Chapter Thirteen
Emma pulled the kitchen door shut firmly against the growing wind.
“Sounds like we have a bit of weather brewing out there,” Mrs. Paxton said from the stove.
“It’s grown quite cold just since I left the school. Did Sean leave his coat on during his walk home? He was a little stubborn about buttoning it.”
“He wore it, and he still had it on when he and Rigger went on down the road.”
“To Rigger’s house?”
Mrs. Paxton nodded. “Sweet little friends, those two.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Nearly an hour now.”
That was good. They would be inside Biddy and Ian’s home by now, out of the weather.
“Is there anything I can help you with in here?” Emma asked.
“Thank you for offering, Miss Emma, but I have it well in hand.”
I’m not needed here.
She slipped from the kitchen, through the dining room, and into the parlor. Ivy and Sybil were sitting next to each other at the writing desk, bent over something on the desktop.
“Bustles were shaped more or less like this when we visited Baltimore last year,” Ivy said. The sound of a lead pencil scratching on parchment accompanied the words. Both Ivy and Sybil liked to draw. “But you and Emma aren’t wearing dresses like this.”
“Emma said fashionable bustles would be impractical and out of place here,” Sybil said. “I was skeptical, but I knew before we even got off the train, let alone reached Hope Springs, that she was absolutely correct.”
“Have the necklines changed much?” Ivy continued sketching on the paper.
Emma moved slowly and quietly toward them, not particularly wanting to interrupt. Ivy had continued to be a little standoffish with her.
“For high society events like balls and soirees and trips to the opera, that is very much the style.” Sybil tapped the paper. “And bold colors are quite the rage as well.”
“I wish you two had brought some of your really fancy gowns.”
“Even if there would have been any reason for wearing them, there was no room in our trunk.”
They were enjoying their conversation. Ivy was more open and eager than Emma had seen her in the past week. She didn’t want to give Ivy any reason to withdraw, which she suspected would happen if she joined in.
Emma wasn’t needed at the school, or in the kitchen. She would be a weight in the conversation going on in front of her. Perhaps she could be of help to Katie.
She climbed the stairs, telling herself not to be upset that Sybil had managed a connection to Ivy.
Yes, she wished her sister had shown her that same enthusiasm and welcome.
She felt increasingly confused by the telegram she’d received.
But Sybil at least was making a difference.
Sybil was lifting Ivy’s spirits, and Emma was grateful for that.
The door to Papa and Katie’s room was open. Emma peeked inside. Papa sat in a chair near the bed, Eimear on his lap. Katie stood near the window, rocking a slightly fussy Finn in her arms. Here, at last, was something she could do.
She crossed to the window. “Let me take him for a while. You can sit or lie down.”
“Thank you, Emma.” Katie set the tiny baby in Emma’s arms. “I’ve not the first idea why he’s fretting so much.” She set a rag on Emma’s shoulder. “I’ve my suspicions he’s just tired, but the daft wee lad is too stubborn to sleep.”
“‘Daft wee lad.’” Emma smiled as she shook her head. “All the Archer children know we can measure how much trouble we’re in by how Irish you sound.”
“Oh, Emma. I’ve missed you.” Katie hugged her, embracing both Emma and Finn at the same time. “Baltimore’s far too far away.”
“I’ve missed you too.” She looked over at Papa. He was watching her, Eimear sleeping on his lap. “And I’ve missed you, Papa.”
Emma’s heart dropped at the relief he didn’t quite keep hidden. Had he wondered if she missed him, if she longed to see him between visits? How could he doubt that?
Katie crossed to him. She ran a hand over Eimear’s curls. The little girl didn’t wake up. Katie leaned forward and gave Papa a quick kiss.
“I’m going to lie down.”
“Please do,” he said. “You look worn to a thread.”
“I’ve just had a baby.” There was laughter underlying her teasingly offended tone. “I’ve every right to look worn.”
Papa’s eyes darted to Emma. “You see what I have to endure?”
“Your heroic perseverance is an inspiration to us all.”
Finn wriggled unhappily in her arms. Emma adjusted so he rested against her shoulder and she patted his back, bouncing lightly. Her gaze slid to the nearby window.
“It’s started snowing,” she said. Finbarr had been right about that.
“I suspect Ian’ll bring Sean back in the wagon,” Katie said, pulling a light blanket up over herself as she laid down.
“Or Sean and Rigger will convince him not to brave the weather so they don’t have to stop playing,” Papa said.
“At the moment, at least”—Emma adjusted Finn again—“this is such a light dusting of snow that no self-respecting Wyoming farmer would be intimidated by it.”
“For the sake of Sean’s enjoyment of the evening,” Papa said, “let’s hope the boy is wise enough to not make staying a matter of Ian’s pride.”
It really wasn’t snowing very much, but, having grown up in this area of Wyoming, Emma knew how swiftly that could change. Had Finbarr reached home yet? Was he warm?
