by Janette Oke
The trip was complicated by her discovery that the driver did not speak a word of English. Molly had explained that the replacement miners were mostly Italian immigrants, and this man was the only driver available. Beth decided she would just as soon sleep than attempt conversation and leaned her head against the door of the automobile.
A strange sense of being in another time, another world, descended over Beth as she stepped from the vehicle and looked around at the busy streets of the city. It was as if the previous weeks had not occurred—as if they had been pure fantasy and she had just awakened again. She had returned to what was familiar and modern. The driver motioned several times with three fingers raised in the air and then at the clock on the bank beside them. She understood that this was the time at which she should be ready to depart and nodded her agreement.
Her first stop was at a restaurant for a hot cup of tea and a sweet roll lunch. She relaxed in the comfort of it all—the cushioned seats, the calm surroundings, the gentle voices. It felt like such a luxury to be waited on again—to not lift a finger and enjoy a pleasant meal. From there she proceeded to her main tasks of the day. The polite and helpful clerks made even the task of selling the beautiful dresses proceed smoothly, and purchasing lengths of yard goods had a familiarity about it that made Beth feel at home.
For a moment as she waited for her ride, she wondered—just a fleeting thought—what it would be like to remain in the city. She could easily turn her back on the difficulties she had faced in Coal Valley—the primitive housing, dingy classroom, laborious daily life. It would surely be nothing more than what most had expected. Determined as she was to fulfill her commitment to the full year, she did not truly consider such an option, yet the very contemplation had brought a gloomy cloud of discontent over her.
At precisely three o’clock the car drew up beside her, but this time a young man stepped from the passenger door and hurried to load her bags.
“Thank you.” Beth could not hide her surprise. “I’m sorry, but I was expecting Mr. Giordano.”
“My name is Paolo. I am Alberto’s son.” He spoke English clearly, though his accent was somewhat pronounced.
Beth motioned toward the car. “This man is your father, then?”
“Yes, miss.”
She climbed into the back seat, still wondering at the unexpected traveling companion. Soon they were speeding across the prairie, and Beth managed to strike up a conversation with the young man in the front seat.
“My family—my mother, two brothers, and a sister—are living with my aunt and uncle. My father, he heard that there was offered good pay for mining in the mountains. So he left us in the spring. I have not seen him since—until today. Now I will join him in the work. It is good. We will make money more faster, and I can be with my father.”
“May I ask how old you are, Paolo?”
“Yes, of course, miss. I am fifteen. That is old enough to mine, no?” It was difficult to see the boy’s expressions from where Beth was seated, but by his tone and the periodic looks he cast over his shoulder toward her, Beth supposed his stout emphasis was added for his father’s benefit, even though Alberto apparently did not understand his words.
Beth smiled weakly. “I’m sure your family is very grateful for your willingness to assist them.”
“No, not grateful,” he countered. “It is just what is needed from me. I am the oldest son.”
Beth’s brow furrowed at the declaration. She pressed further. “Have you been attending school while living with your aunt and uncle?”
Paolo shook his head, a little forlornly despite his obvious attempts to appear resilient. “I left school and began to work when I was twelve, delivering groceries and chopping firewood—whatever I could find. But I was being poorly paid. Now that I am a man, I can hold a true job, help my family. It will be good.” Then he forced a smile and asked, “And you, miss—do you work to help your family back at home?”
Beth suppressed her amusement. “No,” she said with a warm smile, “my father is—he has no need of my help,” she tried to explain. “I work because I wish to educate children and improve their opportunities in life.”
He sighed. “If I didn’t have to work—then I would go back to school.” The admission came wistfully, along with a quick glance across at his father.
“What would you study, Paolo?”
He considered the question for a moment. “I like to learn languages, miss. I would like to speak much better—in English and Italian also. And maybe then to teach others—men like my father. I think that maybe I could give better opportunities too.”
