Free RR05 - Tender Mercies by Lauraine Snelling

leave it alone, but he wasn’t here. Pastor John Solberg was too solemn for his own good, leastways that’s how she saw him. Surely there was a remedy for such seriousness.
    But don’t embarrass him in front of his pupils , a wise voice in her ear cautioned. She agreed. That would never do.
    “See, my hand is better now.” Deborah held out her bandaged hand. Her scream the afternoon before when she’d impaled her hand on a stick had set his heart to racing, much like it was doing now.
    Silence fell as Pastor Solberg bowed his head. “Dear Heavenly Father, we thank thee for this day, the beauty we see and the joy we feel.” Heaven above, what did I mean by that? “Bless our studies today and every day, and make us worthy of thy kingdom.” The children joined in the “amen” and immediately moved into the schoolroom, hanging up their coats and dinner pails without any fuss.
    They stood by their desks and waited for the teacher to make his way to the front of the room. “Swen, will you lead us in the Pledge of Allegiance?”
    All hands clapped over their hearts, including Deborah’s after Andrew changed hands for her.
    “Oh. I forgot.”
    A giggle came from somewhere farther back but was cut off at the look Solberg sent the offender.
    “I pledge allegiance . . .” The words were picked up in unison, and while there were still some stumbles in the middle, “With liberty and justice for all” rang loud and clear.
    “Anji, you have the Scripture reading?”
    “Yes, sir.” The girl opened the Bible on her desk at the bookmark and read. “ ‘Trust in the Lord with all thy heart and do not rely on your own understanding.’ ”
    “Thank you. Everyone may be seated.”
    Mary Martha stood off to the side, feeling as though she were right back in the schoolroom herself. When she looked up at Pastor Solberg, he stared back. “Ah, Baptiste, could you run over to the church and bring back a chair or a bench? A bench would be good. Yes, that’s right, a bench.”
    She could see the red creep up his neck.
    “Thank you.” She nodded to the children.
    “Miss MacCallister has come to help some of us—you—with your lessons, so will you kindly welcome her?”
    “Good morning, Miss MacCallister.” The older children led while the younger ones stumbled over the words.
    “Shall we try that again?” Solberg sounded more sure now, as if he, too, were getting his footing.
    After the second time, Mary Martha answered. “Good mornin’ to you too.”
    Anna Helmsrude smiled as though she’d just seen an angel. “Ain’t thee purty?”
    Now the heat was crawling up her own neck. She helped Baptiste settle the bench against the wall and took her seat, folding her hands in her lap. She’d have folded them on top of a desk, had she one.
    And so she sat for the next two hours, watching Pastor Solberg conduct the classes, the older ones helping the younger, and having much too much time to think. Keeping a smile plastered on her face was taking more effort as the morning wore on. At recess, the children walked to the door and then burst into running as if catapulted from a slingshot.
    “Is there something I can do to help, or did you just want . . .” She almost said “spectator” but refrained.
    He looked up from his book, his face as blank as the blackboard behind him. “No . . . ah, yes, yes. I was about to ask you to review alphabet letters with the little ones.”
    She could tell he was thinking off the top of his head. “That will be fine. And then?”
    He shrugged. “Their numbers?”
    She had the distinct feeling he didn’t know what to do with her. “Would you rather I come back another day?” Or not at all?
    John Solberg scrubbed a hand across his head. “Look, Miss Mac-Callister, I have a confession to make.” Both hands this time, one followed the other across his now mussed hair.
    She waited. Surely he hadn’t murdered anyone or done anything so terrible to earn the look on his face .
    “I have