Runaway Heart

by Jane Peart

  Holly giggled, "I guess we can find an extra one for you if you really want to help."

  "Why else would I have come?" he demanded. With that he handed her the flowers, took off his gray broadcloth jacket, and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt.

  At four o'clock Geneva said that she and Matt would have to leave. She had left her brood with a neighbor, and, this being Saturday night, there were baths to be given in preparation for the Sabbath and church the next day. Holly thanked them profusely, and they departed. Elly and Annie, who had come together, gave their particular job a final "lick and promises"; then they left, too. Vi was next to leave. Promising to come to visit soon, she got into her small buggy and rode off.

  Adam was the last to leave and seemed almost reluctant to go. He pulled an immaculate linen handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead. "Whew, you were right. I never saw so many cobwebs, so many spiders. What did old Larkin do with them, I wonder, raise them for scientific experiments?"

  "You're not quitting?" Holly, hands on her hips, demanded as if shocked.

  "Isn't everything done? The place looks like it underwent a complete transformation. But if there's anything else, it'll have to wait until I just have a little rest before tackling it," he told her, adding, "The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."

  Holly blinked her eyes, "Why, Adam Corcoran, quoting Scripture?"

  "Every educated man knows plenty of appropriate quotations, as many from the Bible as Shakespeare."

  "But you know who quotes Scripture for his own purposes, don't you?" she teased.

  "I am also aware of that," he answered, nodding his head sagely. "And I only quote it rarely when the occasion calls for it."

  Holly found his coat for him and gave it to him.

  "I was joking. Everything is done. I can't thank you enough for lending a hand. I didn't expect it."

  "Life is full of surprises, isn't it?"

  "And thank you, too, for the flowers," she said as they walked out onto the schoolhouse porch.

  "You're more than welcome. And I really do wish you . . . well, everything you need to succeed ..." here his voice changed into his supercilious tone, "... at this enterprise you've so rashly undertaken."

  He went down the steps and untethered his horse from the hitching post. For a moment he stood by his horse's head, adjusting the bridle then tightening the stirrup buckle. Then he turned and looked up at Holly standing on the porch steps above him and asked doubtfully, "Sure you won't be lonely here?"

  "Lonely?" she repeated his question, and paused before answering slowly. "I'm really not sure. I've never lived completely alone before. But to be quite honest, I hadn't given a thought to being lonely. I just wanted to be free."

  His smile was slightly sardonic, but his eyes were understanding, and he did not comment.

  After Ad had ridden off, Holly went back inside her new domain. Smiling, she looked around. She had never worked so hard physically in her life before; she had never felt so tired, but she knew she had never felt so happy.

  The entire place smelled of scouring powder, ammonia, and vinegar, and of furniture polish and wax. Holly drew a long breath. The clean astringent odor seemed as sweet as any perfume. She circled the room, trailing her fingers along the tops of the polished double-desks, stopping to straighten a picture, then she paused to gaze out the clear windows onto the schoolyard and the surrounding hills.

  She'd read somewhere that it takes a person at least three weeks or twenty-one days to get accustomed to a new place, a new set of circumstances. In time, she knew, all this would become as familiar to her as her room at home in Willow Springs.

  She had come to Oregon with no other purpose than to escape the swirl of gossip around her, of "hiding out" comfortably until she felt she could slip quietly back into town, no longer the target of wagging tongues. She remembered her feeling of dismay when she arrived—"end of the line"—how bitterly she had regretted coming. Now, instead of regret, she was filled with hope. It wasn't just by chance she was here. She was more and more convinced there was a plan, some kind of Divine plan to all this.

  Holly smiled. She seemed to be thinking in cliches: end of the line, closing one door, opening another, turning over a new leaf, or starting a new chapter. This experience would be a blank page. Nothing had been written on it yet. Its contents would be up to her. Until now, Holly had spent a lot of time looking back. But, no more. Now was a new beginning—Holly felt a tingle of real excitement—she spun around, pirouetting several times— and she was going to enjoy it, make the most of it.

