I'm still trying to get my 'read inside' section on Amazon.com to add one more page to the free section. (Maybe by tomorrow!)

Meanwhile, if you're interested, here's the complete version of the first short story. The rest of the book is available online, but I wanted to get some feedback from all of you. I hope you like it. It's based on my great-great grandparents and the romance they shared in the 1870s.

Getting your feedback will really help me on my next book. I'm starting one on Clara's parents and how they met in Scotland in the 1850s. In real life, my great-great-great grandmother was my idol. I grew up with stories about her and I always saw her as Maureen O'Hara and Katherine Hepburn, rolled into one woman. One example, she evaded paying duty on her linen tablecloths, when she disembarked the ship, by basting them on one edge and wearing them off the boat as petticoats. She didn't believe she should pay tax on her own possessions...and clothing was not taxed.

I digress, but thank you in advance, for taking the time to read this story. Clara is a strong character and I really like her. She is based on my great-great grandmother, who never let being deaf stop her from doing what she wanted to do. We have a lot of strong women, in our family tree : )

The Classroom

As Henry walked around the classroom, he quickly put things to
rights. He liked everything to be in order. All things put in their
proper place. He detested chaos, since his life was chaotic on all but
the very best days.

It wasn’t easy being deaf. In the 1870s there were no interpreters
to communicate one’s feelings to the public. And most people didn’t
understand sign language. So writing was the only way to let others
know what he needed. Let alone, what he dreamed.

She would be coming to his classroom this afternoon. He tried to
think about something, anything else. But all he could see was her
lovely blonde hair all braided up around her head. He longed to run his
fingers through those braids. Thought of it often, too often, lately.

But that was no good. She was still a student. And he was a teacher
at the School for the Deaf. The very thought of those braids was
inappropriate. He reminded himself yet again, how inappropriate this
would be. Not only was she a student, who was graduating in a month,
but she was also the daughter of a very influential mayor of a nearby
city.

And he was from a poor farm family. The fact that he had this
opportunity was for the grace of a nearby wealthy neighbor, who thought
him a very bright child and had paid for his education. She had been
his salvation or so he thought. The chance to find books, learn to
communicate with others like himself. Yet, now that he’d been teaching
these seven long years, all he could think about (besides those braids)
was that he missed the farm. The times when no one had wanted him to
settle petty disputes or grade papers. The lovely way the sun rose over
the hills in the morning or the brilliant colors as it sank in the
evening. And his horses. How he longed to have his own horse, again.

He continued checking that everything was put away for the weekend.
After this final class, he would be done for two days. Able to read
what he liked and thank goodness, no papers to grade this weekend. He
was so involved in his thoughts that he jumped when he felt the soft
touch on his shoulder.

There she was, lovely golden braids and all. God, he would love to
see her with her hair down. But he pushed all such thoughts out of his
head and smiled, waiting for her to sign why she was there.

Clara caught her breath and smiled at the man before her. He was a
teacher, very well-respected at the school. He taught mainly the boys,
but she had been in his science lab and remembered how he would run his
hand through his hair, when he explained the amazing wonders of the
universe. He would forget and stop signing, then catch himself and go
back to his lecture.

As she looked at him this afternoon, she saw yet again those intense
blue eyes. Eyes she felt she could drown in. But she stood tall and
signed to him that she would like to ask him a question. “I am supposed
to be helping a few of the younger girls with their studies and usually
come with them to the afternoon class. Today, I am leaving early to
travel home for the weekend. May I have their homework assignment, so I
can leave notes for them?”

Henry nodded and walked over to his desk, by the blackboard. He
pulled out his notes and wrote down a few questions. This was the gist
of the lecture and he knew she would have no trouble with the topic. She
had done well in the class he’d taught two years ago. Back then,
the braids had hung down past her shoulders. He had merely thought her a
pretty girl, but was more focused on her quick intellect. Over the
past few months, he had been watching her with the two younger girls.
She was so good with them. So patient. And so beautiful.

He smoothed down the sides of his jacket and took the notes over to
her. “Are you looking forward to seeing your family?” he signed.

Clara was surprised by the question, since Mr. Graves was known for
rarely getting involved in personal issues or even asking about what
went on outside the school.

She smiled and replied, “Yes, I am happy to be going home for a few days and to be able to spend time with my sisters.”

Suddenly, not sure if she was pressing her luck, she signed another
question. “Do you think I should go home after graduating next month…or
possibly take a permanent position helping the younger girls?” There
was a chance that she might be asked back as a teacher for the 8-10 year
old students.

Henry tried not to smile. Looking as serious as he could, he sat
back down at his desk and asked her, “What do you want to do?” He
caught himself tapping his foot, ever so softly. Calm down, he
thought. Don’t scare her off.

Clara smiled and replied, “I enjoy the girls very much, but I am not
sure my family would support the idea.” Suddenly, she found herself
going too far. Maybe she just needed to confide in someone, but she
added, “My family wants me to come home and get married.”

Henry looked down at his desk. Clara saw him run his hand through
his hair, then slowly look up. “Of course,” he signed, “whatever you
think best.”

As he turned to get up, Clara touched his arm. Henry turned back and
she signed, “I want to get married for love. Not because some clerk
wants to marry into my family’s business. My father is rich and has a
lot of pull in our community. I don’t want to be married off as some
prize, but I do want a husband and children. Is that so wrong for
someone like me?”

Catching herself, she blushed and ran out of the room. Henry looked
after her for some time. Maybe for the first time realizing there was a
lot more to this young woman than beautiful blonde braids and a quick
wit.

Read the next story in To Share A Dream With You, now available on Amazon.com and Kindle Unlimited.

https://read.amazon.com/kp/embed?asin=B01IKAD008&asin=B01IKAD008&preview=newtab&linkCode=kpe&ref_=cm_sw_r_kb_dp_RPMIxb5ND1HM9