by Janette Oke
“Yer enemy—Mr. Harris Hughes.”
Beth wanted to answer Of course, but she wasn’t certain it would be honest. “I’m not sure.”
“Don’t be too quick to give up on him yet, to think he’s beyond the love of God, beyond hearing the voice of the Spirit.”
Frank began to pray, his hand on Beth’s shoulder as they asked the Father for wisdom, courage, and love on her behalf. Beth silently wiped at her tears, adding, And for forgiveness, Father. Again.
CHAPTER
16
BETH TRUDGED THROUGH DRIFTS that came above her boots. The sharp, cold ice crystals felt as if they were tearing at her stockings, biting at her legs, and freezing any skin they touched. Though the night was still and calm, lit by a cheerful full moon, Beth was not enjoying this particular walk. She had been asked to come to Bonnie Murphy’s house to help the girls with the Christmas program. She’d been told there was a problem. And so she struggled along the road in the darkness between the rows of cookie-cutter homes, each identically hung with icicles and framed with snow, like two rows of gingerbread houses.
Beth searched the brightly lit windows for the pink curtains signifying the Murphy home, where Abigail also roomed. There it is. She hurried up the steps and stood shivering on the stoop.
“Miss Thatcher, come in, come in,” she heard as the door opened before she had even knocked. “Ya look froze through.” Ruth helped Beth over the tumbled boots in the doorway and took her coat. “Daniel, toss another log on. Bonnie, clear a space fer your teacher and give her the throw fer her lap.”
The children hurried to comply while Beth accepted a seat on the only padded chair in the small home. Close to the fire, she was grateful for the warmth as she held out her hands toward the stove. Bonnie joined Marnie and Luela at the kitchen table.
Abigail came over with the pot, poured a cup of coffee, and placed it in Beth’s hands. It was marvelously hot—still too hot to drink, but it smelled delicious.
The expressions she saw facing her around the table were rather grim. “I’m so sorry ya had to come out in this cold, Miss Thatcher,” Bonnie said. “We feel real bad about that.”
“What’s the matter, girls? How can I help?”
They exchanged looks and Luela blurted, “The boys ain’t gonna help with our sets. Said they’re too busy now.”
“Why is that? What are they doing instead?”
“That project with Mr. Harris Hughes.”
“Project? Who all is involved?”
“Addie and Teddy Boy. An’ Kenny Edwards an’ James an’ Peter. All of ’em, leastwise all the boys old enough.”
Daniel’s mutter carried across the small room. “I’m eleven. I can help ya.”
Bonnie rolled her eyes and shook her head at her younger brother. “They had the stable half done already for our project. They was, I mean, they were buildin’ it at the Coolidges’ cabin. Now it’s too heavy for us girls ta move, but Luela can’t do the rest of it herself just ’cause it’s at her house.”
“What are the boys doing for this . . . this other project?”
“It’s a radio,” Marnie explained quickly. “It’ll play music and tell the news and all sorts of things. But it has ta have a crank on it to make it work—to give it the electricity. We don’t got any plugs out here to plug it in. And I guess it’s harder ta get done than they thought it would be,” she finished in a rush, betraying her own interest in the endeavor.
Beth blew on the coffee in her cup and ventured a sip. “Why can’t they finish it after the Christmas break?”
“Mr. Harris Hughes says it’s fer a contest an’ it has ta be done ’fore he leaves at the end of the quarter. ’Cause he’s gonna enter it in a show in Calgary.”
The project sounded rather exciting to Beth also. “And they don’t have any time to spare at all?”
“Nope,” declared Bonnie with a vigorous shake of her head.
Beth sipped again and began thinking out loud. “What if . . . you didn’t build a stable this year?” She hurried on before the girls’ consternation could be expressed. “No, listen, what if you painted a backdrop of the stable instead? The platform is rather small, you know. We could use rolls of paper from the store taped together, and I have some paint. Then even some of the younger ones could help.”
They were unconvinced. “But how do we put the manger in it then?”
“It would go on the floor out front.”
“Then how do we—?”
