Carol Ritten Smith (18 page)

Beth’s heart slammed against her chest, and her breathing became labored. Her knees felt rubbery and she leaned against Tom for support. This kiss was so urgent, so demanding.
So exquisite.

“Beth,” Tom whispered against her lips, “I should have done this earlier,” and he resumed his ardent kisses.

At that same moment, the Waterbury heater clanged, abruptly returning Beth to her schoolteacher self. What was she doing? She worked her hands up between their bodies, and pushed on his chest.

“Tom, stop. This isn’t right.” She was almost breathless.

“Why isn’t it?” he asked, kissing her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead, distracting her so much she wondered herself why it wasn’t. “We’re only kissing, Beth. How can it be wrong to kiss someone you like. And you like me.” He pulled back and gazed into her eyes. “I know you do.”

“But what if we get caught? I could lose my job.”

“We’re not going to get caught. I’m a school trustee. It makes sense I should be helping with the chores. Now kiss me,” he commanded gently. “Don’t be frightened of me.”

It wasn’t Tom who frightened her. And it wasn’t necessarily being caught. It was her body’s intense reaction to what Tom had referred to as
only kissing.
He made her want more and that worried her. “Davy could come in,” she whispered. Even to her, it sounded such a feeble excuse.

“No, he’s busy throwing snowballs. I can see him from here.”

“But the other children will be arriving soon and I still have the copy work to print on the board.”

Tom smiled devilishly. “All right, Miss Patterson, I’ll make you a deal. Kiss me once more and then I’ll leave. I promise.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Just one kiss? That’s all?”

“If that’s all you’ll give me, then yes, one kiss.”

She shouldn’t, yet a sense of earthy excitement flooded through her body and told her she should.
One kiss. What could be the harm in that? And
he promised he’d leave immediately after she kissed him. Heaven knows how long he might wait if she didn’t, and then her copy work would never get done. The children relied on her, and so her mind twisted the situation around until she felt it was her duty as the teacher to kiss him.

Tom stood motionless. She tentatively placed her hands on his shoulders, pulled him forward slightly and stood on tip-toe. Their eyes met and his burned with such intensity Beth felt compelled to close hers. She pressed her mouth against his, copying how he had kissed her. She wasn’t ready to trace her tongue along his lips, although just the thought of it made her feel weak in the knees again.

A few seconds later, she pulled back, half expecting him to pressure her for more, somewhat let down when he didn’t. She held onto his arm for a minute, feeling lightheaded and giddy from lack of oxygen. The next time she would have to remember to breathe.
Imagine, already thinking about the next time.

Tom transferred a kiss upon his fingertip to her lips, and whispered, “I’ll go now, and leave you to your work.”

As if she could concentrate on anything after that! When Tom closed the door behind him, Beth put a hand to her breast to calm her racing heart.
My heavens!

• • •

It was a glorious late January morning, the sky clear blue and the air crisp. As Beth marched to the school, her breath formed beads of ice on her scarf and her cheeks felt frosted, but she didn’t mind. She was in a cheerful mood. For one thing, she no longer needed her crutches. For another, smoke puffed straight up from the schoolhouse chimney, which meant Tom was there.

Beth hurried. She looked forward to her few minutes alone with him each morning, to their conversation of course, but more so, to their oh-so-wonderful kisses. She smiled, remembering how Tom had lured her into that first kiss. That night she convinced herself it must never happen again, at least not at the school. It was certainly acceptable for a schoolteacher to be courted, but societal rules required a chaperone be present. And to kiss a beau while alone in the school? Scandalous! She had all intentions of setting Tom straight, but the following day when she arrived at the schoolhouse, he was on his way out the door. He pulled her into the cloakroom, planted a quick one on her lips, and was gone before she had time to react. The next day, the moment he entered the schoolhouse, she voiced her concerns and he chuckled, reminding her kissing was hardly scandalous. Odd, how when she was all alone with her thoughts she could see clearly what they were doing wasn’t proper, but when Tom was with her, he made their kisses seem innocuous. And since Beth never really wanted to forego his kiss, she allowed herself to believe him.

