[Canadian West 01] - When Calls the Heart

by Janette Oke

  I noticed Lydia holding Phil's hand tightly. She looked as if she were afraid to let go, lest he leave her again. I could imagine how many things they had to talk about. I stood up.

  "I must get back to my seat," I said. "I need to gather my things together."

  Wynn stood and moved aside so that I could pass him. The train gave a sudden lurch, and I nearly lost my balance. His arm was quick to steady me. I hurriedly righted myself by grabbing the back of a seat and withdrew from him. This contact, however short and unplanned, had unnerved me.

  I had gathered my few belongings together in short order and knew by the landmarks that we still had some minutes left before arrival. I picked up my book and stared at the pages, but I didn't read. I heard a stirring and looked up in time to see Wynn lower himself' in the seat opposite me.

  "May I?"

  "Certainly."

  "I wondered if you had arranged for a way home."

  "I-not really. I guess when I left I wasn't thinking that far ahead."

  "Fine. Then you can ride with us."

  "I-thank you."

  "You don't mind?"

  "No, of course not. That is, if you don't mind."

  "Then it's settled."

  He was about to go but I detained him. "Mr. Delaney," I said. I had never called him by his first name, though I thought of him as "Wynn." "I know that I tried to explain about the box social, but I didn't say how-how sorry I am for publicly embarrassing you."

  "Embarrassing me?"

  "Yes. Even though I thought that you were married, your neighbors-they knew that you weren't, and they had no idea that I thought-what I did-and-"

  "Would it have made a difference?" His tone was forthright. "Would you have found time to share your lunch if you had known the truth?"

  "Of course."

  He considered that for a moment.

  I started, "Why else would I-"

  "Miss Thatcher," he said and he grinned at me-that slow, teasing grin, "I am not so conceited as to believe that a young lady such as yourself, cultured and refined, would jump at the chance of sharing a lunch with the likes of me-untamed and unpolished-under any circumstances. You were quite within your rights to turn me down-for whatever your reason-no questions asked."

  I gasped.

  "But-but I wouldn't have."

  "And if Bill Laverly had been the lucky purchaser, as he wanted to be, would you have had lunch with him?"

  I was cornered, but I had to be honest. I struggled for words. There didn't seem to be any truly appropriate onesjust truthful ones.

  "Yes-yes, of course. That was the whole idea."

  He lifted his hat to me with the same smile shining out of his eyes.

  "You're a good sport, Elizabeth," he said. "See you in Lacombe." He replaced his hat and was gone.

  A hired auto was waiting for us in Lacombe. It had been arranged for Phil so that the trip would not be too tiring. Because the family still clung together, I shared the front seat with Wynn who was driving. I'm sure that he noticed my silence, but he said nothing about it. Instead, he gave me a short Alberta biology lesson about the local flora and fauna. I found it all very interesting; in fact, he was providing some of the very information for which I had unsuccessfully searched in the Calgary library.

  "Could you-would you mind coming to the school and telling some of this to the students?" I blurted out without thinking. "It's exactly what I've wanted to teach them, but I know so little-and I couldn't find any books."

  "I'd love to," he said, and I was certain that he meant it, "but I'm leaving tomorrow. It's back to work for me on Wednesday."

  "I see."

  I sat silently. He spoke, "You can go ahead and use the little that I've told you; and the next time that I see you, I'll give you an additional lesson-how's that?"

  My heart skipped-then made up for the lost beat in double time. I would be seeing him again.

  "You come home often?"

  "No-sometimes not for months, or even years. It depends on where I'm posted."

  "And where will you be posted?"

  "I don't know that yet."

  "You don't know? You go back to work in two days, and you don't even know where?"

  "I'll know in time to get to the place they want to send me.

  "Then there may not be another lesson," I said dully. I may not ever see him again, my heart mourned.

  "True," his voice as serious as mine, "there may not."

  We drove in silence for a while. Suddenly he turned to me in excitement.

