A Texas Christmas Reunion. Carol Arens

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ crusted the brim of Juliette’s hat. It made her look like an ice queen from a fairy tale.

      “Of all the things I ever imagined you would do with your life, I never once thought you’d become a schoolmaster.”

      “You imagined my life?” Judging by the way she glanced suddenly away, he probably ought to have kept that thought to himself—even if it did make him feel a bit like crowing.

      Juliette had thought of him over the years! Finding that out was worth coming home for, all on its own.

      “I’m sure I’m not the only one, Trea. You did have a reputation.”

      “Still do, I imagine.” He shrugged. It was a fact. “I didn’t imagine being a schoolteacher, either, not for a long time. I spent a couple of years carrying on same as I did here. Then I met a man. He taught school. Mr. Newman was his name. He told me he used to be like me, swore we were kindred spirits. He saw inside me, knew I wanted to make up for the past and showed me how.”

      The way she looked over at him, not a hint of condemnation in her blue eyes, made him glad he’d worked so hard to get back here. Every hour spent studying by lamplight in the livery shed had been worth it.

      “So, here I am. Following in his footsteps, I reckon.”

      “I’m glad you came home.”

      So was he, even more than he’d expected.

      “I bought a house not far from here, right in town, so I’ll be a regular customer at your café.”

      Approaching the front door, he was glad for such a place to have his meals. Glancing through the windows, he saw how warm and inviting the café looked. With the wind picking up and the temperature dropping, warm was going to be a fine thing.

      “Customers are always welcome. Which house did you purchase?” she asked, peeling the blanket off the babies and scooping them up, one in each arm.

      “The Morrison place. A quarter mile past the schoolhouse. I recall that it was a nice home.”

      “Well, yes...the Morrison place was very nice, once.” She muttered something under her breath that he didn’t catch, then said, “We all wondered who bought it.”

      He opened the front door, noticed the lingering scent of soap as Juliette passed in front of him. Picking up the baby buggy, he carried it inside. He reckoned Juliette would not appreciate having muddy wheels leaving a mess on her highly polished floor.

      It was odd, but he could swear she was frowning. Blamed if he knew why, what he might have said or done. Until now, she’d been nothing but friendly and smiling.

      By the time he set the buggy in a corner and closed the front door, her troubled expression had passed.

      The smile he remembered from years ago was back on her face as she answered the greeting of a young girl sitting at a table near the window.

      No, not the same smile, quite, but more mature. Clearly, she’d lived tragedy, embraced joy and come out of it with more inner beauty than he could imagine.

      Watching her glance down at her son, smile and coo—yes, he was certain he had never seen anyone more lovely in his life.

      No pampered lady, this, with a maid to tend her needs. As far as he could tell, Juliette did it all on her own.

      But, of course, hadn’t she always? With her mother gone of influenza when Juliette was young, it had fallen upon her to care for both herself and her father.

      While other twelve-year-olds were being dressed in ruffles and bows by their mothers, Juliette had been left to figure it out on her own.

      As children they’d had that in common—growing up without a mother. It was a hard thing for a girl. Just as hard for a boy.

      The squeak of a door hinge drew his attention from the past to the here and now.

      A young woman hustled out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a well-used apron that looked too long on her petite frame.

      She stopped short, glancing between him and Juliette with a smile.

      “Good evening, sir,” she said. “You’ve come at a good time. It’s quiet now. All the folks from the train have come and gone. What can I get for you?”

      The girl sitting at the table drummed the end of a pencil on the cover of a book while she stared at him in open curiosity.

      “Rose, Cora.” Juliette tipped her head toward the girl wearing the apron, then toward the child. “Please meet my friend, Mr. Culverson.”

      Rose’s smile fell and her brows shot up like a pair of arrows touching tips.

      Cora clenched her pencil, her fingertips going white.

      “I knew it!” The child’s eyes grew round as a pair of full moons. “The wicked son come home to take up with his pa and wreak havoc on us all.”

      Funny how the prospect of his evil intentions seemed to delight her more than frighten her.

      Truly, he hadn’t expected to be welcomed home with open arms right off. But to be looked at so suspiciously by one of his pupils before she ever set foot in the classroom? It was disheartening.

      “Cora McAllister! Mind your tongue.”

      “I apologize,” Cora said with a deep sigh, then focused a glare on her sister. “But you know as well as I do, Rose, it’s all everyone is talking about.”

      “Not everyone. Trea, would you mind holding my sweet boy? He’s getting heavier every day.”

      Juliette placed the baby in his arms. He thought she intended the gesture as a demonstration that she believed him worthy of the honor. Something shifted inside of him. He wasn’t sure what it was or what it meant, only that it made him feel warm inside.

      “That’s true.” Cora tapped her pencil on her chin. “It’s mostly the women Juliette’s age who have been saying it. And a few men who are jealous of your handsome looks. It’s what the ladies say, at any rate. Naturally, I’m far too young to take note of such a fact on my own. Sheriff Hank has a bit to say, too, but he only wants to catch you at some evil deed so that he can look reliable. Although, I doubt it will help.”

      “Cora! What did I just tell you not half a second ago?” Rose looked stricken. He didn’t remember her, but she would have been very young when he left Beaumont.

      “I apologize again. On occasion I say the first thing that pops into my mind. My sister says I lack maturity. I don’t mind so much because I’m afraid I will be stifled by it. From what folks say, you were not a bit stifled. And really—truly—I do admire that.”

      “In that case I will do my utmost not to stifle you, Miss McAllister.”

      “I don’t know how you could, since—” She gasped suddenly, dropped the pencil. It rolled off the table and came to rest at the toe of his boot.

      Stooping, he carefully cradled the infant boy to his chest. He snatched the pencil off the floor and handed it back СКАЧАТЬ