~Shadow of Rachel~
(cover art is only a sample)
Brutalized by a
man she can never love, Megan Connors flees her Virginia home to start a new
life as a schoolteacher on a South Carolina ranch. Steeped in the serenity of
her new surroundings, Megan feels her dreams of a good life are finally coming
true. Indeed, life would be perfect if not for her infuriatingly rude employer,
the wealthy ranch owner Charles Donovan. Unable to deny her growing attraction
to Charles, Megan soon discovers the chilling secret behind his grim existence.
Determined to help Charles free himself from the ghosts of his past, Megan soon
finds herself a target for the wrath of another who stakes a claim to Charles'
love. Megan must defeat a powerful enemy, and confront the demons of her own
past if she and Charles are to find happiness and escape the dark shadow that
falls across them both.
Excerpt
Unedited: May vary from final version
Chapter 1
1866
A knot of dread tightened Rachel’s stomach, as she walked through the front door of Murphy’s General Store. She hesitated, took a breath for courage and reminded herself again that she was doing the right thing. The only thing she could do under the circumstances.
Seeing that Mrs. Murphy was busy helping another customer, Rachel walked to the dry goods section and began to look through the dress goods. She thumbed through the pretty cloth, stopping at the beautiful blue silk. It reminded her of a cloudless summer day and she knew it would go well with her blue eyes and dark hair.
Sadness gripped her heart. If Charles were there she knew he’d insist on her getting a dress length of the blue. Poor Charles—her leaving would hurt him, but she wouldn’t change her mind. Turning from the lovely blue cloth, she approached the counter to give Mrs. Murphy her order, and hoped the woman wouldn’t ask too many questions.
“Good morning, Rachel, it’s a mite chilly out isn’t it?”
“Good morning, yes it is cold. I’d like five pounds of flour, a pound of the white sugar, two pounds of coffee, and five tins of peaches, please.”
“Stocking up for your confinement?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Mrs. Murphy busied herself with the order. “Have you heard the news, Rachel?”
“What news is that?”
“Why, the sheriff caught that Yankee drifter that’s been hanging round here. He tried to steal a horse last night from the stables. They’ve got him locked up at the jail.”
Rachel clutched at the counter, swaying, as a wave of dizziness swamped her.
“Are you all right, Rachel? You’re white as a sheet.”
Rachel straightened and pulled her shawl closer against the woolen dress she wore. “I’m fine, just a little chilled, don’t worry yourself. You were saying?”
“I was telling you about the drifter. They say there’s to be a hanging. Isn’t that just horrible?” From the glee in her voice it was clear she was more excited than horrified at the prospect of a lynching.
“Who says there’s to be a hanging?”
“Why all the men folk, that’s who. Can’t just let a horse thief walk around free. Of course I shouldn’t be telling you all this with you in the family way and all. Are you sure you’re all right, dear?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” Rachel swallowed hard and fought back nausea. Feeling positive Mrs. Murphy hadn’t missed a chance to tell the story to everyone who’d entered the store that morning.
“That’s good then. I’ll help you to your wagon with this.”
Rachel counted out the money for her order and hurried out the door. After placing the goods in the back of the wagon, she covered them with the canvas, so Charles wouldn’t see them. She thanked Mrs. Murphy and drove toward the outskirts of town. When Rachel was sure she wouldn’t be seen, she turned the horses to go around to the back of the jail. Seeing no one about, she rushed to the barred window.
“Thomas! Thomas, are you there?”
“Rachel, what are doing here? Someone could see.”
Rachel’s eyes filled with tears when the beloved face appeared at the window. She clasped his hand through the bars. “There’s nobody about. Thomas, what have you done? There’s talk of a hanging.”
“Oh, Rachel, that’s just talk. Nobody’s going to hang.”
“Why, Thomas? Why did you try to steal a horse?”
