3

Grace had kneaded dough since she was old enough to stand on a wooden block at the edge of the work table, a task she found burdensome back then. She sprinkled more flour on the surface and folded the dough over with the heel of her hand.

“You’re sure takin’ your aggressions out.” Edith rocked back and forth.

The squeak from the rocking chair had lulled Grace into a rhythm while she kneaded. “I’m lost in thought, that’s all.”

“What seems to be the matter?”

“Nothing really.” Grace stopped her work. Could she never say truly what was on her mind? “Just thinking about preparations for the first day.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Edith sipped her tea. “You said this is what you’ve always wanted.”

“More than anything.” She looked down at her hands. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll do the job well.”

Edith set down her cup. “Now, why would you think that?”

Grace shrugged. Her self-doubt seemed doubled. “Just wondering.” She wiped her brow with her forearm. “What if the townsfolk don’t approve?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Well,”—her gut churned a bit—“I’ve been hearing things is all.”

Edith inched forward in her seat. “Like what?”

Speaking the words aloud would make it more real. “About my sisters accepting their marriage agreements through the mail. Mail-order brides, they call them. I guess some see that as improper.”

Edith inclined her head. “There’s a few skeptical enough around here to make such talk. But your sisters aren’t the first women to seek one of these arrangements. Let your hard work and kind heart prove them wrong about your family.”

Grace’s shoulders relaxed.

Edith had a way of taking complicated situations and ironing out all the wrinkles. Her words made life simple. And good.

Grace pondered how to bring up her next thought. She turned the dough over and spoke as her palm pressed down. “I’m curious about a family I met at church this morning. Jedidiah Green and his three sons. One boy has thick, dark brown hair; the other’s hair is fine, almost white as a goose feather. And he has a burn scar on the side of his face. There’s an older boy too.”

“Big Jed? The blacksmith in town?”

“Yes, I believe that was his name. And he was a big fellow.”

“You must be confused meeting so many new people. Jed doesn’t have any kids. Never been married. He’s a loner. Lives in the two-room white house next to his shop.”

So, he’s the one who lives in that house. Grace had spotted the home her first week in Sheldon and thought it would make the most precious, quaint home if only it had a little attention. The small porch sat empty except for a small, shabby bench and a few clay pots. A nearly dried-up herb garden rested in the back. Chicory, yarrow, and wild onion had invaded the other sections.

Edith went back to rocking. “A local banker a few years back couldn’t pay Jed to fix his carriage, so he painted Jed’s house with some leftover paint the bank had used. It’s the only one painted in town besides the doctor’s.”

“Maybe I am confused.” Grace set the dough in the bread mold. “Isn’t it about time for your afternoon nap?”

“I’m fine for now. Why do you ask about this man?”

“Oh, this man has children, whoever he is…all of them…but they seemed…” She searched for the right words. “Lost. Something empty in their eyes.”

Josiah’s waif-like shyness. Thomas’s bold, protective spirit. How she would love to see them open up in her classroom, spreading their petals like a crocus in early spring. And Griffin’s hostility. Or perhaps it was more resentment. She wasn’t sure of the cause, but he was an angry young man. Their meeting had been brief, but she felt she understood them well, though she knew them very little. And at the same time, she wanted to know more.

“You’re smiling.” Edith set down her tea cup.

Edith’s voice jostled Grace from her reverie. “Was I?”

“You were.”

“Children delight me.” Grace smoothed the folds in her apron. “But they also make my heart heavy.”

“And that’s what you’re feeling now.”

“Yes.”

“Discernment.” Edith spoke with such confidence. “God has given you that gift.”

Grace’s cheeks flushed at the compliment. “That’s what my sister Mercy always told me. But I’m not sure if that’s true as I don’t even know what I feel. If it’s joy or sadness.”

“Then perhaps it is both.”

The old woman had more wisdom in her little finger than Grace had in her whole body.

Grace wiped her hands on her apron, and poured some tea. Although she had lots of work to do, she sensed God wanted her to rest. She sat down next to the woman, who had graciously opened her home to the new schoolmistress. Perhaps Edith was right, and what Grace felt was both joy and sadness. A smile sneaked across Grace’s face. “Tell me more about what you mean.”

~*~

A cold sweat covered Jed like liquid skin. He lay motionless and shifted his eyes to the moonlight that streamed in through the cloudy windowpane. His heart pounded, and for a breathless moment he thought he was twelve, not twenty-six. And the rattling outside was his cries as he left home for apprenticeship and not the screech of an owl. Shortly, as always, the images faded, and the heavy breathing subsided.

His tortured dreams came in waves. The same images of him boarding a stage coach for his unwanted apprenticeship repeated for several days, and then disappeared for a while as if his body could only take so much.

Jed sat up and lit the candle on the table next to the bed. He lifted the light to shine on the floor. Griffin again chose to lay farther away. Two small bodies lay on the bed tick, their sleep deep and sound. The sheet that had once been pulled over Josiah’s shoulder now lay around his knees. The way the boy had tossed and turned it was a wonder the sheet wasn’t wadded into a ball. Thomas clutched his book against his chest as he slept. Jed’s gut tightened as he recalled the last two words scribbled in the inside cover. The only two he could read.

Jed stepped lightly, but the floorboard creaked.

Thomas’s head lifted. He squinted at the candle flame and then sat up and looked at Josiah. He pulled the thin sheet up to Josiah’s chin. Then he carefully stood and followed Jed into the parlor. Without prompting, Thomas lifted several logs from the firewood box and placed them in the hearth. “Want me to fetch some water?”

