Tomorrow's Garden (23 page)

No. Harriet shook her head. He hadn’t agreed; he had volunteered, and there was a huge difference. Mother had begged Father to stop, but he’d paid no heed to her pleading. Lawrence, once he’d understood how Harriet felt, had chosen to change his life. She had sensed no hesitation on his part, simply a desire to make her happy. And he had. His promise had chased away fear, sowing seeds of hope. Those seeds, Harriet knew, would germinate more quickly than the ones her pupils had planted.

Lawrence was not like her father. He was not like Thomas. He was . . . She paused, seeking the correct word. A friend? He’d been a friend today, but somehow the word seemed inadequate. She took a deep breath and smiled. The word didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had come to the schoolhouse and they’d resolved their problems. Life was better when Lawrence was part of it.

17

Something was wrong. Harriet knew it the moment she entered the house. The kitchen was empty. Not only was Ruth not there, but there were no signs of supper, no pots on the range, no delicious aromas wafting from the oven.

“Ruth!” Was her sister ill? That was the only reason Harriet could imagine for the absence of supper preparations, but Ruth was never ill. “Ruth!” she called again.

“I’m up here.” Her sister’s voice was faint, as if coming from the front of the house.

Her shoes clattering on the stairs, Harriet raced to the second story. “Where are you?” she cried as she reached the landing.

“In your room.”

Seconds later, Harriet’s eyes widened as she entered her bedchamber. Every garment she owned lay on the floor. Her trunk had been overturned, its contents strewn across one corner of the room. And her books—her precious books—had been knocked off the shelves with such force that some of the spines had split. Ruth sat in the midst of them, trying to restore order.

“What happened?”

Though Ruth’s face was white, her voice remained calm. “I heard someone up here when I returned from the market, but by the time I got here, he was gone. When I looked out the door, I didn’t see anyone.”

“Oh, Ruth.” Harriet knelt next to her sister and wrapped her arms around her. “You shouldn’t have come up here. He could have hurt you.”

Ruth shook her head. “There wasn’t any danger. The intruder left before I got close to him.”

“Ruthie, please don’t take chances like that again. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.” Unbidden, the memory of Lawrence’s young sister invaded Harriet’s thoughts. Though decades had passed, he had not fully recovered from her death. “I can’t lose you.”

Ruth placed her hands on both sides of Harriet’s face and waited until her sister met her gaze before she said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Harriet hoped that was true. She rose to her feet and looked around. “Were any of the other rooms disturbed?”

Ruth shook her head as she stood. “Just yours.” Tears filled her eyes as she looked down at the damaged books. “Who could have done this?”

“Thomas.” Harriet had no doubts about the intruder’s identity. This was not a simple burglary; it was an act of revenge.

“Thomas Bruckner? But he’s hundreds of miles away.”

Harriet shook her head. “He was at the school yesterday.”

The remaining touch of color drained from Ruth’s face. “You didn’t say anything.”

“There was nothing to say. I told Thomas to leave because I never wanted to see him again. I thought he was gone.” Harriet managed a wry smile. “It appears I was wrong.”

Ruth clasped her hands, as if trying to still their trembling. “We’d better tell the sheriff.”

“There’s no need. Thomas won’t be back.” Now he knew without a doubt that she had no gold.

“How does this look?” Harriet turned to her sister, relieved that Ruth appeared calm. For several days after Thomas’s break-in, she had been nervous. Now, she seemed to have regained her normal composure. The two women had been sitting in the parlor for several hours since supper, lengths of fabric in their laps, and not once had Ruth mentioned hearing strange noises. Instead, her fingers had moved quickly, plying a thread and needle. Unfortunately, while Ruth had finished two shepherds’ costumes, Harriet had only one item to display. She handed it to her sister.

“This is perfect.” Ruth turned it over, admiring it from every side. “It looks like a babe in swaddling clothes. No one will guess that you used Mary’s rag doll.”

Harriet chuckled. “The real magic is that I didn’t have to sew a stitch. Pins did the trick.” She doubted she’d ever learn to sew as well as Ruth. Even little Mary demonstrated more skill than she did. But somehow, she had managed to create what looked passably like the baby Jesus.

Ruth returned to the seam she was finishing. “Have the children learned their lines?”

As was the case each evening, conversation revolved around the pageant. Harriet smiled when she realized that most of her conversations, whether at home or at school, concerned it. Though she had envisioned the pageant as a way to occupy her students, it had grown into a project involving the entire town. Parents stopped her on her way to or from school, asking questions about their children’s roles. Even adults whose children were either too old or too young for school were curious about Ladreville’s first school play.

“Some of them have memorized their lines,” Harriet said, answering Ruth’s question. “But I suspect that at least a few will forget them at the performance. They’ll all be excited about their costumes and the audience.” She smiled at her sister. “I’m glad you’re willing to be a prompter.”

Ruth’s needle glinted in the lamplight as she sewed another seam. “Being behind the scenes is no problem,” she said firmly. “I think I could even manage to deliver a brief announcement if needed.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that.” While it was true that Ruth had changed over the past couple months, becoming more confident and seeming to have overcome her fear of strangers, Harriet wasn’t certain how she would handle the strain of having all eyes focused on her. That was far more difficult than pouring punch at the fall festival.

“I know, and I’m grateful.” Ruth laid down her needle and thread and flexed her fingers. “This is going to be the best pageant ever.”

Harriet couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Since it’s the first one, that’s a certainty. I simply hope there are no major problems.” Just as she hoped there would be no problem with the angel’s wings she was cutting out for Mary’s costume. It would be embarrassing if her own sister’s wings were uneven.

