Courting Miss Amsel by Kim Vogel Sawyer Page B

the boys approached. The boys leaped onto the porch, agile as young deer, but she looked dubiously at the distance between the hard-packed ground and the porch’s planked floor.
    Joel cleared his throat. “Here, Miss Amsel, catch hold.”
    For a moment she stared at his leathery palm, her lower lip tucked between her teeth. She flashed a quick look at Mrs. Kinsley, then gingerly lifted her deep red skirt with one hand and placed her other hand in his. His fingers closed around hers. Her hand fit perfectly in his grasp. He gave a tug, and she stepped onto the porch.
    A smile wavered on her lips. He stared, mesmerized. The schoolmarm’s face was graced with full, rosy, inviting lips – even more inviting than Susannah’s had been, and he hadn’t thought any woman could possess a more kissable mouth than Susannah Mohler. Pushing the ridiculous recollection aside, he scrambled for the proper way to greet a guest. “So . . . won’tcha come in?”
    Johnny bolted forward and opened the door, and the two women stepped over the threshold. Robert darted in front of Joel to catch his teacher’s hand and lead her to the table. Joel latched the door and followed. He might not know how to greet guests, but his nephews held no such compunctions. They took charge. Joel couldn’t decide if he was grateful or jealous.
    “Miss Amsel, sit here.” Johnny pulled out a straight-backed chair from the table. “Miz Jeffers baked us a pie for your visit. Rhubarb an’ strawberry. I can get you some.” He threw his shoulders back, beaming at his teacher. “Uncle Joel lets me use the carvin’ knife if I’m real careful. Want a big piece or a little ’un?”
    Joel caught the boy by the shoulders before he could dash to the breakfront cabinet and start cutting into the pie. “Let the ladies sit for a minute or two first, Johnny. We’ll break out the pie when the coffee’s done perkin’.” He’d put on a fresh pot – he hoped Miss Amsel would be happy with coffee. Judging by her ruffly-front blouse and skirt with a bustle that forced her to sit on the front edge of the chair, she probably preferred tea. But he never kept tea in the house. Maybe he should add it to his shopping list for the next time he visited the mercantile.
    “Since Mrs. Kinsley and I just finished our supper, pie and coffee a bit later will be perfect.”
    Miss Amsel glanced at the circle of empty seats around the table, and Joel sensed her desire for someone to join her. Jolting forward, he yanked out a chair. “Miz Kinsley?” He waited until the older woman slid into the seat, then he plunked himself in the chair across from Miss Amsel. The two boys shared the single remaining chair.
    Joel cleared his throat. “Well . . . Miss Amsel . . .” He wished he could call her Edythe, but that wouldn’t be proper. “You been enjoyin’ gettin’ to know the folks around here?”
    Although her smile remained intact, he thought he detected a slight recoil. Then she laughed lightly. “It has been very . . . enlightening.”
    Did she stumble over the word or did he only imagine it? And what exactly did she mean by “enlightening”?
    “Of course, I’ve only begun my visits. Yours is the fourth family thus far.” She bobbed her chin to indicate her companion. “Although this is Mrs. Kinsley’s first.”
    When Joel had seen both women on the wagon seat, he’d assumed Mrs. Kinsley had been Miss Amsel’s guide to all of the local farmsteads. “You didn’t go on the others?”
    “No need.” Miz Kinsley’s eyes shone with approval. “Miss Amsel thought – rightly so – it’d be better to have me along for this one, seein’ as how you’re a single man an’ she’s a single gal. She don’t want any ill conjectures for her, or for you.”
    If the folks from town had any inkling where his mind had run earlier when he’d focused on the schoolmarm’s lips, they’d certainly harbor some ill conjecture toward him. He needed to watch himself.
    Miz Kinsley