  Several loud knocks on the schoolhouse door jolted her out of her unaccustomed reverie, and Holly heard a man's voice shouting, "Anybody here? Where's the new schoolmarm?"

  Holly stood still, startled, listening.

  "Miss Lambeth! Hello, are you here?"

  It was a voice she recognized, vibrant, pleasantly pitched. For some reason Holly's heart skittered!

  The voice came again, "It's me, Blaine Stevens!"

  Blaine Stevens! That's what had been missing today, she thought. Blaine! She ran through the hallway joining the small apartment in back to the schoolroom, feeling unreasonably happy to see his tall figure standing in the doorway. He was holding a huge orange pumpkin.

  "I guess I missed the housewarming party?" he asked abjectly.

  Holly tried to look severe. "You missed the work party."

  Blaine looked sheepish. "Sorry."

  Holly laughed and put her hands on her hips and eyed the pumpkin, saying, "So! You think bringing that's going to make up for it?"

  "I guess you could put it like that," he drawled.

  "You know what they say about Greeks bearing gifts, don't you?" she demanded.

  "Well, not being a Greek—I'm not sure—but it doesn't sound good."

  "If I were a Trojan, maybe not—," she dimpled, "but under the circumstances ..."

  Blaine shook his head. "What those poor, unsuspecting children are in for! A teacher who knows the classics."

  "Only by hearsay!" Holly smiled, then with her head on one side, she examined the size of the pumpkin and asked warily, "I hope you're not expecting me to bake a couple of pies with this?"

  "Not at all. I thought I'd show off my surgical skill and carve you a jack o'lantern—thought it would be a nice touch for your first day of school."

  "Why, Blaine, what a delightful idea. Shall we go into the kitchen?"

  "No, let's sit outside on the porch and I'll do it there. It's such a nice afternoon, and from the looks of this place you've spent enough time inside today. It'll do you good to get some fresh air and sunshine!"

  Holly put a finger under her chin as if in obedience. "Yes, Doctor. Thinking of my health, I see. So, what do you need?"

  "Just some old Monitors, if you've got them. I come equipped with scalpel," he joked and walked out onto the front porch while she hurried into the kitchen and gathered up a stack of newspapers in a box by the stove.

  Watching Blaine's hands as he first outlined triangular eyes, nose, and a wide, grinning mouth with the point of his knife, Holly thought how strong and capable they were, blunt-tipped, flexible. She was fascinated by how quickly and smoothly he cut into the flesh of the pumpkin, neatly scooped out the meat and seeds, then finished off the comical face, leaving two jagged teeth on the top and bottom of the smile.

  "There! How's that?" he asked leaning back and surveying his handiwork.

  "A work of art!" declared Holly. "You're a genius!"

  "Ah, madam, you exaggerate!" he murmured with mock humility.

  "Only slightly. It is certainly one of the handsomest jack o'lanterns it has been my privilege to meet—the children will love it!" she assured him. "Now, I'll just gather up this mess and reward you with a piece of lemon sponge cake."

  "That sounds great—if it's no trouble."

  "None," said Holly starting to fold up the remains of the pumpkin.

  "Wait! Don't throw away the seeds,
" cautioned Blaine. "Rinse them thoroughly, put them on a baking sheet with a little butter and into the oven for about fifteen minutes and—"

  "Then what?"

  "Eat them! They're delicious and very good for you besides. Very healthy!"

  Holly teased, "Always the doctor!"

  '"Fraid so." Blaine looked abashed. "I guess it goes with the territory—, as they say."

  "Never mind. I should be glad you're concerned about my health! All this good medical advice for free," she said laughingly over her shoulder as she started inside.

  "Don't be so sure of that," Blaine retorted.

  "Sure of what?"

  "That it's free. I may present you with a bill."

  "Oh, so what is your usual fee?"

  "Well, it's not usual, not what I usually charge my patients," Blaine said as he followed her into the kitchen.

