Pearl wandered in and out of slumber for days. November’s bleak light faded to darkness and returned again with barely a notice.
“You must eat something,” Amanda urged, soup bowl in hand. “A little broth will do wonders.”
Pearl pulled herself up on the pillows and winced. Her arms worked like normal and the coughing had stopped, but the tiniest movement of her legs brought tears to her eyes.
“Oh!” Amanda set down the soup. “I should have put another pillow behind your back.”
Pearl rubbed her eyes, which still felt gritty. “I need to get back to the classroom.” Though still hoarse, at least she could speak.
“First you must eat.” Amanda held out a spoonful of the liquid.
“I’m not a baby. I can feed myself.”
Amanda, always patient and understanding, beamed. “You’re feeling better.”
“I can’t seem to shake the cobwebs from my mind.”
“Perhaps a little broth will help.”
Pearl sniffed the offering. Chicken. Her stomach rumbled. It would do. She took the spoon and managed to get most of the spoonful into her mouth before falling back against the pillows, exhausted. “What is wrong with me? It’s only been a day or two.”
“Four, actually.”
“Four?” Pearl couldn’t comprehend how that much time had passed without her knowledge. Then she spotted the bottle of laudanum. “No more medicine. I need my wits about me so I can teach school.”
Amanda bit her lip and lowered her gaze.
“What is it?” Pearl asked. “What happened?”
Her friend pasted on an artificial smile. “Have more broth. You need to get stronger first.”
“Before what?”
“Before returning to teaching.” Amanda held out the bowl. “Have some more.”
Pearl swallowed another spoonful. “Now tell me what happened.”
Amanda held up the bowl. “Not until it’s all gone.”
“That’s blackmail.”
Amanda nodded cheerfully.
Though the effort taxed her strength, Pearl’s stomach appreciated the offering. When she finished, she handed back the spoon and dropped against the pillows. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
Amanda set the bowl and spoon on the little bedside table that had appeared from somewhere in the boardinghouse, likely a more costly room. “Dr. Van Neef said it’ll take a bit for your throat and eyes to fully recover, but they should improve each day. Roland brought some horehound drops that’ll soothe your throat.”
Pearl bristled at Roland’s name. Though some of the memories were murky, one was not. Roland had set fire to that burn pile on a windy day. He had caused everything. “I don’t want anything from him.”
“But those flowers brighten the room.”
Only then did Pearl notice the vase of chrysanthemums on the bureau. How he had found them this late in the year was a wonder. Naturally Amanda loved them, for she was drawn to every beautiful thing.
“Take them away.”
Amanda frowned. “Don’t be such a grouch. They belong right there.”
Pearl could see she would get nowhere with Amanda, whose eyes sparkled with the prospect of matching her to Roland. Time to put an end to that. “Forget it.”
“Forget what?”
“You know what. Your matchmaking.”
“Me?” Amanda’s mock surprise was proof enough.
Pearl motioned to her throat. “I need to rest.”
Amanda took the hint. “I’ll take the soup bowl downstairs.” She pulled open the bureau drawer and removed a stack of letters. “Perhaps you would like to read a little.”
No one wrote to Pearl. Ever. How could she have a stack of mail?
“The children sent notes.” Amanda teared up again. “They love you.”
Pearl’s heart filled to overflowing. Sure enough, the top letter was from little Sadie. Dear, precious Sadie. As Amanda slipped out of the room, Pearl held the note to her face and drew a breath of the fresh paper. Sadie couldn’t write much more than her name, but she’d sent Pearl a note.
Thank You, Lord, for saving her. And me.
A little pain was a small price to pay.
An adult, probably Sadie’s father, had written “Miss Lawson” on the outside. Pearl unfolded the piece of paper. As she’d suspected, the “note” contained no writing other than Sadie’s name in block capital letters with the D backward and the E splayed out like fingers reaching to play a full octave on the piano. The rest was a drawing. The schoolhouse was on fire, and flames surrounded it, a little girl and a grown woman. A kitten clung to the girl.
Pearl choked back a tear. The poor girl. Drawing what had happened must be a way to make sense of it. She looked back at the sketch. Away from the school stood a man. Her father? Farther away was a boy. Isaac, no doubt. In the other direction, where there should be trees, Sadie had drawn a steamboat with its smokestack belching soot. Peculiar. Did it represent her wish to get away from the fire?
Pearl’s hand dropped, and the other notes scattered across her lap. All were addressed to her. Many bore the telltale writing of her students. By now, she could differentiate Angela’s hand from George’s. Each child’s writing was distinct. Each note she would treasure.
