of allowing herself to be vulnerable again caused her to feel slightly nauseated. I can never do that again. I don’t have it in me to love like that again. No.
“As long as you are patient and don’t try to hurry the healing, you should be fine in a week or so.” She did not look at him as she murmured this.
“No doubt you’re right.” He exhaled, releasing his obvious dissatisfaction audibly. “There’s just so much to do.”
“There always is.” And then they were walking around a bend and met Asa, who was already on the road, striding toward them.
“What’s happened? I was just setting out to see why Colton hadn’t returned,” Asa said.
With relief Emma let Mason explain the situation. Now, as they continued toward Asa, she could hurry on to her sister and turn Mason over to Asa. She listened to the men talking, and when Asa reached them, she headed briskly down the road. “I want to go help Judith!” she called over her shoulder. After supper, she would walk home to her own room, her own place behind the school, and relax. And not give this day or this man another thought.
* * *
On the Brants’ table the wiped-clean plates showed how they had all devoured Asa’s wife’s good supper. Within Mason the good feeling of being well fed vied with his painfully throbbing ankle. Asa and his wife with their two children sat across from him, his two girls and Emma. Mason noted that the girl Lily did not speak but kept looking at his girls and then away. He hoped she was just shy, like Emma had said earlier.
“Mason, you will just have to stay here,” Asa said, “till you get back to normal.”
Variations of this had been mentioned all throughout the evening meal. Mason felt exhausted by the day’s events and he couldn’t take much more. He’d replied politely but finally reached the end of his tether. He stated the truth. “I just want to go home. I’ve been away from home for months and I want to be in my own bed under my own roof.” Without turning his head, he watched Emma out of the corner of his eye as he had throughout the meal. She was gazing at him, her chin downward. What was she thinking? Was it of him?
“But you’ll need help,” Judith said.
“I can help,” Colton spoke up.
Asa, Judith, Emma and Mason all turned to look at the boy.
“I can help.” Colton stood up. “I can fetch and carry. Mr. Brant, you helped me and Lily when we needed help. So I can help Mr. Chandler.”
Asa gripped the boy’s shoulder and smiled at him with approval.
“That makes good sense,” Emma agreed. “Mr. Chandler walked here. He has a crutch. He just needs a little help. I completely understand why he wants to be in his own place, don’t we all?”
“Thank you,” Mason said with emphasis. “Asa, please let Colton go with me and the girls. Thanks to Miss Jones and the children, everything is ready for us to settle down for the night. And that’s all I want.” He was grateful to Emma for backing him up and to the boy for offering. But he was afraid to look at her and betray more than this. Why did she have to be both lovely and kind? She could do much better than him for a husband.
Asa and Judith exchanged glances. “Very well,” Asa agreed. “Colton, gather your things and your bedroll from up in the loft. Thank you for offering to help our neighbor.”
Colton didn’t reply but obeyed.
Pressing his hands on the table, Mason pushed himself up. Then he manipulated his crutch and secured it under his right arm. He thought he had just enough energy to get home.
Emma stood also and walked to the door. “I’ll bid you all good night. And Judith, thank you for the lovely supper.”
Mason watched the woman he had hoped to marry walk away into the gathering twilight. He bound up his mind against thinking of her. She had been helpful. She has been kind. But she had made it clear with her every glance and every word that she wanted to be only his neighbor and nothing more.
* * *
Emma arrived home and soon, in her nightwear, sat in her rocker, sipping a cup of chamomile tea and honey. She still felt stirred up and hoped the tea would soothe her so she could sleep. The day played through her mind. Her shock at meeting Mason Chandler on Main Street, seeing his two little girls—the silent and troubled Charlotte, the bright and sweet Birdie—and hearing the unguarded words he’d said when he woke.
She took another sip of the warm, sweet tea. If only she were young and unmarked by war, she might have reacted differently. But for four bloody years, she had prayed and hoped and kept up her spirits. Trusting that Jonathan, good-natured and honorable, would return whole and they would spend their lives together. Instead he’d been buried in Virginia. She stopped her thoughts there.
She did not think of Jonathan often anymore. Mason Chandler returning and the words he’d said to her had brought it all back, all the pain, all the waiting. She would keep her distance from him. But then she remembered Mrs. Ashford’s remark about judgment and little Lily’s unusual reticence. Both of Mason’s girls would cause notice in town. They were orphans, Birdie’s mother had no doubt been a slave and Charlotte was deaf. Charlotte and Birdie—how could she help them?
* * *
Monday afternoon, as the students were finishing the last lesson of the day, Emma tried not to show the roiling pot of emotion in the pit of her stomach. Mason and his girls hadn’t attended church yesterday and she could understand that. He’d just sprained his ankle and he didn’t have his wagon yet. But she’d hoped that Colton would walk the girls to school today so she could help them get acquainted.
The rumors about Mason’s “peculiar” girls had already begun in town. Emma wanted to set the right tone and ease the girls into acceptance. She gazed over the heads of her students and let it rest on Colton’s dark head bent over his slate. She didn’t want the other children to hear, but she needed to talk to Colton.
“Children, finish the questions and then put away everything. Our day together is ending.”
The children obeyed with some murmuring. As usual, the children lined up in the center aisle and waited for her to position herself at the door. As usual, she spoke to each child, encouraging them and reminding them of what they should be practicing at home that evening. It always included studying their spelling list. The town was insistent that their spellers shine in the spring spelling bee. Her students prepared all year.
When Colton stopped in front, she asked him if he would stay to help with something. He nodded and then moved out of line. “Lily,” he called, “I got to help Miss Jones. Wait on the swing.”
Soon the school was empty except for her and Colton. “What do you want me to do?” Colton looked up at her.
She didn’t try to hide her true concerns. “Why didn’t Birdie and Charlotte come to school today?”
Colton frowned. “The little black girl wanted to come real bad. But Mr. Chandler said no, not yet.”
Emma was afraid of that.
“What do you want me to do here?” Colton asked, glancing out the open window, obviously wanting to leave.
“You’re