  "So? What is it?"

  "Would you like to go on a picnic with me next Sunday afternoon?"

  Holly was glad that her back was turned to him so that he couldn't see how his question had brought the warmth rushing into her cheeks, starting her heart thumping.

  She tried to keep her voice steady as she replied casually. "Why, yes, that sounds like fun—that is, if this good weather lasts."

  After Blaine had gone, Holly lighted a candle and placed it inside the grinning jack o'lantern and stood looking at it for a long time. Was she becoming too interested in Blaine? Everything about him appealed to her: his strength, his confidence, his manner, and underneath all that, his quiet sense of humor. She realized that when she was with him, things seemed to fall into place as if it were all as it should be. Strange?

  For awhile that evening she puttered around, setting out her personal things to make the little parlor more hers. She set out the double-framed pictures of her parents, the watercolor of their home that her Aunt Sylvie, the "artistic" sister in her mother's family, had painted, and then she placed her photo album containing all the special pictures on the small chest of drawers.

  The flowers Ad brought, the white and gold chrysanthemums, were already filling the room with their spicy scent, and the pillow that Vi had needlepointed for her went on the rocker. Holly looked around with infinite satisfaction and drew a long breath of contentment. She couldn't remember feeling so happy for a long time.

  That night before getting into bed, Holly stood at the window, watching a harvest moon move slowly across the sky. After she blew out the lamp, the moon shining in the window made square patches on her bedspread.

  After this eventful day, sleep didn't come easily. She missed the feel of Aurelia's warm little body curled beside her and realized the one thing she would miss from moving out of Hetty's house were the children. Finally she closed her eyes and whispered the childhood prayer that Great-Aunt Ancilla had taught her, "I will lay me down in peace and sleep, for Thou, Lord, only, makest me dwell in safety."

  PART 3

  If ever I am a teacher,

  it will be to learn more than to teach.

  Madame Deluz

  Chapter 13

  The first morning that Holly was to take charge of the Riverbend grammar school so many butterflies were fluttering in her stomach that she could hardly manage to swallow a half cup of coffee. And not very good coffee at that. She had been so distracted making it that it tasted more like bitter hot sand than anything else.

  Dressed in what she hoped was a "schoolmarm" outfit, over her plainest blue merino dress with a simple white collar, she put on the patterned calico pinafore Vi had made her to protect her dress from chalk dust and ink and "whatever the children may have on their hands when they tug at you." She swept her hair up and back into a prim knot and looked in the mirror to assure herself that at least she looked the part, then Holly went out into the schoolroom for a final check before school started.

  Everything in the schoolroom looked perfect. The worn, scratched pupils' desks had been cleaned and varnished, the scarred floor was waxed, blackboards washed. The teacher's pointer hung neatly by the wall map of the world, chalk was in the boxes, the slates were on each desk, pencils and erasers on top of the polished teacher's desk at the front of the room. The finished result was all due to the help so generously given her, Holly recalled with gratitude. For the short time she had been in Riverbend she had made some really good friends.

  In spite of Hetty. That last awful scene with her cousin flashed into her mind and Holly gave a little shiver. She quickly banished the memory. She refused to think about it now. Or to think about it any more, for that matter. She wanted to forget it. She had enough on her mind without thinking about Hetty.

  Morning sunshine poured through the sparkling windows and, peeking out, Holly saw a few of her students were coming into the schoolyard. She consulted her fob watch pinned to her apron bib for at least the dozenth time. It wasn't yet eight o'clock, the time she was supposed to go out on the porch and ring the bell announcing the opening of school.

  Suddenly Holly felt the grip of doubt. Perhaps she had underestimated the pitfalls of what she had undertaken. In less than an hour twenty-five children would be thronging through that door. And she was expected to teach them! In the euphoria of privacy and freedom she had experienced over the weekend, obtained with the schoolteacher's position, the responsibilities of it, only dimly perceived, had floated somewhere on the periphery of her mind as "next week." Now next week was now! The first day of school was here! Her first day of teaching was about to begin.

