Years (43 page)

“Teachers aren’t supposed to play favorites.”

She let the silence hang poignantly for several seconds before replying softly, “I know. But we’re only human, after all.”

He straightened. All movement ceased. They stood on either side of the team, staring at each other in the thick shadows of the lean-to.

Think of something, Theodore warned himself, anything, or you’ll end up kissing her again.

“So John brought you the Christmas tree.”

“Yes. He’s so thoughtful.”

He moved to the horses and she followed at his shoulder as he drove them toward the barn. Even in the sharp, fresh air she smelled like almonds. He was getting to like the smell altogether too much.

“He’s smitten with you, you know.”

“John! Oh, for heaven’s sake, where did you get that preposterous idea?”

“John never took a Christmas tree to any of our men teachers.”

“Maybe they didn’t send out a plea for one.”

Theodore chuckled sardonically and ordered, “Open the doors.”

She folded back the big double doors, then closed them when he’d driven the team inside. Just as the latch clicked, a lantern flared and Theodore hung it overhead, then concentrated on removing the harnesses from Cub and Toots and turning them into their stalls. She was right on his heels.

“Theodore, I don’t know where you get these ideas, but they’re just not true.”

“Then there was Rusty Bonner and Bill. Yup, you sure do collect ‘em, Miss Brandonberg, don’t you?” Nonchalantly he reached overhead for the lantern and took it away.

“Rusty Bonner!” she yelped. “He was a... a... Theodore, come back here! Where are you going?”

The lanternlight disappeared into the tack room, leaving her in near darkness. She stalked after him, with her fists on her hips. Did the infernal man always have to pick a fight with her when she wanted just the opposite?

“I don’t
collect
them, as you put it, and I resent your implying that I do!”

He hung up the collars, looped the lines in neat circles, then turned with a leather bell strap in his hands. “And what about
in Fargo? You got some more you’re collectin’ over there?” He stood with feet spread wide, knees locked, the string of sleigh bells doubled over his palm.

“There is nobody in Fargo. Nobody!” she declared vehemently.

With a sideward toss he threw the bells onto the workbench. They made a muffled
ching
before the room fell silent. Theodore rammed his fists into his pockets.

“Then who is Lawrence?” he demanded.

Linnea’s belligerence abruptly disappeared.

“L... Lawrence?”

“Yes, Lawrence.”

Her cheeks grew blotchy pink, then deepened to an all-over heliotrope. Her eyes rounded and her lips parted uncertainly.

“How do you know about Lawrence?” she finally managed in a choked whisper.

“I heard you talking to him one day.”

She absolutely wished she could die. How long had it been since she’d fantasized about Lawrence? Why, she’d practically forgotten he’d ever existed. Now when she kissed windows and blackboards and her pillow, it was Theodore she kissed, not Lawrence! But how could she explain such childishness to a man who already considered her far too much of a child?

“Lawrence is none of your business.”

“Fine,” he snapped and turned away, taking a rag to a bell strap and rubbing it punishingly.

“Unless, of course, you’re jealous.”

He reared back and barked at the ceiling, “Hah!”

She stomped to within a foot of his back, wishing she could whap him a good one and knock some sense into his head. Lord, but he was such a chicken!

“All right, if you’re not jealous, then why did you bring him up... and Rusty...
and
Bill?”

He flung down the bells and swung on her. “What would a man of my age be doing getting jealous over a... a whelp like you?”

“Whelp?” she shrieked. “Whelp!”

“Exactly!” His hand lashed out and turned down one of her ears. “Why lookit there, just like I thought, still wet back there!”

She twisted free, hauled off, and kicked him a doozy in the shin.

“I hate you, Theodore Westgaard! You big lily-livered chicken! I never saw a man so scared of a girl in my life.” She was so angry tears stung her eyes and her breath lost control. “And furthermore, I c... came out here to thank you f... for the Christmas present and you... you... sp... spoil it all by p... picking a fight!” To Linnea’s horror, she burst into tears.

Theodore cursed and grabbed his bruised leg as she whirled and ran from the barn.

Utterly miserable, he breathed a sigh of relief. What else was he supposed to do except pick a fight when she came following him with those big blue eyes all wide and pretty and tempting him to do things no honorable man would think of doing with a girl barely out of normal school?

He sank to his chair, dropping his face into his hands. Lord God, he loved her. What a fine mess. Old enough to be her father, and here he sat, trembling in a tack room like some boy whose voice was just changing. He hadn’t meant to make her cry — God no, not cry. The sight of those tears had made him want to grab her close and apologize and tell her he hadn’t meant a word of it.

But what about Lawrence? Who was he? What was he to her? Most certainly someone she’d left behind, judging from her reaction when his name was mentioned. Someone who made her blush like summer sunset and argue hotly that he was nobody. But no girl got that upset about a man unless he was
somebody.

Theodore puttered around the tack room until he was certain she was safely in bed. Wretched, he wiped off the harnesses and the strands of bells.

He thought of her returning to her gay life in the city with all its conveniences and old friendships, comparing some young buck eighteen or twenty years old to an old cuss like himself. At length he stretched and sighed, feeling each and every one of his thirty-four years in the heaviness of his heart and the stiffness of his bones.

Let her go and make comparisons, he decided sadly. It’s best for all concerned.

In the morning neither of them spoke during breakfast. Nor on the ride to John’s house. Nor on the long ride to town. The sun beat down blindingly upon the glittering snow. The sleigh bells had been left in the tack room, and the horses seemed
less spirited without them. As if he sensed the strain, John, too, remained silent.