  "Will Blake!" he exclaimed. "He's a real woodsman. If anyone knows about our area, Will does. He would be glad to come and speak to your pupils. Want me to talk to him?"

  Disappointment seeped all through me. Couldn't he see that it was more than knowledge that I was interested in? Still, I appreciated the fact that he had bothered to consider the needs of my pupils. I forced a smile.

  "That's fine," I said. "You'll be very busy. I'll talk to him. Thank you."

  Chapter Thirty

  The Christmas Program

  My students and I settled back into classroom routines. The air was colder now, so each morning I shivered my way through starting my own fire; and then, just when the teacherage was beginning to get comfortable. I had to leave the warmth of it and hurry across to the school to get the fire going there. It certainly helped to know how to handle the dampers properly. Even so, on some days I seemed to get more smoke than flame.

  The students, for the most part, were working hard and making steady progress. Even the older boys were beginning to study seriously. Andy was still talked about in loving terms. We missed our cheering section.

  In mid-November we began work in earnest on our Christmas program. The students were so eager to make a good showing that they coaxed me daily for a chance to practice. I thought that part of their enthusiasm might be due to the fact that rehearsal kept them from studying spelling and geography, so I vetoed the idea of spending too much time away from the books and encouraged them to learn their lines at home.

  As the time for the performance drew near, we were all caught up in the excitement. First there would be the program. All of the students were involved in presentations. After that portion was over, Santa would make an appearance, and hand out eagerly awaited candy bags. Mr. Laverly had a committee in charge of the bags-and of arranging for Santa, and I was glad that they were not my responsibilities. I was sure that I would have all I could do to get the program and the school in order. After the arrival and departure of the jolly red elf, we would all enjoy a lunch together. It sounded simple enough, but it actually took hours and hours to prepare.

  Whispers began to circulate among the girls as to what each would be wearing. Many even spoke of new dresses that their mammas were going to be making out of "Jane's old one" or "Sally's full skirt" and, in some cases, even brand-new material, purchased just for that purpose. It was easy to catch their excitement. If ever they felt in need of and entitled to a new dress, now was the time.

  The boys said nothing about what they would be wearing. Instead, they talked of the new bells for the team harness or the fact that their pa had said that they could do the driving. It seemed that Christmas was an important time for beginning drivers.

  We all hoped for good weather, for snow on the ground to make things pretty, and temperature not too cold for the teams. The people could bundle up, but the poor horses had to stand in the cold while they waited for the proceedings of the evening to end.

  The night finally arrived, crisp and cold but clear. The wind was not blowing, and I felt thankful for that fact as I trudged through the snow on my various errands between the teacherage and schoolhouse. Each step squeaked and crunched in the dry snow.

  I built the fire early so that the room would be comfortably warm, and put on two big kettles of water to heat. The pump handle was so cold that even through my woolen mittens, my hands complained.

  I carried the pails of water carefully. knowing that
water splashed on my skirt or shoes would be ice by the time I had finished my chore and would make for a most uncomfortable evening.

  My breath preceded me in little wisps of silvery smoke, curling around my head as I moved forward. Overhead the stars shone so brightly that I felt I had only to reach out my hand to feel the warmth of them. As I walked toward the schoolhouse, one glittering star was shaken from its celestial bed and streaked earthward, leaving a long silver streamer trailing behind it.

  In the distance I heard the wail of a coyote. They were not very close tonight. I waited for the answer of the pack, but it did not come. Perhaps the rest were snuggled closely together in an underground den.

  By the time I heard the jingling of harness bells and the squealing of sleigh runners, the schoolroom was comfortably warm and the final preparations were complete. I straightened my hair, smoothed out the skirt of my green velvet dress that I had decided to bring with me from Calgary for this very night, and prepared to meet the first arrivals.

  The women and children bustled into the schoolroom to be unbundled from their many wraps, while the men remained outside for a moment to care for the horses. Blankets that had been used to tuck in children were now thrown over animals, and hay was placed within the teams' reach. There was not enough room in our small barn, so many of the horses were tied to fence posts around the schoolyard.

