A Time to Bloom (Leah's Garden #2)(100)

“Hard work, good pay. I helped lay the Union Pacific nigh clear to North Platte. But I decided I didn’t want to be snowbound in a railroad car all winter, so I headed back this direction.” Isaac tipped back his felt hat, his eyes pensive. “These parts have the nearest I know to kin anyplace in the country.”

Strange that RJ was beginning to feel that way too. Little would he have guessed it six months ago.

“Ah, there you are, Mr. Easton.” At the nasally voice, RJ turned to see Edward Owens approach. “You didn’t stop at the telegraph office today.”

“I did, but you weren’t there.”

“Well, since you’ve been so impatient, I took a guess you’d be here tonight and brought it with me.” Mr. Owens held out a slip of paper.

RJ snatched the telegram, then hesitated, suddenly aware of the two men watching him. “Excuse me.” He hurried around the corner of the schoolhouse.

Alone in the darkness, he closed his eye for a moment. Drawing a long breath, he held the paper up to the square of yellow light from the nearby window and read the neatly typed lines.


Dear RJ STOP Del knows her own mind STOP If you hurt her you’ll answer to me STOP But permission granted STOP Godspeed my friend STOP Anders

RJ released the breath and leaned his head back against the fresh plank wall of the schoolhouse. His heart pounded against twin waves of exhilaration and terror.

He had his answer. Now he had to do something about it.



It had gone so well.

Del surveyed the schoolroom now that everyone else had left save her sisters, who waited for her in the wagon outside.

Her schoolroom. Despite the crumbs and mud scuffs lingering on the floor—and an unfortunate spot near the door where someone had spilled an entire cup of cider—her eyes lingered lovingly over it all. The walls bedecked with student drawings, now made brilliant with watercolor paints under Lilac’s tutelage. They’d even made frames out of some leftover lumber. The desks and benches were back in neat rows, and the bookshelves fixed to the side walls housed what meager library she had so far. Hopefully someday they would be full.

So many had given so much for this school to happen. Families had given of their time and labor to build it, some donating extra lumber when the materials needed had exceeded the sum they’d raised last year. The shiny potbellied stove in the center of the building had been generously gifted by the Jorgensens. The windowpanes were from the Youngs, along with the sturdy wooden door. Behind her desk, which was crafted by Jesse, hung a beautiful world map from the Caldwells, along with framed blackboards, again thanks to Jesse and William.

And most precious of all, the notes handed shyly to her by many of her students tonight, still lying unread on her desk. Del ran her fingers over them, then opened one.

Dear Miss Nielsen, you are the best teacher ever. Thank you for making school fun. Love, Josie Jeffers

Del smiled, a lump in her throat. She unfolded another.

Miss Nielsen, thank you for helping my family. I hope you never leave our school. I love you. Bethany Ann Kinsley

Tears pricked in earnest now. Del gathered the notes and stuffed them in her satchel. She shouldn’t read them all now, not with her family waiting for her out in the cold.

“Some program, Miss Nielsen.”

Del whirled around. RJ stood near the stove, hands in the pockets of his overcoat.

“RJ.” She laid a hand against her chest, her heart thudding more from his presence than startlement. “I thought you’d left.”

“Nope.” He just stood there for a moment, surveying the room as she had. “You did a fine job tonight.”

“So did you, on this building.” Del gestured about her. “It’s more beautiful than I’d dreamed.”

“I’m glad you like it.” His gaze warmed, resting on her face with a tenderness that made her stomach flip.

“I’m afraid I have to go.” Del forced herself to reach for her coat, though everything in her wanted to stay, to talk to him, to—to touch him. Delphinium Nielsen, what has come over you? “My sisters have been waiting for me too long out in the wagon.”

“They’re gone. I asked Lark if I could drive you home.”

Del stilled, her coat half on. “You did?” A trembling began in her middle. “Why?”

“Because I got a telegram from your brother today.”

“Anders?” Her gaze swung to his face. “Is something wrong?”

“I guess that depends on you.” He stepped closer, jamming his hands deeper into his pockets. “I—well, I asked his permission to court his sister. And he gave it.” His Adam’s apple convulsed.

Del gripped the chair behind her, so weak did her legs go. She looked up at him, the stiffness of his shoulders, the tremble in his jaw—why, he was as nervous as she was.

Her heart melted. She stepped near him and, suddenly bold, slid her hands into his. RJ’s pulse thrummed against hers, his palms warm.

“Did he?” She tipped her head to the side. “Funny, I don’t believe you’ve asked mine.”

“I mean to.” He swallowed again. “I just wanted to do things in the right order.”

“Why?”

His brow creased. “Well, my pa always said—”

“No, I mean, why me?” Her cheeks heated, but she wanted to know.