nine
“I’m so sorry, Miss Donovan. I’ll never do it again,” Sydney told Marcail with heartbreaking sincerity, his bottom lip quivering pitifully, his face nearly ashen. Marcail had been correct—he had shocked even himself.
“I’m glad to hear that, Sydney,” she told him gently, “because if you do, I’m going to have to punish you severely.” The young boy nodded, and Marcail reached to give him a hug. It was not the first time she’d hugged him, but for the first time he reciprocated. His thin arms clung to her, and Marcail’s heart thundered with emotion.
They were the only ones in the schoolhouse, and Marcail, realizing that the children would be returning from recess very soon, knew she had to quickly say what was on her mind. Holding Sydney gently at arm’s length, she began.
“I understand, Sydney, that people have days when they feel upset, but no matter what you’re feeling, you must never deliberately hurt someone.”
“I understand, Miss Donovan.” Again Sydney’s lip quivered, and Marcail believed he meant it. They talked for a few moments more, Sydney apologizing for the third time and Marcail telling Sydney she forgave him.
As he returned to his desk, Marcail realized that something special had happened between them. Sydney was looking at her with new eyes, and as much as Marcail regretted his action, she prayed that this incident would make a difference in their future relationship. Some of the shock over being struck was still there, but Sydney was as precious to her as he’d always been.
In the weeks to follow God sustained Marcail in a way she would not have dreamed possible. She was growing very close to her entire class and knew that some of the students thought the world of her. The Austin girls had even come after school one day to tell her they prayed for her every night. Marcail had been so moved she had nearly cried. She asked the girls to also pray for Sydney, and for Marcail’s relationship with him.
The girls had readily agreed, and Marcail felt their prayers. There were days when Sydney was a schoolteacher’s dream and days when he was a nightmare, but amid the ups and downs they grew closer. Marcail was swiftly learning to take each day as it came.
Sydney had not turned into a model student, but neither had he shown any signs of aggression since the day he’d thrown the rock. Marcail suspected this was because he was becoming slightly infatuated with her.
They were able to talk with ease, but Marcail’s prayers were many on Sydney’s behalf. She hadn’t mentioned her fears to anyone else, but she recognized the fact that he was a child who was prone to acts of violence when angered. It frightened her a little that she had no idea what had set him off the last time, but she kept an eye on him, and Mr. Flynn was making his visits as promised.
Teaching school was harder work than Marcail had anticipated. Her sister had made it look so easy. This made the weekends a time of relaxation and recuperation. She liked to work on her lessons and bake Saturday morning. Often she would walk into town in the afternoon.
One Saturday, when the weather was beginning to turn cold, Marcail ran into Kay Austin in the general store.
“Miss Donovan,” Kay greeted her warmly, “did the girls give you my message about tomorrow?”
“Yes, Mrs. Austin, they did, but tomorrow is—”
“The pie auction,” she finished for her. “That’s no problem because I want you to bring the young man who buys your pie.”
“Oh,” Marcail said with genuine pleasure, “that sounds wonderful. I’ll plan on it.”
Kay squeezed her arm and smiled before telling her she would see her on the morrow. Marcail thought that Mrs. Austin would never know what a relief the invitation was. Rowie Kilmer had seen Marcail just the weekend before and made it quite clear that he was going to bid on her pie. Marcail had been gracious, but in her heart she sighed and wished that he would turn his attention elsewhere.
She had crossed his path from time to time, and although he made no move to press her, he questioned her very carefully as to whether or not she’d been seeing anyone else. Her comments on the privacy of her own business seemed to roll off him like boulders on a hillside.
The next morning Marcail went to church. Since the auction was to follow the service, she brought her apple pie in a basket, as did most of the other women in town.
Allie’s pie was mince. She whispered to Marcail during church that it was Seth’s favorite. Marcail smiled at the joy in her friend’s eyes. She had missed Allie since she’d started seeing Seth, but Marcail recognized the signs of love and told Allie, in all honesty, how thrilled she was for her newfound happiness.
