Broken Limbs, Mended Hearts Read online

  She chugged up the hill toward the giant oak tree, her skirts swishing beneath her trim waist. He thought of calling out but feared that might speed her steps. Instead he ran until he was at her side and could match her stride.

  She lit into him right off the bat. “Why are you here? Haven’t you done enough?”

  “The wager with your pa wasn’t my idea. He suggested it. And I thought Dr. Paulson’s offer was most generous.”

  “Very generous indeed!” Her cheeks were flushed with anger.

  Adam understood why she’d been mad at him for the Jimmy Blaggart incident, but he didn’t deserve her ire over this. “I don’t see how it matters. Even if your pa loses, he’s not required to make any sort of payment. The whole town will benefit if Dr. Paulson brings in someone to replace Miss Hoyt.”

  Bella stopped. The way she stared made him feel that he’d left some breakfast stuck on his face.

  “You don’t know, do you?” she asked.

  “Know what?”

  An eyebrow arched. “Miss Hoyt retired. She doesn’t teach anymore.”

  “Not that she did any teaching when we were in school.” He grinned. “Who’d they get to replace her?”

  Bella’s hand went to her hip, and she tapped her foot. “Someone who was looking for work when an injury made her chosen profession impossible. Someone who never took her teacher’s exam because she’s a known failure at tests. Someone who was only a mediocre student but has found that she enjoys teaching.”

  Whoever this woman was, Bella was hopping mad on her account. An injured woman who was a mediocre student . . . ?

  Adam’s gut twisted like it had gone through a wringer. “Bella,” he groaned. All the anguish he’d felt when he’d seen her in pain, all the shame he’d carried as he waited for her wrist to heal, came flooding back. “You’re the teacher? What about your sewing?”

  “Sewing?” She scoffed. “Try making those tiny stitches when your hand doesn’t work as it should. Try to make a living when you can only hold a needle for half an hour before the ache becomes unbearable.”

  “It was an accident.” He swallowed hard. That was why she didn’t want the thread he’d brought.

  “And now you’re going to push me from another job,” she continued. “Is that what you want, Adam? For me to stay out at the farm, trying to come up with work so I’m not a burden on Ma and Pa?”

  While the wager with her father hadn’t been his idea, he’d be blamed, sure as the world.

  “I’ll tell Dr. Paulson that there’s no need for the teacher. If you’re doing a good job and are willing to get your exam . . . ?”

  She winced. Flinging her hand through the air, she turned to go up the road, parting the tall grass on either side of the wagon ruts.

  Adam pursued. “I’m trying to make amends,” he said. “I tried three years ago to help you, and I’ll try again now.”

  “Your help brings great harm.”

  “If you have your certificate, then there’s no reason for Dr. Paulson to bring a new teacher. The school board can easily refuse his offer.”

  “But I don’t have it, and I can’t get it.”

  “Why not? Aren’t you healed enough to hold a pen now?”

  “It’s not about my injury. It’s about the tests. I can’t pass that exam. Any exam I’ve ever passed was only passed by the skin of my teeth. You wouldn’t understand how nervous I get. It makes me sick just thinking—” She clutched at the bow on her collar. “Seamstresses don’t have to take tests, but I’m not a seamstress, and thanks to you, I won’t be a teacher either. The only way out of this is if Pa wins, and maybe he will.”

  “He won’t.” Now Adam knew what a doctor felt when telling a patient their dire diagnosis. “There’s no way he can win, and even if he could, it wouldn’t be good. If I lose, I can never come back to Oak Springs. I could never see—” His eyes flashed to her clear, honest face. “I couldn’t see anyone from here again. No one, Bella. Besides, I need the work. The next payment on my machine is due in a few weeks. I don’t have time to try another town. I need to start harvesting now.”

  “Then you have a choice to make,” she said.

  And those were her last words before she left him at the tree, wondering why God had chosen him to ruin her life yet again.

