A cold breeze brought a chill through her woolen shawl. When she shivered, her aching shoulder muscles burned. She untied the ribbon from her braid and combed out the long strands with her fingers. Her thick hair covered her neck and back. The scent of smoke clung to every tress. It probably looked as terrible as it smelled, but after such a wearisome day, vanity lost to fatigue.
Marian tiptoed out of the cabin and pulled the door closed, save a two-inch gap. She put her ear to it for a moment. Olivia held her breath, also trying to listen for the baby.
Complete silence.
Marian left the door cracked. “He is asleep,” she said softly as she sat beside Olivia on the porch steps.
“I’m sorry to bother you at night,” Olivia whispered.
“You don’t have to whisper. Frederick will sleep until his next feeding. And you are never a bother to me.”
“I thought the elders would be done with their meeting by now.”
Marian planted her palms behind her on the porch and lifted her face to the starry sky. “When the elders meet at sundown, I don’t expect Jonah home for hours.”
Olivia looked up too, but the stars could not hold her attention. Her eyes returned to the chapel and the one blackened window. The marred glass mocked her attempt at establishing a school for the remote settlement. The first day after a crisis was always the hardest and she probably wasn’t the most anxious person tonight. She glanced at Marian. “Did you see Benjamin or your parents after the fire?”
“Father stopped here to see the baby on his way to the meeting tonight. He said Ben wouldn’t answer him when he asked why he started the fire.”
“Did Benjamin admit he was responsible?”
“No. Father said he wouldn’t speak.”
“Does your father think he did it?”
“Of course. Several of the children saw Ben by the lumber with his magnifying glass. Mother said he was probably trying to burn bugs as usual and he accidentally caught the wood on fire.”
“So it was an accident then.”
“It’s hard to know when Ben is involved. He simply won’t respond to questioning anymore.” Marian pulled her gaze away from the sky and brushed her palms together. “Maybe my brother doesn’t belong in school. He’s content in the pasture, tending the sheep and helping Father, but as soon as he comes into the village, he ends up being accused of something. My family would understand if you didn’t allow him to go back to class.”
Olivia hadn’t considered banning the young man from school. There would always be a troublemaker. Her mother used to say those children needed more challenging assignments. But if Benjamin Foster did not want to be in school, it wasn’t worth having him burn the building down. She shrugged one shoulder. “I will leave it up to him and your parents. What did Jonah say when he heard about the fire?”
Marian tucked a wisp of blond hair behind her ear. “He was grateful no one was hurt, especially you, after the way you went at the fire with a shovel. He wasn’t surprised Ben was blamed, if that’s what you mean.”
It wasn’t what she meant. “Was Jonah disappointed?”
“In Ben?”
“No… that school was canceled for the day… that Reverend Colburn canceled school.”
“Ah—” Marian gave an understanding nod. “Are you seeking allies?”
“No, not at all.”
“I will always take your side. I don’t care what the issue might be.”
“Thank you, but I would never try to get anyone to take my side against the reverend. I don’t want there to be sides.” She tucked her skirt around her legs from her knees to her ankles. “I’m not against Reverend Colburn. Jonah has the best education of everyone here our age, and so I wondered what he thought about this canceling school on a whim.”
“Well, it wasn’t on a whim. Reverend Colburn was concerned for the children and for the chapel.” Marian put a hand to Olivia’s back. It was the first comforting touch she had felt all day. “Jonah admires how you have championed education for the settlement now that your mother is no longer able to teach.”
Her mother was able to teach; she simply didn’t want to anymore. A lack of desire and a lack of ability were two different things. No matter. Olivia possessed both the desire and ability. It was the support of her peers she questioned. She rubbed her cold fingers together. “What about the others? What do they think?”
“They who?”
“Those of us who aren’t children, but don’t have school-age children yet.”
Marian lifted a palm. “What does it matter?”
“It matters to me.” She shivered and blew warm air into her cupped hands. “The parents have openly expressed their opinions on sending their children to school. And the children seem to have mixed feelings about it. My mother says that will never change. But what about our group… you and Jonah… and Henry and Peggy and Gabriel?”
“You know Jonah and I support you and will be grateful to have a school established here for our children when the time comes.” Marian furrowed her brow as she thought for a moment. “I haven’t spoken to Henry since the picnic, but he only talks about the printing press and their progress with making paper. And who cares what Peggy thinks?”
“I do. Sometimes.”
Peggy’s opinions had the power to encourage and shatter in equal measure. At the moment, Olivia did not need any more shattering. She waved a hand as if swatting away the thought of Peggy Cotter. “What about Gabriel?”
Marian grinned. “I think you already know what Gabe thinks of you.”
“Not of me… of the school.”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever heard him say.”
Olivia tightened her shawl around her shoulders. “I thought maybe Jonah tells you what the men talk about in the elder meetings.”
“All I know is that Gabe is finishing the building projects for the other families.” Marian faced the chapel and the moonlight highlighted her delicate features. “And then the men are going to help him clear land to build his own house.”
“His own house? I hadn’t heard.”
“The elders decided last week. Each family’s elder is supposed to pass on settlement news to the family.”
