At recess Martha sent the children off and then watched from the window as they ran, full of mischief, leaping and skipping, into the warm midmorning sun. Nicholas ran with them, as frolicsome as a colt, full of movement and joy.

From behind her Daniel said, “How did it go?”

He came up and put a hand on her shoulder and she leaned into him. “It went well,” she said. “But I have a new student.”

She could almost hear him frown. His gaze shifted to the children at play and his posture straightened.

“Is that—”

“Yes,” Martha said. “That is my half brother Nicholas.”

Daniel drew in a sharp breath. “She is sly,” he said finally. “Using the boy to get places she herself can’t go.”

Martha couldn’t see his face, but she could feel a fine thrumming tension running through him.

“What do you think she means to accomplish?” Martha said finally.

“Hard to say.”

“There’s something else. He’s slow-witted.”

Daniel started and she looked over her shoulder at him.

“How do you mean?”

She said, “Do you remember Dora Cunningham’s youngest daughter? She looked perfectly healthy and normal, but there was something wrong. She always seemed far younger than she was. I remember asking Hannah about it.”

“And she said?”

“That sometimes if a birth is very difficult and prolonged, the full extent of the damage won’t be known for a year or more. The strain of the birth can injure the brain so that it doesn’t fully develop. She used more medical terms, but that’s what it was, in essence.”

“Does that seem to be the case here?”

Martha lifted a shoulder. “I really don’t know. It’s unlikely Jemima will allow Hannah to examine the boy, and possibly nothing would come of it anyway.”

They watched the younger boys who stood in a circle, heads bent together to study something one of them held in his hands. Nicholas was one of the group.

“I thought he’d have a far harder time fitting in,” Martha said. “But they’ve accepted him without a moment’s hesitation.”

“He is no challenge to them,” Daniel said. “And now what are you going to do?”

“I suppose I’ll see if I can teach him anything. He’s very eager to please.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She let out a deep sigh. “I know what you meant. What can I do? It would be wrong to simply turn the boy away.”

“Jemima is using him like a Trojan horse.”

“She means to,” Martha agreed.

“What of Callie?”

Martha said, “I sent Henry with a note. It seemed the right thing to do.”

“You realize that they may be watching for her, in the hope of getting you together in one place.”

“I don’t know,” Martha said slowly. “My sense is that they won’t try to approach Callie or me directly. They’re hoping the boy will do that work for them. But I suppose we’ll find out.”

Daniel stepped to the side, out of view of the window, and pulled her with him. There in the shadows he turned her around and held her against him. She put her cheek on his shoulder.

“This is playing with fire.”

She smelled of lavender water and chalk dust and soap, and who would have thought that such things would render a man incapable of speech? When she lifted her face to look at him, he kissed her. A slow, deep kiss that was meant to prove her point. Then he let her go.

“A good slow burn,” he said. “That’s what I was aiming for. It has its rewards down the road.”

It wasn’t until a few minutes before the end of the school day that Callie appeared at the classroom door.

The transformation that had so taken Martha by surprise on the Johnstown road was still in evidence. Callie was wearing a simple gown of dove gray linen, and instead of the usual head scarf, a small bonnet. Ethan stood just behind her, and Martha was especially glad to see him.

She went into the hall to greet them. “I didn’t know if you’d come,” she said. “I don’t even know if it’s a good idea.”

“Does he look like my father?” Callie craned her head to see into the classroom.

“I’m not sure,” Martha said. “You must decide for yourself.”

She gestured for them to go ahead, and then she followed them.

The children went very still. They darted looks at one another and then dropped their gazes only to raise them again. It occurred to Martha that most of them might not even know that Callie and Ethan had married, but there was no time to worry about that, or how to remedy it.

As it turned out Ethan was ready to handle what might have been a very awkward situation. His whole demeanor changed when he stepped in front of the class; with the suddenness of a finger snap he was the teacher she had known.

Ethan was good with young children. He spoke in an easy tone that engaged their interest, asking questions of each of them and answering questions in turn.

Finally he said to Martha, “I see you have a new student.”

“Yes,” she said. “Nicholas Wilde joined our class this morning.”

The boy looked back and forth between them, a little uncertain.

“Nicholas,” Ethan said. “You are visiting Paradise with your parents?”

The boy stood up. “No, sir.”