“I’m just tired Rachel, tired of walking, tired of everything. I don’t know, maybe I thought these southerners owed me that much.”
“Why didn’t you wait? I told you I’d get the wagon and we’d leave together. Why did you do this?”
“I couldn’t let you do that. I have nothing, Rachel. The war took it all. When I came back and found a stranger living in our house, working our land and you gone, I…” He shook his head. “I needed to find you, see for myself that you were all right.”
“I’m so sorry, Thomas. I received word that you’d been killed and felt my life was over. Then I learned of the baby. I desperately wanted to find a way to make a decent life for our son or daughter. Charles is a good man, he doesn’t know the baby isn’t his. I hate to hurt him, but you’re still my husband, the father of this child and we belong together. The three of us.”
“He’ll know when the baby is born early, Rachel. He’ll know it’s not his. Are you afraid he’ll put you out when he knows?”
“No, Charles would understand. He might be disappointed, but he’d not throw us out. It doesn’t matter, Darling. We won’t be here then. The three of us will be together starting a new life far from here.”
“Ah, Rachel, my darling.” Reaching through the bars, Thomas cupped her face with his palm. “I don’t even have a horse, Rachel. Don’t you see? I have nothing to offer you or the baby. You’re better off here with Charles.”
“No, it’s not right. I’m still married to you. We need to be together.”
The pounding of horse’s hooves on hard earth announced the approach of riders round the front side of the jail. “Someone’s coming. You have to go, Rachel. Go now before someone sees you.”
“I’ll come back tonight and get you out of here. We’ll leave together.”
Sounds of excited talking could be heard as the men dismounted in front. “No, Rachel, don’t come back here. Think of the baby.” The voices became louder. “Hurry! Go on home now. I love you. Never forget that I love you.”
Rachel clung to his fingers when he tried to withdraw. “I love you too, more than life and I promise we’ll be together.” She turned and fled to the wagon, tears wetting her pale cheeks.
When she returned to the cabin, Rachel gathered what money she could find and packed a few clothes. Later she’d put a few more supplies in the wagon. She’d get Thomas out of that jail and the three of them would be a family as it should be. She hid the small satchel under the bed until she could sneak away later that night. Writing the letter to Charles was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Slipping it under his pillow, she prayed he’d understand and forgive her.
When Charles returned from the neighbor’s where he’d gone to help butcher a steer, Rachel began putting supper on the table. He paced the small kitchen mumbling under his breath.
He did this when most upset by something and Rachel clasped her hands to still their slight tremor. “What’s wrong, Charles?”
“It’s a terrible thing when a gang of vigilantes will hang a man that’s just back from war and has lost everything.”
Rachel’s heart skipped a beat and she began to shake. “What are you saying, Charles?”
“They hung that drifter this afternoon. I tried to stop…Rachel!” Charles caught her before she hit the floor. Laying her on the bed, he wet a cloth with cool water and laid it gently across her forehead. She moaned and tossed. Charles noticed the damp pink stain spreading on the sheet and became frantic. He didn’t want to leave Rachel alone, but there was no one else to send. He’d have go for Mrs. Hansen.
“Rachel, you’re going to be all right, Darlin’.” I’m going for help.
***
Charles paced the kitchen and prayed, tears blurring his sight. Rachel’s screaming had stopped, but the mournful moans were worse for him to hear. When he finally heard the weak little wail of the baby being born, he rejoiced. The house became silent and he stopped pacing, rushing to the door when the midwife came out.
“Mrs. Hansen, Rachel and the baby? They’re all right?”
Mrs. Hansen looked into his hopeful face, still damp from tears and it hurt her to tell him. “I’m so sorry for you, Charles. The babe didn’t make it. He was just too weak.”
Charles slumped. “And Rachel—Rachel is okay?” He sounded desperate.
She frowned and shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Rachel!” Running into the bedroom, he fell on his knees beside the bed. Gathering Rachel’s limp form in his arms, he rocked her, his sobs filling the cabin. He stayed that way until the bedroom darkened with the setting sun and Mrs. Hansen came to the door.
