by Jane Peart
As they pulled into the schoolyard Blaine said, "I'll go around to the back where his living quarters are in case anyone riding by should see us."
When at last they halted, Blaine had to rouse Larkin again. When that proved impossible Blaine rummaged in Larkin's pocket, located his keys and tossed them over to Holly. "Would you please go unlock the door? I guess there's only one way to settle him safely." With that Blaine simply slung the man over his shoulder in the famous "fireman's carry."
Holly hopped down from the buggy and ran ahead to the back of the building. Fitting a key into the lock, she opened the door, holding it for Blaine to walk through with his inert burden. She stood there on the threshold, then heard the creak of mattress springs as Blaine must have dumped Larkin onto his bed, the clump of boots being dropped. A few minutes later Blaine reappeared.
"This binge must have started here, possibly as early as Friday afternoon after school." He pushed back his hat, rubbed his brow with one hand, frowning. "Couple of empty bottles around. When he ran out of booze he must have decided to go into town. ..." He paused, pressing his lips together. Then he said thoughtfully, "I think I should try to straighten up some of this mess before leaving. Be sure to get rid of any unopened bottles there may still be around before he wakes up enough to start drinking again. On the other hand—" Blaine halted mid-sentence. "I probably should take you home, Holly. This has all been a pretty sordid spectacle for you to see. I know that poor Larkin would be humiliated if he thought that you—or anyone, for that matter—but particularly a lady like yourself had not only seen him like this but—"
"Oh, Blaine, don't! I understand. I do, really," Holly assured him, recalling the times she had seen Mr. Larkin in town perfectly sober, always neatly dressed. If he had come into Ned's store whenever she was working at the lending library, he always tipped his hat politely and addressed her with the greatest courtesy. Now she said, "Please, let me help. Tell me what to do."
The expression in Blaine's eyes changed from uncertainty to frank approval. "All right. Come in and together we'll make quick work of it."
While Blaine collected a number of bottles and disposed of them, Holly tidied the general disorder of the schoolmaster's small apartment. From the adjoining bedroom she heard the loud rhythmic sound of snoring as Larkin slept, oblivious of his rescuers.
As she picked up garments, carried used tumblers and half-filled mugs of old coffee into the kitchen, wiped table tops, and folded rumpled newspapers dropped on the floor, Holly also noticed the book-filled shelves in the tiny parlor. Pausing to read the titles, Holly realized Mr. Larkin was unlike her preconception of a drink-sodden derelict, a well-read man whose reading choice tended to the classics. There were books in Latin, philosophy and essays, Shakespeare plays. How had such a man of intelligence and taste ended up here teaching grammar school in a remote Oregon town?
On the table beside a well-worn leather reading chair was the scrolled silver-framed photograph of a pretty, stylishly dressed woman holding a beautiful baby. Holly had never even thought that Larkin might be married. That photograph seemed the most poignant evidence of all to Holly how much he must have lost through his addiction to drink.
Blaine's voice brought her back from her pitying thoughts. "Well, I think that's it. He'll sleep for hours and when he wakes up, he'll find nothing to drink to get him started again. He'll feel miserable. But he'll have time to get himself together by tomorrow morning. At least, I hope so. I'll ride out here early and check on him to be sure." Blaine's tawny hair had fallen forward onto his broad forehead from his exertion and he brushed it back with an impatient gesture. "You all set? Ready to go?"
"Yes," she replied, looking at him with new eyes. What compassion he had. His clear blue eyes were clouded now with concern; what strength of character in his face. How lucky Larkin was to have the doctor as a friend.
On the way back into town, Blaine said quietly, "I'm sorry our day together had to have this kind of ending."
"Please, don't apologize, Blaine. It wasn't your fault, and besides, I'm glad it was us who found him."
"I am, too. Only how long I can keep protecting him, I don't know. More for his own sake than for any other reason. It's a sickness, you know, contrary to what some self-righteous people would have you believe. It's not a moral weakness or a sin. One drink, and Larkin, for all the promises he makes to me and to himself, is off."
