Mason hoped that Noah’s boldness would not alienate his congregation and cause division here.
At the end of the hymn, Lavina remained standing. “Our preacher has said that I may make an announcement of a sewing and knitting day this coming Saturday morning here. My son Isaiah, who is engaged in mission work north of here with the Chippewa tribe, will be visiting us before winter, and we’d like to have a large donation of quilts, mittens, socks and scarves to send back with him. There is great need among the tribe.” Lavina smiled. “Thank you.”
Noah approached the lectern and bowed his head in silent prayer. Then he went on to preach about the passage Gordy had read, but without calling attention to the situation of the little black girl sitting beside Mason. Noah preached about God calling Moses a humble man and how prejudice had caused his siblings to react with pride and spite and God’s judgment on the proud and unkind. Mason approved. Noah had laid down the precept of God’s opinion of prejudice and spite. Mason didn’t pray often, but he did now, asking God for kindness to be shown here to his little ones.
Everyone rose and sang the closing hymn, “Jesus, Lover of My Soul.” Then Gordy prayed and asked God to bless their week and the coming harvest.
Mason raised his head, feeling refreshed, yet still cautious. Now would come the questions and perhaps the rejection by many of those who had once welcomed him. Against his will his gaze sought Emma to his right. He remembered her kindness to his girls. Again she affected him. He stiffened his resolve to resist the pull to her and led the girls to the aisle.
Indeed, some people brushed past him, but not all. Levi, the blacksmith, and his wife, Posey, stopped. She shook Mason’s hand and then glanced downward. “And how are you, pretty little things?”
“We’re fine, ma’am,” Birdie chirped. “Thank you for askin’.”
At that moment, Emma walked by him.
“Good morning, Mr. Chandler,” she said in passing. “Good morning, Birdie and Charlotte.”
Mason returned the greeting, gripping his tight mask in place. He wished he didn’t react to her, wasn’t so aware of her.
Then she moved on, greeting others.
Mason turned to Levi’s wife again. His heart thumped dully. If Emma had been his wife, he wouldn’t feel so alone, so inept caring for his children. What might have been...
* * *
Ignoring the pull that wanted her to stay and talk to Mason, Emma moved out into the sunshine. As usual, people milled around in clusters in the school yard after Sunday worship, the social event of each week.
Conscious of her role as teacher, Emma moved from group to group, speaking to the parents of each of her students. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Mason step out of the schoolhouse. She forced herself not to turn to watch him. But she noted that many others watched, almost gawking at him and his girls. Would someone say or do something rude, hurtful? Her lungs tightened as if she herself were bracing for a blow.
As she moved through the people, she sensed an unusual mood. People nodded to her but they said few words and looked somehow stiff. She experienced an unusual tension herself. She could not stop herself from straining to hear the few words Mr. Chandler spoke to others and his girls.
Still no one spoke of the source of the general tension—Birdie and Charlotte—until Emma approached the Stanley family. Mrs. Stanley, who unfortunately had been born with a wart on the side of her large nose, said loud enough to be overheard, “Seems like you had a near miss.” The woman shook her head, and Emma couldn’t stop herself from watching the wart wobble. “If you’d married Chandler this spring, you’d be stuck with his baggage.”
Emma pressed her lips together to keep from replying sharply. She was aware that Mason was keeping to the edge of the gathering with his children near him. Had he overheard this? Bad enough. Worse yet, the woman had said this with her school-age daughter, Dorcas, standing right beside her. Dorcas would be a classmate of the Chandler girls—if Emma had succeeded in persuading Mason to let them come to school.
Emma chose her words with care. “I admire Mr. Chandler for offering his half sister a home.” Her unruly ears strained again to hear his voice.
“Well, he’ll be saddled with her for the rest of his life. A deaf girl. No one will ever take her off his hands.”
Emma rarely had a violent reaction to anything. But she clenched her free hand down at her side. It itched to slap the woman’s face. “My sister and I came here together so that we wouldn’t be separated. Having family nearby is a comfort.”
The woman scowled at her.
The woman’s father-in-law spoke up, “Speaking of family, when will your father be coming back from Illinois?”
“We hope very soon,” Emma replied, grateful for his intervention. Her father, who unexpectedly had followed her and Judith to Pepin within a few months of their arrival, had traveled down to Illinois to visit their brother.
“Good. I miss our checker games.” The man grinned.
Still tracking Mr. Chandler’s progress skirting the gathering, Emma smiled with grim politeness, then excused herself. Her sister Judith welcomed her.
“A strong sermon,” Emma whispered into her sister’s ear.
Judith nodded, brushing her cheek against her sister’s. “Good of Noah,” she whispered in return.
Then, as the two sisters chatted about the upcoming sewing day and watched the children playing silent tag around the adults, Emma tried not to continue to track Mason Chandler. When she’d ventured here nearer him, he’d moved away as if fencing with her.
His two girls had not joined in the sedate Sunday game of tag in the churchyard. Charlotte sat on the swing and Birdie was gently pushing her. Birdie’s devotion to Charlotte inspired the most tender regard for her. Emma had no idea what prompted little Birdie to befriend Charlotte, but God would reward her selfless love.
Again, Emma tried to keep her gaze from wandering to Mason and again failed. She found ignoring a man who’d assumed responsibility for these two little girls difficult, nearly impossible. His broad shoulders evidently could carry burdens with dignity. She hoped that Noah’s support and that of Mason’s other friends would smooth the way toward acceptance. She reined in her sympathy so drawn to him. She could not give him false hope.
She could not do more than pray that this situation would resolve itself in a good way. She had come here to marry Mason Chandler, but marrying him would have been a mistake. And God had prevented that. With what remained of her heart, she still loved Jonathan, though he was just a memory.
* * *
In the morning, doubts and worry over sending the girls to school lingered. But Mason pressed the girls’ dresses and two fresh white pinafores to go over them. He brushed and braided their hair as best he knew how, though somehow the braids ended up slightly crooked. And the bows. He shook his head at the sad bows he’d tied.
However, Birdie was beaming with anticipation. Charlotte kept glancing back and forth between the two of them. Then she did something she rarely did. She patted his arm and signed to him. He caught part of it but turned to Birdie. “What did she say?”
“She says don’t worry. Miss Emma likes children.”
Moisture flickered in one of his eyes. Emma’s good heart drew him almost irresistibly. “She does. Shall we go?”
“Yes!” Birdie answered, and Charlotte sent him one of her rare smiles. Whatever happened at school—evidently his little sister wanted to go.
He set his hat on his head and shooed the girls ahead of him, and then he latched the door. He felt the same way he had reporting for duty in the army years ago. This must be faced. He breathed in the fresh air and listened to the crows cawing to each other from