“Mr. Donavan, I’m so sorry. Are you going to be all right?”
Charles raised his head, taking a great gulp of air. He could collapse later, now he had work to do for Rachel and his son. “Yes, I’m okay now.” He stood and gathered the tiny blanket wrapped body of the baby. Gently lifting the blanket away from the baby’s face, his heart broke. Covering the still little face and laying him close to Rachel, he turned to Mrs. Hansen. “I’ll drive you home now.”
“Thank you, Charles. I’ll have one of the boys come back and help.”
He nodded, but said nothing.
“I wanted to give you this. I found it under the pillow.” She passed him the envelope with his name written in Rachel’s hand.
Stuffing the envelope inside his shirt, he went out to harness the wagon. He felt stupid, slow—like just waking from a bad dream. Only he knew he’d never awaken from this nightmare. How would he ever live without his beautiful Rachel.
Chapter 2
1876 ~ Ten Years Later
Holding her skirts out of the way, Megan Connors stepped down from the train. Pleased, she looked around the town of Wilson Creek, South Carolina. It was larger than she’d expected and quite attractive with its tree-shaded, brick lined streets. She hoped Mr. Donavan hadn’t forgotten she was coming today. Her eyes scanned the street while other passengers climbed into waiting carriages or made their way to the hotel. There was no one who looked to be waiting for her.
Her luggage had been unloaded and placed on the wooden walkway by her feet. She couldn’t just leave it sitting there while looking for assistance. She’d just have to wait. The area cleared and Megan stood alone on the boardwalk. After standing for what seemed hours, she began to pace. Annoyance seeped its way into her normal placid self and she knew panic wasn’t far behind. No need to panic she reassured herself. Surely someone would remember that she was to come today and send a wagon to fetch her.
Thunder rumbled overhead. There was no help for it, she couldn’t stand here much longer. She’d have to try to drag the heavy trunk and smaller case to the hotel. Thoughts of having to use what little money remained to secure lodging for the night brought her earlier panic racing back. Then what? She didn’t have enough money for a ticket back home. Going back was out of the question even if there were enough money. For the first time since childhood, Megan felt the moisture of tears prick her eyelids. Swallowing the lump of self-pity, she squared her shoulders and turned to her trunk.
Stuffing the satchel under one arm, she grabbed the trunk handle and pulled. Heavy, it contained all that she owned in the world and she only managed to drag it a few feet before the sky opened and dumped a deluge of water on the silent town. Leaving the trunk in the rain, Megan ran beneath the large overhang and huddled against the wall. She reached a shaking hand to the new hat she’d purchased just for this trip and grimaced when she felt the dripping plumes. The same ones the sales lady had assured her matched her green eyes to perfection.
Seeing the ticket agent window a few feet along the wall, Megan ran to it and rapped her knuckles on the thin wood. When no one answered, she rapped again. The wooden panel slid open and the ticket agent’s round face appeared. Megan watched him try to relax his features into a smile that never quite made it.
“What can I do for you, Miss? There are no more trains running today.”
“I know that. I came in on the last train. My name is Connors. Has Mr. Charles Donavan been here today?”
“Why no, I haven’t seen Mr. Donavan for more than a week.”
“He was supposed to meet me here today. I’m the new schoolteacher. Someone should be here to meet me.”
“That’s not possible, Miss Connors. We already have a schoolteacher. That would be Mr. Blackford, and a fine man he is too.”
Panic returned and shivers caused Megan’s hands to shake as she dug in her reticule for the wrinkled and much read letter. “Look, I have a letter from Mr. Donavan. He asked me to come.” She shoved the letter through the window at the man who looked as though he thought she might be crazy.
“Go on, read the letter.” Megan’s glare dared the man to refuse.
