Donovan's Daughter (The Californians, Book 4) (14 page)

Marcail wandered into the living room then, and even
though the light was dim, she could see the titles. She
selected a fat volume from the lower shelf and went back
to the kitchen table.

Alex had to quell the impulse to turn and begin talking
to her once again. She fascinated him, and he found that
he couldn't hear enough of her voice, or watch too many
of the expressions on her face when she talked. Alex
worked in silence for about 20 minutes, mixing dough
for bread, before Marcail spoke.

"Where is the ulna?

Alex turned to her with a wide-eyed expression, but
Marcail didn't notice. She was bent over one of his medical textbooks, studying it intently.

"In your arm," he told her simply.

"Where?" Marcail finally looked at him.

Alex raised his right forearm, pinky side toward his
curious houseguest, and then drew the fingers of his left
hand down the outside of his forearm from wrist to
elbow.

"It's the bone right here on the little finger side of the
forearm." Alex watched as Marcail inspected her own
forearm and then went back to her reading.

Alex returned to his mixing bowl with a smile on his
face. He found himself selfishly hoping it would continue to snow for days-anything to keep this precious
girl close to him.

The sun broke through the clouds at about 2:30 that
afternoon. The day had been spent in various pursuits,
some idle, some intense, but all enjoyable. Marcail was
becoming less tense as the day wore on, and Alex, as he
offered to take her home, hoped that she would be a little
more receptive to his suit in the very near future.

Even as the thought occurred to him, another thought,
much more painful and dark, crowded into his mind. It
came to fruition as he and Marcail approached her house
and found several men from town, including Rowie
Kilmer, in her front yard.

"Miss Donovan," Mr. Flynn called to her as Alex held
her under the arms and lowered her to the bottom step of
her porch. "We were just about to organize a search for
you."

"Oh, Mr. Flynn, I'm sorry you were worried."

"Well, we're just glad that Dr. Montgomery found
you," he assured her warmly. "You must have gone
out early this morning, since the fire is out in your
stove."

'Actually," Marcail explained with an embarrassed
smile, "I got caught out yesterday."

Marcail failed to notice the change on Mr. Flynn's face
or how still the other men had become. Alex, on the
other hand, did not miss a single expression.

'Are you saying that Dr. Montgomery is just now
bringing you home?" Mr. Flynn questioned her softly.

"Well, yes," Marcail continued, still unsuspectingly.
"I got caught in the white-out yesterday, and as you
know, the sky didn't clear until just a short time ago."

Since she was moving up the steps toward the door,
Marcail again missed the men's faces. She called over her
shoulder that the men could come inside out of the cold,
but she didn't immediately notice when they failed to
follow her or respond.

Once she was out of earshot, Alex spoke to Mr. Flynn,
whose eyes were leveled on the younger man.

"You know better than to think what you're thinking,
Stan."

"I realize that, Alex," he answered, his voice measured. "But have you given any thought as to how this is
going to be received?"

"I've given it plenty of thought, but there wasn't much
I could do. Maybe the board would feel better if you had
found Miss Donovan's body frozen somewhere here in
the woods, instead of healthy and completely innocent
about what is going through your minds."

Mr. Flynn nodded, his expression pained, and Alex let
his gaze wander to the other men. Most were very worried. One wore a smirk that Alex wanted to wipe off, and
Rowie was clearly furious.

Marcail came back to her front door. When she could
see that no one was going to come in, she thanked the
men, closed the door, and restarted the fire in the stove.
It briefly crossed her mind that the men were acting
strangely, but within minutes her thoughts were on the
late hour of the afternoon and how much she wanted to
get done before bedtime.

Alex had to turn his face away from the pain and
confusion he saw in Marcail's eyes. He had not approached
her at church for fear of making a bad situation worse,
but the desire to sit next to her, put his arm around her,
and tell her everything was going to be fine was overwhelming.

But telling her such a thing would be a lie. Everything
was not going to be fine, at least not for a while. Alex
knew with a dreaded certainty that in order to make
things "right," Marcail was going to have to make some
painful decisions. He missed every word of the sermon
while he prayed for Willits' young schoolteacher.

Marcail was cut to the quick when Allie Warren walked
past her without a word. She knew her friend had seen
her, but Marcail watched as Allie kept her face averted,
even when she called a greeting to her.

It had taken half the morning, but the innocent Miss
Donovan finally understood that this sudden, cold treatment from the people at church had to do with her
spending a night at Dr. Montgomery's home. Her first reaction was shock, and then outrage at what they must
have been thinking.

It didn't seem to matter that she'd have frozen to death
if Alex hadn't rescued her. In the eyes of the townspeople, she had acted outside the bounds of propriety,
and that was not to be tolerated. Feeling lonely and
rejected, Marcail walked home from church alone. It was
the first week she hadn't been asked to join one of the
town's families for Sunday dinner.

She spent the day praying, overcoming her hurt, and
working on her lessons for the following week. It was
almost a relief to realize that she wouldn't have to see
anyone but her students until the following Sunday.
Marcail, who still did not grasp the severity of the situation, hoped that everyone would be over their upset by
then.

Marcail looked into the uncertain faces of the six children in her class and wanted to cry. She had hovered
around the door for an hour after she rang the bell,
finally accepting the fact that most of the town's families
were not going to send their children to school.

The Austins, Vespermans, and Whites had sent their
children, and after Marcail directed them to read silently
in their readers, she sat at her desk and decided what
course of action to take.

First of all, she knew that the children who had come to
school deserved her undivided attention as well as all the
instruction she could offer them. Second, she would
dismiss a little early and pay a visit to Mr. Flynn. Marcail,
after coming to these conclusions, settled down to the
teaching at hand.

"Mr. Flynn, I would be happy to stand before Mrs.
Duckworth and the entire school board and attest to the
fact that Dr. Montgomery was the soul of propriety while
I was in his home."

"I have no doubt that he was, Miss Donovan, but
you've watched Mrs. Duckworth; you've seen the way
she runs things in this town. You know that the hands
of all the people whose buildings and businesses are
owned by her are tied."

"In other words," Marcail spoke with a sinking feeling
of dread as his words finally became clear to her, "you
want my resignation?"

"I'm afraid I do." He spoke with visible regret. "I was
coming to see you about it this afternoon."

'And if I refuse?" Marcail asked, telling herself not to
cry.

"Then the majority of your class will not be receiving
an education, because they will be kept out of school as
they were today."

Marcail had thought the way Mr. Flynn's hands were
tied concerning Sydney was awful, but this was atrocious. Her voice said as much when she spoke.

'And if I went to Mrs. Duckworth myself?"

'As before with Sydney, it would only make matters
worse."

Marcail sat in silence for a moment. Mr. Flynn could
only watch her. At length she stood.

"The word 'quit' has never been a part of my vocabulary, Mr. Flynn, and I don't care to add it now. I'm going
to continue to teach at the Willits school whether there is
one child in my class or 30. Maybe when the people in
this town grow tired of having their lives dictated by one
woman, they'll send their children to be taught. It's my
hope that if enough of you take a stand, you can make a
difference."

Marcail walked out of Mr. Flynn's office without saying goodbye, wondering as she went if she could really
hold to all she said.