Where Hope Prevails

by Janette Oke

  Julie too had decided to contribute a housewarming gift for Marnie, settling on a small collection of creams and some fancy-smelling soaps from the store display. She urged Beth to come with her as she made up her gift.

  The bell above the door announced their presence, and they joined a rather large number of shoppers inside. Nodding in one direction and then another, they slipped toward Julie’s small table. To their surprise they found Robert standing with an open jar of lotion in his hand, sniffing it carefully. He replaced its lid and exchanged it for another. Beth was amazed, but Julie went right over with a smile.

  “May I help you, Mr. Harris Hughes?”

  He looked up quickly, obviously uncomfortable. “Oh, yes, I thought I might . . . might purchase a lotion. Can you tell me what . . . which one Ivy might like?”

  “Of course. This is one she recommended to me.” Julie handed it to him. “Is she in town? Is she planning a visit? I’d love to see her again.”

  “No. No, I was just thinking about her.” He cleared his throat and backed away. “Uh, thank you, but I think I’ll wait until I have something else to buy also.” He hurried out the door.

  “What on earth?” Beth gazed after him. “He was actually flustered.”

  Julie caught Beth’s arm. “You know what he was doing? He wasn’t planning to buy it for her at all. He just misses her that much.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He wanted to catch a bit of her fragrance, to feel as if she were near again.”

  Beth shook her head in wonder as Julie gathered the items she had planned for Marnie. Then her sister laughed and held up one of the remaining lotions. “I’m giving this to Robert. I’ll put it on his desk,” she announced with a wink. “I like that he misses her so much. It’s romantic!”

  How can such a logical man like Robert be so thoroughly in love? It seems such a contradiction of terms.

  On Wednesday the McDermotts bid farewell before heading out toward the prairie. Every inch of their borrowed truck was crammed full with their worldly possessions. Beth stood among the crowd sending them off after giving notes of encouragement to Peter and Alice, two growing teenagers that Beth knew she would miss. She felt sorry that Sadie Shaw was losing her best friend, and that James and Kenny would no longer be part of a trio.

  Soon she stood with Marnie, Molly, and Julie in the empty house, assessing what should be done first. A knock announced Abigail and Ruth with buckets and rags, ready to help with cleaning. Their help was not really necessary since the house was small, but their cheerful chatter and enthusiasm were appreciated even more than their share in the work.

  Marnie hung a worn sheet over the window in the bedroom, effusively describing the curtains she’d soon make to replace it. “A field of dark blue speckled with appliquéd stars, so it will always look like night,” she explained. She fussed over all aspects of the home, her shining eyes unable to conceal her excitement as each piece of furniture was arranged and re-arranged. It was a dreamland for Marnie, her own bit of heaven on earth. Beth wanted so badly to be thrilled for the girl’s sake. And yet she couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever be more in her future, or if this would be the whole of Marnie’s designated lot in life.

  Lingering after the others had left, Beth perched precariously on top of the small dining table to dust the last of the rafters for cobwebs. “I think that’s all, Marnie.”

  “Oh, Miss Thatcher, thank you so much. Everything feels so fresh an’ clean. I can’t believe we got one of the new houses. Hardly feels like anyone else lived here at all.”

  Beth forced a smile and offered one last hug before reaching for her coat. “When does Harold come home?”

  “His shift is almost over. The whistle’ll blow ’most anytime now. And the soup Molly brought is already heatin’. I think I’ll fix some biscuits ta go with. I don’t have a bakin’ pan for ’em, but I can just use that skillet ya brought. It’ll work in the oven if I grease it well.”

  Beth squeezed Marnie’s shoulder. “God bless you, darling.”

  Marnie blushed. “He has. Oh, He truly has.”

  Stepping out onto the stoop, Beth pushed her hands deep into her pockets to ward off the chill. She’s so happy. And that’s something—an important something. Then she thought about babies and how impatient Marnie seemed with everything. Please, Father, can You please help them wait? At least until after she’s finished school.

