Paradise Falls by Ruth Ryan Langan Page A

sight of Fiona he merely grinned. “Better fetch your bonnet. The wagon’s ready to roll.”
    Rose looked up, then fixed her younger son with a look. “What’ve you done to your cheek, Fleming?”
    “Scratched it on the branch of that old sycamore.” He picked up a linen-covered dish. “I’ll take that, Ma. Too heavy for you.”
    When he sauntered away, Rose shook her head. “Men. He probably didn’t even think to put witch hazel on it.”
    She glanced over at Fiona who was standing as still as a statue. “Didn’t you hear? Get your bonnet. It’s time to go.”
    Puzzled by this strange turn of events, Fiona hurried toward her room, snatching up her bonnet and a packet of letters for her mother before heading toward the waiting wagon.
    In the kitchen Flem was waiting for her. Seeing him, she skidded to a halt.
    He merely grinned. “Don’t worry, teacher. Ma decided you were just getting a drink of water last night.”
    “And how did you explain your condition?”
    “My condition?” He merely laughed. “You forget. I wasn’t even here, teacher. I was already tucked up in my bed. Now let’s go before Ma gets her feathers ruffled again.”
    Fiona followed him outside. She’d been anticipating censure. Instead, she was now being treated like one of the family. She ought to be relieved, but the incident had left her with a sense of unease.
    Gray had managed to get his father into the back, where Broderick sat surrounded by cushions and colorful quilts. It was clear, from the high color on the older man’s cheeks, that he was embarrassed to be riding alone in the back of the wagon like a sack of grain.
    Taking pity on him, Fiona climbed in beside him.
    Rose shot her an angry look. “It isn’t fitting for the teacher to arrive for her first introduction to the townspeople in the back of a wagon like some helpless cripple.”
    Seeing one side of Broderick’s mouth twist into a snarl, Fiona took his hand and squeezed. “I think we look more like a king on his throne, accompanied by his loyal servant.”
    That had his frown turning into a lopsided grin. “A king is it?” After a moment’s thought he nodded. “I like that.”
    As soon as Flem and Rose climbed up to the hard seat Gray flicked the reins and the team took off at a fast clip.
    Fiona held one hand on her bonnet to keep it from sailing away on the breeze.
    As they passed the neighboring farms, Rose had a word for each.
    “There’s Herman Vogel working his fields instead of honoring the Lord’s Day.” This was said with a sniff of displeasure.
    Gray’s hands tightened on the reins. “I think the Lord will understand since Herman has no family left to give him a hand.”
    Rose ignored her son’s comment. “Carl Gustav’s fields are looking as sad as his front yard.” She shielded her eyes with her hand. “Is Greta Gunther wearing that same old gown? You’d think just once she could make herself something new.” She looked down on the old woman who was walking along the side of the road.
    To her surprise Gray brought the wagon to a halt and climbed down. “Morning, Mrs. Gunther. May I offer you a ride to church?”
    The old woman smiled, revealing a gap where her front teeth had once been. “Why, thank you, Grayson.” She walked to the rear of the wagon and stared at the stranger seated beside Broderick. “Our new teacher?”
    Fiona offered her hand as Gray lifted the old woman into the back beside her. “Fiona Downey, Mrs. Gunther.”
    “Downey? What sort of name is that, my dear?”
    “She’s Irish,” Flem called from his perch beside his mother.
    “What a pity.” The old woman turned her attention to the man beside Fiona. “How are you feeling, Broderick?”
    “None the worse for wear. And you, Greta?”
    She peered at him over the rim of her spectacles. “I believe this is the first time I’ve ever seen you happy at the prospect of attending Sunday services.”
    He managed a wink at Fiona before turning to his