  The Christmas program went very well, all things considered. There were a few minor calamities: Mindy Blake forgot her lines and fled the make-shift stage in tears; Tim Mattoch, with his poor eyesight, tripped his way onto the platform, but he bounced back up and led the people in the laughter; Maudie Clark became confused in the drill and misled Olga Peterson and Ruthie Clark-soon the whole group was in a snarl, so I had to stop the whole thing and have them start over. Their second attempt was nearly flawless. Sally Clark did a wonderful job reciting "The Night Before Christmas," and little Else sang "Away in a Manger" in such a sweet, clear voice that it brought tears to more than a few eyes. Our playlet went well, too, and we had a most responsive audience. I'm sure that with the evening's performance each of the students felt like a star, and there were no parents there who would have argued with them.

  When the program had ended, each of the students found a seat. It was now time for Santa to make an appearance. We waited, every ear straining, and then we heard a distant jingling of my hand-held school bell and a "Ho-ho-ho." A cheer went up from all of the children in the group-I think that even some of the adults joined them.

  Santa entered-red suit, whiskers, and all-with his hoho-ho ringing out merrily. He said a few muffled words to the children, asking if they had been good, to which they replied in chorus, "Yes!" He then went right to work calling out names and passing out the candy bags. At the sound of each name, a child bounded forward, eyes shining and hands reaching out eagerly. As the last child returned to her seat, I gave Mr. Laverly a nod-he was to thank our unknown Santa. But to my surprise, Santa produced another bag, this one from within his jacket. He called loudly, "Miss Elizabeth Thatcher."

  I stood dumb-struck.

  My students cheered and clapped.

  "Miss Elizabeth Thatcher," Santa called again.

  "C'mon, Teacher. C'mon," the students coaxed.

  I could feel my face flushing, but I finally got to my feet and began moving toward Santa.

  "C'mon now, Miss Thatcher," Santa echoed the children in a hearty, disguised voice. "Step right up here on the platform. Don't be shy, now."

  With the help of several hands I found myself on the platform. I reached timidly for the brown bag in Santa's hand, but he pulled it back with another ho-ho-ho.

  "Not so fast now, Miss Thatcher. Have you been a good girl?"

  The children howled, and I blushed.

  "I-I've tried to be," I answered.

  "Has she, children?" Santa asked my little group. A big cheer went up, along with some shrill whistles. Santa ho-ho'ed again.

  "Well, then I guess you can have it. But first give Santa a little kiss." He tapped his whiskered cheek with a gloved hand.

  I'm not sure if my face was red or white at that point.

  "C'mon now," he said, "give Santa a little kiss." He continued to point at his cheek. Cheers and howls filled the room.

  I looked at the whiskered cheek, shrugged my shoulders slightly, and standing on tiptoe, planted a kiss on dear old Santa amid shouts, cheers, whistles and clapping.

  My face still red, I left the platform clutching the small brown bag. By the time I had regained my composure and my post by the brewing pot of coffee, Santa's ho-ho-ho's were fading in the distance.

  We proceeded to serve the lunch. I poured coffee and hot chocolate. When I finally ran out of customers, I decided to have a cup of hot chocolate myself. Lydia Delaney motioned me over to her family. It was good to see Phil with more color in his cheeks, and he had gained a few pounds since I had last seen him. They made room for me between the two Mrs. Delaneys. They were anxious to know about my Christmas plans, and I told them that I intended to spend the holiday recess with Jon's family in Calgary.

  I wanted to ask them about Wynn-where he had been posted and if"they expected him home, but I didn't trust my voice to be casual enough. so I held my tongue.

  A small stirring drew our attention to the far side of the room and I noticed Phillip, Sr. watching it with interest. Henry Laverly seemed to be circulating among the young men, prompting a number of them to dig disgustedly into their pockets. Phil stood up and sauntered toward them, greeting and talking with neighbors as he worked his way across the room.

