Tennessee Waltz Page 20

  "Well, the way she explained it to me," Mandy told him, "these aren't books she's actually bought. They're books from her attic and also books her friends would have thrown away anyway. She's even got her pastor involved, collecting books at the church. When Sarah put it that way, I didn't see much to object to. But the rest of her plan won't sit real well."

  "And what is the rest of the plan?" Dan asked.

  "She wants to rent one of my rooms — with her paying for it, of course. She wants to hire me as the librarian and pay me a salary too. Now, folks around here will avoid that place like the plague if they think it's her paying for stuff like that, and you know there are a few of them like Leery and Granny Clayborne who will want to know how this is being paid for. If the people don't use the library, those books will be just as useless again as they were sitting in those boxes in people's attics."

  Wyn shook his head. "We can't let her pay like that, because this is a good idea if we could work things out. I guess we could sort of fudge the truth a little bit about the books. Tell people she discussed it with the three of us and we thought it was a good idea. We just wouldn't tell them that she only discussed it with us a few hours before everything started arriving."

  Dan ran a hand across his mouth in a contemplative manner, and Wyn waited respectfully for his decision. After all, Pa headed the school board. All he could do was offer suggestions. And, of course, have a chat with Miss Debutante about her bulling ahead and thinking that the money she had plenty of gave her the right to overlook people's pride.

  She was a darned good teacher. He had heard too many people praise her and thank her for their young'uns' new interest in learning to not give Sarah that credit. Shoot, even Luke and Jute didn't complain about homework any longer. The evenings when he took Sarah out to make her visits and she couldn't help them as she normally did, his Pa had told him all Sissy had to do was mention lesson time and all the children obeyed. Jute was so proud when he got an "A" on the spelling test where he'd studied all the words by himself, he had told every customer in the store that evening.

  But it was one thing to encourage people to improve on their own. That built self-confidence and assurance in people. It was another thing to give people charity and take away their right to make their own way in life — for themselves and their children.

  "Well," Dan said at last. "I guess I can go along with the idea that we can use those books as well as anyone else could. But we need to set up some way the library can sorta fund itself, far as paying anyone to take care of those book and payin' for somewhere to set it up at."

  "Dan," Mandy said. "The people will accept it if I donate a room for the library. I'm one of them, and I'd be proud to do that. I never have all those rooms full, and land sakes, I've got two parlor rooms. Calvin built that house when he thought we were going to have a bunch of young'uns like you and Maria had. And I'd be the librarian for free, too, if I thought I could get by with it. That's probably going too far, though."

  "How 'bout we charge something for renting the books?" Dan suggested. "Say, five books for a penny or somethin'. If folks didn't want all five books at once, they can run an account and pay after that fifth book. In the meantime, we can look into how the other libraries work. Probably there's some sort of funding available from the government, and if we figger out what all the rules and regulations are, maybe we can get some help."

  "Sounds perfect to me." Mandy nodded. "I'll go over and tell Sarah."

  Dan grabbed her before she could take more than one step. "No you don't, Mandy. We've got a couple more things to talk about — you and me. Wyn can go talk to Sarah."

  Wyn heeded his pa's broad hint immediately. Rising from the bed, he left the room. Behind him, he heard that spring creak on the bottom of the wheelchair, as though Dan had shifted — or pulled Mandy Tuttle back down on his lap. He'd have laid his bets on the latter option, but he didn't turn to confirm whether or not he would have won the bet with himself.

  His pa and Mandy. Huh. Who would have thought? But then, if anyone had thought about it, it would seem perfect — as perfect as the plans for the library — the revised plans, anyway. Now all he had to do was get Sarah's agreement.

  Assuming Sarah was still at the boardinghouse, since that's where Mandy had been talking to her, he loped across the yard. When he started in the boardinghouse door, he sniffed the air. Surely Mandy hadn't left something on the stove to burn while she came over to talk to his pa. Suddenly something crashed to the floor down the hallway, and a woman screamed.

  He raced down the hallway and into the kitchen.