Long after she had been delivered to Molly’s home, Beth still contemplated the young man’s words. What if it were actually possible to find a way for Paolo to teach English to some of the other miners? Wouldn’t that benefit all?
CHAPTER
10
IT HAD BEEN THREE WEEKS since Beth had been to church. She missed everything about it—singing and prayers, the fellowship and the sermon. At last it was Coal Valley’s turn for the arrival of the traveling preacher, and there would be a proper service to attend. She felt as if her soul had been starving for food and now was beginning to salivate at the chance to dine again. She helped Molly serve breakfast, hastened to dress in one of the finer outfits—for Father had always taught her to wear her best to church—and descended the stairs just as Molly and the children were gathering in the foyer.
“Ya look real nice,” Molly remarked.
Beth gazed back at Molly in her soft blue print and clean white gloves, her hair swept up carefully and topped with a small hat. “You look lovely too.”
They fell in line for the short walk down the street to the company hall. It was a large open room, built to serve many needs, now filled with rows of simple chairs. Centered in the front was a small table draped in purple fabric, holding an open Bible and a large wooden cross. The minister, dressed in a black suit, sat on a chair to one side waiting for the service to begin. Molly led them into the third row of seats and Marnie slipped in next to Beth, who smiled and patted Marnie’s arm affectionately. All around Beth were small families of mothers and children. She had noted only four men scattered among them—none of them the men who shared Molly’s table.
There was no organ to accompany the singing, but Beth thrilled as she joined her voice with the others, blending in worship. What the community lacked in instruments was more than compensated for with sweet harmonies. Again she realized how deeply she had felt the lack of music here.
Beth studied the preacher as he delivered his sermon from the book of John. He was a young man, perhaps not far beyond college himself. But his passion was clear and his words were direct. This Jesus who had come was God dressed in human flesh. He came to love those He had created—to forgive and redeem and set free—to heal and restore. And there was no one else who held the power to do so. Jesus provided the only means of salvation from our world of sin and death. Beth’s eyes sparkled with tears to hear him articulate the gospel so well.
“Brothers and sisters,” he implored them, wiping a handkerchief across his glistening forehead, “I know that this world holds suffering—and hardship—and sometimes despair. But our God has a gift—a hope and a future for each of us. If only we accept the manner in which it comes: the surrender of our will to His—in faith and obedience.”
“Amen,” Beth whispered. “Amen.” And in her heart she prayed for greater faith to heed God’s voice more fully. They were then directed to open hymnals again and raise their voices to sing, “Trust and obey, for there’s no other way to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.”
Beth’s heart was full. She turned to follow the others retreating slowly down the aisle. When they reached the door, they were met by the minister, who extended his hand warmly toward Molly. “Mrs. McFarland, so nice to see you again. Teddy and Marnie, I’m very glad you came today.” Then he turned to face Beth. “Good morning. Forgive me, but I don’t believe we’ve m
et. My name is Philip Davidson.”
Suddenly Beth felt just a little shy.
“This is Beth Thatcher,” Molly introduced her. “She come to teach school.”
His face lit up brightly. “Well, that’s wonderful. I’ve heard how anxious the mothers have been for your arrival. I trust you’ve been made to feel welcome.”
“Why, yes. Thank you.”
“And have you already begun your classes?”
“Yes, we have.” In that moment Beth could think of nothing more to add. She struggled for intelligent words and hesitated awkwardly.
The broad smile widened. “Well, perhaps we’ll have another chance to chat. Mrs. McFarland has graciously invited me to dinner—along with a friend of mine.”
“How nice,” Beth answered quickly.
“Then I shall see you soon.”
Beth moved away, her face flushed over her failure to converse easily with the eloquent young minister. She chastised herself as she followed Marnie through the sagging gate.
As soon as Molly’s little family arrived home, each hurried to help prepare the meal. Molly pulled roast chickens from the oven, Teddy stirred up the fire and added more wood, Beth mashed the boiled potatoes, while Marnie heated peas in cream sauce. There was fresh-sliced bread, a bright Jell-O salad, and apple pie for dessert. In no time Molly had finished the gravy and the meal was ready to set on the table.
