Dorothy Clark - Falling for the Teacher

She lifted her chin. “I’ll have your coat finished by the time you’re ready to go home.”

There’d be no changing her mind, judging from her protective tone. “As you wish. You can lay the coat on the railing by my lamp when you’re done. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go tend to Manning’s needs.” He turned and walked toward the other door.

“Cole...”

He looked back her way.

“I do thank you for your kindness to my grandmother and for the help you give my grandfather...no matter what your reasons.”

He could have done without that reminder of her distrust. Would he always walk in the shadow of Payne’s dark deed?

Chapter Seven

He was kind to her grandparents—she couldn’t deny that. She simply wanted to know why. Sadie fanned her face with her hand and stepped closer to the window as Cole strode down the garden path toward the woods, his mended suit coat a dark shadow over his arm, his lamp lighting his way. Both Poppa and Nanna thought highly of him. It was clear they trusted him. They seemed to have forgotten that his brother had also been pleasant and helpful until—

She jerked her gaze from Cole’s broad shoulders, his strong, powerful arms moving in rhythm with his long strides. She hadn’t forgotten. She wished she could. But the memories, the nightmare never stopped, and coming home had made them more powerful than ever. There were so many reminders—chief among them Cole, so like Payne with his dark eyes and black beard. Every time she looked at him she remembered.

The yellow glow of his lamp swept forward, passed over the garden bench where he carried her grandfather to enjoy the morning sun every day, moved across the ground and slid over her grandmother’s small, wood wheelbarrow sitting by the corner of the fence. Cold gripped her. Shivers coursed down her spine. She wrapped her arms about herself and absently rubbed her upper left arm, her gaze frozen on the small, painted cart. If Poppa hadn’t sent that logger to fix the split handle, no one would have heard her scream over the noise of the saws....

She whirled from the window, tried to order her thoughts, but the unwanted memories flashed, one after another, into her head—Nanna asking her to pick berries for a pie...the smell of the warm blackberry patch...the sun-dappled path...Payne stepping out from behind the trees...

“No!” The protest burst from her constricted throat. She grabbed her skirts and ran from her bedroom, rushed down the stairs, across the entrance hall into the library and sagged against the door, shaking and gasping for breath. She drew in air, replacing the remembered scents of Payne’s sweat, forest loam and the crushed blackberries beneath her as she fought him with the scents of wood smoke, leather and candle wax and a hint of bayberry—the smell of safety.

She closed her eyes and thought about Nanna teaching her how to cook and sew and do needlepoint, of Poppa teaching her to read and showing her how to play checkers and drive the buggy, of how wonderful life had been before her world had been torn apart.

Her ragged breaths evened and her pulse slowed. The quaking eased to an inner trembling. She opened her eyes and looked around the moonlit room, drinking in the sight of all that was dear and familiar. The settle with its hooked-rug pad and worn pillow. Poppa’s chair by the hearth with the flat stone and hammer he used to crack open butternuts and hickory nuts close by. His desk.

The peace she sought fled. She stared at the gaping space on the desk’s bookshelves where the green leather business ledgers should be and shoved away from the door. Payne Aylward had stolen her grandfather’s money and robbed her of her dreams. She would not allow his brother to harm her grandparents.

But would he? Cole was so gentle with her grandmother and so thoughtful of her grandfather. And he had brought her the umbrella and left her his raincoat during the storm. And he’d saved her from the bat. Those were not the actions of a cruel man. Still...

Her breath shortened and she wrapped her arms about herself and rubbed her arm, thinking back to those moments on the porch. How foolish she’d been to blind herself in Cole’s presence by throwing his suit coat over her head, but she’d been so afraid of the bat she’d forgotten to be frightened of Cole. Yet once again, he had not seized the opportunity to—

Oh, what she was thinking? Perhaps Cole was not cruel like Payne, but that did not mean he wasn’t as dishonest. She mustn’t allow herself to be swayed from her purpose by his acts of kindness. There had to be a reason why he was spending his time doing these things for Nanna and Poppa, and it was up to her to discover what it was. She was certain it had something to do with the books, else why would they be missing?

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