“Wait,” Luela interrupted, holding up a palm toward her friends. “If we painted it, then we could have all them other things we weren’t gonna be able ta build, like a cow, and a lamb . . .”
“And a camel,” Marnie finished, grasping her hands together in delight.
From across the kitchen, Ruth nodded at Abigail, who was arranging cookies on a plate. “That might work. It would be much less trouble. And I think it would be even more creative—prettier and more colorful.”
Daniel was hanging an arm around his mother now. “Mama, can I paint the camel?”
The older girls hovered over the table, talking all at once as they planned the next move.
Beth sipped again at her coffee, relieved that the crisis had been resolved. And without having to involve Robert . . . this time. She wondered though if there might be more to come. Oh, Father, help me meet each difficulty with Your grace . . . and love.
“Boys, sit down!” Beth called over the hubbub. “If I have to tell you again I will be sending notes home to your mothers. I’m very serious.” It was the last day of classes before Christmas and, to make matters more chaotic, only a half day of school since the play was to be held in the evening. The whole town was abuzz with anticipation, and the children were wild with excitement.
Beth inwardly wrestled with her own impatience, trying to ignore the clock ticking away the minutes until Jarrick would arrive in the afternoon. The two of them planned to attend the performance and then to leave in the morning for Lethbridge. Jarrick had several days off in a row, and Beth was nearly beside herself at the thought of their first Christmas together.
“Georgie, I told you, no writing on the board. I’ve already washed it, and I want it left clean. Now, children, all of you sit down and finish your work so you don’t have to take it home. You don’t want homework over Christmas, do you?”
At last the mine whistle blew, signaling lunch for the workers and, on this day, announcing the end of school till next year. Beth scrambled for her coat, hurrying the last little one out the door and pulling it shut behind. She carefully picked her way across the rutted, icy road and hurried to the stairs for some practice time on her part of the violin duet before Jarrick arrived.
On the first step Beth almost tripped over Penelope. The cat’s sides had filled out, and she was far less wild, now frequently underfoot, her bright eyes begging for more to eat. “Not now, Miss Kitty. You’ll have to wait for supper.” Nudging the animal out of the way with the side of one boot, Beth scrambled up to the landing and unlocked the door.
There was so much to do. She changed into her best dress, hung a matching hat on the hook beside her coat, restyled her hair, and tidied the apartment. It was unlikely that Jarrick would step inside her accommodations unless they were chaperoned, but she wanted everything to be perfect just in case more guests arrived. Taking her violin from the trunk, she brought it into tune and played through the melody. It was not a difficult piece, but she feared she was still dreadfully out of practice.
At last there was a knock at the door, and Beth hurried over, hoping to find Jarrick on the landing. However, Bonnie Murphy stood there with Marnie, both girls on the verge of tears.
“What on earth? What’s wrong?” She quickly pulled them into the warmth of her room.
“Oh, Miss Thatcher, the boys ain’t here!”
“What? What do you mean?”
“They drove up the mountain this afternoon to get a better radio signal and nobody’s seen ’em since.”
“The boys drove?”
“No,” Bonnie said, almost shouting, pumping her fists in frustration. “Mr. Harris Hughes drove. But the boys went along.”
Beth’s heart lurched; she quickly reached for her coat and slid her feet into boots. “Who exactly went?”
“Teddy Boy and Addie, Peter and James and Kenny. All the oldest boys who were doing that project.”
“How long have they been gone?”
“Hours—hours!”
“Oh dear. Yes, come, let’s find out . . .” But she didn’t finish as they rushed downstairs.
“Everybody’s at the school. That’s where they’re meetin’ up now.”
Beth attempted to draw on any words of comfort and encouragement that came to mind for the girls. Her private thoughts, though, were frantic. What if something has happened to them? What if they’re stuck in the snow? What if their car went off the road and over a cliff? It’ll be dark soon! She glanced toward the west, the sun a low blur against the dull gray sky. Oh, Father, please don’t let it snow now.