No social time had been planned, since the weather was cooling, but spirits were high as the bidding began, raising funds that were once again to go to the school.
Marcail’s pie came up in the middle of the bidding, and just as Rowie had said, he was on hand and bidding like a rich man. It looked as if Marcail’s basket was going to go high, and the young schoolmarm kept her eyes on Mr. Flynn as two men took the price over $1.00. She recognized one voice as Rowie’s, and the other as Allie’s brother, Logan’s.
Marcail, preparing herself for an afternoon of being gawked at or pulled around, was praying for patience. A deep voice from the back of the crowd startled her with a bid.
“Three dollars!”
Marcail’s eyes slid shut on a sudden rush of tears. She was barely aware of the way Mr. Flynn stuttered to a halt or how still the crowd had grown. Moments passed before Mr. Flynn declared the pie sold and Marcail turned and made her way back off the platform.
A massive hand was there to take her basket and then her hand, but Marcail didn’t dare look up until the man had led her away to the semiprivacy of a nearby tree. As soon as he stopped she let her tear-filled eyes meet his, and a second later she was crushed in Rigg’s arms.
Marcail didn’t know when anything had felt so good. She let herself be cuddled against his chest and tried not to cry.
“I’ve missed you,” Rigg whispered in her ear, feeling as though he could cry himself.
He couldn’t love this girl more if she had been his own child, and in a way she was. He was only 17 years her senior, but she had come into his life as a nine-year-old girl whose mother had just died and whose father was overseas. Their’s had been a love-at-first-sight relationship, a brother-sister type of love.
A year later he was married to Marcail’s sister, and she was living with them. Not even the birth of his own three children had diminished his love for her. He’d gone into a state of near mourning when her father had returned to California and she had moved downstate to live with him.
Rigg released Marcail and tenderly wiped a tear from her cheek. There was so much they wanted to say to each other. They had just began to share when Jethro Kilmer came on the scene.
“Who is this, Marcail?” Jethro demanded unexpectedly.
Rigg only glanced at the younger man before turning his surprised gaze to his sister-in-law.
“Rigg, this is Jethro Kilmer. Jethro, this is my brother-in-law, Marshall Riggs.” Marcail’s voice was polite, but Rigg heard the note of longsuffering.
“Oh, he’s married! Why didn’t you say so?” Rowie’s voice was so filled with relief that Marcail felt angry. She would probably have spouted off at Rowie if Rigg hadn’t put his hand on her arm.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jethro,” Rigg’s voice was steady. “But I’m sure you’ll understand my wanting to spend some time with my sister.”
Rigg led Marcail away without further explanation. Marcail was so pleased over the way he’d handled Rowie that her smile nearly stretched off her face.
“Do you need me to talk with this young man?” The question came softly to her ears as they walked. When they stopped, trying once again to steal some privacy, Marcail shook her head.
“No, but thank you. As you’ve probably guessed, I’m not encouraging him, even though I’m sure he would welcome any interest on my part. I’m certain he’ll grow discouraged and eventually leave
me alone.”
Marcail grew silent then and simply drank in the sight of her sister’s husband. He had seemed bigger than life to her when they first met, and even now he was one of the largest men she’d ever known. But there wasn’t a mean or malicious bone in his body, and from the first he’d always made her feel loved and secure.
“How’s Katie?” Marcail asked softly.
“She has a bit of a cold.”
Marcail nodded. “And the kids?”
“Colds too. They miss you almost as much as I do.”
They grinned at each other again, and Marcail reached to give him another hug. She explained the invitation for lunch, and as they talked they made their way toward the Austin home.
Marcail had a myriad of questions, as did Rigg. They had exchanged most of the pertinent information regarding family and friends by the time Rigg knocked on the Austins’ front door.
