Undaunted Hope

by Jody Hedlund

  Tugging up her coat collar and lowering her hat brim, Tessa stepped outside into the fading evening. The day had been damp and foggy. A mix of sleet and snow had begun to fall. Josie had informed her it wasn’t unusual to have snow in October, but Tessa had declared it was much too early for winter to begin.

  Many of the trees were already bare or covered with a straggling of yellow leaves. She’d been told the boats would soon stop running from “below,” the word used by the residents of Eagle Harbor when referring to the lower part of the state.

  Mud squelched beneath her boots and splattered her skirt. She’d learned over the past damp days that most of the coast surrounding the harbor was a mucky sand-and-mud mixture, that there wasn’t much clay. The clay the miners used to hold their candles onto their hats was brought over from Sault St. Marie.

  Perhaps snow and ice would be a welcome change after all. If the ground was frozen, she wouldn’t have to worry about spot-cleaning her skirts every night. Even though the schoolhouse was but a short walk, she was shivering by the time it came into view. She stopped abruptly at the sight of the light emanating from the windows. She hadn’t left a lantern aglow and had hoped to arrive well before any of the new students. Obviously someone was early.

  With a burst of dismay, she hastened through the mud and wet grass. When she reached the front step, she hurriedly scraped at the soles of her boots and attempted to dislodge as much of the mud as she could, even though the effort was useless since the floor was hopelessly caked with it—both wet and dry—from the pupils who thought nothing of it.

  They also thought nothing of the lice. She’d seen enough lice and their eggs on the heads of the children to fill a Cornish pasty.

  Tessa pushed open the schoolhouse door and stepped inside, unprepared for the cozy warmth that met her. Kneeling on the floor in front of the open stove door was Michael Bjorklund, Gunnar and Ingrid’s father.

  He glanced over his shoulder in her direction, and at the sight of her, he closed the stove door and stood. His fair hair was parted neatly down the middle and combed so that every strand lay flat in submission. He wore a flannel shirt that was buttoned up to his chin and tucked into trousers that, although slightly wrinkled, were spotless.

  Her heart warmed at the thought that he took his education seriously enough to attend her class neat and clean.

  “Good evening, Mr. Bjorklund,” she said. “It’s good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you too,” he said, darting a peek at her face before focusing on his boots that were covered in dried mud.

  His peek, however, was enough for her to see the eagerness in his expression. Her heart warmed even further. After all the apathy toward her night school plan, she was delighted that she had at least one eager learner. “With the weather the way it is, I wasn’t sure if anyone would want to come out tonight.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.” His voice gave a tiny squeak, and he hurried to speak again. “Besides, the weather is still balmy compared to what’s coming.”

  “So I’ve been told,” she said, moving further into the room and shedding her coat. She took her time hanging it on one of the pegs and then straightened her hair and skirt.

  When she turned, she found he hadn’t budged from his spot in front of the stove and was staring at her with open admiration. He rapidly dropped his gaze and spun toward the woodbox, but not before she caught sight of the flush creeping onto his cheeks.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I came early to start the fire,” he said.

  “I’m very grateful, Mr. Bjorklund—”

  “Michael.”

  “I’m very grateful, Michael.” For some reason, using Alex’s given name had seemed right. But saying Michael’s first name felt unnatural and impolite.

  He shook the nearly empty woodbox. “Looks like you’re low on wood.”

  “Yes, well, I’ve been waiting and hoping for wood elves to come out every night and fill it while I’m away, but so far they haven’t shown up.”

  She smiled at her own joke and waited for him to join her. Instead he opened the stove door and tossed in another handful of wood chips without cracking a grin.

  “You don’t know what I’m doing wrong, do you?” She tried humor again as she made her way to the front of the classroom to her desk. “Do the wood elves expect me to leave them an overpriced apple as a treat?”

  Michael stirred the burning embers with a stick, tossed it in, and closed the door. Finally he turned to face her with raised brows as if he didn’t quite know what to make of her rambling.

  She apparently would need to use a more direct route of conversation with Michael. “I’ve asked the students to bring wood from home.”

  He nodded. “In past years, the teacher was always responsible for gathering wood for the stove. But then we’ve only had male teachers . . .” His voice trailed off at the realization of the current situation.

  She inwardly cringed. Was he another one of those people who didn’t believe females should be teaching? “I didn’t realize it was my responsibility to gather wood. In that case, I’ll begin to do so right away.”

  He frowned.

  She hoped he wouldn’t say that gathering and chopping wood was a man’s job too. If so, she would have to give him a stern lecture about how she’d been chopping wood since she was a young girl, technically since her mom had died and she’d taken over the care of her younger siblings.

  “Maybe we can figure out something,” he started. But his words were cut off by someone rattling the schoolhouse door.

  Another student? Her pulse leapt at the prospect.

  The door swung wide, and amidst the whirling of wind and sleet, Alex barged inside. He swiped off his flannel bowler hat and stomped his boots, dislodging mud.

  For a moment, like Michael, she could only gape.

  Alex raked his fingers through his untidy hair and shrugged out of an oiled cloak. “You haven’t started class yet, have you?” he asked and tossed her one of his devastating, heart-stopping grins.

