by Janette Oke
A soft knock sounded at the door.
“Who is it?” Beth called, though she was certain who was there.
“Can I come in?”
Beth sat up on the edge of the bed and tried to recover her composure. “Yes.”
Molly peeked around the door and entered cautiously, closing it quietly behind her. She crossed the room and sat down heavily next to Beth on the bed. “Appears I owe ya an apology.”
Beth shook her head. “No, no, Molly. It’s not you—I don’t know why I’m feeling so touchy.”
“Well, I didn’t mean ta upset ya none. An’ I’m truly sorry I did. Can ya talk about it?”
Beth drew in a long breath. “The truth is—” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, I don’t know what the truth is. I suppose that the truth is I don’t know what I feel or why.”
“Well then, why don’t ya start with what made my question so upsettin’.”
Beth studied a speck on the carpet. “I’ve always rather disliked Edward,” she began slowly. “And I’ve always known some people expected us to marry, mainly our . . . our mothers.” Beth could hear Molly sigh quietly.
“And I’m beginning to believe Edward’s expecting as much,” she continued. “But he . . . he has never been the type of man I want to share my life with. That is—well, at least, he wasn’t the type of boy I could respect. It’s different now. He’s not the same. I don’t know, but maybe he’s truly changing.”
Beth lifted her eyes to Molly’s caring face. “But the whole idea makes me feel trapped somehow—as if there’s some unseen force pushing me toward him. I thought for sure I was leaving all of that behind when I came out west, and suddenly he appeared on the train. At first it upset me, and then I found myself expecting to find him at every turn—and finally hoping, in fact, that I would. But then when he didn’t show up here for all these months . . . Oh, Molly, how can I want to see him, yet draw away from it at the same time? It just doesn’t make sense. . . .”
“Feelin’s often don’t” came Molly’s frank response. She put her hand on Beth’s arm. “So we can’t live by ’em. An’ we can’t be a slave to ’em either. We have ta live accordin’ to what’s right—not what we feel. Feelin’s ain’t bad, ya know, we just have to remember they can change themselves into somethin’ else for no reason we can tell.”
Beth nodded.
“Was it my teasin’ that set ya off?”
A small hesitation and Beth replied, her voice low, “It was more than that. All the things wrapped together. . . . You didn’t tell me he was coming, and you didn’t tell me about the gift. I guess I felt like you were doing what others have done—pairing us up against my will.”
Molly put her arm around Beth and pulled her close. “I don’t want nothin’ for ya, dearie, but what you an’ God want. I guess when yer older, ya find some fun in watching the young get matched up. But I would never press ya one way or another. Ya gotta make up yer own mind.”
With all her heart Beth wished that Mother had been able to bring herself to articulate such words. She whispered, “I feel as if my family wouldn’t say the same—that my mother in particular feels she knows what’s best and would be most happy to dictate my future to me—if I were to allow it.”
Molly chuckled again. “Oh, it’s different in a family. It’s harder ta take a step back when the future of a loved one’s at stake. I’m sure it’s yer momma’s love for ya that makes it hard to let ya go. Even make a little mistake or two.” Then she squeezed a little harder. “But yer here, ain’t ya? An’ that’s a long, long way from home and Momma—sayin’ a lot, eh?”
Beth was able to produce a little smile, but she also shrugged. Molly was undeniably right, but somehow it felt like a temporary freedom, measured out cautiously—one that would all too soon be withdrawn.
“How can I pray for you and yer momma, dearie?” Her question was unexpected, but conveyed gentle love and support.
Beth looked away, then into Molly’s face. “For peace between us. For submission, the right kind, I guess. That I wouldn’t feel so stubborn and resistant to whatever she says or wants.”
