Runaway Heart

by Jane Peart

  Holly knew this was a crisis. She had to take action. But what? She was fully aware that she was the focal point of every child in the class room. They were all watching her to see what she would do.

  "All right, children. Settle down," she said automatically although nobody was making any noise. It just gave her something to say while she tried to put her thoughts in order. "Back to your lessons."

  She must do something right away. Bring back those truants, make them an example. Inwardly, she quailed. Ben was big, brawny, and although Wes was thin he was wiry and strong, and Sam towered over her. How in the world could she order those huge farm boys back to school, make them come?

  Well, she had to try. A half-hour before the regular time for school to close, Holly rapped for attention and said, "Children, we are going to dismiss early today. Tell your mothers there was an emergency that teacher had to attend to. That will be all then; bring your readers up to the front and clean your slates," she told them in a voice that she tried to keep from sounding wavering.

  As usual, some of the children dawdled. She noticed Joel eyeing her curiously, taking time helping his sister on with her jacket and edging slowly to the classroom door. She knew they were trying to figure out what she was going to do. Very deliberately she put on her bonnet and took her shawl down from the hook beside the door. "Hurry up, Joel. Time to go. I have to leave, lock up. I have an errand to do downtown."

  Reluctantly he took his sister's hand and went out the door. Holly quickly closed the schoolhouse and shooed the children lingering in the play yard out, urging them homeward; then she set out for town. She knew that some of the children who lived in town quickened their lagging steps to follow her. She almost had to laugh, thinking she probably looked like the Pied Piper of Hamlin with a line of children behind her.

  A saloon, eh? If that was true, which saloon? When Holly reached Main Street, it had its usual middle-of-the-day deserted appearance. She halted for a minute, squinting at the signs proclaiming the business that had enticed the boys to try out the wares inside. The Nugget, Last Chance, the Doggone Best.

  Her heart bounced like a sledgehammer gone wild as she started down the street. She would just have to check each one, she guessed, and pray that the Lord was with her. She was about do something that she never in her imagination had dreamed she would do! But gritting her teeth and with only one last-minute panicked hesitation, Holly pushed through the slatted, swinging doors of the Doggone Best and took a few steps inside.

  The first thing that hit her was the stale air. The combined strong odor of cigar, sour whiskey, sweat, and sawdust wrinkled her nose in distaste. The interior was so dense with smoke, so murky and dim that it took Holly a full minute to adjust her eyes enough so that she could see. As soon as she could, what she saw was a blur of startled faces—the weathered faces of old miners standing at the long bar, the open mouths and widened eyes of the cardplayers huddled at the tables, the dropped jaws of the cowboys holding brimming beer mugs half-raised, and the painted masks of the "girls" hanging around at the pool table.

  The stunned, bald bartender, in a striped shirt was the first one to find his voice. He leaned forward, his elbow on the bar top. "Can I do something for you, lady?"

  Holly's gaze was still circling the room, searching for the boys as he spoke. A second later she spotted three pairs of scared-looking eyes gazing back at her. They stumbled up from the table where they were sitting with some rough-looking characters and started backing up against the wall.

  In a clear, strong voice Holly spoke. "Sam Durkin, Ben Hostler, Wes Spurgeon, get over here at once. Get yourself out of this place and home. Tell your folks I'll be there to talk to them later."

  She had managed to put more authority and command in her tone than she would ever have thought possible. Her words snapped in the air like firecrackers going off on the Fourth of July. To her own amazement she saw the three shame-faced truants, shoulders hunched, slouch forward and slink past her and through the doors.

  Then Holly, hands on her hips, swirled around and swept the room with a long, slow, disgusted look. Turning back to the bartender, she riveted on his now-reddening face. She tried to make eye contact, but he averted his head. Still, Holly had her moment.

