Beyond This Moment Read online

  But it was his question to her that Molly found most interesting. And compelling.

  She stared, a smile coming to her face. "Dimmi, vuoi imparare l'inglese?"

  "Si, Signora Whitcomb. "Saro bravo, ve to prometto."

  He wanted to learn to speak English, and she had no doubt he would be a good student, as he'd said he would be.

  They arranged their first meeting for an afternoon the coming week, and his face lit when she invited him to meet her at the schoolhouse after classes were dismissed.

  His next question came more slowly, and she sensed it held great importance to him.

  She was touched by the sincerity of his invitation. "Si, Angelo:' She would be honored to come to his home and meet his family soon.

  He dipped his head repeatedly. "Grazie, Signora Whitcomb. Grazie mille."

  They walked together to the edge of town, where he continued on down the road. Molly took the turnoff toward the cabin, eager to get home.

  She was nearly past the schoolhouse when she looked over to see the door ajar. Strange. Maybe Josiah hadn't closed it firmly enough on his last visit. He'd volunteered to hang some maps for her. But it wasn't like him to leave the door unlatched. He was always so thorough in his work.

  Molly climbed the stairs and pushed open the door. She spotted a boy seated at one of the desks toward the front. Hunched over, intent on whatever he was doing, he didn't look up. She took a closer look.

  "Billy?" she asked quietly, not wishing to scare him.

  Billy Bolden jumped up, nearly knocking over the desk. "Dr. Whitcomb!" His face reddened as a book hit the floor with a thwak! "I didn't know you would be in today, ma'am"

  Molly approached, looking around the empty room. "What are you doing here, Billy? And on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, no less:" As if she didn't already have a good idea.

  His gaze darted to the book on the floor. "I'm sorry that I broke the rules by being in here outside of class time, ma'am"

  She smiled in the hope of putting him at ease, more than a little curious as to what book he was reading. "You haven't broken any rules by being here, Billy"

  "Oh yes, ma'am! Pa says I'm not supposed to come in here anytime outside of school hours. He said it's a rule:"

  Molly didn't know of any such rule existing, but she didn't wish to go against the boy's father either. She still wasn't in good standing with Hank Bolden, not since the incident with Angelo Giordano. Every time Mr. Bolden saw her, he gave her a withering glare. She couldn't understand how a man as hard-edged and hostile as Hank Bolden could have a son as kind and thoughtful as Billy.

  Then again, perhaps she did know.

  Billy's mother, Ida, was Billy in female form. Ida Bolden had brought by dinner one afternoon last week with instructions that she would pick up her dishes sometime later, and for Molly not to bother bringing them to church. Which made her wonder if Hank Bolden was aware of his wife's kindness, and if so, might he disapprove?

  Question lit Billy's eyes. "How are you feeling, Dr. Whitcomb? Better, I hope?"

  "Much better, thank you:" She glanced at the book on the floor, unable to read the title. "May I ask"-she indicated the bookwith a nod-"what you're reading?"

  Billy nodded and bent to retrieve it. Guilt clouding his features, he held out the volume, his shoulders slumping. "You said not to take any books off the special shelf without your permission, ma'am. I'm sorry, but I started reading this the last afternoon of class, and"-his voice grew more earnest-"I just couldn't wait any longer to find out what happened next:"

  Molly read the title and lifted a brow. "The Life and Strange Surprising Adventures ofRobinson Crusoe of York, Mariner." It was her personal copy and an early edition. Not rare or particularly valuable, but special. Her father had read it to her when she was a child.

  "If you need to tell my pa-" Billy's swallow was audible-"I-I'll understand, ma'am."

  Molly urged his chin back up. "I would never encourage you to do something against your father's-or mother's-wishes, Billy. So, since your pa said you're not to be in here outside of school, you'll need to leave:'

  He nodded, turning to go.

  "But-" She waited until he looked back. "You'll have to take this with you:" His sudden grin drew one from her. "Under one condition! You'll have to tell me when you get to the part about the shipwreck:"

  "Which one, ma'am? There've already been two!"

