“How very astute, teacher. I’m shocked that you even know what whiskey smells like.”
“I’ve smelled it a time or two, when some of Da’s friends paid a call.”
His voice lowered with sarcasm. “I suppose your saintly parents would never think to take a sip of spirits. Nor would their perfect daughter.”
She stared down at his hand holding firmly to her wrist. “Let me go, Flem.”
“What’s the matter, Miss Downey? Don’t tell me you don’t like being touched by a man.”
“I don’t.”
“Liar.” He leaned close, his hot breath stinging her cheek. “All women like it, though most of them think they have to pretend not to. It’s a game they play.”
“It’s not a game I’d play. Let me go, Flem, or I’ll shout down the entire household.”
His smile grew. A smile that had once been charming now caused a tiny thread of alarm to begin twisting along her spine. “No you won’t, teacher. And do you know why? Because you’re smart enough to know it would cause a scandal, and after Ma was through with all her bluster, you’d be the one to lose your precious job.”
He could see at once that he’d hit a nerve. Pressing his advantage, he caught her roughly by the shoulders. Before he could draw her close she kicked him as hard as she could in the ankle.
He swore. But instead of releasing her as she’d hoped, his two hands closed around her throat, and he shoved her against the wall before lowering his face to hers. Against her mouth he muttered, “You’ll pay for that.”
With a little cry Fiona fought back. Her fingernails raked his cheek, causing him to swear again.
“Why you little—”
Before he could retaliate, he was abruptly yanked away. While Fiona watched in stunned surprise, Gray hurled his brother to the floor. Flem tried to scramble out of his reach but Gray caught him by the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet, landing a punch in his gut that had him falling to the floor and grunting in pain. With a hiss of fury Gray hauled him upright again.
Seeing Gray’s fist raised, Flem held up both hands to protect his face. “No. Don’t. I guess I got a little drunk. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Gray’s voice trembled with a black, blinding rage. “You’ll apologize to Miss Downey.”
Flem lifted his head and even managed a shaky smile. “I’m sorry, Miss Downey. Truly I am. It wasn’t me. It was the whiskey.”
Gray gave him a rough shove backwards, where he bumped into the wall and dropped to one knee. Fiona could do nothing more than gape at Flem as he touched a hand to his cheek. Seeing blood on his fingers, he muttered an oath and got to his feet, eager to escape.
Gray thought about going after his brother and pummeling him. It was what Flem deserved. But at the moment, Fiona’s welfare was uppermost in his mind.
He turned to her. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, afraid to trust her voice.
“He didn’t... hurt you?”
She was too close to tears to speak. Instead she merely shook her head.
“I’m glad I got here in time.” Seeing her distress, he walked to the pump and filled a tumbler with water.
Fiona was aware that he’d dressed hurriedly, pulling the suspenders of his overalls over his bare chest. His feet, too, were bare, and his hair was mussed, falling over his forehead in a dark spill that gave him a decidedly dangerous look. It was a side of Gray she’d never imagined. For those few moments this gentle farmer had been like a man possessed. Now, though she sensed he was still in a state of high agitation, there was a cautious gentleness to him, as well.
“Drink this.” He pressed the glass to her bands and she obediently emptied it.
He set the glass aside and took her hands in his. Despite the heat of the evening they were cold as ice, “You should get to bed now.”
“I should. Yes. Thank you, Gray. That’s little enough to say. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t—”
They both looked up as the door to the kitchen was thrust open and Rose halted in the doorway, her eyes as dark with fury as Gray’s had been just moments earlier. In silence she took in the sight of the two of them, standing so close together, Fiona’s hands firmly nestled in Gray’s.
“So this is how you thank me for my hospitality.” She looked Fiona up and down with a hiss of disgust. “I am shocked at your lack of proper demeanor. No decent young lady would allow herself to be seen by a man in this state of undress.”