Unfortunately, some of the joy went out of Marcail’s afternoon when the door was answered by Dr. Alexander Montgomery.
ten
Two hours later Alex knew with a certainty that Miss Donovan’s fear was not of men in general. She was at complete ease with her brother-in-law, as well as with Dean Austin. This left only him, or doctors in general. Alex wondered why the thought was so discouraging to him.
He figured it might have to do with the fact that after 15 minutes of conversation around the dinner table, he knew that both Rigg and Marcail were believers. This made the young teacher safe enough for him to drop his guard, but no more approachable.
Alex knew that everyone in town believed he was still too much in love with his first wife to even look at another woman, but that was not true anymore. What the townspeople didn’t understand was how earnestly Alex took his relationship with Jesus Christ, and in so doing, he was serious about finding a wife who shared his belief.
Without a doubt, the first criteria was that the woman be a Christian. Alex found himself thinking, however, that it certainly didn’t hurt that her hair was so black and shiny it appeared blue in the right light, or that she had eyes like big brown pansies. Her eyes, along with the tiny dark mole near her lower lip, drew his attention to her smiling mouth and her beautiful teeth when he least expected it. No, none of those things hurt at all; and, added to the fact that she loved the Savior, they made her more distracting by the minute.
Alex had worked hard at not staring at her all afternoon, but surprisingly, he found himself alone with her in the living room after the dessert dishes had been cleared. Alex could almost hear her telling herself to relax. After a few minutes of tense silence, she smiled at him. It gave him hope, and he spoke, his excellent bedside manner coming to the fore.
“It was certainly nice of Rigg to surprise you today.”
Marcail smiled a little wider because he didn’t seem at all threatening to her at that moment. Her voice revealed her relief when she answered.
“It was, wasn’t it? I don’t think I knew how much I missed him until I heard his voice at the back of the crowd.”
“How long has it been?”
“I saw them for a few minutes when the train stopped in Santa Rosa, but I moved away in late February. I wish Katie and the children could have come, but Rigg said everyone has colds.”
“You’re an aunt then?”
Marcail beamed with pleasure, and Alex sucked in a sharp breath at her enchanting beauty.
“Several times over, actually,” Marcail answered easily, not having noticed the doctor’s reaction. “Katie and Rigg have Gretchen, Molly, and Donovan. My brother, Sean, and his wife, Charlotte, have Ricky and Callie.”
Alex smiled at her, a smile of genuine warmth. Marcail returned the grin until Alex shifted in his chair. Marcail thought he was rising to join her on the sofa. She tensed and moved a little further down the cushions, an action that Alex did not miss.
“Is it me, Miss Donovan, or all doctors?”
Marcail’s face flamed with humiliation, and she stuttered an apology.
“Please don’t apologize.” Alex’s voice was tender. “It’s just that if I’ve done something to upset you, I’d like to ask your forgiveness.”
“No, no,” Marcail assured him swiftly. “You’ve been very kind; I just—that is—I’m rather—” The young woman came to an awkward halt and was surprised to find the doctor smiling at her, his eyes filled with understanding.
Marcail met his gaze for just a moment and then unintentionally spoke out loud. “I guess you might not be so bad after all.”
Laughter erupted from Alex’s chest, and Marcail’s hand flew to her mouth. Her face had heated all over again, and she began to rise from her seat. Alex waved her back with his hand, still chuckling over her remark.
“Please don’t go, Miss Donovan. I assure you, I’m not easily offended. I find your honesty refreshing.”
Marcail eyed him carefully to gauge his sincerity. She finally relaxed back on the sofa, and they continued to talk. If Marcail wasn’t exactly at ease in the situation, she found it tolerable. What she didn’t know was that Kay Austin was beyond the door, hesitating before entering. She was also listening to every word and hoping that before long Marcail would find the situation much more than tolerable.
“I can’t believe how swiftly the day went.”
