by Janette Oke
Beth blushed, despite the fact that she was alone. She reached for her handkerchief and squeezed the drying rose petal to bring up a little of its fragrance. The words washed over her with such a thrill of joy that she could hardly continue reading. Perhaps Mother could be a source of similar influence for me. She decided she would look for opportunities to ask leading questions for personal advice, though she would honestly have found it easier to seek advice from Miss Molly instead.
Lester Carothers is a church elder there . . . wife of forty-some years . . . four sons and a daughter . . . hospitable and generous . . . above reproach . . . Mrs. Carothers was a schoolteacher once . . . seems a happy and contented wife . . . certain the relationship will be of great benefit.
No news yet of the teaching position . . . had a fine meal with Molly and Frank . . . the two have become quite a pair. . . .
Beth sighed contentedly at the thought. She liked to think of Frank and Molly spending time together. She felt that although they were very different from each other—an elderly Italian miner and a hospitable, aging widow—they were so completely compatible.
The mine is producing well again . . . perfect start to summer . . . mountains are so beautiful, dressed in a haze of fresh green leaves here and there among the evergreens . . . engagement announcement . . . Esther Blane and Bardo Mussante, one of the miners . . . a good friend of Philip’s . . . perhaps a marriage of convenience, but they seem quite comfortable together.
“I hope he’s good to the children,” Beth whispered aloud. She tried to remember Bardo, but found she could not draw up an image. However, it was easy to recall the little face of Anna Kate and her two only slightly older brothers . . . and their shabby clothing. She hoped they would be better provided for soon, with their new papa.
The waiter set a wedge of cheesecake on the table, and Beth returned to her reading.
Not much other news . . . can’t wait to hear about your trip . . . finding solace in the fact that we share the same sky overhead and the same moon at night. When I see it hanging above all, I am picturing you not so far away. (But don’t tell Philip I said anything so woefully starry-eyed, as he would never let me hear the end of it.)
With fondest affection,
Jarrick
Beth folded the letter again and placed it back inside its envelope. She considered saving the other until the next day, but found it far too difficult to wait. This one was shorter, written on only one side of the paper.
My dear Beth,
It’s Wednesday here. One week since we chatted on the telephone. And this time I do have news for which I hope you are sitting comfortably. Good news—the very best, in fact!
Molly and Frank have eloped!
Beth sat bolt upright in shock, staring down at the words. Reading them over again to be certain her eyes weren’t deceiving her. Could it be true?
Jarrick continued,
Perhaps due to the announcement of Esther and Bardo’s engagement, perhaps even in order to promote the goodwill of the townsfolk to such an idea, they have slipped away to Lethbridge and come back in wedded bliss. I’m quite certain they have been contemplating such a decision for quite some time. Of course, they didn’t want anyone to fuss over them. So they opted to “run away together.”
Beth’s hand trembled as she lifted it to her cheek. How lovely and romantic! Yet in the same breath she lamented the fact that she had missed their wedding. It would have been so nice to be there to congratulate the happy couple. What a joyful thing to imagine! Beth made up her mind to write a letter as soon as the others had settled in for the night—addressed to Mrs. Molly Russo.
“Oh, Molly! I’m so happy for you,” she whispered.
Frank has moved into Molly’s place. Teddy Boy and Marnie will have a father. Or rather, a grandfatherly figure, since Molly is not actually their mother and more like a grandmother to them. But what should that matter? They’ll all be the better off for each being part of a family. And I’m grateful to see those children secure and loved.
I believe they’ve offered Frank’s cabin to Heidi Coolidge and her children. That should help her to be out from under the expense of renting from the company. And there’s talk now of Abigail Stanton buying the Grants’ place to open a small restaurant and teahouse. She’s already promised a job to Heidi if she can get the place up and running soon enough.
Oh my, Beth thought, what a lot to happen so quickly.
Well, my Beth, I had been determined not to write to you more often than once a week, but the news was simply too important not to tell. And I knew you’d want to hear of it as soon as possible.
