Sycamore Hill (42 page)

Had I grown so weak? I fought to drag the mattress across the
floor to the back door. I coughed, my lungs burning with the acrid air. It was
hot, and the flames were illuminating the frame of the classroom doorway. In a
minute this room would be engulfed.

Where was the rain now? God, please, let it rain again! I prayed
fervently, all the while jerking frantically at the mattress. I managed somehow
to drag it out onto the steps. Getting it down to the ground was easier, but it
was a muscle-aching chore to drag it through the wet grass to a safe distance.
Only when I stopped did I notice that the back end of the mattress had caught
fire. I beat it out with my hands.

Then, blessedly, it did begin to rain. A deluge fell from the
black clouds. Fire and water sizzled and hissed in mortal combat.

I sank down, my body shaking with physical exhaustion. I stared up
bleakly at the schoolhouse, which was still burning in the torrent of rain. The
roof was almost gone. The flames reached out the windows, blackening the sides
of the building. There would be little worth salvaging by the time the storm
extinguished the fire. I had dropped Ellen Greer’s plaques in my room.

In my mind’s eye I saw my burned books; the children’s art; the
blackened, destroyed desks and walls. My head was beginning to throb, and I
groaned, pressing my fingers to my temples. My face felt stiff and swollen. I
sank farther down as though the rain were a weight on my shoulders. Finally,
keeling over, I lay numb on the grassy slope beneath the oak.

“Abby....” A deep, anxious voice entered my consciousness. “Abby.”
I felt strong hands on me, turning me onto my back. The rain was cold on my
face. The man lifted me in his arms. As he carried me, my head bounced against
the hard muscles of his shoulder. My eyes flickered open, and I saw people
standing around and then walking alongside as I was carried down the street
high in his arms. I heard people talking.

“Is she going to be all right?”

“What happened to her face?”

‘Tom Hallender died. Burned to death!”

“The sheriff admitted he had the money! It was in the mattress
Miss McFarland dragged out of the schoolhouse!”

The man carried me on down Main Street, with people following. The
voices rose and fell around me as I wavered in and out of consciousness. My
head hurt, and I groaned. The man’s arms tightened protectively, drawing me
still closer to the warmth of his body. “You’ll be all right,” he whispered,
his voice hoarse with worry.

“You can’t take her there!” someone said in protest. “Get her out
of the rain! Maybe Sadie will let her use Miss Greer’s old back room.”

“I’ve got a new boarder. Sorry.”

I was cold and shivering. The rain kept coming, but it had
softened to a drizzle. I could feel my nightgown clinging to my chilled skin.
My protector carried me on, effortlessly. I could hear the rapid beat of his
heart. I felt it against my breast as he held me cradled next to him like a
child.

A door opened and closed behind us. I heard noise and more voices,
then silence. Someone touched my brow with gentle fingers. Through a haze of
pain and exhaustion I opened my eyes. My vision was blurred.

Marba Lane moved closer, her soft fingers pressing the damp hair
away from my cheek. “Put her in my room, Ross. I’ll take care of her.”

I heard no more.

Doctor Patrick Kirk’s head was slightly bowed, and his eyes were
narrowed with concentration as he listened through his stethoscope to my
rapidly drumming heart. I knew how fast it was racing, and I also knew that he
could tell just how frightened and tense I was at this examination. Would he
begin to wonder why?

I watched the doctor’s face closely for some indication of what he
was thinking. Finally, he straightened up, pulling the medical instrument from
his ears and letting it dangle against his white shirt and tweed vest. He
looked at my distraught face.

“I want you to understand that anything, absolutely anything I
learn from my examinations is strictly confidential.”

The flood of color washed in and out of my cheeks like waves on a
white-sand beach. Then I swallowed hard. “You know.”

“That you’re pregnant? Yes. From my first examination. About seven
weeks, I’d say.”

I closed my eyes tightly. “Will the baby be all right?” I asked,
thinking of the events of the last few days and the violence and physical
exertion of the previous night.

“Then you want this child?”

I opened my eyes and looked at him. My hand crept down to my
abdomen, and I thought of Jordan. I loved him, but I would never share his life
except through this baby I carried. “Yes, I want this baby very much,” I
whispered.

“In that case you were very lucky. You’ve a strong constitution.
The baby is well-set. I don’t think you’ll have any problems.” He smiled
kindly. “I should tell you that I suspected you were pregnant the night of the
Christmas program.”

“Yes?” My eyes widened. “How?”

The doctor’s hand came up as his fingers lightly traced beneath my
eyes to my cheekbones. “I noticed the faintest mask of pregnancy. I doubt
anyone else would have paid any attention. But I guess I’m always on the
lookout for new patients.” He smiled like an old friend, and my tension left
me. I could talk to this man without fear or embarrassment.

“How soon will I be able to travel?” I asked.

Dr. Kirk frowned, then he rubbed his chin. “What about the
father?”

“The father doesn’t know. I don’t think he’d want to, Doctor,” I
said, anticipating what he would say next. “And... and this situation is more
my fault than his. He doesn’t love me, and I wouldn’t want him to feel he had
to marry me.” The words dragged out painfully.

“How far are you intending to travel?” he asked after a careful
study of my face and deciding he would not be able to change my mind. My eyes
burned.

“As far as possible.” Marba had come into the room this morning to
tell me that there had been a $1,500 reward for information leading to the
capture of the bank robbers and return of the money. That would take me quite a
distance and leave me enough to live on until the baby was born.

“How are you traveling?”

“By coach some of the way, then by train.”

“Well, so long as it isn’t by horseback and you’re not going too
long a distance by coach, I don’t see any problem. Just some common sense, and
let your body be the guide. If you start aching or cramping, rest. Don’t push
yourself!” He smiled wryly then. “Try to keep the worrying to a minimum, if
possible. And as soon as you get settled, contact a physician.”