“If I may,” Molly said carefully, “I’ll pray that ya submit to God first. An’ once that’s done, you an’ yer momma’ll work through th’other parts. Yer a woman now, true, an’ ya gotta make the decisions for yer own life. But first ya gotta obey God’s call—the little things and the big things. You’ll understand better some day, though, that you’ll always be her girl. An’ ya gotta honor her no matter how old ya get. That part’ll be somethin’ ya do in yer mind, not yer feelings—just you an’ God workin’ it out together. We all got mommas—and at some point we gotta figure out what it means to be a grown-up daughter.”
Pressing a kiss against Beth’s hair, Molly rose and left, softly closing the door behind her. Beth sighed, but one of release, not sorrow. It was so easy to talk with Molly. After spending only a few months in her home, they had already grown to love and understand each other. Maybe it’s Molly I’ll miss most when my year is over. . . .
At last Mother’s reply to Beth’s pre-Christmas letter arrived. Not surprisingly, Beth found many remonstrations about not caring for her own health adequately. Mother, in fact, came very close to threatening a visit to see to it that she had sufficiently recovered before continuing with her teaching responsibilities. Reading between the lines, Beth deciphered that Father had been the one to repudiate such an idea. Hot tears stole down Beth’s cheeks as she realized there wasn’t a single reference to her Christmas program. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and prayed that Mother would someday come to see her as more than merely an invalid who needed coddling and someone’s watchful eye.
Snow had continued to fall after Christmas, and the world outside was blanketed with a lovely cotton batting of white. As alluring as a walk seemed, she knew it would be unwise until she was back to full strength. Instead, from the safety of Molly’s parlor window she could occasionally watch some of the children playing in the street, chasing and throwing snowballs or making tunnels through the drifts.
She soon learned that this was pleasant so long as it was only for a short while. Any longer, and she quickly felt the need to reprimand them for some childish infraction. Hmm, she thought for a moment, does that sound a bit like Mother? And if she did call out to them through the open door, Molly immediately hollered from the kitchen to close it again “afore ya catch yer death.” Beth shook her head at the irony of being reproved as if she were a child at the very moment she was thinking of reproving her own students. But it was not a battle she could win—nor did she actually want to go against this loving woman who was such a guardian of her well-being. Like Mother wants to be . . . so why does it feel so different coming from Molly?
Beth had lots to mull over during this week of quiet before school resumed. Lord, help me to sort out all these thoughts and feelings, to become more like You, she prayed, more understanding and forgiving.
She was grateful Frank continued to call every day. He was a pleasant diversion from the quiet that had settled over the house since Christmas. Whenever he arrived, there was laughter, games, and impromptu singing, and sometimes two violins in lovely harmony—everyone’s spirits rising to meet Frank’s.
CHAPTER
19
GATHERING TOGETHER PAPERS SHE HAD GRADED many days before, Beth had mixed feelings as she set out for school again. The two weeks of rest and fellowship had come just at the right time, and she would miss it. But she also was looking forward to being back with the children—to feel she was accomplishing something significant.
Her students, though, seemed restless and preoccupied as she faced them from the front of the room. Apparently they did not share her desire to be productive once more after the Christmas break. Beth simply stood before them, waiting till they noticed her silence and gave her their attention. She knew she had to be particularly vigilant and creative to keep them on task, pressing forward with the lessons despite their lack of concentration
. By the end of the day she felt drained and trudged home disappointed—in herself and in them.
Molly noticed immediately, and without Beth saying a word, she patted her shoulder and told her it would be better tomorrow. And it was. As the winter days moved along, their routine was established once again.
Beth was somewhat nervous as she opened another letter from Mother, then pleasantly surprised when she read of Mother’s regret over having lectured Beth about her activities in her last correspondence. Next followed much more detail about the family’s Christmas celebrations, along with a wish that Beth had been present. Mother also wrote of upcoming plans and news about some friends Beth knew. In the very last paragraph she added, “I’m so glad Edward was able to spend Christmas with you. I do trust you were congenial.”
There it was—Mother’s thinly veiled suggestion that Beth cultivate a relationship with him. Did he find some way of communicating his visit to her? Or perhaps his own mother had passed along the news. . . .
