Tennessee Waltz Read online

  Yesterday, a day nearly as warm as today, Wyn had been waiting on the front porch with Dan when the children came home. After showing her around a week ago, she'd only seen him at supper each evening, since she continued to assist Mandy in feeding the MacIntyre children while Sissy remained in bed. But today Sissy would take over her own family, and Sarah assumed she would be expected to fix a lonely supper in her own cabin. That didn't appeal to her at all since she'd become accustomed to the friendly company at meals after her arrival at Sawback Mountain.

  The door on the general store opened and her breath caught in her throat. Chastising herself didn't make her feet carry her back into the schoolhouse at all. Only when she saw Dan push himself out the door did she wave at him and turn away.

  Back inside, she watched Luke put away the broom and dustpan and Jute scrub at the blackboard with an eraser. The two of them had also participated in the children's growing rambunctiousness, which she was sure came from the spring fever and the warmer weather. Today's open windows had drawn more than one child's eyes longingly to the outdoors.

  "Tell me," she said to Jute, who was the more vocal twin. "Do you think all you children could behave well if we went walking in the woods tomorrow? I'd like to teach everyone what happens when the seasons change."

  Jute gave her a strange look, then turned his attention back to his job without answering her. Sarah frowned and looked over at Luke, who didn't meet her eyes.

  "All right, you two," Sarah said. "What's wrong with me taking my class for a walk in the woods?"

  The silence stretched out for a while, but Jute finally put his eraser down. Ducking his head and toeing at the pine floor, he cleared his throat. "Well, it ain't . . ."

  "Isn't," Sarah corrected him.

  "Yes, ma'am. It isn't the walkin'. It's the teachin'."

  "The teaching?" Sarah asked in astonishment.

  "Yes, ma'am," Jute repeated.

  Sarah waited expectantly, but the twin didn't go on. "Jute," she finally prodded. "Tell me what's wrong with my wanting to teach about the seasons and what happens in the woods when they change."

  Surprisingly, Jute shot a pleading look at his twin, and Luke answered her. "It's that you's a city woman, Miss Sarah. I reckon we knows lots more about what happens in the woods when it turns from winter to spring than you do. 'Spect we do."

  "Hmm," Sarah said, lowing her eyelids to hide the twinkle she thought might be in her eyes. "Let me ask you something, Luke. Do you think we have winter in the city?"

  "Yes, ma'am," he replied immediately. "Figger they have winter everywhere."

  She nodded at him. "And do you figure we have spring in the city?"

  "Yes, ma'am." Luke's blue eyes gleamed. "But we gots dirt and mud under our snow when it melts, not them there brick streets like Pa reads about in them books of an evening. Reckon them shoes a yours ain't . . . aren't real proper for walking much in dirt and mud. Takes you a while to clean them when you been outside during recess and lunch, you know."

  "You're very observant, Luke," she admitted.

  "Ob . . . observant?"

  "It means that you pay attention and remember what's happening around you. That's a very good trait to have. So how about this. Our walk will focus on the differences in spring in the country and spring in the city. And I do have a pair of boots I brought with me, which I can wear over my shoes."

  Both twins contemplated the idea suitably, then nodded. Jute took back over the conversation.

  "That sounds like fun to me, Miss Sarah. And learning's lots easier when it's fun, like you make it. Ole Prune Face . . ." He clapped a hand over his mouth in horror.

  Laughter bubbled in Sarah's throat, but she held it back. Obviously, the children had done a play on Prudence's first name and came up with the derogatory nickname. But it wouldn't do to encourage their disrespect. Would it?

  "Shows some imagination, which is also a good trait, isn't it?" a voice said behind her.

  She swiveled into the laughter shining from Wyn's blue eyes, although he appeared to be trying to keep the rest of his face stern. Ever one to take advantage of a situation, Jute scampered forward and began dancing around Wyn.

  "Miss Sarah's gonna take us into the woods tomorrow, Wyn! We won't have to sit in them ole hard seats all day. We can have some real fun and learn stuff, too."

