by Janette Oke
When Mary had restored order, I was able to meet each one of them in a quieter fashion.
At eight, William, the eldest, looked like Jonathan except that his hair had a reddish tinge which he had inherited from Mary. Sarah, six, was small and dainty; if any of the offspring could have been deemed retiring, Sarah would have been the one. Kathleen was next. This four-year-old looked like she should have been a boy; mischief sparkled out of her intensely blue eyes, and her pixie face was always fixed in a grin. Baby Elizabeth, named for my mother, had only recently joined the family and was much too young to take part in the present merry-making. She slept through the whole commotion.
After a quick tour of the house, the evening meal was served, and we gathered around the table. Jonathan believed that the family should share this special time of day, and so the children joined us at the table. As I watched them clamber into chairs. I wondered just what Mother would have thought of the whole event. In our home, children, even quiet, wellmannered ones, did not join the adults at the table until they had passed their twelfth, or at the earliest, tenth birthday.
Jonathan's children proved to be well-behaved in spite of their high spirits, and we adults were able to converse, uninterrupted by childish outbursts. It was obvious that they had been instructed well as to how to conduct themselves. Maybe it is wise to start them young at the family dinner table, I decided as I watched them. I did wonder as I studied Kathleen just how long she would be able to sit primly like a little lady. She looked like a miniature volcano about to erupt.
The meal, served by a maid named Stacy. was absolutely delicious. I was embarrassed at the amount of food I ate..Jon- athan assured me that the crisp air affected one's appetite; I was glad to have something to blame it on.
"I'm so glad that you could come a few days early," Mary said. "Now we have opportunity to get to know you before you commence your teaching duties. We do want to show you around, and-" she added with a twinkle in her eye, "to show you off."
I smiled at her.
"Indeed," teased Jonathan, "I have a whole list of young men waiting to meet you. I finally gave up trying to keep track of who was to be first. I told them that they would just have to stand in line and wait their turn, but I'm afraid ..."
My cheeks grew warm and I interrupted Jonathan before he could go on. "I'm quite happy to meet your friends," I announced firmly, "but I do want to make one thing clear: I came west to teach, not to wed. Had I been interested in matrimony, I could have staved in the East and found an acceptable spouse. Julie, who by the way is our family expert on the subject, assures me that the men of the West are adventurers-undependable, rough and rowdy. I don't know if her research is totally reliable, but I've no intention of finding out. If you want a wife for one of your friends, you'd best bring out Julie. She'll be more than willing to consider the possibility. I? Never! "
It was a rather long speech under the circumstances, and the faces of the listeners changed from unbelief, to concern, to amusement. When I finished, I saw Jonathan steal a glance at Mary to see if she considered me serious. She gave him a barely visible nod, and he understood her to mean that I was. He cleared his throat, then waited a moment.
"I see," he said slowly. "that we shouldn't tease you so. Here we often forget the manners that our mothers tried so hard to instill in us. We tease and jest all the time. It helps the road to smooth out when it might otherwise be rough.
"Of course we have no intention of marrying you off." He then added with great sincerity, "But I could this night, personally, introduce you to a dozen good, clean, mannerly, wellbred gentlemen who would make your Eastern dandies look pale in comparison. But I won't do it," he hurried on, "lest my intentions be misconstrued."
I knew exactly what he was implying and realized with embarrassment that I deserved this mild rebuke for my tactlessness and bad manners. My face was suddenly drained of all color. I knew that I should apologize for my outburst, but somehow I couldn't get the words through my tight throat.
Jonathan chuckled, and the sound of his soft laugh eased the tension around the table. "I promise, little sister," he said with feigned seriousness, "to make no effort to see you married if you have no desire to be so. But, looking at you, I'd say you will have to get that message across yourself to more than one young man.
Mary seemed to agree. She didn't say anything-only smiled-but the warmth of that smile carried with it approval of her sister-in-law's appearance.
My cheeks flushed again, for a different reason this time. I was willing to assume the responsibility of getting that message across, if need be.
"I've had to do it before," I said calmly, "and I'm quite confident that I can again."
A small voice broke in. "When I grow up, I'm gonna marry Dee."
Everyone shared in the laughter; even I, who did not have the slightest notion who Dee was.
As Mary wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes she attempted to enlighten me. "Dee is a very dear friend. He's already close to thirty and as determined as you, my dear, to stay single."
"He's my friend," Kathleen insisted.
"Of course he is, sweetie. Now finish your dinner."
When we rose from the table, a wave of tiredness flooded over me. I wondered if I'd be able to hold out while Mary went to tuck in the children.
It was early yet, and I knew that it was unthinkable to ask to be shown to my room, and yet that was the very thing that I longed to do. Jonathan noticed it.
"You must be dead on your feet. Why don't you go and have a warm bath and get to bed early tonight? I never could get a proper night's sleep on one of those rumbling trains. The time change makes a difference too. According to Eastern time, it's now your bedtime."
I admitted that I was terribly weary.
"Go on, then," he insisted. "Your door is the first one on the right at the top of the stairs. The bath is in the room next to yours. After your long trip I'm sure you will enjoy relaxing in a tub again. I've already put your things in your room. I'm off to hear the children's prayers now, so I'll tell Mary. She will understand. There's plenty of time ahead for us to catch up on everything."
