and more these days.

  On her desk perched the basket with the napping child. He watched as people kept looking at it and then looking away.

  An air of expectancy hummed in the room, the scent of pine and cedar emanating from the newly cut, rough log walls. He liked that. How different the village school he’d attended had been, which had stood for centuries before he entered it.

  He glanced around and glimpsed his brother sitting on the other side of the door. He noted a subtle change in Gunther. The boy still didn’t sit up as straight as Kurt would have liked, but he didn’t slouch quite as much, either. However, he was still gazing at the storekeeper’s daughter. Kurt shook his head, wishing he could spare the boy the pain of coming rejection.

  Mr. Ashford cleared his throat. “I’d like to welcome you all to the formal dedication of Pepin’s first school.”

  Applause and foot-stamping broke out amid the crowd. Kurt sensed the pride the young town was feeling. They had worked hard and contributed much to see this school finished. Johann sat very straight beside him, still appearing eager about something.

  Noah Whitmore asked everyone to stand and pray with him. The prayer came straight from the man’s heart, asking God’s blessing on the building, on the teacher, on the children and their families. At the end, a solemn and hearty “Amen!” swept the gathering.

  At Mr. Ashford’s request, Miss Thurston rose. She looked very elegant yet commanding. Her back straight, her chin lifted, but not so high as to challenge others. And he noted that she also wore a stylish hat with a feather today, not a bonnet like the other women.

  “I have asked Miss Thurston to say a few words today,” Mr. Ashford said.

  The teacher turned to face the filled schoolroom. “Instead of speaking myself, my students have prepared a recitation for you in honor of this special day. Students,” she said, “come forward as we rehearsed.”

  Her students—including Johann—leaped to their feet and hurried forward where, with a little jostling, they assembled in age order, the youngest students in the front.

  “Johann,” Miss Thurston said, “will you announce our recitation, please?”

  “Yes, Miss Thurston,” he replied in a loud voice, stepping forward. “We, the students of Pepin Community School, will recite the Preamble to the United States Constitution.” Red-faced but proud, Johann moved back in line.

  Noting that Johann had spoken with almost no accent, Kurt wondered if he’d been carefully rehearsed by the teacher. He also noted that he didn’t know what “preamble” meant. He leaned slightly forward to hear it.

  “We the People of the United States—” Miss Thurston started the students in a clear, strong voice and then let the children go on without her “—in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.”

  Excitement and wonder raced down Kurt’s spine, a tingling—an awakening. We, the People. Not the princes, not the lords, not the gentry—the people ordained and established. In some unseen way, he felt himself expanding, becoming more than he had considered himself before hearing these words. He inhaled deeply, letting this sensation sink in. He couldn’t take his gaze from Miss Thurston as she stood so tall and so brave, without a bowed head or a voice of deference. I love this country.

  A moment of silence and then everyone surged to their feet and applauded, some holding their hands high. The applause went on for over a minute, the parents glowing with pride. Kurt joined in. That Miss Thurston had chosen his nephew, the scorned immigrant, to introduce the recitation was not lost on him. How kind of her. How good.

  No doubt awakened by the applause, William began to cry. Miss Thurston swiftly lifted him from his basket and he calmed immediately. Again, Kurt noticed everyone eyeing the teacher and the child.

  “Well recited, students,” Mr. Ashford pronounced, also with a sidelong glance at the teacher.

  Kurt wished William hadn’t called everyone’s attention to himself. He knew how this would end but he wanted nothing to hurry along what would inevitably happen.

  “Miss Thurston,” Mr. Ashford said, “will you tell us if there is anything you need to do your job as teacher of Pepin Community School?”

  Miss Thurston inclined her head. “I’d like the parents to ask their children each evening to share what they learned in school that day.”

  The parents around Kurt nodded in agreement and looked more pleased with each word the teacher said.

  “Also, I ask that each child bring their own cup for water,” Miss Thurston added. “I’ve studied modern sanitation and it is becoming accepted that using the communal cup, which hangs by the pump, is a way of spreading contagions.”

  The parents bent their heads together and discussed this startling announcement, seemingly impressed by Miss Thurston’s knowledge. And when she thanked the parents for doing such a good job preparing the children to come to school, they all beamed at her praise. She was absolutely winning them over as their teacher. Kurt only wished that she could win them over in all matters, for her sake.

  Mr. Ashford thanked the community for coming, and everyone applauded, rising to gather their families and head home. For some reason, Kurt found he couldn’t leave. Johann had left his side to talk to friends outside and finally only he and Miss Thurston remained. She walked toward him, one brow lifted as if questioning him.

  He could not provide a single, sensible reason for lingering. How could he say that he’d found it impossible to leave without speaking to her?

  “Did you need something, Mr. Lang?”

  Like an ocean swell, an answer came to him. He needed only to speak a few words to Miss Thurston. He had denied his growing interest in her, which was both inappropriate and doomed. But being in her presence, and speaking with her, had become a pleasure he couldn’t deny himself.

  “A very good dedication,” he managed to say. “I had not heard that before. The preamble.”

  She gazed at him. “Thank you. I think the children did a good job. Did you notice how well your nephew pronounced his part?”

  Kurt found his mouth had gone dry. “Yes. Danke—thank you.” Since he co
uldn’t trust his tongue, he simply smiled and bowed, and then took his leave as quickly as he could.

  Outside, he called Johann and soon the three of them were walking home together. As he listened to Johann’s chatter, Kurt sternly took himself to task for giving in to his foolishness with regard to his feelings. Just as Gunther had no hope of gaining Amanda, Kurt had no hope of attracting Miss Thurston. The old wound twisted inside him like a sharp knife. The woman he’d proposed to had rejected him and at the worst possible moment, just after his father had lost almost everything and decided to take the coward’s way out. In the end, that had pushed him to leave Germany.

  Just as well. Just as well, he thought. And no one here must ever find out.

  *

  At school late on Tuesday afternoon, Ellen listened to the eldest students as they alternated reading portions of Longfellow’s poem, “The Song of Hiawatha,” aloud. The day had turned sultry, and she dabbed her face with one of her mother’s delicate lace-edged handkerchiefs, one that she’d hidden from her sister-in-law, Alice. Alice thought that all of Mother’s possessions should go to the wife of the eldest son, and the daughters should get nothing.

  Ellen didn’t like the way her thoughts stirred up irritation. Why was she thinking of Alice—of all people—now?

  When the tall form of a man appeared in the doorway of the school, she thought one of the fathers had come early to take a child home. The sun shining behind him cast him in shadow.

  “Yes?” she asked, shading her eyes to see.

  “Ellen?”

  It was her brother’s voice! “Randolph?” She ran to him, and he opened his arms and let her hug him.

  “What are you doing here?” Fear lanced through her. “Has anything happened—” She couldn’t finish her question.

  “No, nothing dire has happened.”

  Then why had her brother traveled three days north to see her?

  She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. She stepped back from him and showed him in. He looked more and more like their father all the time—slender with wavy, dark hair and a distinguished face.