  "Sounds like a fine idea to me," Wyn agreed. "Now, are you done here? I need you to check Miss Sarah's wood box and carry over some wood from our pile if she needs it."

  "As a matter of fact," Sarah said, "I do need some more wood. And a little coffee, too, if I could buy some. I believe that's the only thing low in the supplies Prune . . . uh . . . Prudence left behind."

  "I'll send coffee when the twins come over for you to help them with their homework. Pa would like to see you now if you've got a minute."

  He turned and left before she could answer him, escaping her presence as quickly as he had ever since he'd shown her around the schoolhouse and cabin. He almost ran back to the store and disappeared inside. So much for his seeming attraction to her. She knew beyond a doubt now that he had only been dallying with her — testing his own allure with a willing female, who would be gone before anything serious could develop.

  Then, when she decided to stay around, he'd run like . . . like . . . Well, as Dan would probably say, like a hound with a scalded tail! Only problem was, there weren't too many places for him to hide, with her living practically in his lap.

  Sighing in disappointment, she turned to inspect the schoolroom, then dismissed the twins. She followed them more slowly to the store, smiling at Dan when she approached.

  "Wyn said you wished to see me," she said.

  Dan removed his pipe from his mouth. "Yep. Couple things. Have a sit down."

  Sarah obediently sat in a chair across from him.

  "Reckon you remember me mentioning having a wake for my brother and his wife," Dan said, a look of sorrow on his face. Sarah nodded in response.

  "It's only right, 'cause most of the people 'round here knew them," Dan continued. "Figgered I'd do it the day after tomorrow, since Leery said Robert was a'comin' back tomorrow. Just thought I'd let you know that it would be a good time for you to meet all the young'uns' mas and pas. And you'll probably be a gettin' invites to come see them. It would be right nice if you could have some idear of how you want to take care of that when they ask you, since it's sorta an expected thing for a new teacher to visit each family. 'Spect I could talk Wyn into taking you round, maybe one family every other day or so."

  "I really appreciate your telling me this, Dan. It wouldn't have occurred to me that I'd be considered rude if I didn't visit each of the families. But perhaps I could just go home with one family of children each evening and come back with them in the morning."

  "Some of them cabins won't be fit for you to spend the night in," Dan told her. "'Specially this near spring, when they been shut up without baths all winter. I feel you got a right to know that, and also that it'd be considered right prideful on your part if they caught you a'sniffin' and coverin' your nose when you was there. They's a gonna expect you to eat what they have for you, too, which won't be much more than tater soup and cornbread. But we'll bring over a plate of whatever we have those nights for you and leave it on your stove."

  "Thank you, Dan," she said, rising to her feet. "I appreciate your help. I truly wouldn't want to hurt anyone's feelings by inadvertently snubbing them."

  "Know you wouldn't do it on purpose, Sarah." He stuck his pipe back in his mouth, then pulled it out and stared at the cold bowl. "Dang. I forgot to get me a new pack of tobacco a'fore I came out here."

  "I'll go ask Wyn for some more tobacco for you."

  "Mighty nice of you to offer, Sarah. I'd be appreciating it, it you don't mind."

  "Of course not."

  When she entered the store, Wyn was stepping behind the counter, but she caught a whiff of the light bay rum scent he used just inside the door. Surely he hadn't bee
n eavesdropping on her and Dan, had he? Of course not. His scent probably permeated the store, since he spent so much time there.

  "Your father needs some tobacco," she said as she approached the counter. "And I might as well get my coffee while I'm here. Would you prefer I pay for it now or have you put it on a tab and take it out of my salary?"

  "Your food is part of your salary," Wyn said, avoiding her gaze and scanning the shelves as though he weren't completely aware of where each item sat. "There's no need to pay for your coffee."

  Instead of responding, she studied him. He finally took a can of tobacco from the shelf, then ripped off a piece of brown paper from a roll beneath the bottom shelf. After he scooped some tobacco on the paper, he rolled it and handed it to her without looking at her. Then he walked over to a bag of coffee beans and scooped some into a grinder. A moment later, the smell of fresh ground coffee covered up the bay rum scent.