I thanked him and climbed the stairs. I could hardly wait to crawl into that tub. I sincerely hoped I would still have the energy to make it from the tub to the bed.
Soon I would need to write Mother and tell her all about Jonathan's lovely home and beautiful family. It was evident that the West had dealt very kindly with him. Mother would be proud. Jonathan himself had been very modest in his letters home, but I had no inhibitions about painting for Mother the complete picture.
Jonathan's home, a. large three-story dwelling with many gables and bay windows, was a lovely structure of red brick; the elaborate wooden trim around the whole house was painted white.
The interior was spacious and cool, furnished with pieces shipped from the East. Colorful carpets covered the floors, and rich draperies softened the windows. Only Jonathan's study showed the unique influence of the West. Here was locally built furniture, massive and impressive. The wall bore mounted animal heads. A bear rug sprawled in front of the fireplace, while a buffalo robe covered the couch.
But the letter would have to wait. Tonight I was too tired to even consider writing. Tonight I wanted only a bed. Tomorrow-well, tomorrow I hoped to somehow have another look at those gorgeous mountains. I would attempt to tell my family back East about them as well, but already I knew that whatever I could say would never do the mountains justice.
Chapter Six
Introductions
It did appear indeed that Jonathan and Mary were anxious to show me around, and to show me off. Never had I spent such a busy ten days as those that followed my arrival in Calgary. It seemed as though I was constantly changing my dress for the next occasion. But I will admit that it was all exciting, and I'm afraid it threatened to go to my head.
I had arrived on a Friday and Jon (I discovered that he favored being called Jon, so I complied, though it did seem a
shame to go from a beautiful name like Jonathan to one as simple as Jon)--anyway, Jon and Mary decided that after my long train journey, I needed Saturday to rest. I didn't rest much, for I needed to unpack my clothes for my stay. I spent most of the day washing and pressing my things.
I was able to get to know my nephew and nieces, for everywhere I went, there they were at my elbow. It was delightful.
William had already finished two years in the classroom and was held in awe by his sisters. Sarah would shyly plead, "Show me, William-tell me-'splain it to me, William." William did, his self-esteem showing in those hazel eyes under his shock of reddish hair.
Kathleen was a dear. Her expressions sparkled with mischief as she chattered and watched everything that I did. It was apparent that Jon and Mary were parents who carefully guided and controlled their children, for even the energetic and outgoing Kathleen was not bold in her venturing, though her eyes showed that she found it difficult to restrain her bursts of enthusiasm.
As I unfolded an emerald-green velvet frock from the tissues that I had carefully wrapped it in, her eyes took on a special shine, and one hand reached out to touch the softness of the velvet. She quickly checked herself and tucked both hands behind her back where they would be safe from temptation. Her eyes sought mine, their message a plea for forgiveness for what she had almost done; but soon they were filled with a gentle question.
"Does it feel like baby chickies?" she asked in almost a whisper.
"You know," I answered honestly, "I have never, ever had the privilege of touching a baby chickie."
"You haven't?" Her eyes were big, and I knew that she could scarcely believe my ill fortune. A look of sympathy followed the wonder.
"I'll tell Papa," she said, very matter-of-factly, and I knew that she was confident Papa would care for my obvious need.
"Have you held baby chicks?" I asked her.
"Oh, yes."
"Then you touch the dress and tell me if it feels the same."
She looked at me, her big eyes wondering if I really meant it. I moved the dress nearer to her to assure her that I did. She slowly reached out one hand and then stopped herself, her eyes meeting mine with a twinkle as she said, "Oh-Oh." The hands were both turned palms up. "I'd better wash them first."
"They look fine to me."
She shrugged. "I'd better wash them anyway. Mama says some dirt don't see-don't look-" She struggled for the right word.
"Doesn't show?"
"Yah."
She ran hastily from the room and was soon back. She had splashed water on her dress in her hurry, and the hands that she had been so concerned about were still damp where the towel had not been given a chance to do its proper job. She finished drying them by wiping them up and down on the sides of her dress as she approached the velvet gown. She stood for a moment looking at its richness. Then she reached out slowly and touched a fold. Gently the little hand stroked the cloth, careful to brush it only in one direction.
"It does," she whispered, "and like a new kitten, too."
I reached down and pulled her to me.
"Baby chicks must feel nice; and I have stroked a new kitten, so I know that feels nice-but do you know what feels the nicest of all?"
She tipped back her head and studied my face.
"Little people," I said softly.
"Like boys and-and girls?"
"Boys and girls."
She giggled, and then threw her arms around my neck and hugged me. I swallowed hard. How wonderful to be able to hold a child, to love unreservedly and have the love returned.
Sarah called, and Kathleen released her hold.
"She's probl'y gonna say, `Kathleen, wash for lunch,' and I've already washed!" She took great pleasure in the fact that she would be able to side-step the command. She started a lopsided skip as she left the room, not yet old enough to do it properly. At the door she stopped and turned back. "Thank you, Aunt Beth," she called. She threw me a kiss, which I returned, and was gone.
