The Baby Bequest. Lyn Cote
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The men washed their hands at the school pump and gathered around the tables. While the women served the meal, the older children were permitted to sit by their fathers and listen to the men discuss the progress of the school building.
Despite her decision to keep her distance, Ellen tracked Mr. Lang’s whereabouts and listened to catch his words.
For distraction, she insisted on donning an apron and whisking away empty bowls to replenish them. As she approached Mr. Lang’s table, she heard him laugh—his laughter was deep and rich. Just as she reached him with a heaping bowl of green salad, he turned and nearly swept the bowl from her arms.
“Tut mir leid! I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, reaching out and steadying her hold on the bowl with his hands over hers.
The unexpected contact made her smother a gasp.
“No harm done.” She set the bowl on the table and stepped back, slightly breathless. Perspiration dotted his hairline and his thick, tawny hair had curled in the humidity. She nearly brushed back a curl that had strayed onto his forehead. The very thought of it made her turn away as quickly as possible to get back to work.
As she made her way to the next table, she noticed Mrs. Ashford’s daughter pause before slipping into the trees. The girl looked over her shoulder in a furtive move that announced she was up to no good.
Ellen recalled how Gunther had earlier been staring at this girl. A kind of inevitable presentiment draped over Ellen’s mind. She glanced around. Gunther was nowhere to be seen.
What to do? After listening to Mrs. Ashford’s opinion of foreigners, Ellen didn’t want to think of the repercussions in this small town if someone found the two young people together. And she didn’t want people gossiping about Amanda—she knew how that stung.
She excused herself and followed Amanda into the cover of the trees, threading her way through the thick pines and oaks. She hoped the young couple hadn’t gone too far.
She also hoped she wouldn’t find them kissing.
When she glimpsed Amanda’s navy blue plaid dress through the trees, the young girl was testing the flexed muscle of Gunther’s upper arm. A timeless scene—a young man showing off his strength to a young, admiring girl. Innocent and somewhat sweet. However, that wouldn’t be how the Ashfords would view it.
At that moment, she heard footsteps behind her. She swung around to find Kurt Lang facing her. She jerked backward in surprise.
Before she could say anything, Mr. Lang glimpsed the couple over her shoulder. His face darkened. He opened his mouth.
Impetuously, without thinking about her actions, Ellen shocked herself by reaching up and gently pressing a hand to Mr. Kurt Lang’s lips.
* * *
The lady’s featherlike touch threw Kurt off balance. He grappled with the cascade of sensations sparked by her fingers against his lips.
“Please, you’ll embarrass them,” she whispered, quickly removing her hand as her face flushed.
She was so close, her light fragrance filled his head, making him think of spring. He fought free of it. “They need to be embarrassed,” he replied emphatically. “I see you follow the girl Gunther likes. Then I see Gunther is not at table. He is not to flirt with this girl. He is too young.”
“But do you want everyone to hear, to know?” she cautioned.
Kurt thought about the wagging tongues, and realized she was right. “No. But I must discipline him. He must do what he is supposed to.”
The lady bit her lower lip as if she wanted to say more but then she fell back.
“Gunther.” He snapped his brother’s name as a reprimand.
In an instant, Amanda dropped her hand, blushing. Gunther jerked back and glared.
“We’re not doing anything wrong,” Amanda said in a rush.
The schoolteacher preceded him toward the couple. “No, you aren’t,” she said evenly, “but slipping away like this would not please your parents, Amanda. Why don’t you go back before you’re missed?”
Kurt admired her aplomb. She was definitely a lady of unusual quality.
“Yes, ma’am.” Amanda snuck a last look at Gunther and then hurried away.
The lady schoolteacher sent him an apologetic look filled with an appeal for the young couple. Why did women want to coddle children?
When the two females had moved out of earshot, Kurt told his brother what he thought of such a meeting. The boy flushed bright red and began to answer back.
Kurt cut him off. “You embarrass me in front of your teacher.”
Instead of apologizing, his brother made a rude sound and stalked away. Kurt proceeded back to the tables.
The other men were finished eating. With the hot sun blazing down, they lingered at the shaded tables, talking and teasing one another about minor mishaps during the morning’s work. Kurt envied their easygoing good humor, wishing he could participate, but inside, he churned like the Atlantic he’d crossed only months before.
He could not afford to lose his brother as he’d lost his father.
An older man sitting in the shade away from the tables in a rough-hewn wheelchair with his feet propped up motioned for Kurt to come to him.
Kurt obeyed the summons. “Sir?”
The older man reached out his hand. “You are Mr. Kurt Lang from Germany. I’ve seen you come to worship and I’ve been wanting to meet you, but my days of calling on folk are over. I’m Old Saul.”
“I hear you were pastor before Noah Whitmore.” Kurt shook the man’s hand and sat on a stool beside his chair. “I’m pleased to meet you, sir.”
“Just call me Old Saul.”
Kurt digested this. People here thought differently about social status. Few wanted titles of respect beyond Mr. and Mrs. or Miss. It puzzled him. But he was never left in doubt of their low opinion of him, an immigrant.
Old Saul nodded toward the lady schoolteacher. “I didn’t think I’d still be here to greet Miss Thurston, but God hasn’t decided to call me home just yet.” Then he looked directly into Kurt’s eyes. “You carry a heavy load. I see it. You’re strong but some burdens need God’s strength.”
The old man looked frail but his voice sounded surprisingly strong. Kurt didn’t know what to make of what he’d said, yet for the first time in many days, Kurt relaxed, feeling the man’s acceptance deep within his spirit.
“It’s hard starting out in a new place,” Old Saul continued, “but you’ll do fine. Just ask God to help you when you need it. God’s strength is stronger than any human’s and God is a very present help in times of trouble, Mr. Kurt Lang. Yes, He is.” Then the older man’s gaze followed the lady teacher.
Kurt could think of nothing to say so he watched the schoolteacher, too. Even though she was dressed simply, she had that flair that lent her a more fashionable look. He thought of her following the Ashford girl and his brother, trying to protect them from gossip. She must have a caring heart.
Miss Ellen Thurston, the lady schoolteacher.
Kurt drew in a breath and before anyone caught him staring at her, he turned his attention back to Old Saul. She is far above me, a poor farmer who speaks bad English.
Chapter Three
Ellen’s heart beat fast as she prepared to ring the handbell on the first day of school. Children, obviously scrubbed and combed and wearing freshly ironed clean clothing, had begun gathering over the past half hour and milled around the school entrance.
Then she glimpsed trouble. Mr. Lang marched into the clearing, his face a thundercloud. He grasped