“No one will notice, even if there are snags.” The way Ruth was looking at the wings made Harriet suspect she was referring to them as well as forgotten lines and missing props. “The parents are almost as excited as the children. I heard them talking in the mercantile.”

“You went to the mercantile?”

Ruth nodded as if it had not been a major undertaking. “I needed a few things for Christmas.”

So did Harriet. She had been so engrossed in the pageant that she had not given much thought to gifts for her family. “Did you see anything the boys would like?” Fortunately, she had already ordered several books for Ruth and a doll with a porcelain face for Mary, realizing that her youngest sister was now old enough to put aside her rag doll.

A hint of embarrassment crossed Ruth’s face, but her voice was steady as she said, “I knew you’d be busy with the pageant, so I chose their gifts.”

Harriet steeled herself not to react. The last time Ruth had been involved in selecting gifts, she had suggested toys that were too old for the others, and she’d burst into tears when Harriet had explained their unsuitability. What had she done this time? But when Ruth listed the items she had chosen, Harriet nodded. It wasn’t only Mary who was growing up. Harriet couldn’t have done better if she’d tried.

“Perfect,” she said, repeating Ruth’s term of approbation. As Ruth basked in the compliment, Harriet decided to introduce the subject that had been hovering in the back of her mind ever since she had refused Frau Friedrich’s invitation for the Kirks to spend Christmas with them. As much as she enjoyed Frau Friedrich’s company, she wouldn’t risk ruining Jake’s holiday. It would be difficult enough, spending this first Christmas in a new place. At least in Fortune they had been familiar with the town and its customs. “It seems to me that Christmas will be lonely for people without a family.”

When she had asked Lawrence how he spent holidays when he was a Ranger, he’d seemed surprised. “They were like every other day,” he’d said. “I worked.” Harriet doubted this year would be any different, but surely Lawrence deserved more than a solitary meal at the saloon. Though he might not be close to his own family, she was willing to share hers with him.

Ruth nodded. “I imagine it would be. Fortunately, there are few without families in Ladreville.” The town hadn’t been established long enough for there to be many people without parents, children, or spouses. Even single men like Karl had parents close by, and Granny Menger, who had been the town’s sole childless widow, had died the month before the Kirks arrived.

“There are at least two. What do you think about asking Lawrence and Sterling to have dinner with us?” Harriet had feared it might be awkward if Lawrence felt he was being singled out, so she had decided to invite the only other person in Ladreville with whom Ruth was comfortable. “What do you think, Ruth? I know it would mean extra work.”

Though Harriet had expected a protest, Ruth shook her head. “Not much extra. I’d still cook the same things, just a bit more. I think it’s a good idea. Let’s do it.”

Lawrence grinned as he strode toward the schoolhouse. There might be a chill in the air, but his heart was warm with anticipation of the time he would spend with Harriet. How glad he was that they were friends again! Despite her sharp tongue—or perhaps because of it—being with her was invigorating. Harriet challenged him as no one else did and made him look at the world from a different view. Today, though, there would be no time to discuss books, for today he planned to show her the newly constructed stable and manger. As the person in charge of the pageant, she needed to approve it. More importantly, he wanted her to see what her brother had accomplished.

For his part, Lawrence had been impressed with Jake’s work, and though he hadn’t expected to, the truth was, he’d come to care for the boy. Though he could not condone what Jake had done, he understood the young man’s frustration. Life had seemed difficult enough when Lawrence was Jake’s age. How much worse would it have been if his pa hadn’t been there to guide him?

As it was, Jake learned quickly, and once he set aside his unhappiness at being forced into what he used to call slave labor, he had proved to be a reliable worker. It was true that he had not evidenced much contrition, and Lawrence still wasn’t certain what had provoked the destruction of Karl’s buggy, but one thing he did know was that the boy needed attention and a man to influence him. For the time being, he was that man. As for the future . . . Lawrence wasn’t certain what it would hold or even what he wanted it to be. What mattered was the present. This was his time with Harriet, and Lawrence planned to savor every minute.

She was waiting when he entered the schoolhouse, her coat buttoned, her hat firmly placed on her head. As she greeted him, Harriet tugged on her gloves.

“I’m glad to see you’re wearing those.” Lawrence nodded toward the mittens. “You’ll need them today. It feels cold enough to snow.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Does it do that here?”

“From what I’ve heard, not often, but it’s also not impossible.” As she preceded him down the steps, he apologized for his lack of a carriage. Since the Ladres had taken both their wagon and buggy when they left town, Lawrence had only his horse. It was, he had assured Clay when he’d been hired, sufficient for his needs, and that was true. Normally. But today it would have been nice to have been able to offer Harriet a ride.

She smiled and took a deep breath of the cool air. “I enjoy walking. Don’t you?”

“Not very much,” Lawrence admitted. Walking had been for those who couldn’t afford a horse. But now, with Harriet’s hand on his arm, he was beginning to reconsider his opinion. “We lived far enough from town that I rode to school.” He continued his explanation as they turned left onto Rhinestrasse. Their destination was halfway between Hochstrasse and rue du Marché on Potomac Street. While it was slightly shorter to take Hochstrasse, Lawrence preferred the less traveled rue du Marché, reasoning that there would be fewer interruptions there than on the main street.

“I guess you could say that I lived on a horse.” Was it his imagination, or did Harriet tighten her grip ever so slightly? Whether or not she had, it was definitely pleasant, feeling her fingers on his arm. A man could get used to this.

“My brothers are very impressed with your horse.” Harriet’s tone was as casual ever. The additional pressure must have been his imagination. “He’s the first palomino they’ve seen.”