  It wasn't until after nearly all of the crowd had bundled up and headed for home, sleighbells ringing and harnesses crackling, that word reached me. It seemed that some of the neighborhood young men had made bets as to who would he the first to get a kiss from the new, young schoolteacher; and bashful, reserved Henry Laverly, with his sneaky Santa routine, had just collected the bets.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Christmas Eve

  I didn't realize just how much I was looking forward to Christmas break until I climbed aboard the train in Lacombe and was finally bound for Calgary. A lonesomeness for my family back East swept over me in an almost overwhelming wave, and for a moment I considered buying a ticket for Toronto and heading home. My sense of reason, and my love for my students, held me steady, so instead I began to plan the days that I would spend with Jon and his family.

  The train ride was, as usual, long and slow; and by the time we arrived in Calgary the short winter's day was almost spent, and darkness was creeping upon us.

  Jon met me at the station. He had brought the three older children with him, and they all took turns trying to dislodge my hat with their wild bear hugs. My enthusiasm may have been more controlled but nonetheless sincere.

  The family was preparing for Christmas. Festive decorations greeted us at the front door, and delicious odors reached us as soon as we stepped inside. It was like coming home, and my homesickness began to leave me.

  The first days I spent in shopping and being entertained by the children. Sarah had to bring me up-to-date on her reading skills, and William demonstrated his ability on the violin, while Kathleen, chattering constantly, followed me about.

  There was to be a special Christmas Eve service in the church, and the children talked about it constantly, probably as much from the opportunity to "stay up late" as anything else. By the time the day arrived, I, too, had caught their excitement.

  We traveled the short distance by sleigh, for the cold weather made unpredictable the starting of automobiles left out in the elements. Besides, Mary maintained, the sleigh was much more in keeping with Christmas. The rest of us agreed. We burrowed together under furry buffalo robes and enjoyed the twinkling of the stars in the clear sky overhead and the crisp sound of the snow under the runners.

  The team, a pair of magnificent bays, snorted and tossed their heads, sending out small clouds of frosty breath. I had the feeling that the
two would have enjoyed a good run, so I was glad that Jon was well able to handle them.

  Jon seated us quite near the front of the church. I sat nestled between Sarah on my left and Kathleen on my right. The room was glowing with candlelight; shadows danced across the faces of the two playing the parts of Mary and Joseph and looking down on the Christ Child lying in the manger bed. The green wreaths made of spruce not only looked Christmasy, but they brought a lovely Christmasy smell to the sanctuary as well.

  The service was delightful. We sensed again the awe of the first Christmas so long ago when God sent His most precious gift, His Son Jesus, into the world to be born of a woman so that someday, as a sacrifice, He could provide salvation for the whole human race.

  The familiar Christmas carols had never meant as much to me as they did on that night. As I recited the words, I pictured the young Mary, her hour having come, with no one to care for her-no warm bed, no private room, no skilled midwife-only straw, a stable, and an anxious husband nearby. She herself cared for the newborn Son of God, the baby Jesus.

  I thought of my Lord, the Maker of Heaven and Earth, now reduced to a helpless child, not even able to express His needs and wants, far less demand the honor due Him; and I thought of the Father who must have watched anxiously from His throne as the new Babe made His appearance in the world that He had fashioned. God himself lay snuggled against the breast of a young peasant girl in a dimly lit stable in Bethlehem. How God must have loved mankind, to allow Him to come.

  I left the service that night with a full heart and overflowing eyes. I brushed away tears with my handkerchief as I smiled at Kathleen and Sarah.

  "Baby 'Liz'beth wasn't born with the cows," Kathleen whispered.

  I nodded my head and gave her a squeeze to let her know that I knew how she felt.

  "I'm glad," she insisted. She thought silently for a few minutes, then continued, "If she would have been, would she have been a Jesus?"

  I smiled. "No, dear, she still would have been an Elizabeth. And Jesus would have still been Jesus, the Son of God, if He had been born in a hospital room or a King's chamber. Where one is born doesn't change who one is. But God knew where Jesus would be born, so He told us through His prophet, many years before it actually happened."