Opening the letter, the man scanned it quickly and for the first time a genuine smile spread across his face. “Oh, you’re the new teacher for the ranch children.”
“Ranch children? I don’t understand.”
He handed the letter back and Megan stuffed it into her reticule. “The Donavan spread is about five miles south of town, too far for the children to walk to school. Mr. Donavan built a little schoolhouse for them. I guess you’re the new teacher for it.”
Temper rising, Megan shifted her feet and tried to ignore the cold dampness seeping into her slippers. “Shouldn’t there have been someone to meet me. I’ve been waiting for hours.”
Flipping open the pocket watch that dangled from a chain on his vest, he squinted at it. “Oh, my yes, the last train came over two hours ago. You come around here to the side door. You can wait in here. I’m sure Mr. Donavan will send someone to get you as soon as possible.”
Grateful to get out of the rain, Megan trudged into the little office wondering if her feet would ever be warm again. “What about my trunk?”
“I’ll get my boy to drag it in here. Ronald!”
At the shout, a skinny boy rushed in from an adjoining room. “Yes sir, Pa?”
“Fetch the trunk out on the boardwalk.”
“It’s heavy.” Megan chimed in, looking at the boy’s thin arms.
“That’s okay, ma’am. I’m strong as a horse.” Ronald gave her a lopsided grin and ran out the door. He returned directly, dragging the trunk as though it had wheels.
“Thank you, Ronald.” Her smile caused a blush to burn across his face and disappear into the shock of blonde hair hanging over his forehead.
“No problem, ma’am. It was my pleasure. Excuse me.” He left the room at a trot.
“Goodness, does he ever slow down?”
Chuckling, the man poured a cup of coffee from the pot on the small stove and carried it to her. “He’s been in a hurry like that for all of his sixteen years. It used to drive his Ma crazy when he was little. She couldn’t keep up with him. Come on over here, Miss, and sit by the stove.”
Megan sat facing the potbelly stove, hoping the heat would dry her slippers. She sipped the hot coffee and turned to the man with a smile. “Thank you Mr.…”
“Patterson. Bob Patterson.”
“Thank you, Mr. Patterson. It’s kind of you.” Megan felt more comfortable and her temper had cooled, but she was still none too happy with the absent Mr. Donavan.
“I’m sorry you got left at the station, Miss, but I’m sure there must be a good reason for it. Mr. Donavan is the most reliable man alive.”
Megan could tell Mr. Patterson thought the world of Mr. Donavan so she kept her own council. She didn’t consider it reliable to keep someone waiting for three hours and in the rain too. She had no idea how much longer she’d have to wait. Worry set in and she pondered what she’d do if he’d changed his mind and never came. Perhaps there was a seamstress in town who could use an assistant. Her thoughts were interrupted by the opening door and cool damp air blowing through the room.
Turning, her eyes followed a line from the well-worn boots over a body covered by a dark slicker to a face half hidden in the shadow of a black Stetson. She stood as he entered the room, removing his hat. An errant lock of dark hair flopped over his forehead and he wore a harsh frown that looked perpetually etched onto his rugged features. Megan found herself staring into eyes as cold and grey as a winter sky.
“Megan Connors?”
Voice harsh and features grim, he said her name as though it left a bad taste in his mouth. Megan stiffened. She was used to being demeaned, but she’d not tolerate it from this rude, inconsiderate stranger.
Standing straighter, she did the best she could to look down her nose at a man who stood a good foot taller than her five feet, three inches. “Yes, and may I assume that you are Mr. Charles Donavan?”
“That he is, Miss.” Mr. Patterson intervened. “I told the lady you’d be along as soon as possible, Charles.”
“I appreciate you taking care of her for me, Bob. Is this her trunk?”
“Yes, sir, and the satchel next to it.”
Charles hefted the trunk as if it weighed no more than a feather and started through the door. Turning, he looked back at her. “Coming?” He went on out the door as though he cared not one bit whether she followed or not.
