Choosing Love

by Annie Boone

  The oldest children in the school were taught in a new wing that had been added to the school just last year. Hayden turned went into the new corridor, and then stopped, aghast as it became clear why Mr. Wimpole and his class had not yet appeared, despite the elderly teacher’s having sent Dusty to raise the alarm. The fire had escaped the store room and had cut off the corridor.

  Flames licked up against the walls, consuming the wooden floorboards and boring its way through the thin inside walls. Hayden was amazed at how swiftly the fire had taken hold of the wooden building, though the hot and dry summer they had been experiencing was no doubt partly to blame for how easily the timbers began to smolder and burn with unbearable heat. As Hayden watched helplessly at the flames licking up around the door frames he wondered if anyone within this part of the building could be saved.

  He would make no progress through the corridor, the fire was too hot, the smoke too dense and the flames were everywhere. Hayden coughed loudly, trying to clear his lungs of the acrid smoke. He covered his mouth and nose with the lapel of his jacket and made his way back to the main corridor where he let himself out through the back door of the school.

  Hayden paused only briefly to take a few deep gasps of air. His breathing was scratchy and irregular, no doubt from the effects of the heat and the smoke he had inhaled. But, he didn’t even think about his next move. He started running right away. He couldn’t leave the children, or his friend to the ravages of the fire.

  Racning to the side of the building, not knowing whether he was ready to face what he would find, he was determined to save as many as he could. The idea of those bright boys and girls, so full of life and excitement for their futures, their lives snuffed out so young, did not bear thinking about.

  But, when he reached the windows of Mr. Wimpole’s classroom, he was surprised to see the faces of the children, crushed up against the narrow openings of the windows, trying to breathe in any fresh air they might be able to get. Mr. Wimpole must have gotten them to move the desks, so they could stand on them to get high enough since all but one of the windows was up above head height for any of the students.

  Behind them, the room was filling with smoke, and a few of them were choking and spluttering. “Think of one another, don’t push and crowd.” Hayden heard Mr. Wimpole say calmly. “Everyone needs air. Someone will be here to help us shortly.”

  The old man’s sincerity and faith in the goodness of others was almost heartbreaking. Hayden had to keep hold of his emotions though, he had to remain calm and be strong for the children’s sakes. He was very proud of the way all the children were behaving through such a horrifying situation and was impressed by Mr. Wimpole’s quick-thinking to get them to a fresh air source as quickly as he had done.

  “Help is on the way,” Hayden called out loudly, and was greeted with a loud cheer. “In fact, help is here now!” He took off his jacket and wrapped it around his arm. “Mr. Wimpole, I’m going to break the window so you all can climb out. Move the children away from the window at the far end of the classroom. I’ll help you all out from there.”

  Mr. Wimpole nodded and began to push his students away from the window Hayden had indicated. It was the window furthest from the door of the classroom that entered out onto the flaming corridor, and was also the largest. Hayden was sure that even the largest of the children and even portly Mr. Wimpole should be able to fit through it. The other windows would have barely been large enough for one of the smallest seven-year old children in the school to fit through.

  Once he was sure everyone had moved away from the window, Hayden braced himself then swung his fist as hard as he could at the window. His knuckles struck the hard glass through his jacket, bruising them. The window glass did not budge.

  He noted that the flames had begun to eat their way through the classroom door from the hallway. Mr. Wimpole gave him a worried look. Hayden tried to seem confident, but there was no denying that the dangers were growing with every minute it took in trying to get them out.

  Clearly, his own fist would not be enough to break the thick glass, so Hayden looked around for something hard he could use to smash it. Up near the fence he spotted a rock with jagged edges. It would be perfect. He hurried over and picked it up, hefting it up onto his shoulder. As he got closer to the window once more, he took a few running steps, and hurled the stone as hard as he could.

  The stone struck with a satisfying crunch, and glass began to splinter around the point where it had struck the window. But it didn’t shatter. So, picking up the rock, Hayden hurled it at the glass once more. This time he was rewarded with the tinkling of glass, as it struck the wooden floor of the classroom and the brick-hard dirt of the yard.

  Carefully, Hayden wrapped up his hand once more and began to knock out the glass shards from the frame, making sure there was none where the children might come through.

  He beckoned fervently to the children closest to the broken-out window. “All right, hurry now. But one at a time!” He continued to gesture for the children to climb out to him.

  Mr. Wimpole managed the line of children, keeping them calm as they waited their turn, while Hayden helped the youngsters out of the window on the other side. At thirteen, fourteen and fifteen, the children were old enough and sensible enough to do as they were told. But, they looked terrified. They were still frightened even once they were safely out of the classroom and in the fresh air.

  The final person to leave the burning building was Mr. Wimpole. The elderly man squeezed his stout frame through the window just in time as the flames had begun to claim the desks and chairs, creeping ever closer to where the children had just been standing.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.” Mr. Wimpole breathed in deeply, as he clasped Hayden’s hand, shaking it so hard that Hayden wondered if he even knew he was doing it at all.