I believe you said that your ship was to depart today. So, without further fanfare, I shall bid you adieu and hope to receive a return letter from you any day now.
Affectionately yours,
Jarrick
P.S. I’m ashamed to say I almost forgot my second intention in writing. I spoke to your father again. He tells me that you’ll spend the day in Charlottetown on Tuesday of next week. I plan to be in Lethbridge. I’m not certain if it will be possible, but I would like to try to reach you by telephone at that time. I plan to place a call to your hotel desk on Tuesday at noon (your time), assuming I can accurately figure out the time difference. Please don’t worry if it won’t be possible for you to be there at that time. I just couldn’t think of any other way to try to get in touch with you. JT
Beth could hardly contain herself. So much good news all packed into one short letter—and a call from Jarrick to top it off—and Tuesday was tomorrow! How wise of him to leave so many days between sending the letter and our telephone appointment. Beth wasn’t certain what the plan was for the morrow, but she immediately decided she would be waiting in the hotel lobby, beginning at eleven o’clock, just in case he was off an hour. “Thank you, heavenly Father,” she whispered. “His letter came just in time.”
Beth heard very little of the discourse from the Charlottetown tour guide. Squeezed between Victoria and Julie on the narrow seat of an open-air coach, Beth could think of little else than Jarrick’s upcoming telephone call. She had mentioned nothing yet to the others, preferring to think through how she would address the issue.
“And here we have Province House.” The young guide gestured at the impressive stone structure. “Most of you will already know that this site is most famous for hosting the Confederation Conference in 1864, where the Maritime Provinces joined with what was then known as the Province of Canada to discuss the formation of a confederation of the remaining British provinces in North America. What you might not have heard is that there was also a circus in town that attracted far more attention by the public at large.” He winked. “Some might even say that makes for two circuses hosted by our city at the same time.”
His amiable banter continued as Beth thought about how to convey the news of Jarrick’s call to her family. She sighed, wishing she were able to be more attentive. She hated to miss out on any of the history or the charming old street sights.
“Annie Bet?” JW tugged at her sleeve and pointed toward the front of the coach. “Horsies! See?”
“Yes, darling.” She smiled at the boy, but he slid back onto Mother’s lap before she could chat with him for even a moment.
As they later descended from the coach and entered the broad mezzanine of their hotel, Julie drew near her and muttered, “Where have you been, Bethie?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Well, sister dear, you’re clearly lost in thought. It’s so unlike you not to absorb every bit of historical significance and to ask a thousand questions begging for more. Tonight you’ve hardly spoken at all.”
Beth smiled feebly. “I guess my mind is preoccupied today.” Here was a wonderful chance to be with my family, but I let myself get caught up in daydreaming. Beth remembered Margret’s request that she be present with them, along with Father’s encouragement to use the summer wisely.
“I sensed ‘preoccupation,’ as you call it,” Julie sai
d. “But you haven’t said what it is that’s so much more interesting to you.”
“I’ll tell you later,” Beth whispered.
Julie caught hold of Beth’s elbow and drew herself closer in mock intimacy. “Oh, goody! That can only mean it’s something well worth hearing.”
Beth shook her head. “Don’t be so melodramatic, Julie.”
Monsieur Laurent wanted everyone to meet in the hotel dining room following their tour. He was waiting to greet them in the lobby and directed them to the proper table. Mrs. Montclair, who had skipped the tour, was already seated and reading a newspaper.
“How was the carriage ride?” she asked as they joined her.
“Good,” declared Victoria. “The horses were very bright, but not as clever as my pony.” Just mentioning the beloved animal brought a frown. “I miss Clover. I haven’t been riding for ever so long.”
“Now, Victoria, don’t start with that again. You know that David is exercising her while you’re gone. She’ll be just fine—and so will you.”
Beth was amazed at the sudden mood swing. The girl had been fine only moments before and now was slumped in the chair beside her mother.