Then she came upon four notes, all written in the same adult hand. No family sent four wee ones to her school. It could not be from a parent. She unfolded the first to find a finely written letter, each line perfectly straight. Her gaze drifted to the signature.
Roland.
Her jaw clenched.
He could not buy her forgiveness with a simple letter, not when his actions had nearly cost the children their lives.
* * *
Saturday while manning the store, Roland whistled as he put the finishing touches on his package by tying the ribbon into a big bow. He held up the finished product. “What do you think?”
Sadie surveyed his effort, first by tilting her head one way and then the other. “It’s all right.”
He would have to consider that good enough.
“But you should draw a picture on the paper,” Sadie added. “Teacher likes pictures. Miss Amanda said she really liked the picture I made for her.”
“I’m sure she did.” Roland touched a finger to her nose, making her giggle. “Especially since it came from you, but I’m not much of an artist. She’ll be much happier with your new drawing that we put inside.” He patted the brown paper wrapped package.
Sadie thoughtfully considered what he’d said. “Was my mama an artist?”
Roland knew the questions would eventually start to come, but Eva’s memory still brought a twinge of guilt in spite of Garrett’s forgiveness. He concentrated on Sadie, whose dark hair reminded him of her mother. “Your mother loved everything beautiful. When she lived in Chicago, she liked to visit the art exhibitions. I think she would have been an artist if she’d had the opportunity.” He smiled. “Maybe you’ll be the artist in the family.”
She giggled at that and ran off to play with Beth Wardman, who arrived with her mother.
“Any news on the school?” Debra Wardman asked.
“We’re going to use our church cabin on Pine Street. It’ll be ready next week.”
“But who will teach?”
“Miss Porter, Miss O’Keefe and Miss Smythe have agreed to lead the children in their lessons until Miss Lawson returns to the classroom.”
Mrs. Wardman looked skeptical. “What will they use? Most of the primers and slates were lost in the fire.”
“New ones are on order and should arrive within the week.”
“At what cost?”
“None, Mrs. Wardman. An anonymous donor has paid for them.” Him. He’d placed the order the very next day.
“Praise God!” Her concern melted into a smile. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”
“Is there anything I can get for you today?” Roland was eager to deliver his gift, and with Charlie off on deliveries, he had to wait on the customers until the boy’s return.
By the time he’d filled Mrs. Wardman’s order and had her sign for the purchases, Charlie returned. Though Roland had intended to leave Sadie at the store, he decided Pearl might want to see the little girl. It wouldn’t hurt his chances, either.
He helped fasten the buttons on Sadie’s coat before donning his own. Then he hefted the bulky package and they made their way into the blustery November afternoon. Though heavy clouds scudded across the sky, it had yet to rain or snow. Fortunate, since he didn’t want this gift to get wet.
After considering all possible ways to thank Pearl for her heroic sacrifice to save his niece, Roland and Garrett had settled on this. She needed it and deserved every penny that it cost.
“Why are you giving Teacher a present?” Sadie asked for the umpteenth time.
“It’s from all of us to thank her for saving you and Isaac.”
Sadie tilted her head to look up at him, the old repaired rag doll tucked in the crook of her arm. “Are you going to give Miss Amanda a present, too?”
That was a fair question, but one he had no answer to. When Roland had mentioned adding something for Amanda, Garrett had stiffened and reiterated his intent not to marry. Though Roland had tried to convince his brother that this had nothing to do with matchmaking, Garrett would not relent.
“We gave her the flowers, remember?”
Sadie nodded vigorously. “But she said they should be for Teacher. We need to give Miss Amanda something just for her.”
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do. When we get there, you give Miss Amanda a big hug and a kiss. I think she would consider that the best gift of all.”
Sadie scrunched up her nose, apparently unconvinced. “That’s not a present.”
“To grown-ups, that’s the best present they can get.”
“Are you going to hug Teacher?”
Roland coughed and extended the coughing spell until he could think of a good response. “It’s different between adults.”
“Why?”
Why indeed. Sometimes Roland wished his niece was still the quiet little girl she’d been before Pearl and Amanda arrived. No, that wasn’t quite true. This little girl skipping along the boardwalk was more precious than the biggest factory. Maybe it had taken disaster to wake him up to the bounty right in front of him. Since Pearl had arrived, life had taken on a new shine. Thanks to her, he and Garrett had reconciled. Family and faith now took the top spots in life. He actually looked forward to church services tomorrow.