“Thank you.” I stared down at my clutched hands, tears welled into
my eyes.

He patted my shoulder soothingly. “I wish you luck, Miss
McFarland.” He left.

I lay back in bed, feeling the heavy weight of my situation on my
chest. The door cracked slightly, and someone tapped.

“Mind if I come in for a visit?” Ross asked, entering anyway. He
walked to the bed and drew up a chair. “Doc said you’d be as good as new in a
couple of days.”

I forced a smile. Ross’s face softened, and he picked up my hand.
“You’re beautiful, even with black eyes. How’s your head? Doc said you suffered
a concussion. You have to take it easy for a while. Just lie back and let me
wait on you.” He pressed his mouth against the palm of my hand.

“You’re quite the heroine in town now.” He grinned. “Everyone is
buzzing about how you risked your life to go back into that schoolhouse to drag
out the bank’s money. What are you going to do with the reward? Blow it away on
pretty dresses?”

“I don’t think so.” I smiled. “Probably use it for something more
sensible than that.” I couldn’t tell him yet that I was leaving. I remembered
the tone of his voice as he had lifted me. I remembered flashes of his face
when he lay me on this bed. How I wished Jordan Bennett had looked at me like
that, just once.

“Is the schoolhouse completely destroyed?” I asked, hoping he
would believe the tremor in my voice was due to worry about the fire.

“No. The rain had already pretty well soaked the place before
Hallender accidentally started the fire. The storm put it out in a short time.
There’s not much to salvage, I’m afraid. It’s a shell, though your quarters are
still intact. You aren’t planning to go back there, are you?” He seemed
surprised and disturbed.

“No.” I shook my head. “No, I won’t go back there.”

“I picked up your things. You can stay here as long as you want.”

“I feel awful about putting Marba out of her own bed.”

“Why should you? Marba likes you.” He gave a slight chuckle. “I
think she enjoys playing the role of benevolent nurse.” I did not like his
tone.

“I’m very grateful to her, Ross.”

Ross relented. “Marba’s a good woman.”

“I’m glad you’re aware of that.”

He laughed under his breath. “You sound just like a schoolmarm
when you talk like that.”

“I should.” I smiled slightly.

Ross clasped my hand between his and stared into my eyes, his own
darkening with emotion. “Abigail, I think you know how I feel about you.” I was
unable to keep the dismay from my expression, and he sighed ruefully. “Don’t
say anything right now. We’ll give it a little more time.”

There was nothing time would change in my feelings for Ross
Persall, but I couldn’t tell him that. I hoped he did not feel about me what I
felt for Jordan Bennett. I wouldn’t want anyone to hurt that much. And soon I
would be gone.

“I haven’t thanked you yet,” I stammered self-consciously, wishing
there were some way to make him feel nothing but friendship toward me.

Ross stood looking down at me. “That’s not necessary.”

“I wish there were something I could do.”

Ross leaned down. “There is one thing,” he whispered. “What?”

“Let me kiss you,” he breathed. I liked Ross Persall. I was
grateful to him, but when he put his mouth on mine, I felt nothing but vague
acceptance. His kiss was gentle at first, then he started to probe my lips with
his tongue. I drew away immediately, feeling repulsed. Jordan’s kisses had been
far more intimate, but my reaction had been drastically different. “I’m sorry,”
I murmured, unable to look at him.

He sighed again, resigned. “You really are an innocent. I don’t
believe a man has ever really kissed you before. If you gave me a chance, you
might find you’d like it.”

I was not about to blurt out my knowledge on sexual response.
Better his ego remain intact, than disillusion him about my response to his
kiss. No man would ever touch me again, not in the way Jordan Bennett had. All
I had, I had given. And there was no more for anyone else.

“I think you should let Miss McFarland rest, Ross,” Marba said
from the doorway, her eyes cold and sparkling. Her gaze flickered from my
flushed face to Ross. He walked indolently across the room and paused beside
her, his mouth quirking up at one side in a taunting smile. Then he looked back
at me, his expression tender.

“I’ll be back to see you later.”

Marba shut the door after him with a sharp thud. Then she turned.
I could see nothing but warmth and friendly concern in her smile as she
approached the bed and took the seat that Ross had recently vacated.

“I hope you didn’t misunderstand...” I started, attempting an
explanation for what she had just seen.

“I didn’t. It doesn’t concern me except that I’d hate to see you
get hurt, Miss McFarland.”

“Please, call me Abby.”

Marba smiled and touched my hand. “Abby, then. I like you very
much, you know. But you’re very naive about men, I think. Ross is a little out
of your league.”

“I’m not in love with him,” I told her frankly, hoping it would
allay any of her possible fears or hidden jealousies.

“I’m glad. I’d hate to see you making the same mistakes I did when
I was younger,” she said, her eyes sad. “We women can mistake passionate
embraces for declarations of love.” She shook her head. “Don’t overlook Ross’s
character flaws, Abby. It would be a terrible mistake.”

“Ross has been very kind to me,” I felt impelled to say in his
defense.

“Ross? Kind?” Maitoa raised her brows and gave me a tight smile.
“How very little you know about Ross Persall. I hope you never learn any more
than you know right now.”

After a hearty lunch, which Katrina delivered to my room, I lay
back against the pillows, allowing exhaustion to take over. When I awakened, it
was dark outside. I heard voices in the other room. The door cracked slightly,
and, not wanting to see anyone, I closed my eyes and feigned sleep.

“Leave her alone, Ross,” Marba said sharply, and I heard the door
creak again as he drew it partially closed, turning to answer her.

“Why don’t you butt out, Marba? This isn’t any of your business,”
he said bitingly.

“I like Abby. I don’t want to see you hurt her.”