Loving Liza Jane (27 page)

“Miss Merriwether, I’m about to do the sack race. Are you planning to come and watch?” His daughter leaned over his lap to shout the question, and Ben had all he could do not to cover his ears.

“I wouldn’t miss it, Lili,” Liza replied. “By the way, Erlene Barrington was looking for you a while back.”

“Oh, goodie,” Lili shrieked. “Sarah Jenkins and me are gonna be partners in the three-legged race. Can you watch us?”

Liza’s golden hair, tied back in its usual bun, looked looser today, the side strands blowing in the wind. As always, Ben longed to brush it from her flawless oval face and twist a couple glistening wisps around his forefinger. A blue calico dress, gathered at the waist with a wide belt, accented her womanly features. If he had been a man bent on anger, he might well have told Jon Atkins to remove his hand from the teacher’s elbow and make it snappy. Instead, he resolved to sit still on his high perch.

Liza laughed. “I will cheer you on, as I will any other of my students who might be participating, but I shall secretly wish you the winner.”

Lili clapped and then took Molly’s hands and patted them together as well. The baby giggled with glee. Ben, however, had to force a smile. Liza had yet to look his way. Jon on the other hand seemed bent on rubbing in the fact that he’d reached Liza ahead of him.

“I think I’ll join you if you don’t mind,” Jon said. “I love a good contest, don’t you, Ben?” Ben offered Jon an empty smile.

“That would be lovely,” answered Liza, looking up at Jon. “Just let me talk to Emma to see if she’ll meet us at the site of the race.”

Emma? “I’ll talk to her,” Ben said. And just like that, Ben climbed down from his rig, instructed his girls to stay put, and walked up to the house to invite Emma Browning to join him.

If Ben’s secret ploy in inviting Emma to join him was to make Liza jealous, it was childish and foolhardy. Yes, she’d accepted, but from a sense of duty, and for that, Ben regretted inviting her. She was a friend, already distrustful of men, and he’d used her as a means for getting back at Liza.

“I best get my evening meal on the table,” Emma announced after having watched a few events from the quilt they all shared on the large grassy field overlooking the masses of people that had shown up for the festival. Ben knew she felt uncomfortable, although why that was, he couldn’t say.

“Want me to walk you back?” Ben offered, sitting straighter, one knee drawn up so that his arms rested lazily over it.

“Don’t be silly, Ben,” she said, standing to her feet.

“How about me?” asked Jon, eyes filled with merriment. He was the only one lying straight out on the blanket, his hands serving as cushions for his head. He chewed idly on a foot-long blade of grass.

She produced a brittle smile and an upturned brow. “I’m sure I can find my own way back.” Then to Liza, “Stop in and see me anytime.”

“I will. Bye, Emma,” Liza said from her corner of the blanket, Molly sprawled out asleep on her lap. The sight of woman and child caught Ben in the gut and squeezed till it hurt.

“That woman despises the ground I walk on,” Jon said. “And I can’t for the life of me figure out what I did.” Oddly, he wore a grin at the pointblank assertion, apparently unmoved by her lack of responsiveness. Extraordinary coming from a man who defied all odds when it came to his number of admiring acquaintances. In fact, Ben never had met a person who didn’t crave Jon’s company. And Liza didn’t appear to be the exception, much to his chagrin.

“You probably didn’t do anything. She’s not fond of men in general unless they’re old and crusty—and not related to her.”

Jon scoffed. “You being the exception, I take it.” He pulled himself into a sitting position, one hand still holding to the long blade of grass, guiding it in and out between his teeth, and the other going behind him for support.

Here and there, folks milled about, waving greetings. Games and races of all types had been stationed in various places. Lili, still breathless from her last two contests, both of which she’d placed in but not won, returned and leaned her tired body into Ben’s broad chest and mopped continuously at her sweaty brow.

“We’ve formed a safe alliance over the years. I guess she knows I pose no threat,” Ben said.

“And I suppose I do?” Jon said, his brow knit with confusion. “What is there about me that threatens her?”

Ben tipped his head to one side to study Jon’s expression. Somehow, it’d gone from blithe and unconcerned to perplexed in the space of a second.