At the train depot, both men accompanied Linnea inside, and when she made a move toward the barred window, Theodore unexpectedly clasped her elbow.

“I’ll get it. Wait here with John.”

She went into the ladies’ room and replaced her scarf with her bird-wing hat, and upon returning to the waiting room, studied Theodore’s broad shoulders and the upturned collar of his heavy wool jacket. Within her was a hollow space where her holiday spirit had been the night before. A single word from him would revive that spirit and take away this terrible urge to cry again. But he turned and handed her the ticket without so much as meeting her glance. John picked up her suitcase and they moved toward the long wooden waiting bench with its thirteen matched armrests. She sat, flanked by the two men. Her elbow bumped Theodore’s and he quickly pulled away.

Somewhere in the station a pendulum clock ticked, but other than that it was dreadfully silent.

“Something wrong, Miss Linnea?” John asked.

She felt as if she’d swallowed a popcorn ball. The tears were very close to showing.

“No, John, nothing. I’m just a little tired, that’s all. It was a big week at school, and we got home late last night.”

Again they sat in silence. Askance, she saw Theodore’s jaw working, the muscles clenched so tightly they protruded. His fingers were clasped over his stomach, the thumbs circling each other nervously.

“She’ll be in any minute,” the station agent announced, and they went outside to wait on the platform.

Theodore scowled up the tracks. The train bleated in the distance — once, twice.

Linnea reached to take her suitcase from John’s hand and saw that his eyes were very troubled in his long, sad face. The tears were glistening in her eyes now — she couldn’t help it. Impulsively she flung an arm around John and pressed her cold cheek to his. “Everything’s okay, John, honest. I’m just going to miss you all so much. Thank you for the present. I’ll open yours first.” His arm tightened around her for a moment, and she kissed his cheek. “Merry Christmas, John.”

“Same to you, missy,” he returned with gruff emotion.

She turned diffidently to face Theodore. “Merry Christmas, Theodore,” she said shakily, extending one gloved hand. “Thank you for the g... gift, too, it’s p... packed in... ” But as his hand came out slowly to clasp hers, she could continue no longer. His deep brown eyes, filled with unspoken misery, locked with hers. He squeezed her hand so hard, so long, it took an effort not to flinch. The tears splashed over her lashes and ran in silver streaks down her cheeks. He wanted to brush them away, but resisted. Her heart felt swollen and bruised, and it beat so heavily it seemed she felt the reverberations at the bottom of her boots.

Down the track to the west the train wailed into view beneath its bonnet of white steam.

Theodore swallowed.

Linnea gulped.

Suddenly he grabbed her wrist and yanked her after him so abruptly that she dropped her suitcase and her hat tipped sideways.

“Theodore, whatever—”

Across the platform and down the steps he strode, in footsteps so long it took two of Linnea’s to make up one of his. His face was set and thunderous as he towed her along the tracks and around the end of the building. She had no choice but to stumble after him, breathless, holding her hat on with one hand. He hauled her between a baggage dray and the dun-colored depot wall, then swung her around without warning and scooped her into his arms, kissing her with a might and majesty rivaling that of the locomotive that came steaming past them at just that moment, drowning them in noise. His tongue swept into her mouth and his arms crushed her so tightly her back snapped. Desperately, wildly, he slanted his mouth over hers, clutching the back of her head and pressing her against the wall. The tears gushed down her cheeks, wetting his, too.

He lifted his head at last, his breath falling fast and hard on her face, his expression agonized.

His mouth moved.

“I love you,” it said, but the train whistle blasted, covering the precious words she’d waited so long to hear.

“What?” she shouted.

“I love you!” he bawled in a hoarse, miserable voice. “I wanted to tell you last night.”

“Why didn’t you?”

They had to shout to be heard above the couplings clanging against each other as the train came to a stop. “I was scared, so I trumped up that nonsense about John and Rusty and Lawrence. Are you going to see him in Fargo?”

“No... no!” She wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.

“I’m sorry I made you cry.”

“Oh, I’m just foolish... I... oh, Theodore—”

“Boooooard!”
the conductor called from around the corner.

Theodore’s mouth swooped down again, open and hungry, and this time she clutched him as desperately as he clutched her. Her hat was smashed under his left boot. A piece of siding on the depot wall creased the back of her head and the clip of her watch was stamping its shape into her left breast. But Theodore had said it at last!

As abruptly as he’d lunged, he pulled back, holding her face, searching her eyes with a harrowed look.

“Tell me.”

“I love you, too, Teddy.”

“I know. I’ve known for quite a while, but I don’t know what we’re going to do about it. I only know I’ve been miserable.”

“Oh, Teddy, don’t waste precious time. Kiss me again, please!”

This time it was sweet and yearning and filled with goodbyes that were really hellos. Their hearts thrust mightily. Their bodies knew want. They tore their mouths apart long enough for her to cry, “I don’t want to go.”

“I don’t want you to either,” he returned, then impaled her mouth with his warm, wet tongue a last time.

John came barreling around the corner, yelling, “Are you crazy, you two? The train’s leaving!”

Theodore twisted from her, pulling her practically off her feet as he headed for the moving train.

“My hat!”

“Leave it!”

They raced for the doorway of the silver car that was sliding away in a billow of steam, and at the last possible moment, Linnea caught the handrail and was lifted from behind and swung safely aboard.

She leaned out and waved, then threw two kisses to the receding figures with hands raised over their heads.

“Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!”

It would be the happiest of her life. As she found her seat and fell back with her eyes closed, she wondered how she’d live through it.

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