“We’re here,” he announced, glad he wouldn’t have to answer Sadie’s probing questions.
Mrs. Calloway answered the door. “Mr. Roland, Miss Sadie, come on in. I just took some gingerbread out of the oven. Would you like some?” She bent to help Sadie out of her coat. “Miss Amanda is already there.”
Sadie rushed back to the kitchen. After spending so much time here, she knew the boardinghouse as well as her own home.
Mrs. Calloway straightened. “Well now. May I take your coat?” She eyed the gift. “Someone’s about to have a fine day.” She chuckled. “But I expect it’s not me. She’s upstairs. I’ll go on ahead and make sure she’s ready for visitors.”
She headed toward the staircase.
He waited.
She turned around and beckoned him to follow. “She’ll be right pleased to see you.”
He followed but hung back. When he first arrived in Singapore, he’d stayed at the boardinghouse, second room on the left. The same room, he now realized, that he’d carried Pearl into the day of the fire. Mrs. Calloway stopped before that door again. After rapping lightly, she cracked the door.
“You have a visitor,” she said.
Roland couldn’t hear Pearl’s response, but Mrs. Calloway beckoned him near. She then flung open the door, revealing Pearl seated in bed, the threadbare shawl draped around her shoulders.
The moment she spotted him, her eager smile faded.
* * *
Pearl struggled to calm her emotions. Mrs. Calloway had given her no warning and no chance to chase Roland away. In fact, the moment the door opened wide, Mrs. Calloway vanished, leaving Roland alone, tall and stunningly handsome with his dark hair and cheeks flushed from the cold. His black wool coat was of the finest cut and quality, and he held in his arms a large, paper-wrapped package tied with red ribbon.
If she hadn’t been so angry with him, she would have braved the pain to run to him. Every fiber of her fickle body cried out to go to him, but her mind struggled to make sense of the man who stood before her. Charming one moment and unthinking the next. He had risked children’s lives to burn debris on a windy day. On the other hand, he had returned for her. He had cradled her in his arms and carried her to safety. During each one of the long days confined to the bedroom, she had relived that gentle kiss to her cheek. Even now the very spot hummed from the memory of his lips.
“I’m glad to hear you’re recovering.” He stepped in the room.
Too close. She put up a hand to stop him. “I’m sorry, but without a chaperone...”
“Of course.” He backed away. “I will call for Mrs. Calloway or Amanda.”
“Don’t bother them.” Though her voice came out petulant, she couldn’t regret it. After all, he had caused this.
An awkward silence followed. She pulled the quilt higher though she wasn’t cold. He shifted his weight from foot to foot.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “I’m glad the cough has left. Is the pain better?”
She hated to admit that it was. “Somewhat, but Dr. Van Neef said it will take some time before I’m back to normal.”
“Naturally.” He looked around the room. “You must find such a small space confining.”
“You can’t imagine.” She pressed a hand to her mouth. The last thing she needed was to agree with anything he said.
His lips curved slightly. “Might I at least give you this gift?”
“Why would you think it necessary to give me anything?”
He set down the package on the bureau and retreated. “It’s from all of us, but especially Sadie.”
“Oh.” Now she felt terrible.
“The red ribbon was her idea. She said you look pretty in red.” He grinned, and that irresistible sparkle returned to his eyes. “I happen to agree.”
Pearl had to duck her head to hide the heat rising in her cheeks. How was she supposed to stay angry with him when he said things like that? “She is well, then? And Cocoa?”
“Both in excellent health. Sadie is showing no ill effects from the incident other than asking a great many questions.”
“Questions about what?” Pearl picked at the sad fringe on her shawl.
“Ah, that is for her uncle to know.”
“And me to find out?” Pearl challenged. Something about the man brought out the fighting spirit in her.
He laughed. “That’s the Pearl I love.”
Love? That word made her stiffen. Could those feelings she had for him truly be love? Could the fact that he displaced everything else in her mind indicate the sort of affection that would last a lifetime? Or was this one of those passing fancies that led to heartbreak? After all, he could not be trusted to take care of the innocent and vulnerable. Why should she trust him with her heart?
She turned her face away from the door. “I’m tired. Please let me rest.”
He hesitated, probably waiting for her to relent. She could not. To give in would be to accept and condone such carelessness. No, she’d made up her mind. Her life would be dedicated to her students. There was no room in it for a man who’d proven faithless.
Even though he had come back for her.