Sometimes Davy wanted to hang around in the school, rather than go outside to play. Tom solved that problem by explaining to Davy that if he was going to be inside, he could help with the morning chores. Davy always chose playing outside over sweeping floors or some other menial chore. And should he or some other student want to come inside early, the sound of their heavy winter boots clomping up the steps gave Tom and Beth ample warning.

Beth and Davy trudged through the deep snow, Beth dreamily lost in her thoughts of Tom. There was something thrilling about their stolen morning kiss —

Oomph!
Beth nearly fell over Davy as he stopped in his tracks just outside the schoolhouse. He turned to Beth and stated, “It’s too cold. I want to come inside this morning.”

“Fine. You can sweep the floors then.”

“Okay,” he replied.

Beth’s spirits fell lower than the mercury in their thermometer. She followed Davy into the school.

Tom seemed in a good mood. “Good morning, Bud.”

“It’s cold out,” Davy announced.

“Cold enough to freeze pigeon droppings in mid-air.” Tom grinned and Beth forced a smile.

“Davy decided he’d rather sweep floors than stay outside this morning,” she explained, hoping Tom might come up with some other subterfuge to get Davy outside, hiding her frustration when he sided with Davy.

“Can’t say as I blame him one iota. Well, grab the broom and get with it, Bud. I’ve got something to fix in the cloakroom. I want your opinion, Beth, if you can spare the time.”

She followed him silently, the day having lost some of its luster now there would be no morning kiss.

Tom closed the door behind them. “Do you see what’s wrong?” he asked as he shrugged into his heavy coat.

Beth gave the room a careful check. “No.”

“It’s these.”

Puzzled, she looked at Tom. He was pointing to his lips. “They’re not covered.”

Her heart leapt and her face brightened. “I should correct that, shouldn’t I?”

“Hmm,” he agreed.

She stepped closer and he took her in his arms and pulled her against his body.

“That feels better already,” he murmured as his lips warmed hers.

Hmm. Yes.
She longed to linger in his arms where she felt safe, where her haunting past could not intrude and the frightening future was held at bay, even for just those few minutes. But soon the heavy clomping of boots heralded the arrival of children and her reality returned with all its responsibilities and trepidations.

The ominous white cloud bank that formed early afternoon worried Beth. Prairie winters were unpredictable. Wind could churn a gentle fall of feathery snowflakes into a blinding blizzard with little warning and sadly more than one child had perished on the way home in such a storm. Beth swore never to let that happen to any of her pupils.

She kept a wary eye on the fast advancing cloud, and before the first flake of snow fell, she decided to send the children home. Fortunately, more than half her students lived right in Whistle Creek, and the remainder lived within a two-mile radius.

“Quickly,” Beth urged as they dressed in their winter clothes. “Peter, put on your hat or your ears will freeze. And don’t dawdle today,” Beth sternly warned.

“I go past his place. He can ride double with me on Star,” Martha offered.

“Thank you,” Beth said in relief as the two headed out the door, following a mass of other children to the barn.

Inga and her older brother Nels lived the furthest away. “I’ll hitch up the horses,” Nels said.

“Hurry. I think you’ll be able to stay ahead of the storm.” But the first pellets of snow were already falling. Beth hastened the remaining students into their coats and boots. With every passing moment the snowfall increased, as did the wind — and her anxiety.

Beth opened the door. The old maple in the schoolyard was no longer visible. The drifting snow formed a curtain of white.

“It’s too dangerous,” she told her students. “You’ll have to stay here until the storm passes.”

While the children took off their coats, Beth put hers on. She wound a scarf around her head and another around her face.

“Where are you going?” Davy asked with a worried look.

“I’ve got to stop the others from leaving. Norman, you’re in charge. Keep the stove going and don’t let anyone leave under any circumstance.” Norman nodded gravely.

Outside, the fierce wind nearly blew Beth off the school steps. Visibility was next to impossible. Ahead of her loomed a whirling whiteness. Running one hand along the school’s edge, Beth maneuvered herself to the east side where she was sheltered somewhat from the storm. Snow swirled off the roof, already forming sharp-edged drifts, and several times she stumbled. At the back corner of the school, she stopped and shouted, but the howling wind swallowed her calls to the barn. Though it was no more than thirty feet directly behind the schoolhouse, Beth couldn’t see it. It was as if the barn was gone.