"I guess he could just not take that first drink?" murmured Holly.
"Of course, that sounds sensible to people to whom it isn't a problem. But so far, no one has come up with a way to really help someone like Larkin. At least not yet. There doesn't seem to be any cure or any medicine to take that will do the deed."
They went on a little farther, then Blaine turned to Holly and said softly, "You were a brick, Holly. Not many ladies would have handled the situation as well as you did. Thank you."
Holly felt a pleasurable warmth spread all through her; she could feel her face glow. Why, for heaven's sake? Hadn't she received dozens of compliments from gentlemen before? Flattering words about her dancing, her dimples, her hair, eyes, and complexion? Why did this unflowery comment from this practical doctor mean more to her than anything anyone had ever said to her?
Well, for one thing, she was rather gratified at how ably she had conducted herself in this really bizarre set of circumstances today. She had even surprised herself. And for another, she'd never been called "a brick" before! At this Holly almost burst out laughing.
Chapter 10
Holly had never known anyone to hold a grudge as long as Hetty! On Wednesday morning Hetty was still angry because Holly had returned late from her drive with Blaine and missed Sunday night supper. Bound by Blaine's request to keep the incident with Larkin secret, Holly could not explain. She knew that Hetty probably thought she was out "sparking" with the doctor instead of assisting him on his "errand of mercy." So, after her offer of household help was curtly turned down, to avoid another scene with Hetty, Holly left for the store earlier than usual to open the lending library.
A heated discussion was taking place around the potbellied stove where a group of "regulars" were gathered. Holly hung up her shawl and bonnet and slipped behind the counter of the Lending Library. She had discovered that Ned's store was the hub of the town. Here rumors, facts, whispers of scandal, tidbits, and tittle-tattle, along with reports of real events, were argued about, examined, and retold. Not a thing happened in Riverbend that did not eventually get thoroughly chewed over there long before it became a news item in the Monitor. Ned, as usual, remained a silent bystander, listening, but rarely offering an opinion or comment.
Today the voices were raised loudly and Holly could not help hearing every word. When she heard the name "Larkin" over and over, her ears pricked up.
"Well, it's the last straw, I guess," declared one of the men.
"We can't let it go on, that's for sure. Bad example for the young people." This next voice was indignant. "We've overlooked it long enough. But it's gone too far this time."
"Too many people know—"
"Too many people have seen him—"
"My Lorena said he fell asleep in class on Friday. Put his head right down on the desk and slept! Well, when her ma heard that—well, you know my wife, Tilly, is a Temperance'!"
Holly drew in her breath. Larkin! It was Larkin they were talking about. How had they heard about his latest binge? Her second thought sent a chill down her spine. Had someone seen him? Had someone, maybe, seen her and Doc with Larkin? If so, her next thought was, Oh dear! Wait until Hetty hears about it
Another voice said emphatically, "You're right, we've got to do something about it."
"But school's just got started a few weeks. At this point in the school year, where're you going to find a teacher who hasn't already got a position?" This mild query came from Ned.
Concealed by the counter, Holly peered cautiously over the edge and saw that two of the men were Owen Roberts and Ed Morr
ison, two members of Riverbend Town Council. This elected body also served as the school board who did the hiring and firing of the Riverbend grammar school teacher.
Poor Blaine! He had tried so hard to protect Larkin. But the children had to be protected, too, didn't they? You couldn't blame the parents for being upset.
She had better go see Blaine, Holly thought, talk to him about how the word got out. Holly reached for her bonnet, tied it under her chin. The men around the stove were too involved in their conversation to notice her as she slipped by them, went out the door, and crossed the street to Blaine's office.
At her knock, he called, "Come in," and she entered his small waiting room. Through the open door to his inner office she could see him standing at his desk and packing his medicine bag. When he looked up and saw her, his face lit up.
"Why, Holly, good morning! How nice to see you. I hope this isn't a professional call?"