  "All you men should be ashamed of yourselves. You had to know those boys were underage. They should have been ushered out the minute they came through those doors, not encouraged and plied with drink." Her tone was scorching. "I don't know how many of you have children, but if you do, how would you feel if someone served them an alcoholic drink that could start them on the road to ruin." She took another long breath and, pointing her finger at the bartender, said, "There's a law in this country about selling strong drink to minors. If I report this to the sheriff, this place could be closed."

  Holly wasn't at all sure that this was the case, but it sounded threatening and rang true enough.

  By now she was trembling. Doing this had taken all her energy. Her knees felt so weak that she wasn't sure she could manage to walk out the door. Somehow she did, and once she stepped outside and was able to draw her breath again, the three culprits were nowhere in sight. There were, however, a few of her students gathered at a little distance from the entrance of the saloon as well as a few interested adults who evidently had been told what was going on. As Holly started down the steps and back toward the schoolhouse, there was a light smattering of hands clapping. She didn't look back but walked on.

  Chapter 16

  The next Sunday morning at the door of the church, Owen Roberts, the head usher, greeted Holly and, handing her a bulletin, whispered, "That was a splendid thing you did, Miss Lambeth. Everyone is mighty impressed." Remembering that Mr. Roberts had been one of the members of the Town Council who had been most reluctant to appoint her to the position of schoolteacher, she appreciated his comment all the more.

  Holly found a seat at the end of one of the rear pews. The Macready family, already seated in it, moved over with nods and smiles to make room for her. The Willis family in the pew in front of her all turned and smiled.

  Holly recalled with what trepidation she had attended church the first Sunday after she had assumed the job of schoolteacher and moved to the school house. She knew that the town's schoolmarm was expected to attend church. When she had first arrived in Riverbend, she was forced to accompany Hetty and Ned and sit with them. Already aware of Hetty's feelings about her, Holly had felt very uncomfortable. Locked in her own misery, surrounded by strangers, filled with resentment and a critical attitude toward her cousin, Holly knew that her heart had not been right for worship.

  She had spent the entire hour feeling sorry for herself and thinking of the neat white clapboard-and-stone steepled church at home. By contrast, in Willow Springs, church had been a pleasant weekly event with the enjoyable hymn-singing and an inspirational sermon followed by fellowship after the service that was almost a social occasion. That month of miserable Sundays was now past, Holly realized with a sense of relief and gratitude.

  Of course, the story of the incident at the Doggone Best had made its rounds, probably embellished each time it was retold. Its effect had been apparent almost immediately as the very next day children had brought presents from grateful parents to a teacher who knew how to take charge. Gifts of home-baked bread, canned peaches, sweet potatoes, and plantings had all been shyly offered by her students. Why, her cache was beginning to rival Blaine's, she thought with some amusement. Well, it was nice to be appreciated and complimented and feel accepted. Now when she came to church, she was greeted with shy smiles from students, approving nods from their parents. She felt welcomed and enveloped by their friendship.

  But just as she was basking in this new security, she saw Hetty and Ned enter. Hetty marched first down the aisle, looking neither to the right nor left; Ned was behind, holding Aurelia and Teddy by the hands. As Aurelia passed her pew, she twisted her head around and smilingly waved with a wiggling of all five fingers. Holly smiled and rai
sed her hand in a demure wave back. How she loved those children. And how sad it was that she and Hetty had so much animosity between them.

  The congregation rose for the opening hymn. As she stood, Holly noticed that some of the elders were preparing a table for the Lord's Supper and realized that it was Communion Sunday. The Reverend Mobley took his place in the pulpit and announced, "We will now take up the tithes and offerings. Before we do, let me remind you of the biblical admonition in Matthew 5:23 to meditate on: Therefore when you bring your gift to the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go your way. First be reconciled to your brother, then come and offer your gift.'"

  Conviction tingled through Holly at these words. She glanced over at the back of Hetty's head, but the stiff black bonnet never quivered. Hetty remained staring straight ahead. What did Hetty have against her? Holly wondered. What had she ever done to her to make Hetty so resentful? Oh dear, sighed Holly, what was there to do about it? What could she do about it?

