Surrender the Wind by Elizabeth St. Michel

grinned at her. “Now where was I? Oh yes…as it happened…being schooled at home, my brothers and I went through many tutors.”
    “You must have been a pack of devils.”
    “Well, one must understand the combination of sunshiny days and young boys create an awful longing. Upon one occasion we convinced our tutor he was going bald and the only remedy was what Old Cyrus, an employee at Fairhaven who was a self-proclaimed expert on herbal medicines had stored up. We told him that for it to work, he had to plaster it all over his head, roll his remaining hair up in twigs, and sit in the morning sunshine.”
    “He must have looked a fright,” Catherine said
    “And then some. He was seated on the veranda pretty as a picture when young Polly, our servant girl happened by, screamed, and dropped in a dead faint.
    “You’re incorrigible!”
    “I think my mother had far worse feelings about us when hundreds of bees started swarming around the poor tutor’s head. He ran like lightning for the river. But what was most remarkable was the rancid smell that lingered for days…and mother’s insistence that I return the tutor his money. Afterward, she dismissed him, since he was of no use in the schoolroom and had lied about his credentials. Still, I think it was the smell.”
    They both laughed and their eyes locked, time without end, glorying in the shared moment. Catherine broke away first. “What about your father. Did he have an opinion?”
    “He’s still laughing. My mother always said I followed in my father’s footsteps—the ones he thought he’d covered up.” John’s eyes sparkled at the memory.
    “No wonder you don’t have any manners. What else does your mother say?”
    “She insisted that I have more appointments with the hickory stick.”
    Catherine liked John’s family. Her chest constricted. It must have been wonderful growing up in a large family with all that boisterous love and joy surrounding them. Cocking her head to the side, she asked, “I would hazard to guess you are about thirty-six years old. Am I right? And yet you have never married?”
    John looked out the window. The breeze lifted the curtains and twisted them. “I was married once, came home one afternoon and discovered my dear devoted wife in a compromised position with her lover. I was prepared to kill them both right then and there. She begged for mercy while I beat the hell out of the scoundrel. The only factor holding me back from complete murder was the break of a scandal. To save my family from embarrassment, I sent them packing and divorced her. Her lover was heavy handed with the lash and they were both killed during a slave uprising.”
    Mirrored in his eyes were bitterness, rage, and humiliation. A man of John’s stature and discipline would allow no dishonor or deceit. She could well understand his scornful view toward women. He was a man of integrity, honesty and loyalty and expected the same from those he loved.
    “Enough of me. I want to know about you.” John commanded, his form dominating the room.
    The breathing space grew hot, and in an unconscious gesture, Catherine pulled her heavy mass of hair up off the back of her neck. “Not much more to tell than I’ve already told you. I’ve an older brother who died during the war, although in my heart, I still refuse to believe it. My mother died in a flu epidemic. My father’s heart was broken as they were deeply in love with one another. He died in an accident. Father Callahan, my uncle provided me the schoolmarm position and this home. So, I’m here. All quite mundane you see.”
    “That’s all you have to tell?” He drummed his fingers on the bed sheets.
    “I-I don’t want to bore you with trivialities.” She averted her eyes.
    “Catherine?”
    His quiet voice made her head jerk up. She gasped when he took her spectacles from her, then took a lock of her hair, running its silky length through his fingers. “I assure you Miss Callahan, there is nothing