Chapter Eight
Adam rose early on the day of the town meeting. He stood in the bathroom for a long time, examining his reflection in the mirror and trying to imagine what his fellow committee members would see when they looked at him.
As always when he had to appear in front of people in a formal setting, he’d done his best to clean himself up.
He had shaved his growth of facial hair, and he ran a hand over his smooth jawline, getting himself used to the feel of it.
He had dampened down his unruly hair and combed it into shape.
He was dressed in the cleanest shirt he owned—and he’d allow that a clean shirt had been much easier to find today than it ever had in the past. That was almost certainly Rachel’s doing.
She had taken over the laundry, of course, and already the piles of clothes that could ordinarily be found around the house had disappeared.
I should have gotten help with this a long time ago.
He brushed off his shirt unnecessarily—it was perfectly clean—and made his way out into the kitchen, where he was greeted by the smell of hot batter and savory bacon. Mason was sitting at the table, bouncing up and down slightly in his seat. “Miss Rachel is making pancakes,” he announced.
“So I see.” Adam had paused in the doorway to take in the scene, and now he turned toward Rachel.
She was standing at the stove wearing a brown apron that he had seen her wearing around the house before.
It struck him as itchy and uncomfortable—it was made of a coarse fabric.
Maybe he would offer to supply her a new one.
She looked over her shoulder with a smile. “The pancakes are nearly finished,” she said. “Do you have time to join me and Mason for breakfast? I asked Ruth, but she said she needed to get started on her work.”
It would be Rachel’s first time breaking bread with him. There was no question of refusing. He went to the table and took a seat. “Thank you,” he said. “I can have a quick meal before I have to go into town for my meeting.”
He hadn’t told Rachel that this meeting involved her stepsister—he had no idea how she would react to that information. Better to spare her having to hear about it. He would tell her afterward, if they decided that Jennifer wasn’t going to get the job.
She probably won’t mind at all—she’d probably be pleased. They didn’t seem as if any love was lost between them.
Rachel came to the table now with a plate of pancakes.
Her chestnut hair was bound in a braid down her back today, and her green eyes sparkled—she looked happier than Adam had ever seen her, though not as happy as Mason.
The boy was bouncing again, looking as though he might well leave his seat altogether.
“We never have pancakes,” he declared. “No one here knows how to cook them!”
Rachel laughed and set the plate down. “And what do you usually have for breakfast?” she asked, moving to take the open seat.
“Gruel!”
“He’s fibbing.” Adam tossed a stern look in Mason’s direction. “We usually have eggs.”
“Well, eggs are lovely,” Rachel said with a smile. “Perhaps I’ll make my friend Edith’s egg recipe for us another day.”
“Pancakes are my favorite.” Mason reached forward to take one from the plate in front of him.
“Hold on.” Rachel took hold of the edge of the plate and pulled it away from Mason and toward herself. “We haven’t said grace yet.”
Mason frowned and looked at Adam, bemused.
Uneasy discomfort knotted in the pit of Adam’s stomach. He had guessed this would come up eventually, based on some of the comments she’d made here and there about how God would feel about certain things. “That’s not really something we do in this house,” he murmured.
She sat back as if he had pushed her. “You don’t say grace before your meals?”
He shook his head. “It’s not something I believe in.”
“You don’t believe in…” She looked at Mason and cut herself off, as though deciding this wasn’t a topic to be discussed in front of him.
“Will it bother you very much if I give thanks to God before I eat?” she asked.
“I won’t ask you to join me if that isn’t your habit, but it’s very important to me. ”
He gritted his teeth—he didn’t like it, but what could he say? He wanted her to go on dining with him, and he couldn’t refuse her permission to say grace. He waved a hand, indicating that she ought to go ahead.
Rachel folded her hands and bowed her head.
Mason stared at her.
“God, thank You for this meal,” she murmured, her words low and quick—she seemed as uncomfortable as Adam felt. “Thank You for bringing me to these good people and to this good home—for Adam, for Mason, and for the parts of our individual journeys that we will undertake together. Amen.”
She opened her eyes and looked up, her gaze moving from Mason to Adam.
Adam suddenly realized that they were both staring at her. He looked away.
