A Good Man for Katie (7 page)

The back of the buckboard parked in the street harbored all the implements they would need to clean―brooms, mops, buckets and dust cloths. An array of oils and soaps were stuffed into the pails to avoid being spilled. A long, rectangular trunk, its buckles dulled with age, had been pushed up beneath the bench seat along side a large wicker picnic basket covered in a red and white-checked tablecloth.

A red-haired, freckle-faced boy carried on a long, one-sided conversation with the horse hitched to the front of the wagon.

“This is my son, Walter.” Laurel took the boy by the hand. “Say hello to Miss O’Rourke, your new teacher.”

The boy mumbled a shy hello but his hazel gaze rested on her. Kathryne caught the bright gleam of intelligence in his inquisitive stare and heaved a sigh. If all the children she was supposed to teach were like him, her inexperience might come shining through.

Don’t start doubting yourself now, Kate. Classes haven’t even begun yet.
She pushed the anxiety from her mind and greeted the boy in front of her. “Hello, Walter. It’s lovely to meet you.”

The boy was so adorable, she wanted to ruffle his flaming red hair and count the fairy dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Instead, she shook his hand then waited while he clambered in to the back of the wagon before she took her seat beside Laurel.

“Ready?” Emeline asked before she flicked the reins and maneuvered the buckboard across town. The wagon dipped and swayed as it traversed the deeply rutted road up the mountainside to the cottage and schoolhouse. Kathryne clutched the wooden bench so she wouldn’t be thrown from her seat while anticipation sent butterflies into her stomach. Cleaning tools rattled and mixed with the steady clip-clop of the horse’s hooves to create a racket that echoed between the tall, craggy bluffs, which surrounded this perfect valley.

The only one who seemed to enjoy the bone-jarring ride was Walter. He giggled every time he was tossed against the side of the buckboard and shouted out “Do it again” until Emeline brought the wagon to a halt beside the schoolhouse.

Walter jumped from the back of the buckboard and commandeered a swing hanging from the branches of a shade tree, his mother’s reminder to not wander off ringing through the stillness of the day.

A clear mountain brook gurgled beneath a wooden bridge and separated the teacherage from the schoolhouse. Kathryne climbed down from the buckboard, grabbed a bucket and mop and stood in silence to study the quaint cottage.

I’m home
.

The phrase whispered through her head and brought an overwhelming sense of welcome.

Sheltered by tall pines swaying in the breeze, the house possessed a large bay window beside a small front veranda. A rocking chair and three-legged table rested between the porch’s white cast iron railing and the bedroom window and offered the perfect place to sit on a warm evening.

Late summer flowers bloomed in the garden on each side of the walkway, around the porch and under the bay window. Though weeds were overgrown and threatened to choke the flowers, the colors of the hardy plants were still brilliant against the pale yellow of the cottage.

Emeline stepped up behind her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Well? What do you think?”

“I think I’ll be happy here.” Excitement bubbled within her as she lightly skipped over the bridge and the mountain stream beneath it. Laughter escaped her. She couldn’t help herself nor could she contain her excitement. “Come on!”

Kathryne’s first glimpse of the teacherage through the window over a week ago didn’t quite prepare her when she opened the door. She’d known the little cottage needed a thorough cleaning, but she hadn’t expected to be assaulted by a putrid smell when she stepped into her new home.

She wrinkled her nose against the odor. As she moved further into the room and her skirts kicked up the dust on the floor, she sneezed three times in quick succession.

“Bless you!” Emeline murmured as she propped a broom against the wall.

Equal amounts of giddiness and apprehension rippled through her. Kathryne wanted to run through the house to inspect everything at once, but resisted the urge. She couldn’t hold back the wide grin that made her jaw ache or the squeal of delight as she surveyed the cozy parlor. Two burgundy and cream-striped wingback chairs and a small table, all coated with a fine layer of dust, were in the alcove by the big bay window.

Thick drapes hung from rods over the window. Once a dark red, they were now faded with dust. Cobwebs floated from the corners of the room. A desk and chair nestled beside a bookcase filled with books and joined a camel-backed divan upholstered in a flowered pattern to complete the furnishings.