She shook her head, then looking left and right to be sure that they were alone, moved over to the door, and lowering her voice, said, "Blaine, have you heard about Mr. Larkin?"
The smile on his face faded, replaced by a worried frown. "Yes, he came by here last night. It seems that on Monday he was still pretty hungover and that evening came into town to the Nugget—as he explained it, 'to get a hair of the dog that bit him'—in other words, to get over the shakes." Blaine paused, his mouth grim, "Well, as luck would have it, the Town Council meeting was just breaking up as he came out of the saloon— he'd had more than one hair, it seems, and he ran right into them. He was nervous as well as a little gone in drink, and the encounter was not a mutually happy one, to say the least." Blaine shrugged. "Yesterday, he was notified they were demanding his resignation as schoolteacher, effective immediately."
"Then it's true," Holly said. "I heard them talking over at Ned's store."
"Yes. Poor fellow, he came by here, all remorseful, repentant, swearing off, and asked me if I'd speak for him to the council. But I had to tell him it was no good. They've given him his last chance, and he's out."
"Then, what will he do? And what about the school?"
Blaine shook his head again. "I put him on the morning stage. He was too ashamed to show his face in town, particularly to face the children. I sent him to a doctor friend of mine in California who may be able to help him get over his addiction. He's had some success with chronic alcoholics. I pray to God he'll get the help he needs."
Poor Larkin, Holly thought, remembering the books and the picture of the woman and child in his cluttered little living quarters in the schoolhouse. Her pity and concern must have shown in her face because Blaine stopped putting some small vials and bottles into his medical bag and gave her a long look. "Don't look so troubled, Holly," he said gently. I know this comes as a shock. But life is full of these kinds of tragedies. I'm sorry you had to—"
"Oh, no, Blaine, it's not that—it's just all so sad. ..."
After a moment, Blaine said, "You look like you could use a little diversion. Larkin asked me if I'd go out to his place, pack up his belongings, and send them to him in care of Dr. Logan. As a matter of fact, I'm riding out there right now before I make my other rounds. Would you like to ride with me?"
She nodded. It was true, the whole experience had affected her deeply. She looked up into Blaine's concerned eyes. "Yes, I think I would like to come with you, Blaine."
She was quiet as they rode out in the brilliant sunshine of the fall morning. The air was so clear, the sky so blue, the changing colors of the trees so beautiful, Holly felt that it was too bad for anyone, like Larkin, to be unhappy on a day like this.
The schoolyard was empty. In the absence of a teacher, school had been suspended temporarily. Maybe indefinitely, unless Riverbend could find a new one. Blaine unlocked the door and they stepped into the one large classroom. It smelled of chalk dust, charred wood from a stove that had been left to burn out, the mustiness of old books, unswept floors. The whole place had an air of neglect and indifferent care. What a shame! was Holly's first reaction. How hard it would be for children to try to learn in this kind of atmosphere. A schoolroom should be neat, clean, colorful.
"We can go through here," Blaine said, turning a key in the door behind the teacher's desk.
Holly followed him into Larkin's living quarters. The smells from the classroom were intensified by the sour odor of whiskey, unwashed clothes, and accumulated dirt. Holly looked around in dismay, unconsciously picking up her skirt. How could Larkin have made everything worse just since Sunday?
Blaine went ahead of her and opened the door into Larkin's bedroom. He was gone so long that Holly went to the door to see what he was doing. Blaine stood in the center of the room as if undecided where to begin. He held up his hand to halt her. "Don't come in here, Holly. I shouldn't've brought you into this! I'd forgotten how it can be when Larkin's been drinking steadily. Now, I don't want you to do anything—I'll see to it." He dragged out an old trunk from under the sagging mattress of the iron bed and told her, "Just wait there for me in the other room or go outside into the fresh air," he said as he began to toss things into the trunk.