  Sarah was flapping a burning towel around as though trying to put out the flames. He grabbed it from her and tossed it into the sink, where it sizzled out in a pan of water. Then he turned back to Sarah, his heart in his throat.

  "Are you burned?"

  She shook her head, tears standing in her brown eyes. He didn't believe her. Gently he led her over to the table and pulled out a chair, shifting it around so she would face him when he pushed her into it. Picking up her hands, he examined them, turning them over to check both the palms and the tops.

  "I don't see any blisters. What happened?"

  She choked on a sob. "I . . . got them cut out all right — the biscuits. Well, they were sort of messy — just a little bit — so maybe I didn't put down enough flour when I rolled them out. But I got them on the pan and put them in the oven. I didn't know how long they were supposed to cook, but I remembered hearing the cook say once that her cake fell when someone opened the oven. So I didn't want to look at them too soon."

  Wyn pulled another chair close and sat down beside her. "Biscuits don't fall like cakes do, sweetheart. But go on. Tell me what happened."

  She sniffed and rubbed her dress cuff beneath one eye, where a tear crawled down her cheek.

  "Well, I didn't know that biscuits didn't fall like cakes," Sarah said in a forlorn voice laced with just a mite of stubbornness. "So I thought since Mandy's biscuits are even fluffier and lighter than Cook's, they might fall if I looked in before it was time, But when I smelled them burning, I knew . . . well, I knew they were burning! All Mandy had asked me to do was make the biscuits, and I burned them!"

  Wyn reached out and brushed a dusting of flour from her forehead. "They don't look that burned, Sarah. But how did you catch the towel on fire?"

  "I don't know," she choked out. "I didn't see an oven mitt, so I grabbed the first thing I could. I think it touched the side of the stove and the heat ignited it. I . . . I . . . what do you mean, the biscuits don't look that burned."

  She scanned the floor and saw the biscuits lying scattered in front of the stove, with the iron pan lying in their midst. Suddenly she let out a wail and threw herself into Wyn's arms.

  She was an armful, and Wyn braced himself and managed to keep his chair from tumbling backward. She was so distraught, she didn't protest when he snuggled her onto his lap and pressed her head against his neck. He stroked her back soothingly, murmuring nonsense to her, recalling seeing his mother get upset a couple times over a burned dish or one that didn't come out exactly as she thought it should. His pa had held his mother like this on those occasions, and she'd quieted fairly soon.

  But Sarah's cries continued for a long moment. Glad he'd remembered to put a clean handkerchief in his back pocket that morning, he retrieved it and stuffed it into her hand.

  She drew back at last and pressed his hanky to her face. "I can't do anything right any more!"

  "What's that supposed to mean?" He waited until she dropped her hands, wringing the hanky in her fingers and staring at the floor. Picking up her chin, he said, "Seems to me you've done an awful lot right since you got here."

  She shook her head and politely blew her nose. He'd never seen a woman manage to blow her nose in a mannerly way, but she did. However, he didn't think now was the time to comment on that.

  "I have trouble with the stove at my cabin," she said. "It's not so bad now because it's warmer,
but when I wouldn't wake up at night to feed the fire, it would be completely out in the morning. I'd have a devil of a time getting it going again."

  "You're supposed to bank the fire at night." He immediately realized he'd said the wrong thing when her eyes again filled.

  "See?" she said around a sob. "And I don't even know what you mean by banking a fire! And sometimes I don't have any water in the mornings to bathe with, both because I've forgotten to get any from the well the night before and because I don't have any way to heat it."

  Wyn bit back the thought that flew into his head, but it was as though she'd read his mind.

  "Oh, all right," she grumbled. "I guess I still haven't broken the habit of my maid having a hot basin of water waiting for me in the mornings!"

  "Sarah, Sarah . . ."

  Suddenly she gasped and leaped from his lap. "Oh my! What if Mandy had come back in and seen me sitting on your lap? Teachers are supposed to be the soul of propriety. Why, Dan would probably send me packing in a minute."