  All at once came a terrifying vision of this room filled with children of varying ages, noisy, squirming, staring at her curiously while she was supposed to not only keep everything in order but teach them something as well. Oh, why had she ever thought she could do this? What on earth was she doing here?

  Then suddenly, out of Holly's past came a memory of something her father had told her when she was a little girl and refused to go by a neighbor's house because they had a big black barking dog, "Holly, a dog senses when someone is afraid of it, and that's when a dog will bite!"

  Why that came back to her now, Holly couldn't imagine. However, it did the trick of steadying her. "If I look as scared as I feel, the children will see it, and it will all be over for me," she told herself, the ridiculous image of the children pushing through the doorway jumping on her with bared teeth almost made her laugh out loud.

  Her feeling of panic subsided. Holly walked over to the teacher's desk and picked up the handle of the heavy teacher's bell, walked out onto the schoolhouse porch, and, pumping back her arm, began to swing it. The loud clanging ring reverberated into the clear morning air. Riverbend Grammar School was now back in session.

  At the end of the day Holly's head was throbbing. As the last little "scholar" trailed out of the classroom, she sank into the teacher's chair with a sense of infinite relief and total exhaustion. How did people manage to teach year after year? she wondered wearily, thinking of the grammar school teachers she knew in Willow Springs who after forty years were still teaching— like old Miss Wilkins who had taught Holly's own mother!

  She had moved through the day in a whirl. The projects she had planned for the children to do that she thought would take twenty minutes were either completed or ruined in five! The variety of ages and diversity in ability of her pupils was confusing. The tasks that she thought would be simple proved difficult. The ones she thought would occupy them long enough to give her a breather were completed in record time. She would go to help one group with something, repeat instructions, and get them started, when another group would need help.

  And always at the back of the room were the big boys! She had been warned about them. It seems once a boy got to the age and strength he was of real use on the farm, he only attended school haphazardly and regularly failed to appear during spring planting and fall harvesting. These fellows, ranging in age from twelve to fourteen, were a continual source of interruption. They carried on a constant conversation between themselves, talked through her directions, a
nd asked for repetitions just, Holly suspected, to divert her from her explanations and irritate her. She would have to find some system to get them under control. But right now she was too worn out to think how.

  She was so tired that she went to bed early that night, then overslept the next morning. She had to rush, with only time to grab a quick mug of coffee and a few bites of bread and jam, to be ready when the first little pupils arrived. They were the Healy twins, scrubbed and shiny-faced, eager to begin their day of learning.

  At the end of her second day of teaching, Holly concluded it was far worse than the first had been. Why did I ever think I could do this job? Was having the little apartment in back really worth all this? she demanded of herself as she sat slumped at her table sipping tea that afternoon.

  If it hadn't been for Vi's unexpected arrival with a meat pie and a pan of cornbread wrapped in a padded cloth to keep warm, she might have been tempted to write a letter of resignation to the Council right then.

  "Oh, Vi, why did I ever take this on! I'm not up to it! I don't think I can ever get the hang of it. A teacher I'm not!" she moaned as they sat at the kitchen table together.

  "Nonsense, you're going to do fine. It's always hard starting any new venture," Vi assured her.

  "I don't know," Holly said, gloomily shaking her head.

  But the next day things went a little better. Some of the children were really eager to learn, quick to follow directions, and touchingly sweet. Holly decided to separate the big boys, give them physical tasks to do, like bringing in water from the well and filling the drinking bucket in the classroom each morning, splitting kindling, and chopping wood to keep the woodbox for the stove filled even though the days weren't cold enough yet to have a fire going.

  She found a box of McGuffey Readers that Larkin had evidently ordered and never unpacked, and these were a great help. For the children who knew how to read, she could assign them a lesson while she taught the younger ones their ABCs. By Friday, although her nerves were frazzled and she was physically spent, Holly felt she had gained a little more confidence that she would survive the year ahead.