“Eat something,” Mrs. Montclair commanded. “You’ll feel better.”
“Let us begin,” Monsieur Laurent inserted into the exchange. “We have several decisions to make regarding tomorrow’s agenda. . . .”
Beth held her breath, praying silently that God would work out the details for her conversation with Jarrick. In the end, it was decided that the morning would be spent shopping in the city, with an afternoon train ride to other parts of the island. Beth had tried not to influence the decision toward her own wishes, but she sighed with relief at the outcome. All she would miss would be the shopping.
“The operator is trying to connect you now. Please hold.” It was the third attempt to set up the call with Lethbridge.
“Hello? Jarrick? Are you there?” Beth pressed the handset against her ear but heard only crackling over the line. “Jarrick?” No response. “Operator?”
A singsong voice answered, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m afraid we keep losing your connection. We’ll try again in a few minutes.”
“May I send a message to the party on the other end?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. There’s no way for us to send a message if they can’t get a line through. I can only advise you to wait for a few minutes while the operator reconnects the call from the other end.”
“Thank you,” Beth said, looking across the lobby to where Margret waited with JW. Beth placed the receiver in its cradle and smiled weakly at the hotel receptionist. “I’m afraid they couldn’t get through again.”
“That’s too bad, honey,” she said. “But don’t go far. I’m sure they’ll try again in a bit. Those telephones can be finicky things. I’ll bet they fix the problem soon.”
“Yes, thank you. I’ll wait right here.”
“No need, miss. I’ll send a page to find you if they call back. I’m sure it’ll work eventually. Don’t give up.”
“Thank you. That would be very kind.”
Margret rose and hurried over, JW at her heels. She had opted out of shopping during the morning, complaining once more of nausea. So the two sisters had stayed behind and entertained JW, lingering around the lobby as the appointed time drew near. Margret had purchased a little toy ship with wheels for the boy, and he had spent the time on his tummy, pushing it across the tiled floor, making noises that no doubt sounded to him like the ones their own ship made. Miss Bernard would surely have shushed him because of it being a public space, but Beth had been rather delighted to observe his playing.
Margret touched Beth’s arm. “I guess your telephone call didn’t work again. I’m so sorry, darling. I know you’re disappointed.”
“You could try to call John,” Beth offered dejectedly. “At least one of us should be able to speak to our . . . should get to talk with . . .” Beth couldn’t find a single word with which to finish the sentence. She wasn’t sure how to refer to Jarrick.
Margret moved nearer, searching Beth’s face. “It’s sweet of you to think of me. But John and I have arranged to speak tonight after dinner. I do empathize with how you feel. I’m so anxious to hear John’s voice I can hardly think of anything else.” Margret’s eyes misted as she spoke the words. “I feel as if it’s been years since we’ve been able to talk together, and I was able to call him at Tadoussac.”
JW had followed Margret across the wide checkerboard tiles. He watched their conversation, Beth’s face drawn tight with sadness, tears rimming her eyes. He lifted his arms. Beth pulled him up. “Annie Bet cwyin’?” The little hands patted her face with rough affection.
Beth pressed a kiss against his cheek. “Yes, Auntie Beth is crying. And Mommy too, a little. But it’s all right.”
“Hug?” He circled her neck with his pudgy arms. “Luf you.”
“Oh, darling, I love you too.”
“Let’s get a table in the dining room,” Margret suggested. “I’ll let the woman at the desk know where we’ll be so the page boy can find you easily. We’ll get a cup of tea.”
“I suppose.” Beth was fighting for composure, painfully aware of the many others moving around the room. When Margret returned, they crossed together through the lobby to the hotel’s quaint bistro.
Soon they were settled in a corner table, a wooden high chair pulled close so that JW could pick up the oyster crackers Margret scattered on the tray.
“I’m sure he’s just as anxious as you—probably more so. Men want to fix things, to be in control. He’s probably pacing around, trying to get something to work out.”