  Extricating himself from the older man’s grip, Hayden ushered the children around the corner of the school to join the others. He smiled as he saw three chains of townsfolk snaking from the well in the yard, in through the main door, passing pails of water back and forth, trying to douse the fire. Hayden saw the Jenkes family, the Temples, Hank Whitton from the forge, Nate and May Ellison, Dr. Hale, Mr. Wilson from the general store. Even Pastor Fletcher in the lines.

  He said a quick prayer of thanks for everyone who’d heard the distress call and come to help. He wasn’t sure there was much hope in saving any of the building, but at least all the children were safe.

  Chapter Seven

  “Thank you, everyone!” Hayden raised his arm in a wave, a lump in his throat making it hard for him to make the words ring out. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes, then placed the spectacles in his pocked. Then he moved to join them in the bucket line. “We should surround it,” he suggested to Hank, who nodded and began to direct people to shift their positions, to take up a line that curled around the building to the new wing of the building.

  Hayden took the spot right at the very front, facing the flames. It was his school. Not only were the children his responsibility, but this building had been entrusted to his care by the townsfolk. He felt he had somehow let them down to allow such a thing to happen, though the cause of the fire was as yet unknown.

  It took the entire town several hours to douse the flames. Hayden was devastated to see that the entirety of the new wing was nothing but smoking ruins. However, he had to be glad that the rest of the school house had been saved. The most important part was that not a single life had been lost. The only injuries were minor cuts from the glass and coughing from the smoke.

  Hayden knew God had a protective hand on them all. Thankful that all were still alive, he said a silent prayer as he looked around at the damage and the people who were still there helping.

  Pastor Fletcher stood on the school house steps and held out his arms to everyone present. “Springville, you have proved yourselves as amongst the very best and bravest,” he said. “The Good Lord has seen fit to deliver
all of us from this tragedy, in one piece and unharmed. We can and will rebuild the school, with God’s grace.”

  “Amen,” everyone muttered.

  “I ask you to join with me in a prayer of thanks,” the pastor continued, and everybody bowed their heads. “Dear Lord, Our Father, we thank You for your blessings and the lessons You send to us. Though we may not yet know the purpose of this one, we thank You that all our families are safe, and well. We thank You for the swift feet of young Dusty, and for the ever-quick thinking of our brave school master, Mr. Galsworthy. Lord, bless us all and keep us. Amen.”

  “Amen,” the townsfolk intoned again.

  Hayden shook hands and thanked those nearest to him as the crowd began to disperse, flushing furiously at the praise they all bestowed upon him. Parents hugged their children, and then hurried them home for a bath, a hearty meal and a good night’s sleep. Hayden could hardly wait to be able to do the same thing. But, he first made sure everyone who had turned out knew just how valuable a contribution they had made—not just to him, or to the school, but to the entire community.

  “Thank you,” a soft voice said. A young woman’s hand was thrust before him. It was tanned and there was a little dirt under a couple of the fingernails. “My cousin was in that classroom. I cannot tell you how much it means to our family that he is well. And it’s all because of you.”

  Hayden found himself looking into Miss Holdsworth’s beautiful green eyes. She was wearing a straw bonnet that tied under her chin with wide green ribbons of the exact same shade of emerald. The pictures that had been tormenting his mind had not remembered the sheer impact of the picture of perfection before him. Miss Holdsworth was smiling, her eyes crinkling just a little. A few wisps of hair had escaped her bonnet, and Hayden longed to curl the silken, nearly black tresses around his fingers.

  Unlike the other night, when she had seemed to be afraid of the impact of her beauty, Miss Holdsworth seemed much more at ease with herself this afternoon. She wore no rouge and her nose had a smudge of smoke on it. She was wearing a high-necked grey cotton gown with a soot-stained and damp apron over it. She had looked beautiful and perfect, untouchable almost, at the supper party, but today she looked lovely just as she was after joining the effort to put out the fire. Hayden longed to be able to take her in his arms. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to kiss her.

  She smiled gently at him, and Hayden barely recognized her as the frightened girl he had met the just a few nights previously. She had been the very epitome of elegance then, though she had been afraid to fully embrace her own beauty. But, she did not need the fripperies and adornment. She was simply magnificent when she was permitted to be herself, Hayden thought.

  However, he could not say the same for himself, and his own composure. Feeling suddenly tongue-tied he didn’t know how to respond. “I…Well, I… I had no choice,” he finally stammered.

  “Yes, you did.” Her head nodded as she looked at him steadily. “You could have waited for someone else to save them or left them there. But, you did neither. You did what you could to get them out, to get them to safety. The entire town will be thankful to you, forever. You’re a hero, indeed.”

  “Oh, no, not really. I did what I had to—what anyone else would have done in the same position. And everyone in town came to help. You and your family did, too.”

  Hayden peered over her shoulder and saw Mr. Holdsworth waiting with his brother, Will, and his wife, Ellie, who had her arms wrapped tightly around Anthony, one of the boys who had been trapped. Hayden winked at the boy, who grinned weakly back at him.

  “We heard the bell, even out at the ranch,” she said simply, as if responding was the only option. “Mama stayed at home.” Hayden wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard a hint of disgust in Miss Holdsworth’s tone.