The wall separating the parlor from the bedroom hosted a stone fireplace. Kathryne bent to run her finger against the grime accumulated there and noticed the fireplace opened on the other side as well to heat both rooms. She straightened and wrinkled her nose again. “What is that smell?”

Laurel entered the cottage behind her. “Maybe a squirrel died up in the attic. Happens all the time.”

“Let’s get the windows open. Maybe that’ll help.” Emeline moved to the window and flung aside the draperies. A cloud of dust swirled around her and she coughed and sputtered before she raised the sash to breathe in fresh air. The cool breeze didn’t alleviate the smell completely, but it did help.

“I’ll ask Mr. Jacobs to take a look in the attic.” Laurel blushed to the roots of her hair when she mentioned Ephraim Jacobs.

“I think someone’s sweet on Mr. Jacobs,” Emeline teased her.

“He’s a nice man and he’s very fond of Walter, but no, I’m not sweet on him.” Laurel defended herself. “It’s not easy being alone since James passed away.”

Emeline nodded in agreement and offered Laurel a few words of sympathy.

Kathryne listened to the exchange with half an ear as the exhilaration she tried to hold at bay threatened to break loose. Beyond the parlor, an arched doorway led to a well-provisioned kitchen where a small table and two chairs, an icebox and a wood and glass cabinet came into view. The shelves of the cabinet were stocked with plates, cups, saucers and tins clearly marked for coffee, tea, sugar and flour. She prayed the tins were empty, as she knew no one had lived here since the former schoolteacher eloped several months ago.

While Laurel peeked out the door to check on Walter and Emeline pulled the rest of the draperies from the rods, Kathryne wandered into the kitchen. Her first sight of the cast iron stove struck terror in her heart. She didn’t know how to boil water, let alone cook. Frankly, if she didn’t need to go near the stove—
any
stove—it would be fine. She could subside on bread and smoked summer sausage and simple things she didn’t have to cook or she could use the coupons from the Wagon Wheel for her meals.

Emeline followed her into the room, carrying the old, faded drapes and waved the fine mist of dust from in front of her face. Kathryne turned toward her, expecting compassion. She didn’t expect Emeline to burst into laughter.

“Oh, Kate! You should see your face!” She laughed harder then sobered when Kathryne didn’t join in. “I know. I had the same expression the first time Terry expected me to prepare dinner. Mama Ginny never allowed us in the kitchen, let alone taught us to cook, but don’t worry. It doesn’t bite. And you can take lessons with me. I’m certain Noelle won’t mind.”

Kathryne pointed at the stove and couldn’t help the involuntary shiver that raced up her spine. “That cast iron monstrosity and I are mortal enemies. Don’t you remember what happened at Grandma Peabody’s that summer?”

“Indeed, I do.” Emeline’s mouth spread into a gentle smile. “I remember very well. And we learned a good lesson, you and I. Grandma Peabody warned us both to stay away from the stove, but you wouldn’t listen. Stubborn as you are, you had to make hot cakes.” Her eyes danced merrily in her face.

“You were the funniest looking thing with your eyebrows and some of your hair singed off but it was a very long time ago, Kate. You’re not eight anymore.” She reached out to grab the long braid hanging down Kathryne’s back and brought the heavy rope of hair over her shoulder. “Just look how thick and beautiful your hair is now. Don’t let the stove scare you.”

“But it does.”

Emeline shrugged. “You’ll have to get over your fear. That’s all there is to it.” She dropped the braid, moved across the room and opened the back door. A cross-breeze now wafted through the cottage and the clean pine smell of the evergreen trees behind the house scented the air.

Kathryne sighed. “I really don’t have much choice, do I?”

She left Emeline in the kitchen to remove the curtains from the window and entered the bedroom, the only room she hadn’t seen yet. Larger than the other rooms, the bedroom was the dream of every young woman. White lace draperies, dingy with the dust that seemed to permeate everything, accented the soft lilac wallpaper, as did the hand-painted kerosene lamp on the small bedside table. Brass sconces, tarnished by neglect, hung on the wall on either side of the brass bed. They only needed a good rubbing to bring out their burnished luster. A rocking chair, small vanity with a cushioned stool and bureau added to the feminine charm. Beneath the furniture, a handmade rag rug covered the hardwood floor and in the corner, at an angle, sat a tall white armoire, the door pulls made of brass to match the bed and sconces.