  The day's sermon didn't help. Reverend Mobley took his text from Mark 11:25 and read, "And whenever you stand praying, if you have anything against anyone, forgive him, that your Father in heaven may also forgive you." Convicted, Holly listened carefully to what the minister said. As he ended with— "Forgiveness is the key to the Christian life, let us always be aware of all that the Lord has forgiven us and not be in judgment of anyone else," Holly bowed her head and, with as much sincerity as she could muster, forgave Hetty.

  When the Communion tray was passed and she partook of the elements, she promised that she would make an attempt to speak and be as pleasant as possible to Hetty after the service.

  It became a promise impossible to keep. Before she could leave, one of her pupils' mothers tapped her on the shoulder and engaged her in a long conversation about her Billy's progress. By the time Holly was able to get away and hurry out to the church steps, she saw Ned's wagon pull out of the churchyard. So Holly missed the hoped-for opportunity.

  For the rest of the afternoon Holly was very thoughtful. In Willow Springs she had never seemed to need time alone to think, reflect, and pray. But today she felt newly troubled about the rift between herself and her cousin. She knew that both their mothers would be grieved if they knew how deep and wide was the chasm separating their two daughters. Should she go to Hetty? Try to somehow bridge the gap? What could she say that would help?

  She needed someone to talk to about it, someone whose advice she could ask, someone she could trust. Naturally, Vi came to mind. Holly bundled up again, for the day had clouded over, and walked to her friend's house. Vi was always comforting to confide in, sensible yet sensitive, practical yet inspiring.

  "Come in, come in!" Vi welcomed her. "What a pleasant surprise!"

  "I'm not sure you'll think it's so pleasant when you hear what I've come to complain about."

  "Well, what are friends for anyway but to lend a listening ear or a shoulder to weep on, if that's called for?" Vi took Holly's coat and waited while Holly unpinned her hat and veil. "You'll have some tea, won't you?"

  "That sounds lovely. It's getting colder outside." Holly rubbed her hands as she followed Vi out to her neat little kitchen.

  After the tea brewed, Vi put her pink and white pot, two cups, and a plate of caramel cookies on a tray and carried it into the parlor. Vi's parlor, with its starched lace curtains, dark- blue velvet love seat and curved "lady" chairs, was as feminine and fashionable as she was.

  "Now, what's the trouble?" she asked as she handed a cup of the fragrant steaming tea to Holly.

  Trying to divide the fault as equally as she could, Holly poured out the still unresolved situation between herself and Hetty, confiding the conviction that she now felt she had to do something about it.

  "She won't even let Aurelia and Teddy come to see me. I do miss them and ..." Holly lifted her chin defensively, "I think they miss me, too. Ned says they do."

  Vi's eyes were sympathetic. "I understand. So what do you plan to do to heal things between you?"

  "Well, today at church what the minister said really hit home. Do you remember the Scripture passage he used?"

  "About forgiveness?"

  "I intended to make a point of going up to Hetty after the service and as the quotation says 'be reconciled,' but I didn't have a chance."

  "Maybe you're going to have to make the opportunity your-self," Vi gently suggested.

  Holly made a face. "Oh, I really dread doing that, Vi. You don't know how Hetty can be—"

  "No, but I know everyone can be difficult at times. Some of the ladies I sew for can be very difficult, indeed."

  Holly was thoughtful for a moment then finally said, "Other than going to see Hetty, is there something else you think I should do?"

  "Praying is the most important thing, Holly. Since you don't feel ready yet, ask the Lord to prepare your heart to go to see Hetty."

  "I have prayed, Vi, but so far it hasn't done any good. Maybe I'm praying the wrong way."

  "I'm not sure there is a really wrong way to pray, Holly. I do think when there is something between us and someone else, we need to ask God to do the necessary healing. He knows both hearts. If you're sincere in your desire to make things right between you and your cousin, ask him to prepare her heart to receive whatever you say to her. Your part is praying; God will do His."

  "Oh, Vi, how did you get so much wisdom?"

  Vi laughed. "Through lots of trials and tribulations, Holly, and lots of praying!"