  . “I am sure that there were many people who were scared. Or felt they didn’t have the ability to help and wished only to stay in the safety of their own homes and out of the way.” Hayden tilted his head and took a breath.

  “Anthony always says you are the best teacher,” she said, changing the subject swiftly, as though she did not want him to make excuses for her mother. He thought about it for a moment and realize just how condescending such a thing could be. Though he would never be judgmental, he’d hate for anyone to make excuses for his mother, after all.

  “We will always be grateful you were here,” Miss Holdsworth said, her smile returning as he gave her a rueful look.

  Hayden took his cue from her and did not apologize for his words. Nor did he ask further about why Mrs. Holdsworth had chosen to remain at home. He somehow doubted that such a formidable woman would have been scared of a fire, but given how immaculate she always appeared and her haughty manners, Hayden couldn’t help but wonder if she simply thought it beneath her.

  Suddenly he was amazed that such a fine young woman as Rebecca Holdsworth could have been born to a pretentious woman like her mother appeared to be. Knowing it was quite unkind and unchristian-like to make assumptions when he didn’t have the full picture, he pushed the thoughts away. He needed to focus on Miss Holdsworth while she was still in front of him, anyway.

  Before Hayden could say anything else, she turned and went back to her family. He watched as they made their way up Main Street to an old cart, mesmerized by the gentle swaying of Miss Holdsworth’s hips.

  The family piled into the cart, Mr. Holdsworth taking the driver’s seat, and flicking the reins lightly to get the horse moving. Hayden watched as the cart disappeared into the distance. The thought that Rebecca Holdsworth would soon be married to Coby Jenkes was almost more than he could bear. He had met her too late, though he hadn’t known he wanted to meet anyone until now.

  Chapter Eight

  The entire town was still talking about the fire and the bravery of the school master, Mr. Galsworthy, for weeks after it was all over. Rebecca smiled every time she heard him praised for his swift and fearless actions. She did not know what it was about him that made her feel so tender-hearted, proud even, but, nonetheless, she felt a sensation of warmth deep inside, whenever she thought of him.

  Having barely known he existed before the horrible supper where Old Man Jenkes announced her upcoming marriage to his son, she now seemed to bump into him whenever she went into town. He was always polite and seemed pleased to see her. Yet, there was a reticence about the way he spoke to her that Rebecca wished was different. She had no right to feel such things about a man who she wasn’t betrothed to. A woman affianced to another man should not wish for the affections and attentions of another man no matter what the circumstances were.

  Thankfully, there seemed to be no hurry in regards to her nuptials. Coby Jenkes seemed more than happy for Rebecca and her mother to take as long as they needed to prepare a trousseau and make the arrangements for the wedding. He had not even made an effort to sit with her in church on Sundays. She’d expected him to assert his position and insist they sit together, but still she waited anxiously for that to happen every Sunday. Her relief after each service knew no bounds.

  It puzzled her a little. There had seemed to be such a rush to announce their engagement, yet now Coby seemed disinclined to actually go through with the marriage. His previously lecherous looks seemed to have dissipated, and he was treating Rebecca with more respect and kindness than before. He regarded her more like she were a younger sister, like Allison, rather than a woman he wished to marry. Though, she supposed it could be that he was worried about his father, who had taken ill the day of the fire. Word was that Dr. Hale had counseled the family that there was little he could do for the man and that they should do what they could to make his final days as comfortable as possible.

  Rebecca visited Allison and her father most every day. Her friend was clearly anxious, affected greatly by the health of her beloved father. Whenever she arrived at the ranch, there would be all manner of people milling around in the yard or sitting in the parlor or the kitchen. Rebecca barely recognized th
em all, though she knew that most of them were the old man’s other children, their husbands and wives, and their children.

  Today she spotted Frederick and Harriet Gardener. They had somehow managed to convince Old Man Jenkes to fund their move to Dallas. They’d moved immediately when he said he’d loan them the funds, sure that any delay might change his mind. They did not seem to be too concerned about his incurable diagnosis, but then his death would nullify their need to repay him.

  Despite all the people at the ranch, the usually noisy and colorful place was quiet as if a veil had been drawn over it. Everyone crept around, fearful of disturbing the man’s pain-filled rest. Every now and again a wracking cough would echo through the hallways, followed by a hacking and wheezing that seemed to be worse and worse every day.

  Allison was sitting out on the wide front porch when Rebecca arrived in the gig. She looked tired, her skin pale and her eyes showing dark shadows beneath them that had robbed her of her usual sparkle. Rebecca hitched the pony to the rail and hurried up the steps onto the porch.

  “How is he today, Allison?” Rebecca asked as she greeted her friend with a warm hug.

  “I truly thought we were going to lose him last night,” Allison admitted, indicating that Rebecca should take the rocking chair beside her own. “He had one of his coughing fits that seem to go on and on. He was completely worn out by it.”

  “I’m sorry to hear he’s in such a difficult state,” Rebecca said truthfully. She did not dislike any of the Jenkes family really, though Allison’s other sisters were both terrible snobs. She didn’t wish to marry Coby but not because she despised him. He made her uncomfortable and he was a poor match for her, but in reality, he wasn’t a bad man.