  "Thank you," she said as she took the smaller bag he placed the ground coffee in. She heard him sigh in relief as she started to move away and gritted her teeth in irritation, which flared almost immediately into indignation.

  Whirling on him, she said, "Don't you think it's about time we got this out in the open? You act like you expect me to jump on you every time we get within two feet of each other! I assure you, I'm well aware that you only kissed me for the fun of it! I'm not expecting a marriage proposal from you, especially since I'm already betrothed."

  Wyn had the grace to blush, but he held her gaze steadily. "You underestimate yourself, Sarah. At times I wonder who shredded your self esteem so badly."

  "Being honest with oneself is not necessarily a lack of esteem. And from what Dan just told me about what's expected of me, it appears I'm going to have to depend on you to escort me to visit the area families. Those journeys would, I'm sure, be much more pleasant for both of us if we could just forget those kisses and carry on polite conversation to pass the time. Otherwise, they will be long, unpleasantly silent trips."

  "Can you forget them, Sarah?" he almost whispered.

  She drew in a breath and held it. A thread seemed to stretch from Wyn to her, winding around her chest and slowly, ever so slowly, drawing tight. She stared at him helplessly, unable to break the contact.

  Her eyes dropped to his lips. "I'm . . . I must," she finally managed to say.

  "Then have it your way," the lips said. "Is there anything else I can do for you right now?"

  "No. No, I need to get home and write some letters. Can I leave them here at the store, in case I'm out with the children when Jeeter comes tomorrow?"

  "That will be fine."

  "Thank you."

  The thread loosened at last and she hurried back out to Dan. Barely pausing long enough to give him the tobacco, she hastened down the steps and toward her cabin. As she went in the door, she recalled her last comments to Wyn.

  Home. She'd said she needed to get home. Funny, she'd never called that large twenty-room mansion in New York City home. It had always been Channing Place in her mind.

  She stared around the tiny one-room cabin. It held everything she needed in that small space. In New York, sometimes all twenty rooms seemed crowded with things.

  She had a small stove here, in the far right corner, which provided both a cooking facility and enough heat for the well-insulated cabin. She hadn't tried to do much more than make coffee on it and really didn't intend to. For a nominal charge, Mandy had cheerfully agreed to provide meals for her when Sissy got back on her feet, and she intended to take her meals over there beginning this evening. However, she did like her coffee first thing, and that meant preparing it herself rather than waking to a tray delivered by a maid.

  She'd figured out how to make her own bed, enjoying seeing the tidiness of the brightly-colored quilt tucked neatly around the mattress on the bed in the other corner when she came in. And she'd found some dust cloths on one of the shelves holding her cooking supplies. They worked to polish the small end table by the little settee and the surface of the writing desk in the near corner. If she needed any further room, she could always go back to the schoolhouse and use that larger desk. Dan had said Sissy would do the cleaning when she got back on he feet, but in the meantime, keeping the cabin neat gave Sarah a warm feeling of satisfaction.

  The pine floor shone with wax, and she always carefully removed her shoes as soon as she got inside the door. Her first evening alone here, she had been appalled to see her muddy footprints marring the waxed surface and the handmade rag rugs scattered on the floor. A Channing Place housemaid would have cleaned up after her before, but she'd learned yet another skill before the cleanliness suited her again — how to use a broom and mop.

  Now she sat on a stool normally kept over by the shelves and used her button hook to take off her shoes. After wriggling her toes in pleasure for a moment — she wouldn't have thought to go barefoot anywhere at Channing Place except her own bedroom — she went over to her writing desk. She might have time to write one letter before Luke and Jute showed up, and she could do the others after they left. She would write a letter to Stephen first and get that out of the way.

  As she pulled her desk chair out, she wondered why she considered writing to Stephen a chore rather than a pleasure. After all, he was her fiancé — the man she would be spending the rest of her life with as soon as she returned and made her wedding plans. But when she attempted to call up Stephen's face, his blond hair and blue eyes, Wyn's features appeared in her mind instead. In comparison, they were much more rugged than Stephen's less angular countenance. Guilt filled her immediately over her unfair parallel.