When she stepped beyond the shelter of the schoolhouse, the angry storm whipped at her scarves. She secured one with a fat knot, and pulled the second scratchy scarf over her nose and cheeks. Leaning into the storm, she staggered blindly in the barn’s direction, one step in front of the other. She counted her steps, small and halting against the forceful wind. If she took more than forty, she would know she had missed the barn completely. Though her forehead ached from the cold, and the wind buffeted her, she hunkered down and kept moving forward.

As she stumbled along freezing tears formed. She blinked, her eyelashes coated with ice. She had taken only twenty-six steps and she was physically exhausted. Still she pushed onward against the wall of wind and snow. Finally she had reached forty-one steps.
Dear Lord, how could I have missed the barn? Surely I must be near it.

She swung her arms about her and took three more heavy steps. Her right hand hit something. It was either the barn or one of the outhouses. She felt the walls. The slabs were horizontal. She had made it to the barn!

With renewed hope, Beth hugged the wall as she made her way around to the east door. She pulled on the heavy latch, but the door wouldn’t open. A drift held it shut. She kicked it away, her weakened ankle aching under the strain. When she tried the door once more, someone pushed from the inside.

Beth nearly collapsed inside the barn. “Oh thank God, you’re still here.”

The walls creaked so loudly Beth could barely hear Penelope’s reply. “Martha and Peter left five minutes ago.”

“They left?”

“Martha said her horse was smart and would find its way home.”

Beth’s heart felt frozen. Martha, who always was ready to help, and sweet little Peter.
Please don’t judge me by my size, although I’m mighty small.
Now they were out in this blizzard.

“Miss Patterson. I’m cold.”

Beth knew she must focus on the remaining children’s safety. “We have to get back to the school or we’ll freeze.”

Including herself, they totaled eight. If they all held hands … Beth did a rapid calculation. Even forming one long line, they wouldn’t span the distance between the barn and the school.

“Quickly, gather all the reins and rope you can find, anything to tie ourselves together so we don’t lose each other on our way back to the schoolhouse.”

“But what about the horses? They’ll freeze.”

“They’ll be fine. Horses are better suited to the cold than we are. Now start looking.”

“I found some old ropes,” Jonah exclaimed shortly, “and here’s our reins.”

“Wonderful!” Beth took the frayed ropes and the reins, and began tying the students’ wrists together, leaving at least a foot long span in between. The smaller children were spaced between the older students.

“Jonah, you will be at the back and I will lead. If we all stretch our arms out straight … ” she demonstrated “ … we should reach the school without Jonah letting go of the barn.”

Penelope, second in line, looked terrified. “It’s okay,” Beth assured. “We can’t get lost because we’re tied together.” She yelled so the others could hear her, “Now, when I reach the school, I will shake Penelope’s arm, like this.” She gave the girl’s arm two firm pumps. “Then Penelope will shake Ricky’s arm and Ricky will shake the next one and so on down the line. Understand?”

The children nodded.

“Jonah, don’t let go until you feel Dorothy’s handshake.”

He nodded his head solemnly. “I will be the anchor.”

“Exactly,” Beth said.
That stodgy old inspector should see my students now. Jonah might forget his times table, but when it came to matters of great importance, he was dependable!

Gordon, Penelope’s youngest sibling, began to cry.

“Don’t cry, Gordie,” his sister consoled. “It’s just like playing crack-the-whip, only a lot slower.”

Bless her heart.
Beth wanted to kiss her for acting so brave.

“Okay, let’s go.” It was far easier walking with the wind, than against it. Penelope stumbled over a drift and the leather rein yanked on Beth’s wrist. Beth waited a moment then continued, again counting her steps. This time she was at thirty-seven when she felt the school wall. She moved to the leeward side, then stopped and gave Penelope’s arm two hard shakes.

Beth felt Penelope shake Ricky’s arm, but from there she was uncertain how their crude means of communication fared. She waited a half minute, giving ample time for the handshake to pass down the line, then began moving again.