Marian didn’t answer, opting instead to sweep with more ferocity.
“AndI’mgoing to Vivian’s. If you change your mind, please come and join me.”
Marian said nothing. When the door finally shut, announcing Jessilyn’s departure, she straightened and stopped sweeping.
Was her sister right? The thought ran through her head like an annoying fly, awakening more doubts.
No, it was still impossible. She could either marry or teach—not both. Even if Cole was understanding, the town wouldn’t be. It just wasn’t acceptable.
And all of that was presuming that hewantedto marry her. She heard those words he’d said so clearly in her head. The way he’d scoffed, brushing aside the very idea of a union joined before God. There was nothing to discuss. If he’d felt differently, he would have told her when she ended things between them. Or on one of the occasions he’d walked by the schoolhouse, or at church on Sunday, or by simply coming to her home and telling her what he’d hoped for.
Jessilyn was wrong. She wasn’t foolish for not discussing this more in detail with Cole. She was foolish for ever hoping she could have everything she wanted.
At least she had the school. It did make her happy, and she would need to be satisfied with the life she’d created for herself as a teacher.
As she put the broom away in the closet, the sound of the door creaking on its hinges reached her ears. She turned around, moving back into the schoolroom, brushing her hands over her dress and expecting to see Jessilyn returning to beg her to go to the tea room.
But it wasn’t Jessilyn at all.
It was Ian Hardison, Zachary’s father.
Marian’s hand went to her throat as she swallowed hard. What was he doing here? When he shut the door behind him, her stomach rolled and she thought she might be sick from the fear.
This wouldn’t do. Mr. Hardison had no right to scare her so. And she would show him that he didn’t frighten her.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hardison,” Marian forced herself to say as she stepped forward. Her voice barely quivered, and she plastered a smile upon her face.
In return, he scowled at her. The scent of whiskey wafted from him, and Marian tried not to wrinkle her nose.
“It’d be better if my boy was home.”
“Zachary? I don’t see why he wouldn’t be home.” She spoke carefully, not wanting to let on that Zachary was attending school daily—and that Jillian had been helping him here and back home.
“Don’t try to fool me, schoolteacher.” The fury edged Mr. Hardison’s voice with fire. He glowered at her as he gripped the back of a desk. “I know he’s been coming here. I saw the slate and the book of letters.”
“I see,” she said carefully. How much had he had to drink? He was standing straight, and she wondered if he was in his right mind and had simply failed to change his clothing from the night before.
“He should be home now. But he ain’t. Where’s my boy, lady?” He took a step forward, and Marian fought to keep from moving backward to safety.
“He ought to be home,” she said with more conviction than she felt. She’d seen him go to Miss Weatherspoon, so he must be safe. She’d probably taken him by the general store for a piece of candy or some other amusement. But she wasn’t about to tell Mr. Hardison about that. “I imagine that if you return home now, you’ll find him there.”
He continued to glare at her. “I didn’t want him coming here. He’s got a hard head, that boy of mine. He doesn’t listen.”
Marian clasped her hands together tightly. Perhaps if she appealed to the man’s pride, he might relent. “Your son is very intelligent, Mr. Hardison. He’s particularly good with numbers—”
“He doesn’t need to learn that nonsense. He can work the railroad, like I did, or in the mines. No use filling his head with dreams that don’t come true.”
“But Mr. Hardison—”
“I said I don’t want him coming here!” The man slammed his fist on a desk, and Marian jumped at the sound.
She didn’t dare say anything else. She’d pushed him too far already, hoping to get through to the man. And all she’d done was make him angrier.
“I swear, schoolteacher.” He held up a finger. “If I find he’s been coming here again, I’ll burn this place to the ground.”
Marian clenched her hands in her skirts. “I must ask you to leave now, Mr. Hardison.”
“Did you hear me?” he yelled. “I don’t make idle threats.”