The company men had already gathered in the dining room. For several moments more there was some fidgeting as they waited for the appearance of the minister and his friend. As soon as Molly’s alert ears caught the sounds of their arrival on the front porch, she motioned that it was time to gather the serving dishes and carry them out to the sideboard.
Upon placing her bowls beside the others, Beth turned toward the men waiting to be seated and was shocked to spy a bright red jacket among them. Her face flushed. Could it be Edward? Had he somehow become acquainted with this itinerant pastor? The array of shoulders parted, and instead of Edward’s unruly brown mop she saw the guest had coppery hair, cut short. He smiled around the room, a closely trimmed horseshoe mustache framing his lips.
“Mrs. McFarland, this is my friend Jack Thornton,” Philip said, introducing the man to his hostess, and Molly shook the extended hand. “Jack, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Molly McFarland. And this is Marnie, and Teddy, and Miss Thatcher—to whom I had the pleasure of being introduced just this morning.”
Beth nodded to the brightly suited gentleman and willed her nerves to calm again. It stirred a strange mix of emotions to be reminded of Edward.
“Well,” Molly broke in. “Let’s all eat ’fore it gets cold.”
They crowded tightly around the table with extra chairs from the kitchen. Teddy and Marnie were allowed to take their plates to the front porch. Beth found herself seated across from the minister and his friend. She was certain this was by Molly’s design.
Philip’s outgoing personality kept the conversation lively. After leading discussions on several other topics with much laughter, he turned his attentions to Beth. “May I ask, Miss Thatcher, where do you call home?”
“My family lives in Toronto, Pastor Davidson.”
He smiled. “Oh, please, I’m much more comfortable with Philip. You’ll convince me that you think I’m old—and I suspect you’re not too much younger than I.”
“Well then, Philip,” she repeated, “most of my family still lives in Ontario, but I have a relative who teaches school in the north and is married to an officer of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.” Beth had found her tongue at last. “And where do you live?”
“I roam around mostly.” Pausing to pass a serving dish, he continued, “Jack and I shared a place in Calgary for several months. Now, there’s a man who’s truly old—almost thirty, by my last count. Though I doubt he’d admit to it.” They exchanged lighthearted glances. “We got along well anyway, until I started to travel for my work. I’m afraid I fairly deserted him then.”
“And I’m a worse man for it,” the response came back with a chuckle.
Philip laughed. “That’s all too true. You’re a terrible cook and an awful housekeeper. And now you’re out here alone. Whoever will take care of you now?”
Beth found herself laughing along. “And what of you, Philip? Did you do any better? How well do you cook?” she teased.
A loud voice piped up from the other end of the table, “Why, miss? You making him an offer?”
Beth felt her face flush scarlet. She wanted to flee from the room but instead dropped her gaze to her lap, knowing all eyes were watching her reaction.
Philip’s even-tempered answer was spoken toward the man with not even a hint of rebuke or embarrassment, but was clearly for Beth’s benefit. “Mercy, Walter! Miss Thatcher has just begun important work here in Coal Valley. It would be a tragedy for them to lose her now. Let’s give her a chance to see what God has in store for her here.” And then without pausing for even a breath he added, “Hey, I noticed that repairs to the mine are coming along well. When do you think you’ll be shipping out coal again, Henry?”
Everyone’s attention drawn away, Beth pulled herself together, so grateful to have been rescued from her mortification. But for the remainder of the dinner visit, she spoke very little.
Just as Philip and his friend were moving toward the door and Molly disappeared to wrap up some of the extra chicken for them, Philip made his way closer to Beth. “Miss Thatcher, it’s been so nice to meet you. I’m sorry we weren’t able to chat longer about your teaching. I truly do believe you’ve been given a great work to accomplish here.” His eyes were intense. “These children—they need so much love right now, and it will require someone who can be with them often to reach out to them. That’s one of the difficult aspects of preaching here as I do—there is never enough time to serve individuals well. I want you to know that I’ll be praying for you.”