“I can’t either. I sure enjoyed the Austins’ hospitality.”
“I really hadn’t known them before, but they’re wonderful,” Marcail agreed and added, “Are you sure you have to go first thing in the morning, Rigg?”
The full moon shone on Rigg and Marcail as they stood at Marcail’s front door recalling the afternoon. Rigg was headed to the hotel for the night, and this would be the last they would see of each other.
“I really do, Marc. Jeff is going to open the mercantile for me, but I’ve got to get back. Christmas is only about two months away, and we’ll all be together then.”
Marcail nodded, and they hugged one last time. She stood in the doorway and watched him walk toward town. When she finally shut the door, it was with a prayer of thanksgiving for her family, and for the way God had sent Rigg on the day she needed him most.
“But don’t you think she’s perfect for Alex?”
“Kay,” her husband spoke patiently as he slipped into bed, “that still does not give you an excuse for eavesdropping.”
Kay looked somewhat rebuked, but she was so excited about the little she’d overheard that she was not very sorry.
“I can see you’re not at all sorry.”
“I am sorry that I listened. I should have walked right into the room instead of waiting, but I’m not sorry about what I heard.”
Dean frowned at his wife’s line of reasoning, but she was too wound up to notice.
“You should have heard his voice. When he found out she was afraid of him, he was so tender with her. I just know she’s the one.”
Dean shook his head, kissed his wife good night, and turned down the lantern. Kay listened as his breathing evened out into sleep. She was planning ahead and much too excited to sleep. Alex came to lunch every Sunday afternoon; maybe she should ask Miss Donovan to join them more often. It was a delightful plan.
eleven
An entire month passed before Alex saw Marcail again. It was not for lack of trying on his part, but he wanted to be careful about how often he went to the front door of her home, and there was really no other time when he ran into her. Since she would probably have to be dying before she would call on him, he knew better than to hope she would need medical attention.
On this particular Saturday morning he was a little late heading into his office in town. For the first time he saw Marcail at the side of her house. He did a double take when he saw that the tiny, black-haired woman was chopping wood, or at least making an attempt. Knowing that he was getting a glimpse of Marcail Donovan’s determined personality, Alex dismounted and stood watching her.
Marcail balanced a fat log on end, and then lifted the ax in front of her, bringing i
t down on the log. A small piece of wood flew off as the remainder of the wood landed on the ground. Alex watched in fascination as she added the piece to a small pile of chips and started again.
Just as Marcail raised the ax again, she spotted her neighbor. She repeated the process and then stood breathing heavily as Alex approached.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this yourself.”
“Well, I said I would,” Marcail was still panting, “so I’m going to.”
“And just who did you say that to?” Alex reached for the ax and tried to ignore the surreptitious way Marcail backed away from him.
“Jethro offered to chop wood for me, but I didn’t think that was a good idea, so I told him I would take care of it myself. In fact, I think you should give the ax back to me.”
Alex stared at her for a full ten seconds, shook his head, and began to chop. In 20 minutes he had a large stack of burning logs and a smaller stack of kindling. They worked together carrying the logs to the house and dumping them into the box by Marcail’s stove. On the last load Marcail turned to thank the doctor, but found him standing and watching her from the door. With his gaze leveled so intently on her, it took a moment for her to speak.
“Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome. Will you do me a favor?”
“What is it?”
“Will you do it?” he persisted.
Marcail hesitated. She knew it was unfair of him to ask for a commitment before explaining, but he had chopped her wood, and she could see his desire to help was out of kindness and not selfish motives.
“All right.”
“Come by my office and let me know the next time you need wood.”
Marcail nearly panicked. That would mean he would be around more often. She had to make him see this wasn’t necessary.
“There really is no need. I, uh, well, I mean, that is, I didn’t think that you would, I mean, I really appreciate, but I don’t want to bother, and I—” Marcail came to a breathless halt when she saw laughter in the depths of his blue eyes.