Beth pictured Jarrick in the station, surrounded by all the other officers. She hoped he wasn’t being pestered. “I don’t feel there’s any privacy at all. There are always people watching, and it’s such a complicated endeavor. I feel as if the whole world knows we’re trying to speak with each other. Surely someone could come up with a better way.”
“Yes, that would be nice, darling. But remember, he’s clear across Canada.”
“Oh, I know,” Beth sighed. “I’m just being unreasonable.”
Margret settled her teacup back in its saucer. “I’d certainly like to meet him. When do you suppose that will be possible?”
Beth shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t even tell you when I’ll see him again. Everything’s so uncertain right now—so many unanswered questions.” Beth dabbed her napkin at the corners of her eyes and breathed in slowly. “You would like him, Margret,” she said with a wobbly smile.
“Of course I would. You’re a fine judge of character.”
“I wish I had a picture I could show you. There just wasn’t time.”
Margret placed a few more crackers on the baby’s tray. JW scooped them up greedily and shoveled them into his mouth. “Perhaps you could ask him to send one to you in one of his letters. He might have a photograph he can give you.”
“Maybe. I’ll ask.” A movement nearby caught her eye. Beth steeled herself. But it was only the waiter, approaching with their tea. After the cups were on the table, she composed herself once more. Perhaps I should simply change the subject. “How are you feeling now, Margret? Any better?”
A brooding expression fell over her sister’s face. “I feel much better. I’m fine, but . . .”
Beth studied her. Margret was choosing not to lift her eyes, instead fussing with the silverware on the table in front of her.
“What is it? What are you thinking?”
She cleared her throat. “I’m almost afraid to say.”
Beth reached a hand across the table. “You’re not coming down with something, are you?”
“No.” A tentative smile. “Well, maybe. But not what you think.”
“What?”
Margret’s eyes rose just enough to meet Beth’s. Her face was flushed. “I think I might be . . . with child.”
Beth’s mouth dropped open.
&n
bsp; Margret laughed. “It’s not such a surprise, is it? It’s not as if John and I weren’t planning on another child sometime soon.” She looked at JW tenderly. “And my J-bird needs a little sister—or a brother. He’s ready. Don’t you think?”
“Oh, Margret! That’s wonderful!”
“Now, you must know I’m not certain of this,” she hedged, giving Beth’s hand a squeeze. “And that’s precisely the problem. How do I see a doctor here—so far from home?”
“If that’s what you want,” Beth declared, “I’m sure we could find someone. And we’ve got two days here in Charlottetown. You could probably get an appointment for this afternoon or tomorrow.”
Margret raised a finger in warning. “I plan to talk to John about it tonight—that is, assuming I can get a line through. There’s no reason to act rashly. I’ll see what he wants me to do. But, yes, it should be possible to see a doctor here. It’s just that . . . oh, just what you said earlier—such a complicated endeavor, drawing so many people into our personal business. I have half a mind to just wait and see.”
“Oh, Margret—another baby!” Beth slipped from her chair and drew her sister into an awkward hug. “What a blessing!”
“Yes,” she whispered back, leaning her head against Beth’s side. “I’m so happy.”
It was a great boost for Beth to be chosen as Margret’s confidante, to share the wondrous possibility together.
Chapter
15
BY THE TIME THE OTHERS RETURNED from their afternoon shopping trip, no page boy had appeared to call Beth’s name for the telephone. She had gradually accepted the fact that there would not be a conversation with Jarrick that day. Margret, a most beneficial distraction along with her little son, suggested that there was no need to tell the family about Beth’s great disappointment. With a nod and a sigh, Beth agreed.
“We found the best millinery shop,” Julie called as she rushed over. “I bought a lovely wool cloche to go with my brown suit. Mother bought a delightful white beaded number with the fluffiest feathers! And I think Mrs. Montclair must have bought at least half a dozen new hats. Wait till you see them. You’ll just die.”