  As he hung up his cloak, his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking back to the sight of him at the lighthouse last week when he’d been bare-chested and she got a leisurely view of his impressive physique.

  Don’t think about it, Tessa, she chided herself, as she had whenever her mind strayed to thoughts of him. Her disappointment at learning he was the assistant keeper was still too keen, although she knew it shouldn’t matter in the least. “A very fine man completely ruined,” she’d muttered to herself on more than one occasion since her discovery.

  He rubbed his hands together and blew into them. His blue eyes sparkled as he looked between her and Michael. “Are we ready to start then?” he asked, winding his way through the rows of benches toward her.

  “I didn’t think you were coming,” Michael said.

  “I changed my mind.”

  “Why?” Michael’s voice was hard.

  Alex shrugged and continued toward the front row. “Maybe I realized how much I could benefit from Miss Taylor’s attention.”

  Michael’s brow dipped. “I’m sure you did.”

  Alex winked and said, “I’m eager to reap the benefits of her superior teaching skills.”

  Michael shook his head and started toward the front of the room too.

  As Alex neared the first row, he stared at her openly and boldly. Even though she was tempted to glance away—and knew she should—she decided to stare right back. She didn’t want him to think his presence in the classroom had any effect on her, though strange waves were rippling through her stomach.

  He plopped into the spot normally occupied by Gunnar and Ingrid and smiled up at her innocently—too innocently. “So what are you going to teach me today, Miss Taylor?” His gaze dropped to her lips and lingered there.

  The waves in her stomach rose and fell harder, and she couldn’t think of a coherent response.

  “Or maybe I’m the one who need
s to teach you a thing or two,” he said softly.

  Oh, heaven. She swallowed hard. She had to think of something to say, and quick. But to her utter embarrassment, she was speechless.

  Michael had made his way to the first bench. He sat down next to his brother and bumped Alex with a force that nearly sent him toppling off his seat.

  “Sorry,” Michael said. “Lost my balance.”

  “Sure you did.” Alex righted himself, his grin only widening.

  Tessa spun to face her desk. She reached for a paper and was tempted to use it to fan her cheeks, which she had no doubt were flushed. But she refrained.

  “I thought you were watching the children,” Michael whispered, none too quietly.

  “They’re responsible enough to be home without us, especially Gunnar.”

  “I told you I didn’t like the idea of leaving the light unattended.”

  “And I told you I’m only staying for a little while.”

  Michael’s long sigh told her his exasperation went deep. “It’s your shift and you need to cover it.”

  “Everything will be fine,” Alex said earnestly. “Gunnar’s keeping his eye on it, and if anything happens, he’ll come get me.”

  “But you’re the one who doesn’t care about getting an education.”

  “Like I said, I changed my mind.”

  She smiled at their bickering, reached for the lesson plan she’d prepared, and walked to the blackboard. She couldn’t fault Alex for changing his mind. In fact, she was glad he’d come to his senses and realized his need for bettering his education.

  With careful strokes she wrote several words on the board. As she did, their whispering tapered to silence, and she could feel their stares burning into her back. She had the distinct impression they were looking directly at her and not at what she was writing on the board.

  This new teaching experience wasn’t going quite as she’d expected. She needed to pull herself together and start treating Alex and Michael with the same attitude she did all her other scholars.

  She turned only to find that she’d been right. Two pairs of eyes were watching her with keen interest. She was sure neither had noticed anything she’d written on the board.

  “Children,” she said, “are we done with all the squabbling?”

  The two men sat next to each other, their large frames completely out of place on the narrow bench meant for much smaller bodies. Michael was thinner and less stocky than Alex, but no less muscular, and he had a serious look on his face. However, Alex’s lips were cocked into one of his lazy half grins, and his eyes danced with playfulness, obviously finding humor in her rebuke.

  She tried to put on her sternest expression, which she knew wasn’t all that stern. Nevertheless, she had to do something to hide the strange feeling of standing at the front of the classroom with two full-grown single men as her students.

  They were lightkeepers, she reminded herself. Even if they were both handsome men, she would never interest herself in them if she were in a position to do so, which she wasn’t. She’d rather strap her body to a large boulder and drop into the middle of Lake Superior before she let herself become enamored with a lightkeeper.

  “If you’re done with your discussion,” she said again, “then perhaps you’ll allow me to get started.”

  Michael nodded, his eyes offering her an apology. But Alex’s expression contained nothing but mirth. How was she going to focus on teaching with him staring at her, watching her every move?

  The schoolroom door squeaked on its hinges, and she breathed a sigh of relief when several more miners entered, a father and his two boys. When Henry Benney stepped inside a few seconds later with his father in tow, she all but forgot about Alex sitting in the front row watching her.

  The line of grime at the edges of the miners’ faces told her the men had made an effort to clean themselves before arriving, even if they were still attired in their mining clothes, their thick flannel pants and coats made of bagging and stained the color of copper.

  The hour of lessons went all too quickly, and as the men stood to leave, she regretted that she hadn’t extended the time to an hour and a half. Yet she hadn’t wanted to discourage them from coming after a long day of work, and already several were stifling yawns.