The winter days were short and often drab, and Beth found herself walking to school before the sun was up and coming home in twilight. The meager lamps on the school tables worked hard to provide sufficient light for the students on the cloudy, snowy days. Beth worried about the stuffy room, now that it was far too cold to open the windows. But she was managing to get more sleep, even though she continued Bible club and English lessons each week.
Three additional miners had joined the class at Frank’s cabin. It was now a lively mix of interesting personalities, which Beth enjoyed greatly. The men were learning far more quickly than Beth had ever imagined. She was certain this was due to Paolo’s efforts to coach and challenge them throughout the week. By far, Alberto was the most proficient. Beth suspected that he had already known more English than he’d been willing to admit.
But partway through January a blizzard hit, the first Beth had experienced since arriving in Coal Valley. Molly told her there was no need to send Teddy to put out the word that school was canceled—the mothers would not allow their children to leave home in this kind of weather even if Beth had managed to get to school herself. For two days icy snow blasted against the windows and whipped over the roof. The howling wind through the trees drowned out all other sounds, including the ever-present mining equipment. At Beth’s question, Molly assured her that the work underground would continue.
Frank also surrendered to the storm, giving up his frequent visits for the duration. Beth had no doubt he’d likely taken in guests too. It would not be the first time he’d invited some of the miners to sleep on his floor when the weather was particularly nasty. His cabin was not large or extravagant, but it stalwartly held on to the heat of its potbelly stove much better than the thin boards of the camp buildings. Some of the miners, Beth was told, would shovel snow up against the sides of their dwellings, hoping for some insulation against the driving winds and bitter cold.
When the storm was finally spent, Beth peered out into a crystal world, polished fresh and clean and bright. Several of her students were already bundled up and playing in the new snow, and she hurried into her own coat and hat and mittens. She’d been ill when she’d last watched them from inside the window. She determined that today she would enjoy some of the pleasures of the snow for herself.
They seemed genuinely surprised at Beth’s appearance but quickly accepted her into their fun. She helped in their efforts to build a snowman—though the powdery snow proved poor for such construction. So they worked instead on digging a tunnel. Her cheeks were rosy and her fingers almost numb before Molly called them all to sit on the porch for some hot chocolate and cookies. Beth stayed with them, enjoying their chatter and answering their questions.
“Didn’t ya have snow where you grew up?”
“Of course,” she explained, “we often had a great deal of it. But my mother rarely let me play outside in the cold. I was quite sickly as a child.”
“So is Levi. His momma keeps him in too,” Georgie informed her. “Says he gots to stay warm.”
“Did ya have any brothers an’ sisters?”
Beth answered solemnly, “I have two sisters. But I also had a baby brother who died. I still miss him,” she said quietly. The children stared at her with new interest. She smiled around at them and added, “One of my sisters is older, and she’s married. The other sister is younger. And I also have a sweet little nephew named JW.”
“JW? What sorta name is that?”
“It stands for John William. It’s kind of a nickname.”
“Bonnie has a nickname,” Daniel said with a grin. “Want to know what it is?”
Bonnie rose to her feet in a menacing manner. “Stop it, Daniel. I’ll tell Momma!” He laughed, but chose the better part of wisdom, hunching down inside his parka as if the coat would protect him.
“Miss Thatcher, bet yer glad you didn’t grow up with a brother,” muttered Bonnie.
Beth changed the subject. “In the city where I come from it’s quite flat—and there are people and buildings everywhere.”
“I bin to the city,” Maggie piped up. “When I was real small, Momma said. I don’t even ’member. And then we come out here with my daddy.” Speaking the word aloud brought silence all around. “I miss my daddy,” she added softly.
Beth reached to brush her rosy cheek and answered tenderly, “I’m so sorry, darling. I’m sure you miss him very much.”
Jonah muttered, “Momma says not to t-t-t-talk about him. But I l-l-like to ’member.”
