The Lost Sheenan's Bride (Taming of the Sheenans Book 6) by Jane Porter Page A
Authors: Jane Porter
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more windows ran the length of the school, the windows trimmed in a dirty white, the siding painted a faded red. “It’s not very big.”
“No. There’s not much to it,” she agreed. “It’d be a very quick tour.”
He could tell from her expression—so hopeful and excited—that she wanted to show him and it was impossible to tell her no. He didn’t know how it’d happened but he’d come to like her quite a bit, and he felt very protective of her. “I’d love to see.”
“Come on. We’ll leave my car running. Nobody is going to take it.”
He glanced around, seeing nothing but moonlight on snowcapped mountains, an empty road in front, with a pasture and a crumbling log cabin on the far side. Somewhere behind the schoolhouse was the river. “Because there is nobody anywhere.”
“That’s why they’re talking about closing the school. Fifteen years ago kids from six or seven families attended this school, and they were big families so there were enough children to make it worthwhile, but today it’s just four small families, which is why it’s no longer economical.”
“So they’d bus the kids into Marietta?”
She nodded, leading the way up the small porch and unlocking the front door. “But bus service up into the mountains is treacherous in winter, which is why they left the school open as long as they have.” She turned on the lights and stepped aside to let him enter the school.
Shane closed the door behind him. They were in a little enclosed entry lined with hooks and wooden cubbies on the ground. “This is where the kids keep their lunches, snow boots, and coats,” she said, before heading through a wide opening into the main room. “And this is where I teach.”
“It’s like a freezer in here.”
She nodded. “It’s cold.”
“Where is your heater?”
“We have an old furnace in the back and then I’ll plug in a space heater on really cold days.”
“I’d plug in more than one.”
“If you do that, you’ll blow a fuse. Electrical is old, too. That’s why I can only have a mini refrigerator and a low watt microwave.”
His gaze swept the tidy rows of desks. There were about twenty desks. “You have twenty students?”
“We had thirteen. That family’s gone as of last week, so we’re down to twelve.”
“What happened to that student?”
“The Hainsleys decided to try a new Christian academy in Livingston.”
“Is there a bus to that school?”
“No, the parents are going to drive Jamie each way. They thought it would be better for her. I think they hoped a Christian curriculum would be preferable.”
He shot her a narrowed glance. “Why?”
“They don’t believe in evolution, or sex education.”
“Ah.” His brow wrinkled. “Do you teach sex ed?”
“To the older ones, yes.”
“And what do the younger ones do while you teach the birds and the bees?”
“Work at their desks.”
“Wouldn’t they be listening in?”
“I teach the health stuff in a very quiet voice.” Her cheeks turned pink.
“How I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that,” he answered.
She made a face; cheeks still rosy and blue eyes impossibly bright. “Thank goodness you’re not. It takes a lot of work for me to be really calm and matter of fact.”
“But as a farm girl, I’m sure you’re comfortable with…the mechanics.”
She choked on a smothered laugh and then shook her head. “That’s terrible, but you’re not far off. These are all children of ranchers. They’ve grown up hunting and fishing and helping out on the property. Sometimes I feel like they know more about the real world than I do.”
“I know you’ve only been here for a little over a month, but do you feel like you’ve gotten a sense of the importance of this school? Is it an archaic way to teach, or is there a value to keeping the school open…beyond the obvious that it’s historically significant?”
“I love that question because I wondered that, too, and while I
“No. There’s not much to it,” she agreed. “It’d be a very quick tour.”
He could tell from her expression—so hopeful and excited—that she wanted to show him and it was impossible to tell her no. He didn’t know how it’d happened but he’d come to like her quite a bit, and he felt very protective of her. “I’d love to see.”
“Come on. We’ll leave my car running. Nobody is going to take it.”
He glanced around, seeing nothing but moonlight on snowcapped mountains, an empty road in front, with a pasture and a crumbling log cabin on the far side. Somewhere behind the schoolhouse was the river. “Because there is nobody anywhere.”
“That’s why they’re talking about closing the school. Fifteen years ago kids from six or seven families attended this school, and they were big families so there were enough children to make it worthwhile, but today it’s just four small families, which is why it’s no longer economical.”
“So they’d bus the kids into Marietta?”
She nodded, leading the way up the small porch and unlocking the front door. “But bus service up into the mountains is treacherous in winter, which is why they left the school open as long as they have.” She turned on the lights and stepped aside to let him enter the school.
Shane closed the door behind him. They were in a little enclosed entry lined with hooks and wooden cubbies on the ground. “This is where the kids keep their lunches, snow boots, and coats,” she said, before heading through a wide opening into the main room. “And this is where I teach.”
“It’s like a freezer in here.”
She nodded. “It’s cold.”
“Where is your heater?”
“We have an old furnace in the back and then I’ll plug in a space heater on really cold days.”
“I’d plug in more than one.”
“If you do that, you’ll blow a fuse. Electrical is old, too. That’s why I can only have a mini refrigerator and a low watt microwave.”
His gaze swept the tidy rows of desks. There were about twenty desks. “You have twenty students?”
“We had thirteen. That family’s gone as of last week, so we’re down to twelve.”
“What happened to that student?”
“The Hainsleys decided to try a new Christian academy in Livingston.”
“Is there a bus to that school?”
“No, the parents are going to drive Jamie each way. They thought it would be better for her. I think they hoped a Christian curriculum would be preferable.”
He shot her a narrowed glance. “Why?”
“They don’t believe in evolution, or sex education.”
“Ah.” His brow wrinkled. “Do you teach sex ed?”
“To the older ones, yes.”
“And what do the younger ones do while you teach the birds and the bees?”
“Work at their desks.”
“Wouldn’t they be listening in?”
“I teach the health stuff in a very quiet voice.” Her cheeks turned pink.
“How I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that,” he answered.
She made a face; cheeks still rosy and blue eyes impossibly bright. “Thank goodness you’re not. It takes a lot of work for me to be really calm and matter of fact.”
“But as a farm girl, I’m sure you’re comfortable with…the mechanics.”
She choked on a smothered laugh and then shook her head. “That’s terrible, but you’re not far off. These are all children of ranchers. They’ve grown up hunting and fishing and helping out on the property. Sometimes I feel like they know more about the real world than I do.”
“I know you’ve only been here for a little over a month, but do you feel like you’ve gotten a sense of the importance of this school? Is it an archaic way to teach, or is there a value to keeping the school open…beyond the obvious that it’s historically significant?”
“I love that question because I wondered that, too, and while I
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