“Mrs. Haydn, it isn’t what you think—”
“Not a word. I’m too offended by the sight of you to listen to anything you have to say. Go to your room. I’ll decide later whether or not you can be trusted to remain in my home.”
“You have to permit me to explain. It wasn’t Gray. He was the one who came to my rescue when...” Fiona turned to Gray, who was staring at his mother with a look so dark, it frightened her.
Instead of adding to Fiona’s explanation he merely nodded toward the door. “Go now.” When she looked as though she might argue he said more firmly, “Go.”
Reluctantly Fiona turned away. As she hurried toward her room she could hear Rose’s clipped words, uttered with venom. “I am not surprised, Grayson. This is exactly the behavior I would expect from you.”
Fiona closed the door, shutting off whatever Gray might have said in reply. For a moment she was forced to slump against her bed, fearing her legs might fail her. Her breath was coming in short, painful gasps as she replayed that ugly scene in the kitchen.
Had she overreacted? After all, Flem always seemed harmless enough, with that quick wit and boyish charm. Hadn’t he said he was drunk? Why then had she felt as though she’d been fighting for her very life?
Da had often called her his dramatic little actress. Perhaps, in the light of day, this would all seem like a harmless prank.
Still, her heart ached for Gray. Why did Rose constantly berate him, while glossing over Flem’s glaring faults? Why was she so quick to believe the worst about one son, while refusing to see any flaws whatever in the other?
Hearing silence settle once more over the house, Fiona got unsteadily to her feet and crossed to the door. Whether Flem’s little scene had been harmless or not, she intended to take no chances. She placed a small table holding a basin and pitcher against the door, reasoning that if the door should be forced open in the night, it would cause the pitcher to topple, waking her and everyone else in the household.
Even as she crawled into bed, Fiona was again questioning her sanity. Surely here in this simple farmhouse, living with the family, which stationmaster Gerhardt Shultz had called one of the finest families in Paradise Falls, she was safe from any sort of harm. Of course she was, she reminded herself, over and over again like a litany, as sleep gradually overtook her.
But it was a troubled sleep, filled with dark, disturbing dreams that left her with a vague sense of foreboding.
SIX
Fiona awoke to the sound of frantic activity. Rose stood in the parlor shouting up the stairs. The heavy tramping of feet down the stairs was followed by the rumble of a wagon rolling up to the backdoor.
Minutes later, when Fiona stepped from her room, Rose was in the kitchen, busily wrapping food in linen towels. This day she wore a simple gray gown with a white collar and cuffs. Her hair was pinned in its usual knot at her nape, but over this was a black hat.
Fiona waited for the scolding she anticipated, to be followed by an order for her immediate departure from this house. Instead Rose seemed distracted by her chores. She looked up only long enough to say, “We leave for church as soon as Grayson has Broderick ready.”
“You... want me to accompany your family to church, Mrs. Haydn?” Fiona struggled to breathe.
“You’re the town’s teacher, aren’t you? You’ll be expected to attend services whenever the weather permits.”
Rose picked up another towel and carefully wrapped a steaming cake. “Once a month, in fair weather, there
is a meal in the churchyard after the service.”
Minutes later Flem stepped into the kitchen, whistling a little tune. When he caught sight of Fiona he merely grinned. “Better fetch your bonnet. The wagon’s ready to roll.”
Rose looked up, then fixed her younger son with a look. “What’ve you done to your cheek, Fleming?”
“Scratched it on the branch of that old sycamore.” He picked up a linen-covered dish. “I’ll take that, Ma. Too heavy for you.”
When he sauntered away, Rose shook her head. “Men. He probably didn’t even think to put witch hazel on it.”
She glanced over at Fiona who was standing as still as a statue. “Didn’t you hear? Get your bonnet. It’s time to go.”
Puzzled by this strange turn of events, Fiona hurried toward her room, snatching up her bonnet and a packet of letters for her mother before heading toward the waiting wagon.
In the kitchen Flem was waiting for her. Seeing him, she skidded to a halt.