The insufferable lout! Snatching up her satchel she barely remembered to thank Mr. Patterson before following him to the wagon. Placing her satchel in the back next to her trunk, she was relieved to see that the rain had stopped and the sun was trying to make its way between the thinning clouds.
She ignored Donavan’s outstretched hand and climbed to the seat without assistance. He shrugged and went around the wagon and settled next to her. Giving a gentle flick of the reins he turned the wagon around and drove out of town. They left the brick streets behind and turned down a road that was little more than muddy ruts.
Megan sat stiff and silent, waiting for his apology. When it never came, her temper raged and she bit her lip to prevent lashing out at him. Aunt Ida always said her temper was as red hot as her hair and tried during her childhood to beat it out of her. Megan learned to control her tongue and become placid, at least on the surface. Glancing at Donavan, she realized her tense silence was having no effect on him. He lounged comfortable and at ease on the seat next to her. She might well not even be present for all the notion he paid her.
“Mr. Donavan, I’d appreciate some information on the children I’ll be teaching.”
He started and seemed surprised to find her there. Shaking his head, as though to throw off his previous thoughts, he spared her a brief glance.
“There are ten children of school age. I built a small school building, but there are no living quarters. You will stay in the ranch house and take your meals there.”
“Your wife won’t mind the extra work?”
“I’m a widower.”
“I’m sorry, I had no idea. How many of the children belong to you?”
“I have no children. The children belong to the men who work for me. Families have their own cabins on my ranch and the mothers were becoming concerned with their children’s education. That’s why you’re here.”
“Perhaps I could stay with one of the families.” Megan wasn’t comfortable with the idea of staying alone in the main house with him.
“No. Although offered by several of the women when they approached me about a teacher, I’d never burden them with another person to care for. They have enough to do.”
He said it with such finality, Megan knew he meant for the conversation to be at an end, but it was far from over in her mind.
“Mr. Donavan, it simply would not be proper for me to live alone with you in your home.”
He turned an insolent stare in her direction and allowed those ice, grey eyes to rove over her body. “I can assure you, Miss Connors, you will be perfectly safe.”
Heat raged into her face at the implied insult, and an angry retort rose to her tongue. Before she could utter it, he continued.
“Besides we won’t be alone. I have a live in housekeeper and a couple of other servants.”
Megan felt it better to remain silent.
She wondered just how prosperous this ranch must be to have so many working there. When she’d answered Mr. Donavan’s advert for a teacher, she’d pictured a quaint little town with a lovely white schoolhouse. When Mr. Patterson said she’d be teaching ranch children, she imagined a rustic log cabin with a makeshift schoolroom in the barn. Now she wasn’t sure what to expect and didn’t intend asking for any more information from the taciturn man beside her.
The remainder of the journey passed in silence while Megan pretended to relax and enjoy the scenery. When the wagon left the road and turned through the gate to the ranch she marveled at the change. Things became less wild with short cropped grass and whitewashed fencing. She still couldn’t see the main house, but there were several cabins dotted about the landscape with neatly kept vegetable gardens. In the far distance, cattle grazed.
The wagon took a sharp turn and the main house and yard came into view. Megan gasped. This was not like any ranch she’d ever imagined. The large two-story house was covered in muted red brick, the portico held by large white columns. Neatly manicured lawns graced the front, and flowers were everywhere. She’d not expected flower gardens. The wagon pulled to a stop in front of the house and her senses were assaulted by the heavenly scent of roses.
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’ll do.” He came around the side to help her down and she was startled by the shock of awareness that ran through her when his warm hands circled her waist and lifted her to the ground. She stumbled back and he reached out to catch her before she fell.
“Relax, Miss Connors, I don’t make a habit of ravaging young school teachers.”
Megan knew she was blushing and making a complete fool of herself. “I never meant to imply I thought any such thing.”