  As the afternoon was getting late, Holly said she must be going. She gave Vi an impulsive hug before she left and thanked her for her tea and her advice.

  That evening Holly got out her Bible and decided to try Vi's method, the same one she had successfully followed when she started the lending library. It wasn't foolproof, as Vi had warned her, but Holly didn't really know what else to do about herself and Hetty. This time the Bible fell open at Proverbs, Chapter 27. Holly squeezed her eyes tight shut and ran her finger down the page, then stopped. Opening her eyes, she glanced at the verse on which her finger had landed, verse 19: "As in water face reveals face, so a man's heart reveals the man." That didn't seem to make much sense or at least didn't satisfy her with the direction she was searching for. Disappointed, Holly closed the book and blew out her lamp and got into bed.

  Lying there in the dark, it came into her mind that Hetty had been in church that morning just as she had! Had the minister's words touched her heart? It seemed to her that there was fault on both sides, but Holly didn't know how to end the impasse. She sighed, turned her pillow over, and bunched it under her head.

  But she couldn't sleep. Although her experiment to get guidance had not seemed to work, the words "be reconciled with your brother" kept repeating themselves in her head. In biblical times a cousin was considered a "brother." Hetty was, after all, her "brother," and she should try to make peace with her.

  That was her last thought before going to sleep. In the morning the verse still remained foremost in her mind. By the end of the week Holly knew she must take the first step toward reconciliation, as hard as that was going to be for her to do.

  So, on Saturday morning she resolutely walked over to Hetty's house. She took with her a new picture book, from the latest box sent by her mother, for Aurelia and Teddy. The children's presence would break the ice if her cousin met her with the same degree of chill she usually did. Whatever her reception, Holly was determined to get to the bottom of the problem and achieve some kind of truce with Hetty.

  To her dismay, Ned had taken the children to the store with him, and Hetty was in the midst of a vigorous end-of-week housecleaning. She met Holly at the door, enveloped in a "coverall" apron, a dust scarf tied around her head, and a stormy expression on her face.

  At first Holly did not think Hetty would even ask her in, for she stood there arms crossed, glaring for a full minute before grudgingly opening the door for her. Finally, Hetty stepp
ed back, and Holly walked inside.

  Already intimidated by the hostility in Hetty's eyes, Holly realized she was trembling. Holly prayed for courage.

  "I brought a lovely new book I'm sure Aurelia and Teddy will enjoy," she began. "Mama sent it, and she sends her love, too, Hetty."

  Hetty did not respond immediately, then reluctantly offered, "Would you like some coffee; there's some left from breakfast."

  Hardly a gracious gesture, Holly thought, feeling her temper rise. Forcing a tight smile, she said, "Yes, that would be nice." She was determined not to leave before she had a chance to straighten out whatever grudge Hetty was holding against her.

  She took a seat at the kitchen table and groped desperately for something noncontroversial to start the conversation. Nothing came. She began to feel tense as Hetty silently got out two cups and then shook the blue-enameled coffeepot before filling them.

  Holly saw that Hetty was going to do nothing to make this easy, so in total frustration she just blurted out, "Hetty, why do you dislike me?"

  Hetty put the coffeepot back on the stove with a bang. She stood with her back toward Holly for what seemed a long time. When she whirled around, her eyes were flashing. "Dislike you? I don't dislike you. Sometimes I even feel sorry for you," she sneered. "You're so pitiful! For the first time in your life you found out that you couldn't have everything you want, so you run away, come out here and then try to take over here just like you did back home. You think you can sweet-talk your way just like you did in Willow Springs, have everyone eating out of your hand. I don't blame Jim Mercer one little bit. In fact, I applaud him. You treated him like dirt, like you did any fellow that was fool enough to show he was interested." She gave a harsh little laugh. "Oh, I've seen you plying your little tricks, using people—my husband included—just like always. Maybe you think you're foolin' folks here, but they'll catch on pretty quick. They'll see through you. Just the way I do."