Holly went back into the front room. When she had been here on Sunday she had been too nervous to notice much beyond the awful mess. This second time she took a closer look. This room was the same size as the schoolroom. There was an alcove with a table and chairs and, beyond that, a tiny kitchen area with a stove, a hutch, and a window. Larkin had as much space here at the back of the schoolroom as one would find in a cottage. Of course, it was in shambles now, but with a good cleaning, some paint and polish, it could be quite—cozy and charming. An idea began to stir in Holly's mind.
The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Why not? Her heart began to race. She had as good an education as most women—perhaps better than some. She had finished the twelfth grade and then had two years at Blue Ridge Female Academy. Of course, to be truthful, Holly had not applied herself diligently or very seriously there. For one thing, the Academy had been too close to Penrose College for Young Men, and invitations to the parties, the fall and spring "Germans," and the social activities had occupied a great deal of her time.
Still, she did have a smattering of botany, geography, history and, certainly, as fond as she was of reading, she could teach spelling and reading! Arithmetic was another matter, however. But she was sure that if she brushed up on her multiplication tables she could manage reasonably well.
Of course, the main incentive for the idea growing in Holly's imagination was that with the job of teacher came living quarters. At such a possibility Holly's excitement soared. If she applied for the job of Riverbend grammar school teacher she could move out from under Hetty's inhospitable roof and be independent! Within those few minutes Holly decided that's just what she was going to do. Apply for the position of teacher at Riverbend grammar school!
Right then Blaine reappeared carrying out two boxes belonging to Larkin, then came back for the trunk, and took it out and lashed it to the back of his buggy.
"I wish we could take advantage of this lovely day and go on a drive," he smiled regretfully as he helped Holly back into the buggy and picked up the reins. "But I've got to get this into town so it can be placed on the next stage, and I've patients to see."
Holly did not reply, only smiled vaguely. She had only half-heard the remark. Her mind was too busy plotting how she could go about the plan of acquiring the job of teacher and thus her freedom.
When Blaine let her out again at Ned's store, instead of returning to her task at the lending library, she crossed the street and hurried over to Vi's house. By the time Vi answered the doorbell, Holly was trembling with excitement. Vi had a customer being fitted in her sewing room, and suggested that Holly go into the kitchen and "make herself at home" until she could join her.
Vi's kitchen was like the rest of her little home, sparkling, spotless, serene, painted a sunny yellow and smelling slightly of herbs and spices. But Holly was too restless
today to sit down on one of the pressback chairs and calmly await her hostess.
Of course, Holly had never thought of being a teacher before. Guiltily she recalled that she had always equated women teachers with plain, prim, proper spinsters who had no other choice but to teach! But as she'd often heard, "desperate times demand desperate choices," and Holly had become desperate enough living with Hetty to take any chance.
She knew that her educational qualifications lacked certification. But then her qualities compared to the failings of poor Larkin would be taken into consideration. What she did have she would use. Her ability to get along with children, her imagination, and storytelling talent could be put to good advantage. Surely there were textbooks she could read to help prepare lessons. The most important thing was to convince the Town Council that she was capable of doing the job. When she got it, then she could figure out how to go about teaching.
Vi's clear voice floated from the hall out to the kitchen. "Yes, Mrs. Abbott, your dress will be ready next week."
Abbott? thought Holly. Wasn't her husband, Miles Abbott, on the Town Council?
She heard the murmur of more conversation then the front door clicked shut, and Vi came into the kitchen, her tape measure still hanging around her neck. "What a nice surprise, Holly. What brings you here today for a visit?"
"Oh, Vi, I know I shouldn't have just popped in like this during the week when you have ladies coming for fittings, but I just had to talk to you. Actually to ask your advice!"
"Well, if I am to be your oracle today, I believe we better have some tea, don't you?" Vi went to fill the kettle with water from the hand pump on the counter and placed it on the stove to boil.
"Oh, Vi, the most wonderful opportunity has come up. Well, I mean, due to certain sad circumstances, there may be a chance for me to move out of Hetty's, be on my own. I'm so thrilled at the possibility, but I'm also scared and—"