Beth scooted forward in her seat. “She’s probably still feeling very lonely, because she misses him too. And sometimes when we’re still feeling bad, it’s easiest to try not to think about it. But you can talk about your daddies with me.”
“Don’t it m-m-make you feel bad too?”
Beth could feel her tears welling up and blinked them away quickly. “It makes my heart hurt for you. But that’s a different kind of pain. So if you’d like to, you can come and talk to me whenever you want.”
Molly brought one more plate of cookies and offered them around the small circle. “Can I have one fer Levi?” Anna Kate asked. “He don’t get much sweets.”
“He don’t get much sweets ’cause he don’t get much food,” Maggie blurted out.
Anna Kate was too young to be put off by the comment. “Anyways, he’d wanna cookie.” She stuck out a tongue at Maggie.
Beth turned to the pair of little girls. She asked solemnly, “Is that true, Anna Kate? Do you not have enough to eat?”
With childish candor, she answered, “Momma says it’s jest till the s’ply train can get through again.”
Beth tried not to meddle, but the idea that any of her children did not have enough to eat brought serious concern. She thanked them for allowing her to play in the snow with them, stealthily tucked a few more cookies into Anna Kate’s pocket, and waved at them all as they left.
Later Beth approached Molly to see if she were aware of the problem.
“I knew they was hard up, but I didn’t know they was quite so low.”
“Is there anything that can be done?”
Molly dropped down onto a kitchen chair. “Esther Blane’s a real tough nut. She don’t take help none. Even turned down Frank flat out when he tried ta give ’em some fish.”
“How many other families do you think are having a difficult time?”
Molly shook her head. “Three or four. Maybe more. Them pensions is startin’ to run out, dependin’ on how long their man worked in the mine. The gals is jest scared to death what happens next. Problem is, nobody knows.”
Beth would not be deterred. “Then whatever we do can’t be targeted at one family—or even a few. It must be offered to all the children.”
Molly looked at her for a long moment. “What’re ya suggestin’?”
“How about if we see they get a good breakfast? Many schools have done that much. And it’s one of the cheapest meals to provide.” She watched for Molly’s reaction.
�
�Careful what ya start, dearie. Might be bitin’ off more’n you can chew. And sometimes failin’ is worse ’an not tryin’—when it comes ta stirrin’ things up.”
Beth sighed. Unconsciously she touched the locket again. She could not drive from her mind her recent illness, no doubt brought on by overextending herself. She would need much prayer before she moved ahead.
“How much does it cost to buy a cow?” Beth asked. She had pulled Philip aside to a secluded corner of the hallway after Sunday dinner.
He stared back as if she’d lost her mind. “A cow?”
“The children need milk,” she explained. “I thought we could call it a school project, maybe teach them each to milk it. That way we don’t have to make any of the mothers feel we’re giving charity. The children are the ones providing for it. It would kind of belong to them all. . . .” She could tell she hadn’t been very convincing.
“Have you spoken with anyone else about this idea?”
She looked away self-consciously. “No, I thought I’d try it out on you first—sort of a test run.”
Philip shook his head. “It’s an awful lot of work to keep a cow—you’d be amazed at how much they eat. And have you given any thought to where it would be kept? You had best discuss it with someone who knows cattle a lot better than I do before you move much further with your plans.”
Beth clasped her hands tightly in front of her, her knuckles white. “The Grants have a big shed behind the pool hall. I’m wondering if it might be kept there. I know we’d have to bring in hay too. I just hoped it wouldn’t be too complicated.”
“I know you want to help, Beth.” The pastor reached out to squeeze her arm gently. “But what would happen to the cow when you leave at the end of the school year? I admire your good intentions, but perhaps you would be biting off more than you could chew.”
Beth blew out a long breath. “You just repeated Molly’s very words.” She had hoped Philip might be more positive. Now she would have to go back to Molly and see if she might have further ideas.