The reverend shrugged his shoulders and gave a brief smile. “There is always that chance in my line of work. However, my job is to sow the seeds. Only God can make them grow.”
He seemed on the verge of continuing in the same vein, but then pulled back. “Very well. I won’t press you further. Remember, though, the invitation stands in the event you change your mind.”
“Good day, Pastor.”
“One more thing,” the reverend continued, smoothly filling in the awkward quiet. “We are planning to hold the annual community picnic here in a few weeks. You weren’t here last year, so I wanted to forewarn you.”
Taylor pressed his lips together. “Thanks for the warning.”
Concern softened Reverend Crouse’s eyes. “You’re welcome to attend, of course.”
Mr. Taylor nodded his acknowledgment.
“Come, Rachel.” The reverend started back to the carriage along the hard dirt path.
When she didn’t move, Mr. Taylor’s steely gaze fastened on her. She swallowed hard. He made it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. It seemed he really hated their intrusion into his life. “I…I brought something for Hannah.”
Conscious of being watched, she walked to the carriage boot, and withdrew her present. She’d wrapped it in a large scrap of brown cloth to protect it from the dust on the trip. Perhaps Mr. Taylor would be angry about the gift. Perhaps it would remind him about the incident in the mercantile and he’d refuse it. She hadn’t thought of that when wrapping it, and now that made her nervous. But when she turned back to him, she caught a glimpse of his daughter peeking around the door frame. Curiosity and shyness warred on the young girl’s face, and Rachel’s confidence grew. This wasn’t about Mr. Taylor. It was about the girl.
Returning to stand in front of him, she unwrapped the cloth to reveal a papier-mâché doll. Pupilless glass eyes stared up at the light keeper from under painted brown hair. The doll was not new—spidery, hairline cracks ran along the chest and shoulders—but Rachel hoped Mr. Taylor would let Hannah have it. She drew back the cloth further to reveal the green satin gown that had dressed the doll at the mercantile. “The dress fit perfectly. I thought Hannah might give my doll a good home.”
Mr. Taylor’s brows drew together. “We don’t want your charity.”
“That’s good, because I’m the least charitable person I know,” she said, her anger surfacing. “You’ve already paid for the dress. Sarah sits in a box under my bed day in and day out. She needs a little girl to play with again.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of girls at your school. What about them?”
Frustration knotted within her. “I want Hannah to have Sarah.”
He continued to watch her silently.
She was not going to back down!
“Do you bribe all children this way?”
He would think such a thing! She struggled to keep her voice low so that Hannah would not hear her anger. “You, sir, are being ridiculously suspicious of a simple kindness. This is not a bribe. And I do not appreciate your rudeness over a simple gift!”
“Perhaps I’ve had a little experience with Greeks bearing gifts,” he said. But he turned to stare at his daughter in the open doorway. Hannah’s heart-shaped face was filled with anxious hope. Tangles of blond hair fell over her thin shoulders and onto the same brown dress she’d worn at the mercantile. Timidly, Hannah inched down the stone walk to stand behind her father.
Rachel glanced up at Mr. Taylor but his closed expression told her nothing. A shiver stole through her as she watched him. He was a formidable man, standing a full head taller than her, and she was not a small woman. Yet, he hadn’t actually refused the gift. She squatted to the child’s level and then held out the doll. “This is Sarah. She was my doll when I was little. I brought her for you.”
Hannah glanced up at her father and then slowly reached for the doll, her eyes filled with wonder. She pressed Sarah against her in a hug.
Rachel smiled and let out the breath she’d been holding.
She rose and met his gaze, determined to ignore his surliness. “I know you said church is out of the question. Would you consider school? Hannah is old enough to be in the first or second grade by now.”
His look of incredulity gave her his answer even before he spoke. “Absolutely not.”
“Mr. Taylor, you can’t keep her isolated out here. She’ll never learn that there are decent people in this world. She’ll always expect the worst.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “Hannah. Go back inside.” He held up a hand, forbidding Rachel to speak again until Hannah had done as she was told. When his daughter was at a distance that she could not hear him, he turned to Rachel. “You were there. You saw how they treated her! They talked as though she couldn’t hear.”
Rachel remembered all too well the lack of empathy in the mercantile. She was still upset at her friend, Amanda. “It bothered me, too,” she admitted. “They just need to get to know her. If you were to bring her to school, I would take extra care with her. You must know that this constant isolation is not good for her.”
Her words hung suspended in the air between them.
His eyes narrowed, but he seemed to consider her suggestion for the space of an instant. “Prove it. You tutor her.”
Startled, she met his gaze. “Tutor her? But that’s not what I meant!”
He waited, watching her closely.
The thought took hold. Could she do it? She had so little teaching experience, and Hannah was not an ordinary student. Did she have what it would take to help her? She swallowed hard, intrigued with the idea.
She met his gaze. Was that hope in his eyes beneath the hardness? Perhaps he was reaching out. In his own way, he was asking for help and she suspected he was a man who seldom asked for anything. He confused her—and he fascinated her.
But how could she agree to his offer? If the school board got wind of any arrangement, she’d lose her job for sure. They wouldn’t see it as her teaching Hannah. They’d see it as an unmarried woman visiting an unmarried man—without an escort. It could jeopardize her employment at the school.
“I…I’m sorry, but I haven’t the time,” she said, her excuse sounding weak, even to her ears. “As I said, bring her to school. I’ll see she’s looked after and not hurt by the others.”
He shook his head. “Why should I trust you any more than the others?”
“I guess you have no reason to. It’s just tha—”
“Just forget I asked. I’ll teach Hannah what she needs to know.”
“You must understand, Mr. Taylor—”
He shut her out. “The reverend is waiting. You better leave now.”
She felt her chance slipping away. “Mr. Taylor. I really do want what’s best for Hannah.”
“You’ve made your point, Miss Houston. Apparently, we’re at a standoff. I won’t change my mind.” He walked past her and then headed to the carriage where Reverend Crouse waited.
Well that didn’t go as planned, she thought. Disheartened, she followed him and let him help her up onto the burgundy-cushioned seat. Her fingers tingled where he steadied her with his callused hand. Unsettled, she busied herself adjusting her skirt about her knees even as she felt him continuing to study her. Then her curiosity got the better of her. “The other day at the mercantile…”
He nodded curtly, listening though she sensed he was impatient for her to leave.
“What did you mean when you said I should believe everything I hear?”