  Slowly she descended Marnie’s steps to the ground now frozen once more, her thoughts still on the very young wife she’d just left. If only she can just finish school.

  The sky was filled with clouds, and with so little light, Beth found it difficult to pick her way across the small yard and through the shortcut between the houses. Her shoe caught on a slender stump, and she started to stumble. With her hands pinned deep inside her coat pockets, Beth fell forward onto her shoulder, banging the side of her head against the hard ground. For a moment she lay still, stunned, tears filling her eyes from the pain.

  She managed to extract her hands from the jacket pockets and push up off the frigid ground. Already her churning emotion had turned to anger, which grew with every limping step toward home. Those horrid stumps! I knew they’d cause accidents. And I’m sure I’m not the first. The tears dried quickly as she neared Molly’s gate, her anger now full boil. I’m going to get Teddy’s ax from the woodshed. She would chop the irksome thing out herself. The stump wasn’t very large. It would be only a small victory, but she might feel a little better.

  Returning to the scene, she poked her foot around in the shadowy area until she was certain she was aligned with the correct stump. She clutched the long handle of the ax and raised the heavy blade above her head. It came down almost sideways, striking the ground with a dull thud. She lifted it again and positioned the head more precisely. This time it merely bounced off the narrow top.

  She muttered with each succeeding attempt. “It should’ve been the men doing this job! Why haven’t the fathers taken care of these long ago?” Beth chopped away, covering the narrow stump with wounds. “Am I the only one in town who worries about the children? What if one of them falls and lands on it? There’s no doctor for miles!” The work was frustrating, and new tears and sweat rolled down her face and neck. Still she had not managed to detach the stubborn trunk from its roots.

  “Hello?”

  Beth froze, the ax high above her head. She waited, hoping the female voice was speaking to someone else.

  “Who’s there?” the woman asked again.

  Beth lowered the ax. “It’s just me—Beth Thatcher.”

  “What on earth are ya doin’, Miss Thatcher?”

  “Well, I . . . I’m trying to chop out this stump.”

  “Yer what?”

  “There’s a stump. I tripped over it. So I thought I would just . . . would remove it so that no one else tripped here.”

  The woman was merely a silhouette in the darkness. “Honey, there’s jus’ too many ta dig out. Might as well leave it where it is. ’Sides, it’s too much work, ’specially in the dark. These stumps got a big ol’ tap root goes a long ways down. Hard enough fer a man. You’re likely to wear yerself out tryin’.”

  Beth felt her face grow even warmer as she recognized Sadie’s mother, Rose Shaw, who played the organ. She hoped her voice would hold true. “I might try a little longer. It’s . . . it’s kind of satisfying just now.” But Beth gave up trying to make someone else understand when she really couldn’t herself.

  Rose pulled her wrap closer. “You can suit yerself, honey, but just don’t catch yer death of cold.”

  “Thank you. Yes, thank you.” As soon as Rose disappeared around the corner, Beth fled. It was a purely childish, vain attempt to achieve a small victory. For whom? For the children? For Marnie? Or for myself?

  As she returned the ax and slipped quietly away to her stairway, Beth wondered how many children would be laughing tomorrow as they retold Rose’s tale of their teacher’s ni
ghttime encounter and showed off the battered, yet still intact, stump as evidence.

  Though on edge most of the morning, Beth was surprised and relieved no one mentioned the incident. She would be ever grateful to Rose if the story remained untold. But when the woman’s husband appeared in the entryway as the students departed for home, Beth wondered if something would come to light after all.

  “Miss Thatcher.” Bill Shaw tipped his hat but simply passed by her door, knocking instead at Robert’s classroom.

  “Robert, something else has turned up.” His voice was alarmingly loud. Beth noticed the door between the classrooms was ajar. She crept toward it, intending to close it quickly without being noticed.

  “Good heavens. What is it now?”

  “More serious this time, I’m afraid. It’s regarding a student. Well, a recent student from this classroom.”

  A thump, as if Robert had closed a book hard. “Who might that be?”

  “Alice McDermott.”