  The words in the composition booklet blurred before her eyes. Bella dropped Freda’s work on her kitchen table and looked out the window again. Where was her father? It was unlike him to be gone from home this late. She rubbed her bare foot on the bird dog beneath the table as she pondered her father’s role. Why had he made this wager? Did he regret it? Or maybe Adam and this loathsome Dr. Paulson had underestimated her father. Perhaps she was bothered over nothing. Perhaps her father would win, and her fears would be put to naught.

  The door opened, and her mother came in with a pail of milk from the evening milking. “He’s coming through the east field,” she said, not explaining how she knew that Bella was watching for him.

  Bella bolted out of her seat and dashed out the door with the dog at her heels. Trailing his fingers through the wheat, Ben Eden walked with his back straight and his head high. They weren’t in trouble. Adam Fisher might have caught them off guard, but the Edens wouldn’t be shaken. Bella waited until her father reached the lawn before running to him and giving him a big hug.

  “That’s a nice surprise.” He chuckled as he wrapped his lean arms around her. “Let me guess, you’re concerned about the wager. Does your mother know?”

  “I haven’t said anything to her, but she’s going to know.”

  “I challenged Adam over his threshing machine and nothing else, daughter. The clause about the teacher was added later, but don’t you worry. You won’t lose your job.”

  “I’ve done well by the students,” she said. “The parents are pleased with their progress.”

  “But this know-­it-­all professor comes in and acts like we’re ignorant country folk. He carries on like taking a test and getting a certificate makes you a good teacher. I’d rather have you at the front of a classroom than any fool he trained. To tell you the truth, I’m flummoxed by the Fisher boy. I’d always thought he was sweet on you.”

  Bella looked up at her father’s face, certain she would spot a teasing smirk.

  There was no smile. “You don’t believe me?” he asked.

  “It’s impossible,” she said. “He doesn’t think of me at all.” Or did he? Adam had been underfoot a lot since he’d come back to town. Bringing nothing but misery, but still . . . “At any rate, I doubt folks are taking him or his professor seriously.”

  “But they might.” Pa tugged on his beard. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to go ahead and get that exam done so you have your certificate. That’d show them that you were good enough all along.”

  Her arms dropped, and she stepped out of reach. “But you’re going to win, and then I won’t have to worry about it.”

  “Yes, I’m going to win. There’s no way I’m letting that rascal get the best of me. Don’t you worry. He’ll soon be gone, and everything will be alright.”

  But everything wasn’t alright. Adam Fisher was here, and she feared he wouldn’t leave until everything was ruined.

  six

  In the three days since he’d spoken to Bella, Adam had been looking for the right moment to get Dr. Paulson to change the terms of the wager. He reckoned that since Mr. Eden hadn’t expected his proposal to threaten his daughter’s employment, he would be agreeable to a renegotiation. Adam decided to broach the subject while he and Dr. Paulson took soil samples at Gabe Whitlock’s farm.

  “When the wheat is ready, we’ll have that contest,” Adam said to Gabe and Mr. Longstreet. “But I’m amenable to changing the terms. If my thresher is faster than Mr. Eden and his team, I’ll have work, and that’s all that matters. It’s none of our concern who’s teaching school in Oak Springs.” He held out a watertight bag to accept the spadeful of soil from Dr. Paulson.

  “Afraid y
ou’re going to lose?” Gabe dipped his neckerchief into a bucket of water, then slapped it on his neck.

  Adam folded the flap of the bag closed. “No, but I don’t see what business it is of ours who teaches in Oak Springs.”

  “We’re sowing progress, Adam.” Dr. Paulson cleaned his sample-­collecting spade with a stiff brush. “Providing an educated teacher will bring the fruit.”

  “But Miss Eden has done well by my girl,” Mr. Longstreet said. “She’s learning up a storm.”

  “Bella is a good girl,” said Gabe, “but put her up agin someone like Dr. Paulson here, and it ain’t no contest.”

  “Dr. Paulson isn’t going to teach at the school,” Adam said. “The offer would be to send a student from the college. Most likely someone with no teaching experience. I don’t see how it would be an improvement, honestly.”