“My father doesn’t tell us anything. Not me anyway. He probably tells Walter everything.” She glanced across the road and to the north toward her family’s house. The McIntoshes house was the next property to the north. Neither home was visible from here at night through the trees. She buried her hands beneath her shawl. “Where is Gabe going to build his house?”
“Beside Mr. Weathermon’s cabin near the big stream. Jonah goes to check on Mr. Weathermon every day, and sometimes Gabe goes along. He likes that area.” Marian stood and pointed at the chapel. “The meeting must be over. I can see figures moving in the chapel.”
Olivia stood too and wiped her palms on her skirt. “Let’s hope they made the right decision.”
Moments later, the crackling of footsteps on twigs came from the road as Jonah walked toward the cabin.
Olivia glanced at Marian. “I guess I should go home and wait for my father.”
“He is still at the chapel,” Jonah said as he approached.
Gabe was with him. He looked at her with his expression stoic. An unwelcomed clench tightened inside Olivia’s chest. She had not started the fire that destroyed his lumber, but she suddenly felt the grip of guilt. “Gabe, I want you to know how sorry I am the wood for the church pews was ruined. I know the fire gave you more work to do and you have already done so much for the settlement.”
Gabe raised a hand to halt her apology, but she continued so he wouldn’t have a chance to tell her he was disappointed about the fire or in Benjamin or in her. “I didn’t know you were trying to finish all the carpentry work in the village so you could start building your own house.”
“Liv—”
“Not that if I had known I could have done anything else to extinguish the fire. I tried. Really, I did.”
Jonah slid his arm around Marian’s waist. “We should go inside. Goodnight, Olivia. Goodnight, Gabriel.”
“Goodnight,” they replied in unison as their closest friends quietly slipped into the cabin.
Olivia watched the door. Even after it closed she stared, hoping Marian would come back outside. She had Marian’s support. If Gabe was angry with her or had taken Reverend Colburn’s side—even though she didn’t want there to be sides—at least she had Marian.
“Liv?”
“Pardon?”
Gabe pointed a thumb toward the road. “I asked if I could walk you home.”
“Yes, of course.”
She scanned the woods to the north of Marian and Jonah’s cabin. The moonlight did little to brighten the forest beyond the first few trunks of gray leaf trees. Never before had she felt frightened at night in this land. Nothing in the forest had changed. The same nocturnal animals that foraged through the underbrush last night were here tonight. The same birds roosted in the limbs above the road. The same misshapen moon lent its glow to the silvery foliage of the gray leaf trees.
The cold had silenced the crickets and she missed their song. The quiet and the chill and the darkness stirred discontent deep in her spirit. And knowing people were speaking about her in a less than pleasant manner added bile to the ill feeling.
Gabe reached for her hand and gently tucked it around his arm as they started walking to the road. “It cooled down quickly this evening.”
Her patience was too drained to talk about the weather. “What did the elders decide? Can I teach school tomorrow?”
He smoothed her fingers over his arm, the palms of his callused hands warm and wide. “Your father stayed after the meeting to speak with Reverend Colburn privately.”
“So Jonah said.” Olivia glanced at Gabe as they left Marian and Jonah’s property and walked onto the sandy road. “But they made a decision before you left the meeting, right?”
Twigs snapped in the brush near the road. The muscles in Gabe’s arm tightened beneath her hand. He gave the woods a quick glance. His breath forced steady white puffs into the cold air. “Probably a deer.”
His face was striking in the moonlight—eyes narrowed with focus, jaw set with confidence. She forced herself to look away while she waited for him to answer her questions, but he said nothing.
The smoking chimney of her family’s home came into view. Gabe had never escorted her on his arm like this before. She would think it a sweet gesture if his lack of grins and jokes didn’t betray his angst. Normally, she appreciated a man’s solemn politeness, but knowing Gabe, it was disconcerting.
She asked, “Are you angry with me about the ruined lumber?”
“No.” He slowed their pace. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I apologized to you, and you didn’t say you forgave me.”
He kept his voice soft. “I didn’t need to forgive you because you did me no wrong. The fire wasn’t your fault. No matter what they say, it wasn’t your fault.”
“They? What do you mean?”
She started to pull her hand off his arm, but he held it there as they strode toward her family’s home.
She watched him and he watched the road. “You aren’t answering me.”
“Not for my sake.”
“What did the reverend decide about school? That was the purpose of the meeting, wasn’t it?”
“You have to ask your elder. That’s the rule and since I’m going to become an elder someday, I have to follow the rules.” He turned toward her family’s house and walked her to the porch. “I want to give you everything you dream of, Liv.”
Peggy always said Gabe told her things like that too. Olivia had almost believed him once and had sworn to herself she never would again. Only now his words were not accompanied by smiles and winks. When he was trying to charm her, it was easier to believe he was the insincere flirt Peggy claimed he was. But now the straight line of his lips and the slight rise of his brow marked his expression with concern.
She let go of his arm. “Tell me you will be on my side.”
He spread his palms. “There isn’t much I can do.”