Abigail met them at the door to the school and reached out to catch the worried girls’ hands. “The boys are fine. Mr. McDermott and Mr. Shaw went lookin’ for them in the truck. Mr. Shaw just come back on foot to tell us the news. Seems the teacher’s car got stuck in a drift, and Peter’s daddy is usin’ chains to try an’ pull it out. Mr. Shaw thought they might even beat him back, but it must be stuck worse’n he thought. He’s roundin’ up more men in a second truck to go help.”
Beth looked back up at the sky. “They’ll need blankets. I’ll go—”
“Molly already went. Her and Heidi Coolidge are gatherin’ as many as they can find. Come on in. No sense catchin’ yer death of cold.”
Abigail’s words only underscored Beth’s concern about the boys’ safety. It looked like most of the little town had already been mobilized. She took a position by the entry-room window facing out on the street, watching for signs of the boys returning or Jarrick’s car. Soon a cluster of the younger ones had gathered around her, more children than she had long-enough arms to draw close.
A truck rumbled past, Philip driving, along with Toby Coulter in the cab. In the back were several men hunkered down to ward off the cold. Beth recognized Marnie’s beau, Harold, next to his uncle Lloyd.
“Miss Thatcher, how long’s it gonna take ’em to find the boys?” Marian Edwards sniffed. “Mama says Kenny left his scarf and mittens at home.” More sniffles followed.
Beth stroked a hand against the blond hair and offered her own handkerchief. “They know where the boys are, darling. And they can sit inside their car to wait, so they’re out of the wind.”
Wilton Coolidge shook his head slowly. “Uh-uh, my daddy used ta say a car is the coldest place you could be in a blizzard. He said you’d be better off diggin’ down inta a snow drift than waitin’ in a metal car.”
Beth’s eyes glanced back out the window. Where is Jarrick? Why doesn’t he come?
The darkening clouds seemed ready to soon let loose the next snowfall. She tried not to allow her fears to be seen by the children. Taking a deep breath and asking God for calm, she suggested, “Why don’t we pray? That’s something we can do to help.” She turned her back on the window. “Let’s sit here together and ask God to protect the boys and the men who are rescuing them. We don’t need chairs. We can just sit right here on the floor. It’s clean enough. I swept it out near the end of class, remember? Let’s make a circle and hold hands. Who wants to start?”
One by one the brothers and sisters, with childlike innocence, began to talk about the frightening situation with their heavenly Father.
“Help ’em get the car out, God. Help ’em be okay.”
“God, Kenny don’t even got his scarf and mittens on. Can ya keep his hands warm, please?”
“An’ don’t let nobody get hurt.”
“Please, God, keep it from snowin’ before they get back. That would just make it all so worse!”
“An’ help my daddy not to yell too much at James, least till they get home safe.”
Whose fault is this, anyway? Beth pondered. It was the first time she had even considered blame. Certainly not the boys. Indeed, there’s only one adult involved.
Soon it became too dark to stay put by the front door. So the small group rose and joined their mothers waiting in Beth’s classroom, where lamps were already lit and placed strategically around. It was an eerie wavering light, making the large familiar space feel like a great void, casting hulking shadows against the walls whenever a pacing mother would pass near a lamp. The little potbellied stove was crackling with heat and still Beth’s hands were cold. She rubbed them together and continued to pray silently.
“There’s a car,” Henry Ruffinelli hollered. “I hear a car.” They rushed for the entryway window, the smaller ones there before their mothers could rise from the seats.
“No ya didn’t hear it, Huffy! There ain’t nothin’ out there.” Breathless silence.
“Yes there is! I heard it too.” More silence.
Then came the unmistakable sound of a car, and long patches of headlight beams shot across the snow and ice. The watchers streamed outside, calling, “Who’s there? Who is it?”
A car door creaked open, and some young passengers scrambled out.
Abigail had brought a lamp and lifted it high above the crowd to reflect off the side of Jarrick’s police vehicle and the five teenagers. They scattered through the crowd looking for their families, not reluctant to accept the long hugs and cries of thanksgiving. “You’re safe! Oh, thank God!”
Thank You, Father. Thank You for hearing the children’s prayers . . . and mine. Beth pushed forward toward the driver’s side and fell into Jarrick’s arms.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he whispered, making her laugh shakily. “I was on my way into town when I was flagged down by a couple of fathers.”