She cleared her throat. “All right,” she said, a little too loudly. “That’s it. Everyone eat up, before the food gets cold.” She pushed the stack of pancakes back toward Mason, and he lunged like a wild dog breaking its leash. He grabbed three and piled them on his plate.
“You’d better not take more than you’re going to finish,” Adam warned the boy.
His eyes returned to Rachel. Her cheeks were pink. She had taken a pancake for herself and started to cut it up into bite-sized pieces.
She’d been embarrassed to do that—to pray in front of him. She had felt vulnerable. But she had done it anyway.
Her relationship with God must be deeply important to her.
Anxiety pinched at him.
What would happen when she found out just how thoroughly faith had been cut out of his life?
***
“The woman’s name is Jennifer Foster,” Adam said to the other members of the committee.
They were seated around a table in the town meeting room above the mercantile.
It was one of the most convenient places in town to have a meeting, and Adam always enjoyed being there—the view from the window allowed him to see all of Main Street.
In addition, the mercantile had been newly reconstructed the year before.
Every other building in town was a bit run-down, showing the hard economic times of recent years, but the town had pitched together to rebuild this one.
The other men on the committee were prominent figures in town. The mayor was here, and so was Pastor William. Jack Warner, who owned the mercantile, and a group of other merchants and ranchers filled out the seats. They were all watching him as he spoke, all interested to hear what he had to say.
He cleared his throat. “I offered her the job, and she accepted,” he went on. “But the truth is that I’m not convinced she’s the right choice. I think we should revisit it and perhaps withdraw the offer.”
“What makes you say that?” Gray-haired, bespectacled Pastor William leaned forward in his seat, frowning inquisitively. “We certainly don’t want to make the wrong choice when it comes to a schoolteacher.”
“There isn’t anything wrong with Jennifer Foster,” Jack Warner spoke up. “I know her family. The Fosters are pillars of this community. She’s a great choice.” His eyes flashed to Adam, and he stroked his beard. “What makes you think she wouldn’t be?”
“I saw her do something that gave me pause at the town fair,” Adam said. “She humiliated her stepsister in front of everyone.”
Jack Warner frowned. “I don’t think you can disqualify her based on that,” he said. “We should consider that it might have been an accident.”
“No, we can’t disqualify her.” The voice came from the back of the room, and Adam’s heart sank as its owner rose to his feet. Ted Levine.
Adam and Ted had been partners once upon a time, had co-owned the ranch that Adam now operated on his own.
It had ended badly, with animosity that neither man was likely to get over anytime soon.
Ted’s blond hair had been cut short since the last time Adam had seen him—his scalp nearly showed through—and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to expose his biceps.
Not that those muscles are going to make anyone forget what an utter fool the man is. He shows it every time he opens his mouth.
Ted walked up to the front of the room and stood beside Adam without waiting for an invitation.
“I think what Mr. Summers is trying to distract us from is the fact that the real difficulty at that school is being caused by his own ward,” he said.
“Isn’t it true that your Mason has been in three fights with boys in town during the time off? ”
Was that true? If so, it was the first Adam was hearing of it. Shame curled in his gut. “We’re not here to talk about Mason,” he said. “This is about hiring a schoolteacher.”
“Well, I think you’re dedicated to finding a schoolteacher who will allow your ward to get away with his unruly behavior.
” Ted shook his head disapprovingly and faced the rest of the room.
“That’s not what we want, is it? We should stick with the first choice, not replace her with someone hand-picked by Mr. Summers here to give his delinquent child the best chance at success.
And for that matter, if there are any more fights, if there is any more misbehavior, I think we should seriously consider removing the child from the school.
We can’t have such behavior disrupting our children’s learning. ”
“You don’t even have a child,” Adam growled.
Ted smirked. “I care for all the children of our community, Adam. And your boy is causing disruptions. The fact that we have a teacher back in the classroom is a wonderful thing, but what’s most important is that everyone is able to get back to work.
That the students are able to get back to learning.
” He turned to face the rest of the room and held up his hands.
“Let’s not allow Mr. Summers’ personal difficulties in raising a well-behaved child to stop us from moving forward with something we know to be right for this town.
The Fosters are a good family, and Jennifer Foster will be a good fit.
Who agrees with me that she will be an appropriate teacher to guide our children? ”
Hands went up around the room, and Adam didn’t even need to count them. He knew already that he had lost.