Jed nodded. The boy would be a loyal servant. Almost too much so. Would he do whatever was asked of him no matter the task? And by whomever ordered it? “Fill the pitcher on the washstand in the bedroom when you return.”

Thomas unlatched the door, and the dawn’s rays shone on his face. At that moment, Thomas resembled Jed’s long-dead brother, who’d died of cholera when Jed was younger. Both boys had the same curve at the bridge of the nose, low forehead, and shape of the brows.

Would the boys get tired of oatmeal? He did have cornmeal for mush and cornbread. He’d have to rise earlier to get to the shop on time, but morning had always been his favorite part of the day, so that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

Thomas returned from outside, each movement precise, the boy’s eyes fixed on the water. The bucket had been filled to near the rim and a splash leaked over the edge. Thomas paused and looked at the floor.

Jed rescued the pail from his hands, emptied some of it in a pot for the oats to cook in, and then returned it to him. The night shirt Jed had given him came from the former apprentice. The hem fell a few inches above his knees. Another item he’d have to get for them.

Thomas stepped carefully around Josiah. The boy had a remarkable sense of obedience. He followed orders but didn’t seem to do it in fear of a beating. He appeared to be drawn by a sense of honor, as if joy came from pleasing. Thomas emptied the bucket carefully into the pitcher and then returned. “What do I need to do next?”

Jed tore off several pieces of bread from one of the loaves Mrs. Coleman gave him for fixing the hole in her teakettle and then opened a jar of honey from Wyatt’s bee hives. Several jars of preserves and another jar of honey lined the front row of his cabinet. The food supply would dwindle rapidly the way the boys ate supper last night. He hoped at least some of his customers would pay in cash this week. Jed glanced down at the boy’s feet. The spaces between his toes were covered in dirt. “Put this bread on the table, then go rinse your feet under the spigot outside.” Jed handed him the bowl. “You will say the grace before we eat.”

Thomas looked up. “I ain’t never done that before.”

Jed nodded. “You’ll learn.”

~*~

Nothing separated people like social class. Yet Grace felt an intense yearning to alter what had always existed. At least in her new little corner of Sheldon, Texas.

Grace stood at the top of the stairs outside the schoolhouse door and watched her students arrive from different directions. Some came barefoot, a few wore new boots. Some came by themselves or with a sibling. Most walked, but others rode in the back of a wagon. Three girls, whose father owned the mercantile in town, arrived in a carriage.

Farmers’ children wore the same overalls and tweed trousers they used to work in the fields. Other girls wore newly-made dresses and some boys wore freshly ironed shirts.

But it wasn’t just the clothes. Their walk was different. Poor children trudged along barely lifting their feet, shoulders slumped. Offspring from wealthier families moved with a spring in their step, their posture tall and straight. Of course, that didn’t mean they were happier or better people.

Grace greeted each student and sent them inside. She had already met some at church or around town. Many had stopped by Edith’s home to introduce themselves. The last few filed in, and her heart thudded against her ribs. She gazed across the empty yard, and then moved to the door. Her name echoed in the breeze. She turned.

A tall, empowering figure walked behind two little ones.

They were here.

Grace moved down the steps.

Josiah’s pace slowed.

Thomas placed his arm on the younger lad’s back to draw him along.

Mr. Green followed behind them.

She laced her fingers together and waited.

Josiah pressed his body against Thomas’s side. His scar appeared completely hidden.

Grace bent down to peer directly at Josiah. His clear, deep blue irises filled with water. If only she could find the key to unlock his trust.

Mr. Green smoothed the top of Josiah’s light blond hair. “Go on now.”

Josiah moved his head from side to side.

Then his lower lip stuck out, and if her heart had been made of wax it would’ve melted all over the ground. Even in defiance the lad charmed her. “Josiah, I will need a special helper with the flag today. Would you like to help me?”

He shook his head.

Grace bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Have you ever been to school before?”

He gave the smallest nod. Her shoulders relaxed.

Then something in her soul whispered that Josiah’s experience had been painful. “Do I seem like the same teacher you had?”

He paused and then shook his head.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Grace whispered.

Josiah pulled himself slightly away from Thomas. His gaze never left hers.

“I’m scared too. This is my very first day as a teacher, and I stayed up all night with a tummy-ache and prayed the day would go well. And I’d really like you to come inside because I think my stomach will start to hurt again if you don’t.”

Josiah’s pouting lip softened.

Mr. Green bent over and placed a hand on Thomas’s back. “Both of you inside with Miss Cantrell. We’ll take a trip to the mercantile afterward. Do what she says, and you can get a piece of sassafras.”

Josiah and Thomas looked at each other, their eyes wide.

Mr. Green took Josiah’s arm and raised it toward Grace, who grabbed his hand. His little fingers felt delicate inside hers as he walked beside her up the stairs.

“Miss Cantrell.” Mr. Green stepped forward. “Here’s their lunch pails.”

She took the round, metal buckets from his hand. “Thank you.”

He tipped his hat. “No. Thank you, miss.” And the sepia in his eyes, a richer shade than what she’d ever seen before, met her gaze squarely. “I’m sure you’ll see to it that they get proper schooling.” His voice had an edge to it without sounding gruff. As if he knew his place in the world.

She both envied and admired it. “I’ll do my best.”

For a brief moment they connected, as if he’d entrusted her with his most prized possessions. Something inside her drew toward him, and she hated to turn away.

Thomas and Josiah followed her inside.

And the snickering began.