“She was hurt bad as a kid; that much I know, although even I don’t know the half of what went on behind closed doors. There were bruises. A cut lip here, a scratch there. Once I saw a scald mark on the side of her neck, which she told me she’d gotten as a result of dropping a frying pan. I remember thinking it seemed an unlikely spot for a burn, but, shoot, I was just a kid. What did I know?”

Jon made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. “That pitiless excuse of a man. How dare he treat his own daughter like some kind of—of mongrel. What is wrong with him?” Jon’s anger seemed more rooted in the personal than the righteous, which Ben found interesting.

“He’s a worthless drunk, plain and simple,” Ben answered. “Always has been—far back as I can remember.”

Moments of silent deliberation ticked by before Liza spoke. “Seems to me that the plain and simple truth here is that Emma and her father need the Lord.” Her statement put Ben to shame, and doubtless Jon as well. “I think we should make a pact to pray for them.”

“You’re right, Liza,” Jon said. “Rather than talk about it, we should be praying.”

A thoughtful smile curved Liza’s mouth. “I spoke with her about the Lord today, but she quickly let it be known she is not interested in God. It made me think of the woman at the well who was afraid to let Jesus see her for who she really was.”

“That’s insightful,” Ben said, giving a nod while simultaneously shooing a fly from his face. “Perhaps if anyone can reach her, you can, Liza.”

Liza nodded, and the three adults fell into another state of quiet reflection.

Finally, having had enough of the adult conversation, Lili sat bolt upright, her strength renewed, and shot a frustrated glance at everyone. “Well, this has turned boring,” she announced, jumping to her feet and pulling Ben with her.

Taken aback by his daughter’s boldness, Ben looked down at Jon, who hadn’t moved so much as a neck muscle, and Liza, who gently rocked his sleeping child where she sat. “How about we all go for a walk?” Ben suggested.

Jon shook his head. “No thanks. I believe I’ll just sit here and enjoy this wonderful autumn breeze.” Glancing in Liza’s direction, Jon added, “It’d be a shame for Liza to move the baby, don’t you think?”

“Come on, Papa,” Lili said, tugging on his arm. “You can buy me an ice cream.”

“An ice cream?” Ben gave Liza a look he hoped she would read as yearning.

But she merely flicked a free wrist at him. “Go on. Molly and I are fine. I think it’s good that she’s getting this nice nap, don’t you?”

“Sure, but…” He continued gazing down at her, wishing she could read between the lines. “I wouldn’t mind carrying her.”

“Nonsense. She’d awaken. Jon’s right, the weather is too perfect not to sit a spell longer. You and Lili go have fun.”

That was it, then. She wanted to be alone with Jon.

Ben shot Jon a warning look, but if the guy detected it, he didn’t let on. Instead, he reclined again, squinting up at the clear blue blanket of warmth and sighing with contentment.

Later, Ben’s hand holding tightly to Lili’s as they picked their way through mobs of townsfolk on their way to the ice cream stand, he blurted, “For someone afraid that Mr. Atkins is going to get to Miss Merriwether before I do, you sure were anxious to leave the two of them alone together.”

Lili looked up at him with knowing eyes. “Oh, Papa, don’t you know anything?”

“Huh?” he asked, dumbfounded by the tenor of her voice.

“The way Miss Merriwether was looking at Molly, I don’t think she would want to marry Mr. Atkins.”

“Why would you say a thing like that?”

She stopped in her tracks, forcing him to do the same. “Miss Merriwether likes us. Can’t you tell?”

“She does?”

“Papa, you’re silly,” she tacked on. “Come on. We both need ice cream.”

***

Abbreviated days meant less sunshine and cooler air. Once brightly colored, leaves of every shape and size had turned a crisp brown and fallen to the cold, hard earth. During recess breaks, many of the students gathered the dry leaves into piles and took turns diving into them, sometimes burying the younger students, to their great delight. However, even they complained of the temperatures and were contented to come inside and linger by the potbelly stove.

With October Fest a thing of the past, Liza busied herself in her classroom, arriving earlier than usual on frosty mornings to stoke the fire and haul in fresh drinking water. When the big boys arrived, she enlisted their help to carry in the large buckets of coal to keep the fires burning throughout the school day, always hoping that someone other than Rufus Baxter or Clement Bartel would turn up first.

