“Oh!” A soft gasp escaped. “That isn’t necessary, Herr Rempel.”
—“then we’ll go home.” He pretended he hadn’t heard her protest and offered her his elbow. “Come, Frau Dyck.”
She hesitated, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Maybe he should have considered how it would look for him to escort her across the street. When Hannah was still living, the women’s friendship would have made such a gesture seem commonplace. Now? It could be misconstrued. But it was the gentlemanly thing to do. And it wasn’t as if they had no interactions at all. She’d been the boys’ teacher for the past three years. He’d sat in front of her desk twice each year for reports on the twins’ progress, and of course they attended the same church. If people read something verboten into him escorting her across the street, then it was their problem, not his.
A little sigh left her throat. She gave a slight nod, as if agreeing with herself that it was all right to accept his offer, then she gingerly placed her hand in the curve of his elbow. He looked right, left, right again. Certain no peril awaited them, he ushered her forward. The moment they stepped onto the boardwalk, she released his arm and moved aside.
He crouched, gathered up the seed packets, and placed them into the basket. Then he stood and held the basket out to her. “Thank you for your kindness to my boys.” He grimaced. “I dare not think what might have happened to them today.”
She curled her slender fingers around the basket’s woven handle and rested the basket against her skirt. “I praise the Lord neither they nor you were injured.” She tipped her head slightly, peering intently into his eyes. “Are your hands all right? It seemed you landed pretty hard on them.”
His face heated, and he imagined his scars glowing bold red behind his whiskers. He looked aside and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “Just roughed up the skin a bit. They’ll be fine.” He backed up one step. “I need to take the boys home. Have a good day now, Frau Dyck.”
“Herr Rempel!”
He turned his head, startled by the insistence in her tone. “Ja?”
“What happened today with Folker and Walden…Something similar could happen again unless they have supervision.”
The heat flowed from his face downward until every bit of him sizzled underneath his skin. Embarrassment and, yes, even indignation rolled within him. Did she think him completely inept as a parent? Within his pockets, he balled his hands into fists. “Frau Dyck, I appreciate your concern for my boys. You are a good teacher to them and they like you very much.” As had his wife. “But I will thank you to keep your opinions about how I see to them to yourself.”
Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened.
He turned away from her astounded expression and strode across the street.
Augusta
He had spoken firmly yet kindly to her. Even so, Herr Rempel’s stiff shoulders and the stern set of his boot soles against the ground screamed displeasure. Augusta gazed after him in both dismay and remorse. Her intention had been honorable. Her concern for the twins’ safety prompted her comment. But clearly she’d chosen the wrong words.
She stayed on the boardwalk until Herr Rempel’s wagon, with the pair of dark-haired boys sitting like bookends on either side of their father on the wagon seat, rolled out of town. Then she entered the mercantile and went to the book corner. Juliana was sitting cross-legged on the floor with an open book snug in the nest her skirt formed.
She looked up when Augusta stopped in front of her. “Oh, Mother, this book is wonderful!” Eyes alight, she held up the maroon leather-covered volume.
Augusta bent down slightly and admired the gold-filigreed stamp with the title centered on the cover. “A Child’s Garden of Verses?” She sent Juliana a curious frown. “Is that not too young for you?” Juliana was, after all, growing very rapidly into a young lady, only five years younger now than Augusta had been when she exchanged marriage vows with then-thirty-year-old Leopold and crossed the ocean to America.
Juliana shook her head, making her thick, red-gold braids bounce. “No, the verses are delightful.” She hugged the book to her chest. “May I have it, Mother, please?” She then glanced at a stack of three books resting on the floor beside her. “I’ll put one of these back, if you prefer.”
Augusta straightened, smiling. If only all her students were as interested in reading as her daughter was. “If you don’t ask for another new book for the entirety of the school break, you may have all four books.”
Juliana’s happy squeal echoed from the mercantile’s high tin ceiling. Still holding the volume, she bounced to her feet and embraced her mother. The spine poked Augusta’s flesh, but she didn’t mind. She placed a quick kiss on top of her daughter’s head and gently shifted her aside. “But pick them up from the floor, please, and let’s pay for these items. The apple tree beckons, does it not?”
Juliana’s bright smile offered enough of an answer. She gathered the books and followed Augusta to the counter, where Frau Weber tallied their purchases on a little notepad, then showed the amount to Augusta. The woman never spoke amounts out loud, protecting her customers’ privacy. Leopold had found it an odd practice, but Augusta appreciated it. It was no one else’s business what she spent on books or anything else.
She put the books in the basket, with the exception of the poetry book, which Juliana cradled in her arms, then followed her daughter to the door. As they were leaving, Martina Krahn entered, also with a basket on her arm.
Still thinking of the scare she’d received when Folker and Walden dashed into the street a few minutes ago, Augusta reached out and stopped the woman. “Frau Krahn, may I speak with you for a moment?”
Juliana stopped but fidgeted in place, impatience pulsing from her lithe frame.
Augusta gave her daughter a smile. “Go on home. I know you’re eager to explore your book.”
Juliana’s dimples flashed. “Thank you, Mother.” She scurried out.
Augusta turned to Martina again. “Do you have time for a brief chat?”
The other woman’s lips pursed, but she nodded.
Augusta escorted her to the corner, where she felt secure no other shoppers would overhear them. “Only a bit ago, right in front of the store, there was a near tragedy.” She divulged the harrowing event involving the Rempel twins and their father. “I know you have qualms about the Frauenverein ministering to men. I don’t wish to disregard your feelings, but I am gravely concerned about Folker and Walden. We intend to reach out to the orphaned, ja?”
Martina’s head bobbed in a brusque nod.
“Well, are not these boys motherless?”
Another nod, even more brusque, acknowledged Augusta’s query.