  Beth halted, her breath catching in alarm.

  “And of what am I accused?” A chair scraped the floor, and his throat cleared.

  “I’ve been told you met with her privately on more than one occasion. That you behaved in a less than gentlemanly manner, and that possibly it was for this reason her parents moved away.”

  Beth felt herself begin to tremble, and she sank against the bookshelf, closing her eyes against the awful words.

  “That’s ridiculous!” he spat out. “She’s a child. And I’m engaged.” Beth could hear the jangle of coins in Robert’s pocket, could picture how he was standing just now. “I suppose I did meet with her twice, or thrice perhaps, to tutor her in mathematics. But there were always others nearby. It was at lunch, I believe.”

  “Now, Robert, you know it’s my job to take these things seriously.”

  More footsteps, louder this time. “Mr. Shaw, I implore you. What you’re saying is preposterous. There’s not a shred of truth to it—and no proof either.”

  “We’ve already begun the investigation.”

  “How so?”

  “I’ll be driving out tomorrow with Lloyd Edwards to speak with the McDermotts. If there’s anything to it at all, there’ll be a formal hearing. At that point it will be out of my hands, Robert. The district will take over.”

  A long silence then. “I understand.” A heavy sigh. “Do as you see fit. I submit to your authority.”

  Beth backed away, quietly lifting her jacket from its hook and abandoning further grading. She slipped through the entry and hurried home, arriving pale with shock.

  Seeing Beth’s face, Julie rose to meet her. “What’s wrong, Bethie?”

  “Oh, everything. Just everything.”

  Seated outside on the lowest step, Beth idly watched murky clouds gathering. Snow again, and Mother and Father arrive soon. Penelope slid her fat body in and out between Beth’s legs, begging for another treat, of which there had been many since the incident with the bear.

  “Come here, kitty dear,” Beth murmured, reaching down to rub Penelope’s chin, the tabby’s favorite spot. Purring loudly, the animal dropped to her back and wriggled gratefully.

  Is there any truth to the charge? Could Robert have taken advantage of his position? As low as Beth’s opinion had been of him, there was really no question as to what she believed in her heart. It can’t be true. Unless I hear it from Alice herself, or from her parents, I can’t believe such a dreadful thing of him. Beth recalled Ivy’s description. She’s right. He’s too predictable and . . . what was her word? Yes, stalwart. That’s who he is. As well as honest. Candid to a fault. She recalled how generous he was to Harold and Marnie, and how the young bride had glowed when hearing of his offer.

  Beth picked up the cat and settled it on her lap, stroking Penelope’s back and listening to her purr. A sudden realization turned her absolutely still. I have spent more effort befriending this stray than extending any care or hand of friendship to Robert. Created in God’s image, he’s a person for whom Jesus died, whether acknowledged by him or not.

  The whole idea was appalling to consider. She slid the cat down to the ground and leaned over, face in her hands. I’m sorry, Lord. So sorry for my unkindness, for my ungodly attitude, for the ways I’ve nurtured my prejudices against him.

  After a time of further prayer in deep penitence, she felt a peace begin to steal into her heart, and she knew she was forgiven. Now, Lord, what do You want me to do about Robert? Please give me wisdom and grace during this very difficult time.

  Frank turned out to be the source of Beth’s updates on Robert’s situation. Her fellow teacher said nothing to Beth during school and had even become rather reclusive. Frank explained that the ride out to the prairie where the McDermotts now lived had proved rather fruitless. Though Alice had denounced every one of the charges as false, someone else had already contacted the district on their own. A hearing had been set. Beth was shocked to hear that it would be held in Coal Valley on the very day of her wedding.

  Poor Robert! Poor Ivy! Dear God, help us all.

  “Molly, do you have a moment to talk?”

  “’Course, dearie. What is it ya need?”

  Beth blew out a long breath. How to begin? “It’s about Robert. I’m afraid, well, that I’ve been rather unfair to him, whatever turns out to be the truth in the hearing.”

  “I believe I did warn ya.”