One black brow shot upwards. “Actions speak louder than words. Never mind. Follow me.” He lifted her satchel out and handed it to her before lifting the trunk and heading for the front door.
She followed him into a tiled entry and up an open flight of stairs to a room at the end of an upper hall. Large and airy, done in shades of blue and white, it was so much more than she’d expected. The windows were open to allow the scented breeze to waft through the room.
“If this doesn’t suit you, there are other rooms not in use. I thought after a stressful day with a room full of children these colors would be relaxing. There’s a water closet across the hall.”
Megan stared at him. His reason for giving her this room showed a thoughtfulness she’d never have thought him capable of. “It’s a beautiful room. I’ll be quite content here. Thank you, Mr. Donavan.”
“Okay then. I’ll send someone to help you unpack.” He turned to go.
“That won’t be necessary. I’d prefer to do it myself.”
“As you wish. I’ll send Mrs. Gordon for you when it’s time for supper.” He left before she could thank him again.
Before unpacking Megan twirled about on the thick rug and laughed out loud. This had been the right decision. She’d found work, been given a beautiful room, and was finally free of William.
After a quick trip to the water closet revealed a large bathtub, Megan decided to take a bath before the evening meal. Feeling refreshed and much warmer after a soak in the tub, she dressed in one of the new gowns she’d bought. The bright emerald color brought a smile to her face. There would be no more grey gowns for her. She grimaced at the sensible leather shoes as she removed them from the wardrobe.
Megan hated sensible shoes. Aunt Ida didn’t believe in spending money for anything but the direst necessities and shoes weren’t on the list. Hence Megan’s feet had always been pinched by shoes two sizes too small when she was a child and she’d developed a loathing for the things. Her slippers being still damp from the rain, she didn’t have any choice but to don the shoes. At least she’d made sure to buy the correct size.
A knock came while she was pinning her hair into a neat roll at her nape. “Yes, come in.”
“Hello, my dear. I’m the housekeeper, Mrs. Gordon. Mr. Donavan said to fetch you in time for supper.” Her plump form hurried into the room and she came to take the pins from Megan. “Here, let me finish that for you. I’d have come to unpack your trunk, but Mr. Donavan said you preferred to do it yourself.”
“I’m used to doing for myself.” Admiring Mrs. Gordon’s handiwork, she had to admit the woman did have a way with hair. She’d never been able to achieve such a smooth roll.
“Thank you, Mrs. Gordon. It looks very nice.”
“No need for thanks, Miss. I’m just so happy for you to finally be here. My youngest will be in your schoolroom along with the other children. Johnny’s nine and as smart as they come, but living out here, I feared he’d never get any education.”
“I look forward to meeting your Johnny as well as the rest of the children.”
“They’re all good children, don’t you know? Most never had any schooling though, so you’ll be starting from scratch.”
“I’ll be testing them all individually to see where to start.”
“I’m sure you’re a right fine teacher and probably starving too. Come on and I’ll show you to the dining room. This is a big house and a body could get lost.”
They left the room and Megan decided to satisfy her curiosity about her employer. “Has Mr. Donavan always lived here?”
“The land belonged to his pa, but there was only a large cabin then. Mr. Donavan lived here and worked the land with his pa until the war. They grew cotton then, but didn’t believe in the owning of slaves so the place never prospered much with just the two of them and what men they could hire. His pa never agreed with him going off to fight for something he didn’t believe in, but Mr. Donovan felt a loyalty to the south, so he went. His pa died before the war ended. He switched from cotton to cattle after the war and made this ranch into what it is today. He built this grand house five years ago.”
“And Mrs. Donavan?”
“Oh, now that was tragic, it was. He met Miss Rachel while passing through Pennsylvania, trying to get back home. I never saw a man so besotted by a woman. She died in childbirth during that first year and Mr. Donavan went a little crazy. He worked from before sun up till after dark every day and still does most days. I suppose it helps to keep the memories away.”