“Thank you, Philip. I appreciate that so much.”
Beth thought and prayed about what he’d said during the remainder of the afternoon. She wondered how much Bible instruction the children were really receiving when they sat with their mothers for one church service on every third Sunday. When she was a child, she was in church every week and also listened to Father read the Bible daily—Mother taking over the task a little begrudgingly whenever he was absent. But what could Father do about that? It was his work that provided for the needs of the family. Beth guessed that some of the mothers in the little town could not read themselves. It was such a shame that her students received so little instruction. As she wrote her weekly letter to Mother, she poured out her concerns for the children, referencing some of them by name and describing their situation in more detail than she had done before.
In the evening, Beth sought out Molly for advice again. “I am thinking of starting a Bible club. Perhaps to meet a couple of times each week. Do you think there would be any interest in something like that?”
“That’d be real nice.” Molly’s answer was encouraging.
“So you think I could—that I should try it?”
Molly hesitated. “That ain’t the same thing. I think the mommas would let ’em come. I think Bible teachin’ is good. But I cannot say if it’s somethin’ God wants from you. Ya have to ask Him about that. But, dearie,” she added, “pay Him mind. If He says yes, then don’t let none deter ya. But if He says no, then He ain’t in it. Don’t do it just to please a man.”
Beth blushed. “Oh no—it isn’t—I wasn’t—it has nothing to do with the pastor.” But Molly’s cautions sent Beth back to prayer, just to be certain.
By Monday morning she had come up with a plan and began steps toward achieving it. First she approached the mine superintendent, Henry Gowan, while he rocked on the porch with a final cup of coffee before heading off to his office. She asked for and received permission to use the company hall on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. So during her spare moments on Monday, she copied out a note to each of the mothers. She
described a Bible club where the children would act out the stories rather than just listening to them being told. She would help them put together the first skit about creation on the following evening.
After school she passed the announcement to each of the families. While she and Marnie were putting the room in order, some mothers appeared at the door, note in hand, with questions.
“What ages are you planning to let come?”
“What’s this gonna cost?”
“Do you want that the mommas stay? Or do I jest leave ’em?”
Beth was greatly encouraged by their interest and hoped many of the children would participate. She had not expected, however, to discover the evening crowd almost as large as it had been on Sunday morning, with each mother seated prominently beside her children. Beth was a little uncertain how to proceed.
She tried a rather weak announcement. “Now, I believe I’ve explained that this club is for the children. It isn’t necessary for parents to remain. Not unless you would like to.” Not a mother moved. They merely smiled at one another and turned back to Beth.
What should be done? Beth began what she had planned. “Children, we are going to do some acting. Learning the Bible stories by participating in them. I hope you’ll all be brave and willing enough to join in. I think it’s going to be lots of fun. So let’s begin. Tonight I have several parts to fill. I need a volunteer to be Adam.” Gabe Stanton raised his hand, and Beth passed a short script to him. “I also need an Eve.”
Giggling followed. Now that the children realized there would be a pairing up of a boy and girl, they were hesitant to volunteer. Beth chose a much younger Maggie Frazier and hoped the laughter would ebb. It did. She assigned the snake to Georgie Sanders, who received a round of hoots for playing the devil, and let Peter McDermott read the part of God to a chorus of even louder banter.
“Quiet, please. Now then,” she instructed, “you other children will be the creation.” It took several minutes to make assignments for trees and stars and moon and animals. “We shall read through the story once before we begin to act it out—so that we are well acquainted with the plot. Listen closely for your place in our drama. When we take the stage, you will need to know when you enter and what action you perform. For example, plants may lift their flowers and branches to heaven.” Beth demonstrated each pose. “Stars and moon may shine, like this.” She shot her arms outward around her head. “Animals may move a little—but please, no noises.” More snickering. “For this evening only, I shall be narrator.”