Carol Arens - A Texas Christmas Reunion

“Hope the new one’s better than the last one.” Cora sighed. “He didn’t teach us anything. Just let the boys run wild and the girls talk about everybody.”

“I hope so, too. We’re lucky to get one at all, though. Most teachers choose a position that pays better than we can offer.”

“I only wish we knew more about him or her.” Rose rubbed her arms briskly, wiping away the lingering chill from her blouse. “Since the school board is in Smith’s Ridge, and they’re doing the hiring, our new teacher could come from the moon and we wouldn’t know any better.”

“Well—schoolmaster or schoolmistress, from earth or the moon, it will have to be better than no teacher at all,” Juliette pointed out.

“Maybe,” Cora muttered with a good deal of doubt evident on her young face as she sat at a table and opened her book. “I’d rather be home with my reading than hear those girls gossip when they ought to be paying attention to the lesson. And if that nasty Charlie Gumm pulls my braid one more time—I’ll have to punch him, I reckon.”

“And get sent home for a week?” Rose shot her sister a severe frown.

“I might learn more on my own if we get a teacher like Mr. Smythe was. I don’t think he was from the moon. Maybe Mars, though.”

“I suppose we shouldn’t judge the new teacher, not even knowing a thing about them,” Juliette said, going out the front door with a backward glance.

“I reckon so,” answered Cora, but she sounded far from convinced.

Outside, wind seemed to come at her from every direction. Snow was on its way. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t worry overmuch that it would keep customers home. If the widow Pugley accepted the offer that Juliette presented, there would be money to purchase the hotel and plenty for renovations, too.

She felt a lightness in her step that she hadn’t felt in quite a while. At the same time, her stomach was a nervous mess.

Thanks to the generosity of Laura Lee Quinn—no doubt Creed by now—the opportunity of a lifetime was within her reach.

But only so long as Mrs. Pugley had been sincere in her desire to leave Beaumont Spur.

* * *

Coming home to Beaumont Spur was even more taxing to Trea’s nerves than he expected it to be.

Huddled into his coat against the cold, he leaned against the wall of the train station at Smith’s Ridge, wondering if he was making the right decision in going home.

Not that wondering made a bit of difference, since he’d already made the decision. He was good and committed to the course he’d set.

A lot of years had passed since he last walked the streets of Beaumont. It hadn’t even been called Beaumont Spur back then, just plain Beaumont.

Would folks still look at him with disapproval after all this time? His pa would. The old cuss would be ashamed to his bones.

And the girls whose affections he’d dallied with? They would be grown women—mothers, even. Would they judge him harshly?

He was a changed man now—reformed. He only hoped they would see past who he had been to who he had become. Because if they didn’t...

The train whistle blew, letting the waiting passengers know they could board the train and get out of the frigid weather.

He picked up the bag of a young lady who seemed to be on her own and carried it up the steps of the train car. She smiled appreciatively at him. He let the smile warm him through, since he couldn’t be sure he would get another anytime soon.

There was no telling what awaited him at home. He had a lot to atone for, and it was important that he do it. He could not be the upright fellow he’d set his course to be unless he did.

The lady nodded her thanks, then sat down on the bench across from him.

Something about her reminded him of Juliette Moreland. The sweetness of her expression—the way she tipped her head to one side when she spoke? That might be it. That, or the spark of goodwill that brightened her blue eyes and reflected a kind soul.

One of the reasons he was so nervous about going home was Juliette, even though she was probably the one person in town he had not wronged in some way.

As wild a boy as he’d been, when Juliette looked at him, he’d felt worth something.

That was it, then. He was on edge because he feared seeing her look at him like everyone else had. Over the years, growing in maturity and wisdom, she might see him differently than she had back then. As a woman grown she might judge him more harshly.

That fifteen-year-old girl who had followed him one hot summer night to the shed where he’d hidden from an angry storekeeper, the sweet girl who’d sat with him, sharing her dinner, might see him differently now.

Looking back, it seemed odd—but sitting in that secluded space with darkness coming on—blame it, he wouldn’t have talked and laughed the evening away with anyone but Juliette.

He’d entertained a lot of girls in that shed. The memories were heated but vague. Visions of pretty faces melded one into one another—their sighs all the same.

The only one he remembered with clarity was Juliette.

She was—just better than anyone else he’d ever met.

Beautiful —it was the name he’d always called her. Partly to see her blush, but also because it was true. He’d called a few others that, too, but he’d only meant it with Juliette.

Just now, listening to the rumble of the great engine and feeling the vibration of the wheels on the track picking up speed, he didn’t know which he feared most. Seeing her again—or not seeing her.

* * *

What had she done?

Juliette opened the door to her snug little café and came inside, shutting the door on glowering clouds that promised snow. She glanced about the well-kept space and breathed in the familiar scents.

The café was empty of customers at the moment, but clearly there had been a few. Coffee had recently been served and sweet rolls. The lingering scent of steak told her someone had just enjoyed a meal.

Every inch of this place was as familiar to her as her face in the mirror.

What on God’s good earth had she done?

“You’re back quicker than I expected.” Rose bustled out from the kitchen, dusting flour-smeared hands on her apron. “I figured I’d bake a pan of biscuits. I imagine the folks arriving on the train will be hungry.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you, Rose.”

“It was no problem. The babies are asleep and your father-in-law is reading a dime novel. I needed to keep busy with—Juliette, you’re pale. Are you feeling all right?”

“Am I pale?” Juliette took off her gloves and pinched her cheeks. “Well—it’s just that I bought the hotel.”

Cora looked up from her book and pointed out the window. “That hotel?”

“I imagine so, Cora. It’s the only one in town,” Rose pointed out, looking as appalled as her sister.

“But it’s in worse shape than the schoolhouse is.”

Juliette hadn’t seen the inside of the small red building in some time but figured she must accept Cora’s word on it. “Yes—that very one. The fleas and the bedbugs all belong to me now.”

What in glory blazes had she done?

Turned her safe, predictable life upside down, is what.

“If I were you I’d tear it down,” Cora advised.

“That will be enough of your sassy mouth, young lady,” Rose scolded. “If you can’t say something supportive just go back to your studies.”

“I’ve been trying to all afternoon. But those women from the Ladies Service Society spent their whole meeting time gossiping about that no-account fellow coming to town. If they want to be of service, they should have been over at the schoolhouse cleaning it. It made my brain scatter. I reckon the new teacher will take the first train out of here once she sees where she’s supposed to work.”