  She put pen to paper and wrote "Dearest Stephen" rather than "Dear Stephen" as she had been considering beginning her letter.

  ~~~~

  "Shhhhh," Jute whispered.

  All the children halted and respected his request for silence. Sarah felt her heart swell with pride as though the twin were her own son. He was going to be such a leader when he grew up. All morning long during their walk in the woods, he had supplemented some of her recitations of the differences in what they were finding here in the mountains from a city spring with additional things she hadn't thought of.

  He'd mentioned the muddy paths again, and she reminded him there were bridle paths in the city, which definitely didn't have bricks on them. So then he pointed out rocks on the trail, which she had to admit would have been removed on a city bridle path, to avoid injuring the horses' hooves.

  The birds in the trees back in the city were sparrows and wrens. Here Jute pointed out blue jays and crows, and identified the calls of a mockingbird and red winged blackbird, which he claimed was a harbinger of an earlier spring than usual. Blackbirds didn't usually show up until in April, he assured them.

  The other children joined in the lesson, their eyes bright with excitement when they were able to point out a significant difference to Sarah. Pris spotted the deer first, but it bounded away the moment she pointed it out to everyone else. Sarah had to admit it was the first deer she had seen outside of picture books.

  She'd thought she'd already noticed the clear, crisp air here as compared to the usually smoggy air in the city, which resulted from the many factories. But the farther they walked into the woods, the crisper the air became. She found herself wishing she could gather it in her hands and wash her face and hair in it. Surely she would miss the clean air desperately when she went back to New York.

  After a few seconds of silence, Jute dropped to his hands and knees and started crawling toward the top of a small rise ahead of them.

  "Jute!" she whispered loudly. "Your knees are getting soaked on this damp ground!"

  He waved a negligent hand behind him, then peered over the rise. Jumping to his feet with a whoop, he disappeared over the top.

  Luke started after his brother, and some instinct made Sarah grab the back of his shirt. Shoving him at Carrie, she ordered her and Patty to keep the other children there. Gathering her skirts, she raced up the rise
. A hundred feet or so on the other side, she saw Jute with his arm inside a dead tree stump.

  "Come back here!" she demanded.

  "All right, Miss Sarah," he called submissively. And unfortunately for Sarah, he complied. But, dangling from one hand, he also carried the striped kitten he pulled from the tree stump. The kitten's mother poked her head out of the stump and snarled at him.

  "Oh my God!" Sarah screamed. Even a city girl knew what a skunk was!

  "Drop that baby!" she yelled at Jute.

  Jute glanced behind him and saw the mother skunk leave the tree stump and start after him. Giving a yell, he tucked the baby close to his chest and pumped his legs, heading straight for Sarah.

  She screamed and froze, trying to decide whether to wait for Jute and grab him up or save herself. There wasn't nearly enough time to decide, because Jute was on her straight-away, and he raced around behind her. The mother skunk followed — for one turn around the dress skirt.

  Sarah risked a glance behind her and saw Carrie looking at her in horror.

  "Get the children away from here!" she yelled. Carrie immediately turned away to obey, but not before Sarah thought she saw a grin spread over her face. A second later, the group of children was screaming with feigned fright and racing back down the path they'd just come up.

  Jute rounded her skirt again, then skidded to a stop. It was too late. The mother skunk was already on her front feet, her tail over her back. The mist filled the air, stinging Sarah's eyes into desperate tears and causing Jute to drop the kitten to rub frantically at his own eyes. Her vision quickly clouding, Sarah could barely see the skunk grab her kitten in her mouth and carry it back toward the stump.

  She groped for Jute's arm and found it, then stumbled down the pathway. Surprisingly, she didn't hear Jute crying. She felt like giving in to that emotion herself, but held it in check. If she gave in to one emotion, she might just give in to another one tugging at her — the urge to stop and pull Jute across her lap and spank that little rear of his! She didn't believe in physical punishment for children, though. And to think, she'd been so proud of him a few minutes ago — even wishing he were her son!