“I’m so glad you were able to help. I’m so grateful everyone is safe at last.”
Beth slept surprisingly late. There was no reason to hurry. The boys were home, the snow had not come, and the Christmas play had simply been postponed until the next evening, though that meant she and Jarrick would be off to Lethbridge and wouldn’t be able to see the event. Frank cheerfully agreed to play his violin on his own. “I have lots’a songs to choose’a from,” he’d assured Beth.
Beth also recalled the mutters about Robert’s ill-advised trip up the mountain during inclement weather as mothers had helped set the school desks back in order and snuffed out the lamps.
“What did he think he was doing?”
“Shows ya all that fancy education don’t turn into common sense!”
“Just a city boy, after all.”
“Can’t even figure out it ain’t wise to try ta plow through a three-foot snowdrift, with our boys in his car. Who on earth does that?”
The town’s sentiment seemed to have turned against him.
By the time Beth hurried over to Molly’s for breakfast, the sun was shining brightly. She could see signs in the snow of the previous night’s excitement—tire tracks at odd angles and footprints trampling broad areas. She arrived just as breakfast was being cleared away and was given a plate of eggs and bacon. Frank and Jarrick were still seated with their cups of coffee while Molly and Marnie washed the dishes. Beth couldn’t resist a whispered good morning in Jarrick’s ear as she passed behind him and found a place at the kitchen table.
The news had already circulated that Mr. Harris Hughes had headed out for Calgary before sunrise. Beth asked no questions about the boys’ adventure last night and the fate of the project. She did hope for Teddy’s sake, as well as the others, that it might still be entered in the contest.
Late in the morning she and Jarrick packed up the car and said their good-byes, with Merry Christmas greetings exchanged by all. Molly insisted they take an extra blanket, “just in case,” and propped a towel-wrapped Mason jar filled with piping hot coffee among the b
ags at Beth’s feet.
“One whole week,” Beth said as she nestled beside Jarrick. “One whole week of rest and bliss. And you . . .” she added, looking at him.
“I’m ready for that,” he answered, looking sideways at her with a tender smile. “Let’s hope this trip isn’t as eventful as my arrival last night.”
“To be sure!”
“Beth, you remember Dillard and Eliza Smith, of course. And that they work in the same ministry organization as Philip.”
“Of course.” Beth nodded to the young couple standing in the doorway, welcoming Beth as their guest for a second time. “It’s lovely to be here with you—and this time not worried about a little boy in the hospital. We’ll have a chance for a more relaxed visit.”
Beth’s hostess smiled, her eyes twinkling as she quickly ushered Beth into the comfortable home, through the foyer, and past a narrow wood stair. “I’d like a chance to get to know you better, dear, if you and I can find the time.” Eliza gave Beth’s elbow a squeeze, a teasing tone to her voice.
“I don’t think that will be a problem, Eliza. I don’t actually know anyone else in Lethbridge.”
They continued through a doorway and into a sitting room. “Are you certain of that?”
A squeal of delight followed, and Julie rushed across the room, catching Beth in a tight embrace before she could utter a word.
“Surprise!” Julie exclaimed. “Did we surprise you, Bethie?”
“What on earth—Julie? What . . . how did you get here?”
Beth’s sister laughed and said, “It was your Jack’s idea, Jack’s and Father’s. They were in cahoots, working it out so I could come on the train for your Christmas break. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Beth buried herself in Julie’s hug. “It is! It’s wonderful, darling. I can’t think of what to say.”
Soon they were seated on the sofa, and Julie was bubbling over with news. Margret was mostly staying at home, awaiting the birth of her second child. Mother was fussing over Margret and supervising Christmas decorations and buying gifts. “I brought yours with me,” Julie assured Beth. Little JW was now talking up a storm, climbing on the stair rail, and anxiously awaiting “Ch’ismas.” Julie promised pictures of him, now packed away in the suitcase upstairs. She also said Father had just returned from a short business trip and would be leaving again after Christmas.