Was he happy?
“Sean enjoyed having you at school today,” Papa said. “He bragged to Rigger a few times while the boys were here that he was the only boy in Hope Springs whose sister was a teacher.”
“And, if we’re to judge by Rigger’s look of exhaustion,” Katie added, “’twasn’t the first time our Sean made that boast today.”
Sweet Sean. “You’ll be happy to hear that Sean’s a well-behaved student.”
“At least while his sister ‘the teacher’ is there,” Papa added with a smile. “Perhaps a few more days of you going to school with him and he’ll stop complaining about having to do his sums.”
“Miss Groves told me she doesn’t want me to go back.”
Katie raised up a little, resting on her elbows, and watching Emma with surprise. Papa’s expression turned both confused and focused.
“She waxed long about how I’m not better than she is and that she doesn’t need help from me to do her job.
” Emma rocked a little, hoping her tension didn’t make Finn more fussy again.
“Essentially, I’m not welcome at the school anymore, but not because I did anything wrong. She just doesn’t want me there.”
“Did she offer any specific reason why she found your presence so intimidating?” Papa asked.
“Intimidating?”
“’Tis exactly what it sounds like to me, Emma,” Katie said. “Something about you being there made her question her own self.”
“I never undermined her or took charge of anything. All the tasks I saw to were very mundane things. Not even teaching, in all honesty. I distributed and collected slates. I built a fire in the stove when the room grew cold. I watched the children while they ate their lunch and played in the schoolyard so she could have a moment to herself. I did answer a few questions, but only because a child asked me specifically. And that only happened twice.”
“The children of Hope Springs know you,” Papa said. “That may have magnified in her mind how newly arrived she is.”
She shook her head. “Only the oldest children at the school even remember me, Papa. Sean is the exception because I’m his sister.
And, even then, he only knows me because of your visits to Baltimore.
Eimear”—she motioned quickly to the little girl sleeping soundly—“had no recollection of me when I arrived. She hardly knows who I am now.”
“But even those children who don’t personally know you know that you are connected to this town.”
“I suppose that could be part of it.” And it made Emma feel a little better. “Miss Groves’ rejection was unexpected, but it was also unmistakable. I can’t think of anything I did to warrant it.”
“What did you say to her after she said you weren’t welcome?” Katie asked.
“I said I was sorry to have caused her difficulty. I told her that wasn’t my intention.
” Emma breathed through the wave of remembered pain; why was it a rejection from someone she hardly knew had the power to hurt her?
Surely she was made of stronger stuff than this. “I told her I wouldn’t come back.”
“And what’d she say to that?”
“That I—” She took another fortifying breath. “That I was being selfish by spending time with the children when I’m not going to stay in Hope Springs. That I was knowingly causing them pain.”
“No, she didn’t,” Katie half-whispered.
“Perhaps it would have been better if I hadn’t come for a visit,” Emma said. “Most people don’t care one way or the other that I’m even here. Some clearly wish I wasn’t. Those who are happy to see me are only going to be sad when I leave. I probably shouldn’t have come.”
“Come sit with me, sweetheart.” Katie patted the bed beside her as she sat up once more, leaning back against the headboard.
Emma, with Finn still lying against her shoulder, sat as directed. Her heart was heavy but hopeful. Katie had helped her navigate so many difficult things over the years. Perhaps she could manage it again.
“I can’t say what it is that turned Miss Groves sour toward you, but she’s wrong about everything she said to you.
Being at the school helping was a kindness to her, and she ought to have seen it as such.
Showing love and sweetness to the children, even if you aren’t staying for years to come, will have done them good.
And visiting us here, even if your visit will be short, has brought us far more joy than we can even tell you. ”
Emma looked over at Papa. He was watching her earnestly, nodding firmly.
“And, though we’ll miss you when you go—”
“More than we can even tell you,” Papa added.
“—we’d not trade this time with you for anything in all the world. Not a moment of it.”
“Are you—” Her voice faltered. “Are you angry with me for leaving Hope Springs?”
Papa stood and carefully laid Eimear on the foot of the bed. Katie took Finn from Emma’s arms.
Papa moved to where Emma sat. Her heart lodged in her throat. When he reached her, he took hold of her hands and gently pulled her to her feet. She swallowed with effort. Her pulse pounded a nervous rhythm.
He put his arms around her and hugged her. Emma closed her eyes, fighting back tears.
“We know why you had to leave, Emma. We understand, and we love you too much to not want you to have the peace you need.”
Peace. She’d had a measure of that the past five years. In Baltimore, she’d had distance from the pain of the past. Less than two weeks and she could go back. But that meant her papa wouldn’t be nearby to hug her like this. She wouldn’t have his steadfast presence.
“We love you, Emma. We want you to be happy.”
Happy. Oh, how she wanted to be.