  "I doubt that," Wyn said with a chuckle. "But sit down on your own chair again and let me see what I can do about the biscuits. Mandy's floors are so clean I doubt there's a speck of dirt on any of them, but we'll bake some more if there is."

  He waited until she complied, then went to the stove and poured her a cup of coffee first. After setting it in front of her, he walked over to examine the biscuits. As he expected, there was just the beginning of a burned crust on them, and he placed them on the pan, then found a hot pad in one of Mandy's kitchen drawers and put the pan on the countertop.

  "I think they're fine," he said. "Shoot, half of them didn't even fall off the pan."

  When Sarah didn't answer him, he looked at her to see her wiping her eyes with his handkerchief once more. She sniffled, then gave him a woebegone look.

  "It's not just the biscuits," she said. "I mentioned something to Mandy a while ago, and she acted very strange. She left in rather a hurry to go talk to Dan about it. I thought I'd had a marvelous idea, but I guess I put my foot in it one more time."

  "If you mean the library, she's already talked to both Pa and me," Wyn informed her. He poured himself some coffee and sat back down at the table. "And with a couple changes, we both think it will work fine."

  "See?" Sarah jumped to her feet. "You have to make changes in what I came up with! I can't do anything right!"

  Shaking his head, Wyn searched for something to say. This was a side of Sarah he hadn't seen before. Ever since her arrival, she had been poised and confident. Even when they argued, she held her own. Now she was restless and insecure.

  Could this be a side of her that she didn't allow to show except to a few certain people? Could she be letting down her guard because she cared for him, trusted him? Those thoughts deserved a lot more time to pick apart than he had right now.

  He watched her walk over to the counter to make her own examination of the biscuits. She halted in a position that left her profile clear to him. Her dark blue dress covered the long length of her completely, the white cuffs and collar a nice, feminine touch to the garment. It fit her a little bit snugger in the bodice than some of her other dresses, showing off the rounded breasts that were the exact right size for his palm. He felt a surge in his groin, but he controlled himself. There were still way too many things left unsettled between him and Sarah Channing.

  But when his perusal of her caught on the protrusion of her bottom lip, his heart ached for her discouragement. His control shattered as though he'd pushed it away with the coffee cup he shoved across the table. Surging to his feet, he was at the counter beside her before he'd much more than realized he'd left his chair. She looked up at him, her eyes still moist and the gold dust in them soggy with unshed tears. That enticing bottom lip jutted out a hair's breadth more. He bent his head and kissed it back into place.

  She wrapped her arm around his neck and kissed him in return. He leaned back against the counter and pulled her between his legs, never once losing the delicious contact with her mouth. She fit just like she should down his body, curves contrasting with his solidness in the right places. She would fit like that in bed, too, as he'd come extremely close to finding out the other night. He'd bet her hair was long enough to wrap around both of their bare bodies.

  He'd pulled only one hairpin free when she jerked away. "Oh, don't! I . . . Mandy. Mandy will be back. And . . ." She grabbed the hairpin from him and dropped her head, her fingers working to push it into place. "And I have no right to kiss you like that. Not with Stephen in the picture."

  Wyn tilted her face up. "That statement sounds suspiciously like maybe you're having second thoughts."

  "Yes. No! I . . . I don't know, Wyn. This entire situation is so . . . so scary to me. I . . ."

  He led her to the table and made her sit again, scooting his own chair even closer and taking her hand. "Tell me about it," he pleaded. "Please."

  She nibbled that tantalizing lip for a few seconds, and he forced himself to remember she had said she was scared — not remember how that lip tasted intermingled with the flavor of coffee.

  "I don't fit in here, Wyn," Sarah murmured. "But then, I never fit in back in New York, either. But back there all I had to do was as I was told — conform to the mold and follow the rules of accepted behavior that had been drilled into me all my life. Here I'm not even sure what accepted behavior consists of."

  She threw him a plea for understanding. "On the other hand, Father's only been dead a little over two months, and I've had a taste of freedom from his constrictions at last. I think part of my confusion is that I'm not sure whether I'm using my attraction to you to end my engagement to Stephen or not."