He merely grinned. “Don’t worry, teacher. Ma decided you were just getting a drink of water last night.”
“And how did you explain your condition?”
“My condition?” He merely laughed. “You forget. I wasn’t even here, teacher. I was already tucked up in my bed. Now let’s go before Ma gets her feathers ruffled again.”
Fiona followed him outside. She’d been anticipating censure. Instead, she was now being treated like one of the family. She ought to be relieved, but the incident had left her with a sense of unease.
Gray had managed to get his father into the back, where Broderick sat surrounded by cushions and colorful quilts. It was clear, from the high color on the older man’s cheeks, that he was embarrassed to be riding alone in the back of the wagon like a sack of grain.
Taking pity on him, Fiona climbed in beside him.
Rose shot her an angry look. “It isn’t fitting for the teacher to arrive for her first introduction to the townspeople in the back of a wagon like some helpless cripple.”
Seeing one side of Broderick’s mouth twist into a snarl, Fiona took his hand and squeezed. “I think we look more like a king on his throne, accompanied by his loyal servant.”
That had his frown turning into a lopsided grin. “A king is it?” After a moment’s thought he nodded. “I like that.”
As soon as Flem and Rose climbed up to the hard seat Gray flicked the reins and the team took off at a fast clip.
Fiona held one hand on her bonnet to keep it from sailing away on the breeze.
As they passed the neighboring farms, Rose had a word for each.
“There’s Herman Vogel working his fields instead of honoring the Lord’s Day.” This was said with a sniff of displeasure.
Gray’s hands tightened on the reins. “I think the Lord will understand since Herman has no family left to give him a hand.”
Rose ignored her son’s comment. “Carl Gustav’s fields are looking as sad as his front yard.” She shielded her eyes with her hand. “Is Greta Gunther wearing that same old gown? You’d think just once she could make herself something new.” She looked down on the old woman who was walking along the side of the road.
To her surprise Gray brought the wagon to a halt and climbed down. “Morning, Mrs. Gunther. May I offer you a ride to church?”
The old woman smiled, revealing a gap where her front teeth had once been. “Why, thank you, Grayson.” She walked to the rear of the wagon and stared at the stranger seated beside Broderick. “Our new teacher?”
Fiona offered her hand as Gray lifted the old woman into the back beside her. “Fiona Downey, Mrs. Gunther.”
“Downey? What sort of name is that, my dear?”
“She’s Irish,” Flem called from his perch beside his mother.
“What a pity.” The old woman turned her attention to the man beside Fiona. “How are you feeling, Broderick?”
“None the worse for wear. And you, Greta?”
She peered at him over the rim of her spectacles. “I believe this is the first time I’ve ever seen you happy at the prospect of attending Sunday services.”
He managed a wink at Fiona before turning to his neighbor. “This is the first time I’ve ever arrived at church like a king in all my regal splendor.”
Greta shouted above the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves. “Has the stroke affected Broderick’s brain now, Rose?”
“Not that I’ve noticed.” Rose adjusted her hat as they rolled along the main road of town toward the church. “But then, how would we know? He’s been crazy as a loon for years.”
Fiona caught another wink from the old man as they came to a stop in front of the simple wooden building where families had begun to congregate.
While Gray helped his father and the two women from the back of the wagon, Flem and Rose walked arm in arm through the crowd, hurrying forward to talk to the minister.
“Reverend Schmidt, come meet our new teacher, Fiona Downey.”
“Miss Downey.” The man in the simple black suit accepted her handshake. “I hope you don’t mind if I introduce you from the pulpit?”
“If you think it’s proper, Reverend Schmidt.”
“I do. There’s a good deal of curiosity about you.”
There was no time for anything more, since the church was already filling up quickly. Rose led the way, with Flem beside her. Broderick leaned heavily on Gray’s arm as they started up the aisle. Trailing behind the Haydn family, Fiona could feel the stares of the congregation, and could hear their whispered remarks.
“I heard Mrs. Haydn say that was the new teacher.”
