just thinking about the scene he’d come across. “The boarders were trying to get her to dance, and Aaron Chambers had her cornered behind a table, ready to pounce.”
Charlotte’s mouth parted. “That’s horrible. Those men should be ashamed of themselves.”
“Things haven’t changed much around here,” Abram said. “I remember that first winter, when Charlotte was the only female for miles. It was a full-time job just keeping the men at bay. The only way to stop them was to marry her myself.”
Charlotte chuckled. “I suppose that’s true.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not an option for me,” Ben said.
“And why not?” Abram asked. “It’s about time you find a nice young lady and settle down.”
“Miss Wilkes wouldn’t be interested. The school board hired her to teach—and that’s exactly what she needs to do.” Not to mention that she already expressed her desire to stay single. Ben had been rejected more than he cared to admit, and the idea of pursuing someone again, just to be turned down, wasn’t something he cared to do. He had come to terms with the idea of staying single while he served God, and that’s how he intended to stay. Any time he had strayed from that plan, he had been heartbroken. “Miss Wilkes is struggling for other reasons at the boardinghouse. She needs a quiet place to work and study, and she’d like to have her books with her, but there’s no room. She said she’d stay late at the school, but I said that would be foolish, so I invited her to study at my home in the evenings.”
“Why can’t she board with you?” Charlotte asked.
Ben frowned. “That would hardly be—”
“And why not?” Charlotte leaned forward, her eyes animated. “With Mrs. Carver there, it would be completely respectable. And, in my opinion, a better option. Living in a crowded house with over a dozen single men all vying for her attention doesn’t sound like it’s any more respectable.”
The baby began to fuss, so Abram handed her off to her mama. “Charlotte’s right. You have plenty of room, and with the housekeeper present, no one would have any issues with the arrangement.”
Ben stood and paced to the fireplace. Would Emmy be amenable to the idea? “Mrs. Carver can only stay until after Christmas, then she’s planning to move out to her daughter’s farm to help with a new baby.”
“At least the school board would have time to locate another place for Miss Wilkes to live.” Charlotte held Louise up to her shoulder and patted her on the back. “And it would give Miss Wilkes time to get settled into the school without all the commotion at the Hubbards’.”
Ben couldn’t deny the surge of pleasure he felt at the idea of Emmy leaving the boardinghouse.
“There’s no harm in asking,” Abram added.
Ben supposed there was no harm in asking—only in being rejected, though he suspected Miss Wilkes would have no objections.
* * *
“Annabeth Samuelson.” Emmy stood from her desk where she was listening to the first-year students recite their arithmetic. “Please come to the front of the class.”
Annabeth gave a sideways glance at her sister, Margareta, and took her time leaving her desk. “Yes, Teacher?” she asked as she stopped in front of Emmy’s desk.
Emmy pulled her shoulders back and inhaled a deep breath before addressing her pupil. The Samuelson sisters had been difficult from the moment the first bell had rung on Emmy’s first day. Whether they believed they were above her authority because their father was the superintendent, or because they were grieving and missing their mama, they were bent on making Emmy’s job miserable.
“I called for complete silence from the upper classes until the first-year students were through reciting.”
Annabeth blinked in feigned innocence. “I remember.”
“Why were you whispering to Margareta?”
The fourteen-year-old girl gave a pouty look. “Why are you picking on me, Miss Wilkes? Is it because my father doesn’t like you and you’re taking it out on me?”
Twenty students sat or stood around the room, all their eyes pinned to Emmy. Annabeth had tried bating Emmy every chance she could get—but Emmy refused to play her games.
“I want you to write on the board fifty times, ‘I will not whisper in class.’”
“Fifty?” Annabeth’s mouth fell open. “My hand will cramp, and my father will be very upset when he hears you’re making an example of me. He doesn’t like to be embarrassed.”
“And I don’t like disobedience. If you haven’t finished by recess, you’ll have to stay indoors.”
Annabeth lifted her nose and walked to the chalkboard, stomping her feet all the way. She picked up a piece of chalk and scratched each word onto the board with deliberate strokes, causing the chalk to squeak in protest.
Emmy slowly sat in her chair and looked back at the younger students. Levi and Zeb stood quietly, their eyes fixed on Emmy’s face, though Levi glanced at Annabeth from time to time.
“Now, where were we?” Emmy asked.
The door opened and a gentleman entered the schoolhouse with a gust of wind.
“What now?” Emmy asked under her breath, rising from her desk once again. “May I help you?”
The man took off his hat and clutched it in his hands, looking left and right at the students as he tentatively walked down the aisle between the desks. “Are you Miss Wilkes?” he asked as he stopped at her desk.
“I am.”
He swallowed hard and turned his hat around in his hands. “I came to speak with you.”
Emmy frowned. “Do you have a student you’d like to enroll?”
“No.” He leaned forward, his greasy hair falling over his forehead, and lowered his voice. “This here is a personal matter.”
Annabeth stopped writing and stared openly at the man while all the other children listened in.
“I’m sorry, but if you’re not here on school business, you’ll need to leave,” Emmy said.
“But this can’t wait. If I don’t talk to you now, some other fella will swoop in and stake his claim.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Emmy came around the desk to show him to the door. “I have a school to run and I need you to leave.”
“Will you allow me to call on you at the Hubbard home?”
Emmy walked with determined steps into the cloakroom and to the door.
“Miss Wilkes.” He followed her. “Did you hear me?”
She opened the door. “I most certainly did, and I am not interested—”
“What