  A light of comprehension dawned in Wyn, sparking the beginning of anger. "So you think you'd rather be completely free, both from your betrothal and from my attention."

  "For a while," she admitted. "I'd sort of like to see what I could accomplish on my own, without having to take some man's dictates into consideration. But . . ." She tentatively cupped her hand on his cheek. "But I wouldn't want to lose the chance to see whether or not you were right the other night. Whether what's happening between us is a forever kind of happening. I just want . . . time, I guess."

  He leaned into her hand, knowing she was right and allowing the anger to die a natural death. Hadn't he said the same thing the night they'd ended up on her bed? That there was a lot of thinking to do? Could he fault her for agreeing with him on that?

  Chapter 16

  "Wyn! Yoo hoo, Wyn!"

  Mandy's voice came down the hallway, and Wyn reluctantly rose to his feet. "I better go see what she wants."

  "Wyn, I need you to come out here and bring Dan up the steps!" Mandy called.

  "Uh-oh." Wyn ran a finger across Sarah's chin. "I was supposed to talk to you about some changes Pa and Mandy came up with in your library plans. They'll wonder why we haven't discussed that, since I've been over here so long. And I forgot to tell you that Pa's been exercising, and it looks like his legs might just have some feeling in them. He's been standing, and this morning I found him already in his chair. He also had Mandy on his lap, kissing her."

  "Oh, all that's wonderful news," she told him with a smile. "And we can blame the biscuits for not having time to talk about all this. Now, you better go get your pa before Mandy tries to do it herself."

  "We're going to have to build a ramp on the boardinghouse porch, so Pa can do his courtin' without help." He tossed her an enigmatic grin and strode to the kitchen door.

  "Courting?" she said.

  He turned and gave her a wink. "Yep. And just so you don't have to wonder about it, there's gonna be another MacIntyre man doing some courting, also. Slow and easy, like you want, but courting all the same. Far as I'm concerned, we can't figure out whether or not this is a forever thing without working on it."

  "Wyn!" Mandy called again.

  "You might want to wash your face a little, sweetheart. You look like you've been crying. I don't think th
ere's much you can do about looking like you've been kissed, though."

  "Wyn!"

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway and fortunately for the repairs she needed to do on her face, Wyn left to head Mandy off. All the while savoring Wyn's endearment, she managed to pump some water onto a clean dishcloth and lay it on her face briefly before she heard Wyn returning with Dan and Mandy.

  For a brief instant, she let herself wish she could get pumped-in water into her little cabin, but she supposed there was no sense doing that. Not until she knew who would be in the cabin next year.

  Wyn must have explained what he'd had time to talk to her about and what not — and about the burned biscuits — because Dan rolled his chair up to the table and began discussing the library with her. By the time Mandy had fixed them each a quick breakfast of oatmeal, Sarah was nodding at Dan's suggestions. Too, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she had overstepped her bounds by not letting Dan in on her plans right from their inception.

  Oh, Lord! What was going to happen when Dan found out what else she'd done? Wyn, too, given his actions and chastisement of her on the way home from Patty and Pete's cabin the other night. But it was too late now to do anything about it.

  Their discussion ended, she glanced at the kitchen clock. Even with no school today, she had lots to do — lesson plans and some correspondence to take care of. Jumping to her feet, she made a hasty apology and hurried to her cabin.

  Hours later, Jeeter arrived. Lost in thought over her letter, she decided to finish it first, then put it in an envelope. She hadn't realized how much time had passed, and she barely caught Jeeter as he passed the schoolhouse on his way back down the mountain. After handing him her letters, she straightened her shoulders and headed over to the store.

  Dan was on the porch. "I've been waiting for you," he said. "The books are in the storeroom, and if this is only the beginning of them, we're going to have the best library in Tennessee. Jeeter says he's going to have to come back again tomorrow with the rest of the boxes, even though it's Sunday. He has other deliveries to make the rest of the week."