Dorothy Clark by Falling for the Teacher

Author:Falling for the Teacher
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Dinner felt wrong. Sadie put down her fork and glanced at the empty chair across the table. She’d become accustomed to Cole sitting there—to the sound of his deep voice as he engaged in conversation with Poppa and Nanna. Not with her, of course. She’d been cold and terse in any response she’d made to him when he’d tried. Guilt reared, an unwelcome addition to the meal sitting in her stomach.

I’ve never blamed you for distrusting me, Sadie.

He’d been so kind when she apologized last night. But he wasn’t here today. Of course, there was no need. Her grandfather sat at the head of the table in his rolling chair, a glimmer of his old self shining in his eyes. Cole had given him back at least a measure of his independence—and had gained back a portion of his own in doing so.

She folded her napkin and placed it on the table, looked to her grandmother and smiled. “Gertrude baked maids of honor for our dessert, Nanna. Would you like me to serve them now?”

“I believe we’ll wait and have them later with Pastor Calvert and Willa, Sadie. He’ll be paying his Sunday call soon.”

“Oh, no! I forgot I promised Willa white cookies!” She shot to her feet and started gathering up the dishes.

Her grandmother stood and grasped her wrist. “You go start the cookies, Sadie. I’ll bring the dishes along.”

“But Poppa—”

He shook his head and smiled. “Don’t need...help. I’m going to...sitting room and...read my...Bible.” He placed his palm against the table edge and pushed his chair backward, then grasped the lever and propelled himself toward the door.

Poppa didn’t need help, and Nanna had remembered about the pastor’s visit. Thank You, Lord. She cleared the lump from her throat. “I’ll carry these in with me, Nanna.” She picked up the plates she’d stacked and hurried for the kitchen.

* * *

Sadie placed the last of the cooled cookies into the tin and turned to survey the clean kitchen. Nanna had washed, dried and put away the dishes—once. Had whatever been vexing her mind healed? Please, Lord, let it be so. Let it be more than simply a good day.

She sighed and removed her apron, hung it on its peg and rubbed cream into her hands. The fresh, warm breeze coming in the window beckoned. She smoothed her hair back, tugged the waist of her gold-on-gold embroidered cotton gown into place, then crumbled a dry piece of bread in her palm and went out onto the porch.

Chickadees called to one another and flitted from tree to tree. She stepped to the railing and held out her hand. “Chicka-dee-dee-dee. Chicka-dee-dee-dee.” One of the tiny, black-capped birds flew to a branch of the lilac bush beside the porch and looked at her. She smiled at the curious tilt of its head, held perfectly still and spoke in a low, quiet voice. “Come along, now. You know you want to.” The friendly little bird hopped to the end of the branch, then spread its wings and flew to her hand, took a crumb into its beak and flew back to the branch.

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