“Even if you can’t do anything, I want to know I have your loyalty… in friendship.”
“Of course.” He leaned a degree closer. “Of course, my loyalty… and friendship and so much more… if only you would let me.”
She took a step back and disappointment flashed across his face. She couldn’t let it matter. She wouldn’t let him charm her. Still, regret lurked beneath the surface of her guarded heart like a corpse beneath an icy pond.
Gabe lowered his chin, and in the moonlight, his blue eyes looked black. “Goodnight, Liv.”
“Goodnight,” she whispered.
As Gabe walked back to the road, he passed her father. The men exchanged a lighthearted word that drew a chuckle from Mr. Richard Owens. As Gabe disappeared toward his family’s home, Richard neared the house. He aimed a work-worn finger at the door. “Go inside, Livy.”
She turned to the porch, obediently. The fire in the hearth illumined the glass in the window. Her mother and Alice were sitting in the parlor, knitting, with Almeda and Martha nearby. She might be forbidden to attend the elder meetings, but whatever their verdict, she did not want it delivered in front of her young sisters. She faced her father. “What did Reverend Colburn decide?”
Richard crossed his arms over his chest. “Gabriel didn’t tell you?”
“No. He said I was to ask my family’s elder.”
“Good man. He will make a fine elder someday.” Richard rubbed his swollen knuckles together. Thirty years of cutting and laying stone had disfigured his hands, but he never complained. “Benjamin will not be allowed to ride his horse for a week.”
“His horse? Is that why the reverend called a meeting? To figure out how to punish Benjamin?”
Her father shook his head. “No, Mr. Foster informed us of the punishment.”
“The way everyone treats Benjamin is punishment enough. The more people distrust him, the harder it is for him to behave respectably. He made a mistake, but I doubt he meant to set the lumber ablaze. The fire was put out and no one was hurt. The elders shouldn’t blame him.”
“They don’t. They blame you.”
“What?” Olivia’s heart pounded in her throat. “How am I to blame for the fire?”
Richard picked at the thick skin on the heel of his hand. “The elders decided not to allow the chapel to be used for school.”
“Are they going to build a schoolhouse?”
“This is no time for you to ask for more, young lady.” He glanced at the window behind her. “If you insist on teaching the children, they have agreed to allow you to go house to house for lessons. You may teach at each house one day per week.”
One day per week times eight families with school-aged children. She would have to go to two houses per day. That meant each child would have only half a day of school each week. “There is no way I can instill a proper education and love for learning in children who are given one class per week.”
Richard shrugged. “If you want to teach, this is your only option.”
“One day of school per week for each family will not make education a priority and the elders will never authorize a schoolhouse.”
“Take it or leave it. You can have the rest of the week to sort out your schedule with the families and get your lessons ready, then start Monday.”
“But, Father—”
“But nothing! Your mother and I have done everything we could for you. If she hadn’t been the teacher in Accomack for twenty years, you never would have had the chance to teach here. Most families in the settlement want to keep their children home and I understand. Building a town out of nothing is hard work. You can’t blame the elders for this.” He wagged a crooked finger at her. “You should be grateful Doctor Ashton spoke up for you at the meeting tonight and I stayed afterward to make sure Reverend Colburn doesn’t think any less o
f our family.” He stomped past her to the porch then turned back. “Decide tonight if you want to teach from house to house. If not, I don’t want to hear any more about school. We will leave education up to the parents like we should have in the first place.”
* * *
Olivia turned over again, unable to find a comfortable position on her half of the feather bed she shared with Alice. She reached to the wooden trunk next to the bedstead and opened her ceramic keepsake box. Her fingers found the silver watch pin—a gift from her late grandmother—nestled in an embroidered handkerchief inside. Her grandmother’s lavender scent still clung to the old kerchief. The aroma triggered memories of long winter afternoons sitting on the floor by the rocking chair while her grandmother read stories to her.
Though the moon sent generous light through the windowpane, she couldn’t read the time. Perhaps no one had informed the monster that the Roman numerals on four points of the watch face represented numbers, therefore, it should not hide them from her.
It wouldn’t matter. There was no monster, just as Doctor Ashton told her when she was little. It wasn’t a monster. It wasn’t her eyesight. It was just her, but if she wanted to spend her life teaching school, she’d better hope the elders never found out she often lost her ability to read. God hadn’t taken the problem away no matter how fervently and humbly she’d beseeched Him. It was her affliction to bear, and she had to bear it silently if she wanted to be a schoolteacher.
None of that seemed to matter now. She’d lost the elders’ respect before she’d had the chance to earn it. She had worked to learn and learned to teach and now she had no school to teach in and probably never would.
Though she couldn’t read the hour, it felt late. Her three younger sisters were asleep, and the nasally snores leaking through the partition from the other side of the upstairs bedroom assured her that her two brothers were asleep also.
She carefully placed the watch pin back in its soft bedding in her keepsake box atop the trunk between the bed and the corner. Her corner. Each of the six Owens children had claimed a private area of the upstairs room of their family’s home. And the corner from the north-facing window ledge to the wall was her space.
The Uncharted Beginnings Series Box Set Page 26