  Beth propped her elbows on the table, where Molly was making a pie, and sighed. “Yes. Yes, you did.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place. I believe he’s being falsely accused. Likely the same troublemakers who stacked the pile of rubbish in the woods have stepped up their efforts to drive him from town. But I’m ashamed to admit I’ve been about as good a friend to him as they are.”

  Molly didn’t argue, merely suggesting, “Ain’t too late to amend yer ways.”

  Again Beth sighed. Molly slid a paring knife over to Beth, who reached into the bowl of apples, slowly removing a long strand of peel. Molly set to work with a second blade.

  “I really tried to keep my heart pure, especially after you and Frank prayed with me about it.”

  “Oh, a heart’s a poor choice to follow. It’s so easily hoodwinked.”

  “I know that now. And I regret how long it’s taken me to recognize my misjudgment.”

  Molly set down her own knife rather abruptly and rested her arms on the table. “I’m gonna tell ya something I ain’t talked about fer a very long time, dearie—leastwise with any other than Frank.”

  Beth continued to peel, wondering what was coming next.

  “I told ya it took some time fer me to learn my lessons too.”

  “I remember.”

  “But I s’pose I shoulda been more clear. Shoulda confessed how far amiss I’ve been.” Molly shook her head slowly. “Long ago, when my Bertram and me first come to Coal Valley an’ bought this big ol’ house, it made me feel all head and shoulders above everybody. Ya see, I’d never lived so grand before. So I got myself a mite filled up with pride, I guess. There were them miners all about, not many of ’em settled enough to bring along their wives. An’ they was comin’ to our door fer meals an’ fer a room. So I felt a little like their queen.”

  Beth raised her eyebrows, trying to picture Molly putting on airs.

  “And then this young man I never even met had set his cap fer a girl—a little young, to be sure. But she was eligible just the same. And there was talk. Oh, lots of talk. That he weren’t good enough fer her, being a humble immigrant, an’ the like. I let myself join in.” She paused. “I should’a known better even then, but I fell right in with it.”

  Beth froze and held her breath. “Frank.”

  Molly was already dabbing at an eye. She swallowed hard before she said, “Yes, my Frank—an’ his sweet Colette.”

  “Oh, Molly!”

  “Ya see, dearie. Ya see how wrong a heart can be. I up and convinced myself tha
t I knew best, that it shouldn’t be tolerated. An’ I stood with the ones who tried ta keep ’em apart. Thank the Good Lord He knew better.”

  There was silence as Molly gathered her thoughts and Beth took in all the implications. “But he forgave you, Molly.”

  “That he did. He’s a good ol’ soul. He’d worked out his part long ’fore I come to terms with mine. Ya see, I was there when she delivered her daughter. There weren’t nobody else ta speak of, an’ I worked the best I could ta save ’em. Both of ’em. But they died despite all I knew to try.” The words were strained, her chin quivering. “An’ my Bertram helped to dig their graves. Bertram and some’a the other men. We all were sorry by then, but ya can’t go back an’ fix a mistake sometimes.”

  Beth reached her hand to Molly’s arm. “It wasn’t your fault they died, Molly. I’m sure they knew you did your best.”

  “That I did. But them two should’a been allowed their chance to be together sooner. Their time was so short as it was, but they could’a had another year of joy.”

  Molly pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and blew her nose. “Like I said, I did talk with Frank. We made our peace with the past. But I don’t wanna see ya do the same. It ain’t worth it, dearie. Ya gotta let God be God, and ya gotta remember that you ain’t Him.”

  Beth leaned her head against Molly’s shoulder. “I understand what you mean, but how? How do I know—”

  “Best as I can say, ya follow the two rules. Ya love the Lord yer God with all yer heart an’ all yer soul, and ya love the rest like ya would yerself.”

  Beth choked a little. “I thought . . . I was trying to protect the children—the way I didn’t protect Julie from Nick in the kidnapping.”

  “But, Beth, you ain’t the Almighty. You can’t ever entirely protect no one. Ya do what you know to do, an’ He does the rest.”