With every passing day, both boys had become increasingly more difficult to handle, and she feared what would happen when the day came that she couldn’t handle their rude innuendos. She still held to the opinion that it was Clement who led in the escapades and Rufus who followed. If she could just convince Rufus to think for himself, she was sure he would blossom academically. Of course, with the obvious abuse his father had doled out, what chance did the boy have for thinking positively about himself?

Liza shifted her backside in the teacher’s chair, then reached up a hand to sooth her aching neck muscles. She’d decided to stay later today and correct a week’s worth of assignments, enjoying the warmth of the potbelly stove and its remaining glowing embers. The only sounds she heard were those of the ticking clock above her head and the dead leaves that whispered past the window nearest her.

On her desk sat a letter from Aunt Hettie, finely penned. She frowned as she perused her own careless handwriting, feeling guilty for having rushed through her response. However, the clock on the wall registered half past six, and she didn’t relish walking home in the dark. Still, she’d wanted to take the time to write her. So much had happened, and it seemed a shame not to keep her aunt and uncle informed of her dealings.

Quickly, she scanned the missive, checking one last time to see if she’d missed anything important.

Dearest Uncle Gideon and Aunt Hettie,

How wonderful it was to receive your latest letter. As always, I love to hear from you. I am happy to find you are in good health and faring well in my absence. I trust the weather there in Boston has been warmer than usual. It has been a typical fall here in Kentucky, according to the citizens of Little Hickman.

I wish you both could pay me a visit. You would be proud of the way I have fixed up my little cabin, Aunt Hettie. It has turned out to be a fine dwelling for me, neat as a pin, and decorated in just the way I like it. As you know, I was not so pleased when I first laid eyes on it. However, the gentleman who owns the place did a fine job of fixing it up, with the help of the townsfolk, of course. It is actually beginning to feel like home, particularly since all of the furniture I ordered finally arrived just over two weeks ago.

I am pleased to tell you that I am enjoying my time in the town of Little Hickman. My students as a whole are wonderful; that is, if I don’t count two particular boys who always seem to want to cause me problems. I have been looking for ways to discipline them that will not increase their hostilities, although that is indeed a tough assignment for this young, rather inexperienced, teacher.

I’m afraid I have done the unthinkable as a teacher, Aunt Hettie. I have picked my favorites among all of my students, one of which happens to be the daughter of the man who owns the cabin I live in. He is a widowed man with two young children, but I told you that in an earlier letter.

Liza frowned at herself for having included that last paragraph. Would Aunt Hettie now think her interest in the child resulted from the fact that Lili’s father was a widower? No matter, it was too late to change it, and she surely could not blot out the lines with ink. She’d written rather sloppily as it was.

She turned her eyes back to the letter, and then stopped when she heard a rustling sound from outside the window. She glanced up and caught the slightest hint of movement, a shadowy figure lurking and then instantly pulling away when she’d lifted her head.

Without hesitation, she folded the letter, deciding not to read what remained, and stuffed it into the already addressed envelope. Next, she extinguished the kerosene lamp on her desk. Dusk had settled, leaving her surroundings dimly lit, but another lamp at the back of the classroom created enough light to see her out.

A feeling of unease made its home in the pit of her stomach as she began gathering up her belongings. The trek home would be cooler than usual, not to mention unnerving now that she’d heard someone—or something—lurking.

Common sense told her she need not worry. The silhouette could have been anything, a neighbor walking his dog past the school, curious as to why the schoolhouse light was on. Perhaps he’d chanced a peek inside and left upon seeing the teacher at her desk. Then there was the possibility of a pesky raccoon or opossum making a racket while climbing the large oak next to the building. The scavengers were always scrounging for things to eat.

She scolded herself for having allowed her imagination free rein and went about tidying up the rest of her desk, suddenly realizing how late the hour. As if to accentuate that point, her empty stomach grumbled in protest.

As she pushed her chair back, the legs screeched against the floor, startling her. She laughed nervously at her own jumpiness. Liza gathered up her satchel, stuffed it with the items she wished to carry, and took it to the back of the classroom where her coat, hat, and scarf hung from a hook. Her back to the door, she didn’t hear a sound when it opened, and was stunned to turn around, one arm in her coat sleeve, and find Clement Bartel gawking down at her.