Kathryne crossed the room and opened the armoire. Day gowns in a variety of dull browns, grays, blacks and navy hung from metal hooks. “I thought the last teacher left to get married. It doesn’t look like she took any of her clothing.”

“She eloped.” Laurel joined her in the bedroom and pulled out one of the bureau drawers. “At least, that’s what her note said.”

Moving away from the armoire, Kathryne stopped at the vanity. “She didn’t take her brush and comb, either. Don’t you find that a bit odd?” She ran her finger over the tarnished patterned silver on the back of the brush and waited for the burst of feeling to come through the object. Nothing happened and she wondered if there was something about certain people that allowed her to
know
their emotions, like Emeline, Grandpa Peabody…and Chase.

Laurel shrugged as she removed a crumpled petticoat from the drawer, shook it several times to release the wrinkles then folded the item with care and placed it on the bed. “Amanda Stillwell was a strange woman, wasn’t she, Em?”

Emeline poked her head in the doorway. Dust from the drapes and curtains in her arms covered her fine features. “She was nice enough, I suppose. A little standoffish, if you know what I mean. Never had an unkind word for anyone. The children liked her.”

“She never seemed very happy, though. Well, at least, not until she met that man.”

“Who was he?” Kathryne moved back to the armoire and removed the dresses hanging there one at a time. She laid them across the bed to be folded.

“No one knows.” Laurel emptied another drawer full of pantalettes, chemises, and nightgowns. “She never introduced him.” She folded one of the nightgowns and placed it on the growing pile.

“And we never saw him.” Emeline moved into the room and shrugged her slim shoulders. “In fact, she never mentioned his name. For the longest time, no one suspected she was seeing anyone, but then, I suppose she kept her romance a secret because of the
rules
she agreed to when she was hired.”

“The last rule especially.” Laurel grinned and stopped emptying the bureau. She pushed an errant lock of pale blond hair out of her face with her forearm. “The one that says ‘No keeping company with the opposite sex.’ I think it should be struck from the contract.” She tilted her head to the side. “Maybe her mystery man was married.”

Again, Emeline shrugged. “We’ll never know, but I hope she’s happy, wherever she is.”

Kathryne took the last gown out of the armoire and laid it over the other clothes already on the bed. “What should we do with all her things?”

“Donate them to the church. I’m certain Pastor Richards knows someone who could use them.” Emeline disappeared from the doorway. When she came back, her arms were empty. She rolled up the sleeves of her gown then pulled a silken scarf from her pocket and tied the multi-colored fabric around her head to keep her hair out of her face. “You two might as well finish in here. I’ll start on the kitchen.”

The three of them worked in companionable silence, punctuated by staccato bursts of conversation, laughter, and Walter running into the house to show them his new found treasures. They moved all the furniture outside then rolled up the rugs and hung them over ropes tied to the trees in the front yard to air out.

Before long, the hardwood floors were swept and rubbed with lemon oil to preserve the shine, windows were washed, clean linens were placed on the bed and the whole cottage smelled of lemon wax and vinegar. Dishes were washed, dried and put away in the hutch. To Kathryne’s relief, the tins marked coffee and such were empty as was the icebox.

The fireplace had been cleaned and several new logs graced the grate behind the screen. Long drapes of royal blue trimmed with white fringe, donated by Mrs. Cabot, hung around the windows and swayed with the gentle wind blowing through the house. Kathryne stood back and inspected the results of their efforts. A sigh of deep pleasure escaped her. She may not know how to cook, but being raised in a military family, she certainly knew how to clean.

“I think we deserve a break.” Laurel came up beside her, picnic basket slung over her arm. She wiped at the perspiration dotting her forehead with the back of her wrist. “Let’s sit outside and enjoy the fresh air.” She went through the front door and called her son.

“Whew! We’re almost done.” Emeline patted her face with a handkerchief then stuffed it in the pocket of her apron. “By this time tomorrow, you’ll be all moved in and next week, you’ll teach your first class.”

Overwhelmed with gratitude for Emeline’s generosity, Kathryne’s eyes misted over and her vision blurred despite the glasses on her face. “I can’t thank you enough, Emy, for everything you’ve done. Helping me get the job, helping me clean, helping me…get my life in order.”