  Dr. Paulson put a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “He’s being modest. Always afraid that people will think he’s putting on airs, but the truth is that the years that Adam spent at the agricultural college expanded his options. An educated teacher could do the same for the students here at Oak Springs. I’ve had a hard time convincing him, but I think it’s a gift that the townsfolk will appreciate.”

  “That’s the truth of it,” Gabe said. “Some of us were talking, and with the way the town is growing, we’ve got to start thinking about the future.” He turned to Adam. “Don’t you be changing the rules, though. Your rich friend here isn’t weaseling out of this. He promised us a new teacher, and the only way you’re getting out of it is if you lose the contest.”

  That hadn’t worked as well as Adam had hoped. He’d have to try another approach, and that was to go straight to the victim herself.

  He managed to send Dr. Paulson back to the boardinghouse without him so he could meet Bella after school. He waited in the shade of the smithy across the road until the students had stopped pouring out of the schoolroom, then headed to the schoolyard.

  The door of the schoolhouse was open, but it wasn’t until he stepped inside that he could see her at her desk. Her head was bent over a well-­worn book. She held her wrist cradled in her hand as she leaned her forearms on the pages to prop the book open. It was a pose that was becoming familiar.

  He shifted his weight until the loose board in the doorway squawked.

  She raised her eyes, ready to politely address her interrupter, but then saw who it was. The cheerful tilt to her eyes evened, and she turned her attention back to the book.

  Seeing that no invitation was forthcoming, Adam strolled inside. Hands in his pockets, he took a long look around the room. “You’ve made some improvements.”

  “No more smoking stove,” she mumbled over her pages.

  “But the board in the doorway still creaks.”

  “If I fix that, how will I know when someone is sneaking up on me?”

  Grasping a desk in the front row, Adam squeezed his body into the seat normally reserved for the youngest of students. “I can’t believe I ever fit into these seats.”

  “You didn’t,” she said. “When you came to town, you were already grown.” She put her finger on the book and looked up. Her blue eyes flashed with annoyance. “Is there something I can help you with, or are you here to bedevil my last days in this position?”

  “I’m here to help you.”

  “How?”

  He shifted, and the whole desk moved. “I’m here to see how I can help you. I have a history of being a decent problem solver.”

  “You have a stronger history as a problem causer.”

  He dipped his head. “Fair enough. I caused this problem, so the least I can do is try to fix it.” He leaned forward, the desk tipped, and he nearly toppled over. He shoved his legs forward to stop his fall and banged his knees against the desktop. The pain was worth the softening of her scowl. “Can you tell me what’s keeping you from taking the exam and getting your certificate? Is there a fee?”

  “I can pay it.”

  “Where do you have to go to take the test?”

  “Anderson. That’s not the problem.”

  Her desk was elevated on a platform, causing Adam to envy whoever had this chair. Old Miss Hoyt hadn’t looked nearly as alluring at the front of the classroom.

  He pried himself out of the desk and unfolded his body before approaching her. “Multiplication tables?” he said. Despite her attempt to cover the pages, the graph was easily seen. “Are you studying?”

  “Yes, but it’s pointless.”

  “I could help you. We could drill, and you’d get them soon enough.”

  “I know them. I’ve known them since I was eight years old. It’s not that I can’t learn them—­it’s that I can’t take a test.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t you remember how I did on tests? I could write a composition without a mistake, but when I got up for the spelling bee, I’d go out the first round. I’d make the highest marks on my arithmetic assignments, but when doing a race at the blackboard, I couldn’t do simple math. I’m like a racehorse that gets a cramp before every run.”

  Adam had never considered this complication before. He’d always excelled under pressure. He might be an average student, but when push came to shove, he’d pull out a bit of information or a new angle that he didn’t know he had in him. He’d never considered that someone could perform less than they’d prepared. It didn’t make sense, but he owed it to Bella to listen.

  “But if you knew it was really important that you pass . . .”