A few minutes later we were indeed gathered for lunch. William held us up because he was off climbing trees with a neighbor; it took Sarah several minutes to locate him. He was scolded gently and sent to wash and change his shirt, which had a ragged tear on one sleeve. He reappeared a few minutes later, fresh shirt properly buttoned but not so properly tucked in, and his face and hands scrubbed, though one could easily see the water line at his chin. Mary's rueful smile accepted him as he was, and the meal was served.
"After lunch I want you children to play outside-in the yard," said Mary, looking pointedly at William. "Aunt Beth may want to nap."
"Oh, no," I hurried to explain, "I still haven't finished caring for my clothes."
Even as I said the words I realized just how much I would love to take time for a little rest.
"Baby Lis'beth still naps," Kathleen said seriously, and I could tell that she felt very proud about being allowed to go without an afternoon sleep.
"Baby Elizabeth is lucky," declared Mary. I guessed that there were many days when she gladly would have curled up for a nap herself if she had been given the opportunity.
Kathleen did not argue, though it was evident from the look in her eyes that she did not agree with her mother.
The next. morning, Sunday, the house was filled with activity as we prepared to attend the church service. Kathleen tapped timidly on my door while I was fixing my hair. She came in to show me her dress and ribbons. She looked like she should have been on a calendar. Her pretty clothes and careful grooming accented her pixie-like quality. Her eyes sparkled as she caressed the lace on her pinafore.
"Do you like it?"
"It's lovely."
"Mama made it."
"She did?"
"She did," she nodded.
"It's beautiful. Your mama is a very fine seamstress."
"That's what Papa says."
She then studied me. "You look nice, too. Did you make your dress?" I shook my head, thinking of the shop in Toronto where the dress had been purchased.
"No," I said slowly, "Madame Tamer made it."
"She's good, too," Kathleen said solemnly.
I smiled, thinking of the madame and her prices. Yes, she was good, too.
The church building was new, though not as large as the one I had been used to attending. The people were friendly, and it was easy to feel at home, especially because I came as Jon's sister. It was plain to see that they regarded Jon and Mary with a great deal of respect.
I sat between William and Sarah. It was difficult for William not to squirm. He shifted this way, then that, swung this foot, then the other, made fists, then relaxed them. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Kathleen did not fare much better than William. Sarah, on the other hand, sat quietly. At one point, when we stood to sing a hymn, she slipped a little hand into mine. I gave it a squeeze and smiled at her. She cuddled up to me like a little puppy.
After the service was over I was introduced to a number of the people. The congregation was made up mostly of young couples, though I did see several men who seemed to be unattached. I appreciated the fact that Jon did not steer me in their direction. He left me with Marv and a few of her friends and went over to greet the men by himself.
The minister, his wife and four children were invited to join us at Jon and Mary's for Sunday dinner. The Reverend Dickson had come west three years ago. He wanted to talk of nothing but the West and was full of glowing accounts of the great things that were happening all around him. Mrs. Dickson was eager to discuss anything and everything about "back home." I felt much like a tennis ball during the conversation.
The next day Jon and Mary invited Mr. Higgins, the district's school superintendent, for dinner.
I was anxious to meet Mr. Higgins and to find out about my new school, but I was nervous about it too. What if he didn't feel that I could do a proper job? A man with his great responsibility, who was conscientiously searching for just the right teachers for his needy schools, could be extremely fussy
about whom he chose to fill those needs.
I pictured Mr. Higgins as a rather reserved and learned man, balding, maybe a bit overweight. carefully clothed and austere. His bearing, his manner, his very look would speak the seriousness with which he regarded his responsibilities.
When Sarah announced that Mr. Higgins had arrived, I hastened to the parlor, pausing at the doorway to compose myself for this important meeting. I was not prepared for what I saw.
At first, I must confess, my eyes searched the room for a third party; I was certain that the gentleman laughing and joking with Jon was not, nor could possibly be, School Superintendent Higgins. But while my gaze traveled round the room, Jon turned and introduced his guest as Mr. Higgins.
The man was rather young-about thirty-five, I guessed. He was not carefully groomed, nor was he dignified or austere. His appearance and his conversation indicated to me that he was sloppy, loud, arrogant and bold. I didn't like any of those things in a man.
I felt an inner check, quickly reminding myself that one must never make snap judgments based on first impressions. Even so, it was difficult for me to smile politely and extend my hand, but I did. Higgins nearly broke my fingers as he pumped a generous, manly handshake. He boomed out, "How d'ya do? How d'ya do?"
He didn't say that he was pleased to meet me, but I got the feeling that he was, for his eyes carelessly passed over my face and form. He seemed to approve, for he kept right on staring at me. I felt the color creeping into my face. Brother Jon came to my rescue.
"Let's be seated," he said. "I'm sure that miss Thatcher is anxious to find out all about our school district."
Mentally I thanked Jon for using my formal name. Perhaps that would keep the forward Mr. Higgins at bay.
I voiced agreement with Jon. "Yes, I'm most interested in everything concerning the schools of this area, in particular the one that I will be serving."