  She laughed. Billy Bolden was by far her most avid reader in class. "I don't want to spoil anything for you. Finish the book, and then we'll discuss it. Agreed?"

  Grinning, Billy nodded, a hank of hair falling into his eyes. "Thank you, Dr. Whitcomb. I'll take good care of it too:" He was almost to the door when it opened.

  Elijah Birch stopped short in the entryway. "Excuse me;" he said quietly to Billy, then turned in her direction. "I knocked on your cabin door, ma'am. You weren't there. I didn't mean to ... I don't aim to be a bother:'

  "You're never a bother, Elijah" Molly joined the boys at the door, seeing the book she'd loaned Elijah in his hand.

  "Have you read that?" Billy asked, excitement in his voice.

  Elijah gave a shy nod, as though uncertain whether he should admit to such a thing.

  "I loaned Elijah this book a week ago;' Molly offered. "He's a very-

  "You read it in a week?" Billy's eyes widened. "It took me two!"

  Normally Molly would have corrected Billy for interrupting, but hearing his enthusiasm and seeing Elijah's proud smile, she didn't have the heart to.

  Elijah nodded again. "I liked it. A lot:' He laughed softly. "I thought it was funny in parts:'

  "Me too!" Billy moved closer. "What part did you like best? Mine was when they started digging the hole for the cannon, and then Barbicane says to .."

  Molly looked between the boys as they spoke, marveling at their love for the story, but even more at the unlikelihood of their pairing. She knew Hank Bolden wouldn't approve of the friendship. And while she doubted Josiah and Belle would disapprove, she couldn't help but think they would be cautious about it, knowing what kind of man Billy's father was.

  "Have you read the next book yet? This one here?" Billy walked to the shelf and pulled off Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. He glanced at Molly, and she nodded her approval. "It's really good too:"

  Elijah took it, holding it like a prized gift, just as Molly had done with her books when she was their age.

  "Thank you;' Elijah said, directing the comment to them both. He turned to go, and Billy followed him out the door.

  "When you're done with that one, I'll pass this one along to you. Dr. Whitcomb just loaned it to me today. It's got shipwrecks and.. "

  Molly watched the boys as they headed away from town and toward the stream, wondering if their chosen direction was intentional. They were both old enough to know that being seen together in town wouldn't be viewed as right by some. Feeling somewhat responsible for their friendship, she prayed for them.

  Several times later that night, she awakened, not feeling anxious or scared, but thinking about what Belle had told her. She viewed both Josiah and Elijah through that lens, and found her respect for their family deepening. Angelo Giordano came to mind. She could hear his strong Italian accent, see his dark eyes and too-thin arms, and was eager to teach him English but hoped to do much more.

  Billy Bolden ... so bright and studious, such an unquenchable imagination. She sighed and plumped her pillow. Billy would do well, if only she could be the teacher to him-and to the rest of her students God had brought into her life-that she'd once thought she could be.

  And then there was James, who was never too far from her thoughts. She hadn't seen him since Tuesday, which was surprising in one way. And not, in another. He had a job to do after all. She scooted her feet closer to the bed warmer, relishing the warmth.

  She was much fonder of him than was wise, and felt certain he had a fondness for her too. But not until today, when she'd heard Belle's reaction to his name being mentio
ned, had she realized that perhaps others had taken notice of that fondness as well, which she couldn't afford to have happen.

  But even more, neither could James.

  24

  n Monday morning Molly walked the short distance to the schoolhouse, a little jittery inside. Though eager to face the challenge before her, she wished she felt more confident. Sunlight streamed through the windows to illuminate the still-shiny finish on the students' desks and cast a sheen on spines of books she knew like old friends. Halfway down the aisle, she slowed her steps.

  Her desk wasn't as she'd left it.

  She couldn't help her smile, wondering just who had gotten up so early to surprise her. Then again, she didn't have to wonder. She already knew.