  She moaned. “That makes it even worse. The more important it is, the worse I perform. I’m so frustrated with myself. I should’ve taken the test as soon as my wrist had healed. It didn’t really matter then whether I passed or not, but now, with everyone looking, I feel sick just thinking about it.”

  He called himself a problem solver, but he didn’t know what he could do about this. Things that challenged him to work harder only paralyzed her. It was a conundrum.

  With his hands spread wide and his elbows locked, Adam leaned over her desk as if her open arithmetic book offered the answers. He was too close for her to ignore, and too handsome for her not to notice, but Bella reminded herself that the gaudiest candy often gave you the worst stomachache. She diverted her gaze from his proximity and studied the picture of George Washington hanging over the pegboard.

  Usually Bella was the one trying to help students overcome the stumbling blocks to their education. She wasn’t accustomed to being the subject of intervention. From the set of his fine jaw—­she was looking at him again—­it was clear Adam wasn’t going to let her beg off with excuses. She wanted to succeed, but accepting his help would most certainly mean disappointing him. For reasons she couldn’t explain, failing him felt as painful as losing her job.

  “You’re under no obligation,” she said. “I feel better now that I know you don’t feel compelled to rob me of my livelihood.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Even in disbelief, he was as finely wrought as an archangel. Or at least what she imagined an archangel to look like.

  She held up her hand to stop him. “It’s been bad luck. The two of us should never meet. Nothing good can come of it.”

  “I disagree. I think something good can come. Maybe something neither of us expected.”

  Bella’s head lifted. Had she imagined that change in tone? She was good at imagining, so she rarely trusted her instincts. Before she could decide if there had been any sentiment behind the comment, he’d walked to the blackboard, making it impossible to see his face.

  He picked up the chalk and, going to the top corner of the board, wrote in crowded, slightly out-­of-­control penmanship:

  I will not provoke Miss Eden.

  I will not provoke Miss Eden.

  I will not . . .

  “Provoke me to what?” she asked.

  “To anger? To despair?” He turned and set the chalk down with a grin. “You don’t assign sentences, do you?”

  “Of course. But not that o
ne.” Her eyes fell guiltily to the book on her desk. She should be studying, but Adam was once again interfering with her plans. “What do you propose?” She threw her shoulders back and braced herself for his suggestions. “I know the material. Studying doesn’t seem to be the answer.”

  “We practice taking the test.”

  She shook her head. “As long as I know it’s just practice, it’s not going to work. There has to be a consequence for it.”

  “So you take a practice test, and if you fail, then something bad happens?” The corners of his mouth turned down as he thought it over.

  “I don’t know what would cause the most anxiety.” She drummed her fingers against the desk. “I get anxious when I think of a flood wiping out our house, but since we live on a hill, that won’t happen, and it seems a steep penalty for failing a practice exam. Measles—I worry about getting those too.”

  “I’m not going to give you measles. That’s out of the question.”

  “Well, maybe I could pay you money if I fail. No, you probably wouldn’t accept. I could give some money to someone. If there was a needy family . . .”

  “Your donation could go to paying the new teacher’s salary.” He held up his hands as she gaped. “Just pulling your leg. How about if you fail on this practice, you have to buy me a stick of peppermint candy?”

  “A stick of candy?” Just thinking about failing was already making her skin feel clammy. Even the price of a stick of candy was enough to addle her. “Let’s do it. The subjects I’ll be tested on are spelling, arithmetic, geography, history, and English grammar.”

  “Since we haven’t had any time to prepare, it sounds like spelling will be the easiest to start with.” He picked up the dictionary that Max had consulted earlier. “Twenty words. You need to get fifteen right. Does that sound reasonable?”

  Bella swiped her tablet of paper off her desk and went to the back of the room, where the chairs were larger and more comfortable.

  She stretched her hand, dismayed that she could already feel the sweat forming between her fingers. This is important. If I fail, I will lose my job, and everyone will know that I was unqualified from the beginning. Her pulse quickened as she looked at the formidable blank page. Five words. She could only miss five words. Five out of twenty. It sounded impossible.