“Is Anyone Courting You?” — His Question Left Her Stunned, While His Friend Tried Not to Laugh

The schoolhouse held the cold like it owed it something. Ezra Hol knelt beside a [music] child's desk, one knee pressed to floorboards worn silver by 30 years of boot heels, working a new peg into a leg that had finally given out. Across the room, Charlie Doss [music] stood at the window, running sandpaper along a

sill gone soft with damp. Neither of [music] them heard the door until it opened. A young woman stepped through it, a val in one hand and a [music] stack of books balanced against her hip and stopped just inside the frame like she was taking measure of the [music] room. Ezra straightened. School doesn't

open till Monday. That's fortunate. She set [music] the val down since I'm supposed to teach in it. He looked up properly then, and for a moment [music] the desk leg in his hands was entirely forgotten. The morning light through the window settled over her, and something in him went quiet. before he'd even

decided to notice her at all. Charlie crossed the room and the introductions went around. Ezra Hol, Charlie Doss, and Eliza Reed, the teacher the town had been waiting on. "She'd come early," she said to have the room ready before the children did. She shook both their hands. Ezra stayed right where he was, the peg still in his

hand, and didn't quite manage to look away. "Long way out?" he asked, mostly to have something to say. long enough. She glanced at the water stained ceiling, the patched desks, and didn't flinch. I understand you're the one fixing it, trying to a pause sat there a beat too long, Ezra still watching her longer than he should

have. He opened his mouth to fill it with something ordinary, and what came out instead was, "Is anyone courting you?" The room went very still. Across it, Charlie's sandpaper stopped moving entirely. Eliza blinked. I'm sorry. I mean, Ezra hurt himself a half second too late. The way a man hears a hammer miss the nail after it's already come