  She'd seen James briefly at church yesterday; they'd acknowledged each other across the room. More mindful now of being seen together in public, she'd made a point of visiting with others until he and Rachel and the boys had left.

  She continued down the aisle, eyeing the bouquet centered on her desk. A beautiful spray of late-blooming wildflowers crowded an amber glass vase, blooms cascading over the sides, dew still on the petals. She deposited her reticule and satchel in her chair and spotted a red-ribboned box of sugar sticks propped up by the vase, along with a folded piece of stationery with her name on it.

  He shouldn't have done this. Yet she couldn't deny that part of her was happy he had.

  The sound of a rider approaching drew her attention to the window. Seeing who it was, she went to meet him on the front steps, his unread note in hand.

  "Good morning, Sheriff."

  James's smile came easily, as it always did. He was freshly shaved and his hair was still damp around the collar. "Morning, Dr. Whitcomb:"

  He tethered Winsome to the post and climbed the stairs, glancing at her dress. "You look real pretty this morning. How are you feeling?"

  The black dress she wore he'd seen countless times before, but she still appreciated his compliment. "Thank you, and I'm feeling better. Actually, I'm feeling much better since I found a surprise on my desk."

  An odd look came over his face; then he smiled. "Since you found a surprise on your desk?"

  She nodded and walked back inside. He followed.

  She gestured to the flowers and candy, then back at him, careful to word her response as a "friend" might. "I haven't read your note yet...:' She held it up. "But I appreciate your thoughtfulness, James. Since the day I moved here, you and your sister have treated me more like family than an outsider. And then with everyone bringing food this past week, making me feel so much a part of the community. I have you to thank for that too. You've come to my aid in so many ways. Even when you had no cause to, especially when I fairly much told you exactly that early on." She laughed softly. "What I'm trying to say is how grateful I am for your friendship."

  He continued to look at her, his assessment patient, and somewhat of a mystery.

  She ran a finger over the edge of the note, and held it up. "Shall I read it now?"

  He shifted his weight. "You can if you want to. But one thing you should know before you do"-he removed his hat and set it aside-"is that I didn't write that. But you can believe that right about now-" he gave a humorless laugh and his expression turned decidedly more intimate-"I'm sure wishing I had."

  Molly stared for a second, then laughed along with him, realizing he was kidding her again. The man's modesty was endless. Eager to reveal him, she opened the stationery with a flourish and began reading.

  And nearly choked.

  He stepped closer, and she pressed the note against her chest.

  "I'm just guessing here, Molly, but I'm thinking the name you just read at the bottom there ... it's not mine:'

  How could she have been so foolish? "James, I'm sorry, I ... I feel so completely silly right now." That was an understatement, and the quiet stretching between them only accentuated her foolishness.

  James withdrew something from his pocket. An apple, shiny and red. He held it out. "I did bring something to welcome you back:' He glanced beyond her toward the front of the classroom. "But obviously I'm not your first caller of the morning, nor your most elaborate:"

  She wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. She took the apple from him, or tried. He held on tight. Her fingers overlapped his, and neither of them let go.

  I didn't write you a note this morning, but I would like to say some things to you. If you have the time:'

  She could not let happen what she thought was about to happen. She motioned behind her. "I wi-wish I had time, James, but I-"

  A smile tipped up one side of his mouth, and Molly felt her own go dry.

  "I'd be less than honest with you, Molly, if I let you keep thinking that all I feel toward you is friendship. I've tried not to feel more, understanding you being so recently widowed, and you being the new schoolteacher." His sigh was self-deprecating. "Not to mention that being `more than friends' with a man in my profession isn't exactly what most women would aspire to:"

  Oh, if only you knew. How could a man be so astute about some things, and yet so blind about others?

  I didn't come here this morning with the intention of saying this, so it may come out all wrong:' He looked down at the apple, then covered her hand completely with his other. "You're still in mourning. I respect that. I want to be sensitive to your loss, and the life you shared with your husband:"

  The embarrassment Molly felt quickly faded and gave way to the enormity of her greater predicament. If she had revealed her circumstance from the start, James McPherson would not be standing here now, looking as though he wanted to kiss her.