  “Henry’s a quick learner,” she said to Henry’s father, a quiet, tall man who looked down at his son with pride. “I have a feeling he will make a good schoolteacher someday.”

  At her words of praise, Mr. Benney smiled and patted his son on the shoulder. “I would never have thought it possible for me kin to do anything but burrowing. But if anyone can pass, it’s me Henry here.”

  As the last of the men exited the schoolhouse, Tessa was surprised to see Michael and Alex lingering at the back, arguing with each other in harsh whispers.

  “Class is over, children,” she called to them. “Why don’t you take your disagreement to the playground and fight there?”

  Michael took a quick step away from Alex, chagrin flashing over his features. Alex, on the other hand, opened the door and waved her through with a flourish. “We were just waiting for you.”

  “There’s no need—”

  “We can’t let you walk home alone in the dark,” Alex said.

  “Only one of us needs to go with her,” Michael said in an irritated tone.

  “Okay, that’s fine with me. You head on back to the light.”

  “But it’s your shift. And you’re being irresponsible with it. You know as well as I do that anything could happen on a night like this.”

  Alex took off his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. He stared hard at Michael. Then he replaced his hat, his features growing somber with resignation. “You’re right. I’ll head back.”

  Michael nodded.

  Alex tossed Tessa a last smile. “Thank you for sacrificing your time to teach a bunch of smelly men.”

  “It was my pleasure.” And she meant it.

  He ducked his head, hunched his shoulders against the wind, and disappeared into the dark evening.

  She had to fight off a wave of dismay, because somehow she sensed that this was the first and last class Alex would attend.

  Chapter 8

  I’ll give you two dollars for the gloves,” Tessa said, “and not a dollar more.”

  Samuel Updegraff’s childlike eyes darted to the door of Cole Mine Company Store as if he hoped Jesus would return at that moment and rescue him. “The price is five dollars,” he said again, just as he had a dozen times already, although his voice had grown softer, less insistent.

  She was wearing him down. She’d learned that bargaining with Samuel was almost as difficult as eating Nadine’s giblets. However, with persistence, she could eventually get him to lower the price of whatever she was buying.

  She felt only slightly guilty that now every time she stepped into the store, Samuel would cower away from her. He busied himself with sweeping the spotless floor or polishing the pristine glass countertop, ignoring her for as long as possible.

  But the guilt evaporated as soon as she took a look at the prices. Even if Samuel wasn’t to blame for the exorbitant cost of the goods, she still couldn’t stand by and pay such high prices.

  “Very well,” she said, pretending to heave an exasperated sigh. “You win, Samuel. I’ll give you three dollars.”

  His round eyes widened with confusion.

  Behind her, Nadine bounced the fussing baby. Tessa could feel the woman’s scrutiny of her every move. She’d told Nadine to watch how she bargained so that she could learn to do it herself. No one ought to pay the outrageous prices charged by the Cole store, she’d insisted to Nadine.

  Through the large glass that graced the storefront, she saw several of her students race past, along with the young Rawlings boys. The street was crowded with everyone who’d come out for the day’s festivities. Through the throng she spotted Josie standing next to a tall youth with a pimply complexion, Robbie.

  She didn’t
like the way Robbie looked at Josie. For a boy with only a few scraggly chin hairs, he was too young to be so enamored with Josie, always staring down into her eyes, putting his arm around her or holding her hand.

  Tessa had tried to caution Josie not to take her relationship with Robbie so seriously. As usual, Josie had brushed off her gentle rebukes, and Tessa tried to remind herself that it would just take more time to wield her influence over the girl.

  The sun had broken through the gloomy weather of the past week and brought a measure of warmth, a welcome change and just in time for the annual fall wrestling competition. Even so, after watching several wrestling matches, Tessa’s fingers had grown stiff from the cold, and she’d decided to purchase a warmer pair of gloves.

  “Three dollars,” she said again. “Add it to my tab.” Even though her salary was twenty dollars a month—higher than what she could make in Detroit—the high cost of living in the north had consumed her income far too quickly.

  Samuel finally opened the ledger where he kept track of purchases. “Percival won’t like this,” he muttered. “Not at all. Not at all.”

  “You’re not to blame, Samuel,” she said, tugging the thick flannel-lined gloves on over her thin pair. “I know you’re not the one setting such prices.”

  She had the feeling the Coles were to blame. She’d learned that the wealthy family made their home in New York City and had purchased the mine the previous year. Apparently, many of the mines in the area were struggling with production and had resorted to laying off miners. The Coles’ financial backing had helped to increase production again in Eagle Harbor. Although there were rumors that Mr. Cole personally visited his holdings from time to time, he hadn’t come that summer or fall. Tessa supposed that like many of the Eastern millionaires who’d invested in the lumber camps and copper mines of the Midwest, the Coles only cared about turning a profit, not about the many people who depended upon them for their livelihood.

  Samuel tsked at the back of his throat, but he wrote 3 DOLLARS in the ledger in his sticklike handwriting.

  When he finished, she bestowed a smile upon him. Before he could move beyond her reach, she squeezed his fleshy hand. “Thank you, Samuel. You’re a good man.”