“So young. I expected someone older, more respectable, like Miss Hornby.”
“This one certainly doesn’t look like a teacher.”
“From the looks of her, she probably won’t last a year.”
“Lucky if she lasts a month.”
“So thin. Do the Irish starve their young?”
“Too pretty to have a brain in that head.”
By the time Rose had led her family all the way to the very front of the church, Fiona’s cheeks were blazing. She had only to look around her to see how different she looked from all the other young women. Big, sturdy farm women with plump cheeks and ample bosoms, who stood head and shoulders above her, and all with pale yellow hair tied neatly beneath their bonnets. She was even more aware of her small stature and hair as dark and wild as a gypsy’s.
She was grateful to reach her seat. Her relief was short-lived, however, when Flem stood aside and waited until she was seated before settling in beside her. She gave an involuntary shiver at the brush of his shoulder to hers and was reminded once more of their previous night’s encounter. Had she only imagined danger? Here, in this house of worship, it didn’t seem possible for him to be anything more than a harmless handsome charmer. With the first strains of the organ, everyone got to their feet.
Flem opened his hymnbook and stuck it in front of Fiona, forcing her to take hold of the other side. When he started to sing, she realized he had a lovely voice—and was only too happy to show it off.
When the hymn ended, they took their seats and the minister mounted the steps to address the congregation. His voice was deep and rich, and he began by asking those gathered this day to join him in offering a warm welcome to their new teacher. Fiona got hesitantly to her feet and turned to smile at the strangers who were craning their necks to get a good look.
“If you’d step up here, Miss Downey.”
Fiona knew her cheeks were as red as apples and prayed that she wouldn’t stumble as she made her way up the steps to where the minister stood.
“Our town is grateful to you, Miss Downey, for we’ve been three years now without a teacher for our children.”
“I’m the one who is grateful, Reverend Schmidt. Now that the school is properly restored, thanks to the help of young Will VanderSleet.” She looked around, hoping she might coax Will to stand and be acknowledged. Seeing no sign of him she continued, “I’m looking f
orward to meeting all the children of Paradise Falls tomorrow morning.”
When she returned to her seat Flem made a great show of stepping aside to allow her to enter the Haydn pew. It occurred to Fiona that several young women in the congregation actually sighed aloud at the mere sight of him, which deepened his smile considerably.
There was no time to dwell on such things, as the minister began invoking heavenly blessings on the crops being harvested, on the members who had requested prayers for health, for birth, for death, before embarking on a rather long-winded sermon about the wrath of God upon any who would knowingly break the Commandments.
Flem leaned close to whisper, “Do you think God keeps a tally up in heaven?”
Fiona could see the preacher watching them and lowered her gaze, hoping to discourage Flem, but he wasn’t to be sidetracked. “I’m betting He figures four days for swearing. A week for stealing. I’m not sure about coveting my neighbor’s wife. But I do think it’d be years in the fiery furnace for anyone who committed adultery. What do you think, teacher?”
Fiona was scandalized by his obvious mockery. Still, she could feel laughter bubbling up inside and had to bite hard on her lip to keep it from curving into a grin.
Seeing that his humor was having the desired effect, Flem leaned closer. “If all men’s wives looked like our pastor’s wife, there’d be no need to threaten hell.”
Fiona followed his gaze to the huge woman in the flowing black gown who was seated at the organ. She seemed to have no neck. Instead, there were layers of chins, each jiggling from side to side as she kept time to some imaginary music in her head.
Fiona barely managed to stifle the laugh that billowed up and erupted in a hiccup.
Rose glanced over with a flash of anger.
Instead of heeding his mother’s dark warning, Flem pressed the issue. He pretended to pick up the hymnal while whispering, “But if all women looked like Schuyler Gable’s new bride across the aisle, I might be willing to risk a few years of hellfire.”
Fiona looked up just in time to see a pretty young woman nod to Flem with a smile and a blush before linking her arm with that of the young farmer beside her.