“How long has it been?”
“Ten years now.”
“He obviously loved her more than anything.” Rachel sighed, wondering what it would be like to be so loved.
“Still does, I reckon.”
They reached the foot of the stairs and Mrs. Gordon led Megan into an elaborate dining room with gleaming cherry wood floors. Luxurious white and silver striped wallpaper adorned the walls and red velvet drapes were pulled across the large bank of windows. A large table set in the middle with two place settings, one at each end. Megan wondered how on earth a conversation could be carried on without having to shout. She soon discovered she’d no reason to worry. Supper progressed as silent and tense as the ride home that afternoon. Grateful when the meal ended, she excused herself and hurried upstairs to bed with a feeling of relief.
***
Megan awoke with a start and for a moment didn’t know where she was. Remembering the events of the day, she smiled and snuggled deeper into the bed. She was safe. The thin wail of an enfant came through the open window and Megan climbed out of bed, going to lean on the window ledge. The lovely scent of jasmine reached her and she sniffed appreciatively. Crying came again and she wondered where the cabin set and if the baby might be sick. Its cry was weak and pitiful sounding in the soft darkness. She didn’t recall seeing any cabins this close to the main house, but supposed it could be around the back.
Turning from the window, she stopped when the cry returned accompanied by the sound of a woman’s sweet voice humming Braham’s Lullaby. Megan leaned on the windowsill, listening. The hair on her arms rose and shivers raced along her limbs. The humming was more eerie than comforting and she became enveloped in a feeling of overwhelming sadness, unaware of the tears gathering in her eyes.
An icy blast rushed through the open window chilling her to the bone. Slamming the window shut, she dived into the bed and huddled under the covers, shivering with cold. Wiping the moisture from her face, she was amazed to find the tears there. She determined to find the cabin after school the next day and offer assistance to the mother of the sick baby. Having made that decision, she was soon warm enough to fall into a sound sleep.
***
Megan took breakfast at the small table in the kitchen, refusing to sit at the large dining table alone, Mr. Donavan having already left the house. She savored the warmth of the big room and the enticing aromas of coffee and fresh bread. Mrs. Gordon introduced her to the cook, as the woman served her a breakfast of eggs, sausages, and warm bread with honey.
“Thank you, Aggie. It looks delicious.”
“Just plain food, ma’am, you won’t get nothin’ fancy here.” The woman muttered.
“Plain food is the best food and you’ll get no complaints from this corner.” Megan’s warm smile spread across her face.
The dour expression on Aggie’ thin, leathery face didn’t changed, but her eyes brightened with pleasure. “Coffee or tea, ma’am?”
“Oh, tea please, Aggie.”
Mrs. Gordon set a lunch tin next to Megan. “Here’s your lunch, Miss. I thought it would save you a trip back to the house and the young ones will take their lunch at the school as well.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind.”
“No problem at all. Soon as you’re ready, I’ll show you the path to the school. It’s not far and you can’t miss it. Mr. Donavan even hung a small bell, so you’ll be able to call the children in when it’s time.”
“That was thoughtful of him. Mrs. Gordon, are there any families with new babies near here? I didn’t see any cabins close to the main house.”
“No new babes that I know of, Miss. Let’s see, the youngest would be the Talbot boy. He’s two now, and you’re right, no homes within sight of the main house.”
“Is the little Talbot boy sick?”
Mrs. Gordon laughed. “Just as robust as they come.” She looked at Megan curiously.
“I see. Thank you. I guess I’d better get going. It wouldn’t do for the teacher to be late on the first day.” Megan didn’t mention the sounds she’d heard in the night. Perhaps it was all a dream brought on by the first night in a strange place.
“No indeed.” Mrs. Gordon pointed out the path and Megan hurried off, very much anticipating meeting the children and getting to know them.
© Copyright Elizabeth Melton Parsons
All Rights Reserved