Sycamore Hill by Francine Rivers

Author:Francine Rivers
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: 45novels
Published: 2012-03-11T02:51:56+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

When I came down over the hill and saw the schoolhouse, I was struck by the silence. It was so quiet, my ears rang. Even the crickets and the owl that inhabited the oak seemed hesitant to perform their customary night concert. I stood motionless in the dark shadows of the oak, feeling vaguely uneasy but unable to explain the sensation. I stared at the lonely, dark building that was now my home.

How ironic, I thought, that during the daylight hours from Monday through Friday the place resounded with the chatter and laughter of children at work and play. But at nights and on the weekends it sat in lonely desolation, inhabited by only me, Orphan and some active, noisy mice.

The chill I had felt at the grave returned when I saw a faint illumination move across a side window of the schoolhouse. For a moment I had thought I had seen a woman. Then I admonished myself for being so foolish and letting my fanciful imagination control my good sense. What would another women be doing in the schoolhouse this late at night?

I walked across the open area between the oak and the back steps. As I started up, I heard something in my room. There was a scurrying and a desperate mewling sound. Orphan, I thought in alarm, and opened the door quickly, wondering what was the matter with her.

The cat gave a panicky yowl as she saw her escape made possible, and she darted past me. Turning, I saw her bound down the steps and race madly across the grass, clawing her way up the oak.

“Orphan, what is the matter with you?” I asked, reaching inside the doorway to grab a match. I struck it, lit the lantern and glanced quickly around the room. After finding everything in good order, I looked back out toward the oak.

“Come on down, you silly cat,” I beckoned. She refused to budge from her high perch, and I wondered if she could get down. She made a plaintive meow.

“You got yourself up there, so I’m afraid you’ll have to find your own way down,” I called to her.

Orphan had no intention of coming down from the tree. I gave a faint shrug and quietly closed the door behind me. Sometimes that cat acted very strange indeed. I despaired of ever getting her to catch the schoolroom’s resident mice; she never wanted to enter the classroom at all.

My room seemed colder than the night air outside. Rubbing my arms, I moved to the stove. There were still red-hot coals burning, and it seemed strange that their heat had not kept the room from growing so chilly. I picked up several more pieces of wood and stoked the coals, then dropped them in to burn. Holding my hands over the fire, I warmed myself. I thought of my conversation with Ross Persall and smiled slightly. Tonight had been a pleasantly quiet interlude with a very handsome and charming man. Tomorrow would be another demanding, yet exhilarating day with my children.

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