Romancing the Schoolteacher Read Online Free

children cheered.
    He rolled up his shirtsleeves and washed his hands and arms up to his elbows twice, as well as his face and neck.
    She doubted most miners would think to wash so thoroughly or even think to scrub their neck. Who was this man? She sat at the table with the children and waited for him to finish.
    Soon he sat at the end opposite her. He reached for his children’s hands and they his. Gabe and Dora each held a hand stretched out to her.
    She took the children’s hands. Never in her life had she had anyone say grace at her table besides her.
    Mr. Thompson gave her a nod. “I would be honored to say the blessing. You did do all the work.”
    She agreed and bowed her head.
    â€œFather in heaven, we thank You for another day of life and breath in these frail bodies we live in. We ask blessings upon Miss Greene for her kindness and generosity. And we thank You for the bounty You have provided. Nourish our bodies with this food and our souls with Your presence. In Jesus’s name, amen.”
    She had never heard anyone pray for her by name. It was as though God had reached down and caressed her soul. Nor had anyone thanked her so generously for doing so little. Moved by the prayer, she had to blink back tears as she lifted her head.
    * * *
    Lindley set his fork down and sat back in the chair at Miss Greene’s table. He couldn’t remember the last time a meal had been this satisfying. Not that he hadn’t had tasty meals, even in the recent past. This was something more. And for some reason, he felt as though the something more must be Miss Greene herself. It must be her consideration for his children. Not only was she kind and generous, but smart—she would have to be to be a teacher—and patient and…and… He gazed at her.
    No. He wouldn’t focus on her physical attributes. People were more than how they looked. Her green gaze captured him. Eyes the color of the forests all across the San Juan Islands. And chestnut hair that flickered with bits of red in the lamplight. He couldn’t deny that she was lovely.
    And she said she prayed before meals, so she was likely a Christian, too. But he couldn’t figure out why she was almost in tears after grace. That would be something he might never know. It would be rude to ask directly about something so personal.
    â€œSupper was delicious.” He regretted what he must say next but said it anyway. “We’ll get out of your way now. Time to go, children.” He leaned forward to stand.
    She spoke quickly. “You don’t have to go. We haven’t had dessert yet.”
    Dora clapped her hands. “Yay! Dessert!”
    Dessert? “Dessert would be nice.” He settled back down but then stood fully when she leaped from her chair.
    â€œIt’s nothing fancy. Just applesauce.” She returned to the table with a jar. “I canned it last fall.”
    He had always loved applesauce. How long had it been since he’d had any? Eight, maybe nine years. Before he was married. “Cinnamon?”
    â€œYes. I hope that’s all right. Since I just make it for myself, I always add cinnamon. But I might have a jar of peaches or cherries if you prefer.”
    She seemed nervous.
    â€œI love cinnamon.”
    She gripped the ring of the lid and tried to twist it off without success. “These are difficult sometimes.”
    He held out his hand. “Allow me.”
    She handed it over without a fuss. His older half sister would have struggled with the lid until her hands bled, wanting to prove herself capable.
    Grasping the jar and the ring lid, he twisted. The ring slid in his hand. He tightened his grip and tried again, still without success. Oh, please don’t let me fail. Not in front of her. Not with a silly jar. He took a deep breath and jerked the ring and jar in opposite directions. The ring broke free.
    Dora clapped again. “Papa is strongerest.”
    Setting the jar