  If she'd arrived in Timber Ridge an unmarried pregnant woman, he would still have treated her with sensitivity, even a certain measure of respect. That's the man he was. But he would not have allowed himself to look upon her as he was doing now, which only added to her regret, and to her dread of the moment when he would learn that she was with child-when she would tell him she was with child.

  He would view her choice to withhold the information from him, and from the town council, as deceitful. And he would be right. Yet even then, he wouldn't know the full extent of the truth.

  Reality curdled the pit of her stomach. In stepping off the train in Sulfur Falls and doing what she'd done, she'd started down a path that gave her no other choice but to continue. Either that, or tell the truth and lose everything.

  He stepped closer. Reading his intention, she bowed her head. If only she were the woman he thought she was.

  To her surprise-and panic-he tilted up her chin.

  She shook her head, a weight pressing inside her chest so that she almost couldn't breathe. "I can't;' she managed, her voice wavering.

  She knew what it was like to care for someone only to discover they were not who you thought they were. She lived with the pain of that deception every day, and would for the rest of her life. She wouldn't do that to someone else. And certainly not someone she cared for so deeply.

  "I know," he said quietly. "That's why I was only going to do this." He kissed her forehead, and lingered there, his breath warm on her skin, then pulled back. "But just to be clear, I'd still like to do the other."

  Surprised she was still standing, Molly couldn't help but smile at his honesty. Seeing the truer blue of his eyes so close up, something inside her crumbled. It took her a moment to realize what it was-part of the wall she'd erected to keep herself safe, to keep anyone from hurting her again.

  Her sensibilities told her sentiment to shore up the breach, but her heart paid no mind.

  "I'll be your friend, Molly Whitcomb, the best friend I know how to be:" He caressed the side of her face and traced her lower lip with his thumb. "Until you're ready for me to be something more:"

  He let go of the apple, and only then did Molly remember it. It would have fallen on the floor if not for his quick reflexes. His smile revealed his pleasure, and he held the apple out again. She took it this time and held on tig
ht.

  He slipped his hat back on and walked to the door. "As your friend, Dr. Whitcomb, I hope to see you around town real soon. Maybe we could even ... ambulate together one evening around the lake:"

  Molly turned the apple in her hands and nodded, knowing that when that time came, she would have to fabricate some excuse-any excuse-why she couldn't.

  Putting her roll book aside, Molly drew her focus from the apple on her desk and to the task at hand, and prayed her idea would work as well in practice as it seemed it would in theory. "We're going to do something a little different this morning, students. I'd like the following pupils to come to the front of the room when I call them, please. Billy Bolden, Amanda Spivey, Bradley Tucker, Benjamin Foster, and Rebecca Taylor."

  She waited until the five older children had joined her before continuing, aware of the remaining students whispering amongst themselves.

  "These five students are going to be the leaders of five different groups this morning" The students standing beside her exchanged expectant smiles. "I'm going to give each group an assignment, then will take turns working with each group as you apply yourselves to the lesson. We're going to meet in these groups but will also have time to interact together. Each person in the group will have a job, and I'll give that to them personally." She looked at Billy standing next to her. "Billy, I want you to take the following students and arrange your desks up here in the right corner:"

  She began reading the list of students belonging to Billy's group but heard someone talking. She looked up to discover it was Kurt Boyd. No surprise there. The boy quieted as soon as she looked at him, but the glint in his eyes again confirmed his lack of remorse.

  She counted on this new plan to keep him more on task. Because if not, she would be forced to speak with Rachel about his discipline problems, and that was one conversation she didn't want to have.

  Once the groups were assigned and the students congregated their desks in various parts of the room, she gave them their first lesson. "Take out your McGuffey's Readers, please;' she said, then went around to each group and gave them a specific page number.