by Janette Oke
“Heaven help us, but we done it. We truly did.”
“Molly, I’m so pleased for you both—for you and our dear Frank.”
“Well, there’s time enough fer all that later. If ya don’t follow the small ones quick to see their surprise, I think they might just pick ya up and carry ya in.”
Beth laughed, slipping an arm through Molly’s and following the crowd into the wooden building. Inside were even more neighbors, along with simple paper decorations and a table spread with cookies and punch.
“Oh my,” Beth whispered. “This is so lovely. You must have been the one to spread the news about when I would be back, but you all shouldn’t have gone to all this work—”
“’Course we should.” Molly leaned her head against Beth’s. “We’re terrible glad yer back with us, Beth. You’re likely too tired from yer travels to enjoy a crowd much, though.”
“Not too tired for this. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.”
Beth made the rounds, talking with the children and their mothers. She knew, as before, that the men—those who had gradually replaced the victims of the mine explosion—would be hard at work in the nearby mine. The familiar rhythmic throbbing of machinery near at hand felt rather comforting to Beth. It meant industry, work, and profit. It meant the needs of families being met.
But Frank Russo had long ago retired from the mine, though his missing right hand served as a constant reminder of all he had given the company—old Frank who had up and married Miss Molly during the summer. As Beth greeted those who pressed in around her, she watched for his familiar face. At last she spied him in a corner of the room. How like Frank to wait quietly in the background until he’s noticed. Beth hurried over to settle her arms around his shoulders.
“Welcome’a back, Miss Beth.”
“Oh, Frank, it’s been so long. And seeing you is like coming home to my favorite uncle—my favorite Italian uncle.”
He laughed, his barrel chest shaking as he drew Beth in again for a second hug. “You are’a too kind, Miss Beth. But we know I’m more like’a your Grandpa Frank.”
“Any man spry enough to elope can’t hold any claims on being old.”
His whiskered face spread into a wide grin as he winked. “My Mollina and I, we make’a each other happy, eh?”
“I’m sure you do. And I was so pleased to hear about it.” Beth planted a light kiss on the stubbly cheek.
“Miss Thatcher, will you come with me?” Ruth Murphy tapped her on the shoulder, looking apologetic. “We’re ready to bless the food—and we don’t want to start without our guest of honor.”
“Of course.” Beth patted Frank’s arm and turned to follow.
During the festivities, Beth was introduced to five new families who had joined the community. She heard about the row of new company houses that had been added, now accommodating even some of the single men who had spent the previous winter in a camp of makeshift shelters.
As Beth became acquainted with the newest additions to her little school, she wondered how she could possibly manage so many students. Five new families represented twelve new schoolchildren, she quickly calculated, ranging in age from six to fifteen.
But a number of families had also moved on. With their men the victims of the mine explosion, these widows had been forced to find livelihood elsewhere. Even more than a year after the fact, the terrible accident was still exerting its brutal impact on the community.
Seated on a wooden bench at last, Molly at her side, Beth’s eyes swept the room. There was so much she wanted to discuss with her dear friend. “You’ve all been awfully busy getting this party together. It’s such a lovely gift.” She looked around the room. “But where’s Frances?”
A sigh. “Oh, didn’t ya hear about that? She’s moved away too—ta be with her relatives in Vancouver. Weren’t nothing for her here, now that she’s a widow an’ a grievin’ mother both. But I sure am gonna miss her.”
“I’m so sorry, Molly. She was your best friend.”
“She was and is. But life’s full’a hard choices. Family’s gotta come first.” She paused thoughtfully. “And maybe I’ll just take the train out there fer a visit someday. Now, wouldn’t that be an adventure?”
“It would be magnificent, I’m sure, Molly—but maybe a little scary too.” Beth was imagining the rows of mountain ranges the tracks would cross between here and the western coast.
“Well, there’s a whole lot more travelin’ done now than years back when Bertram—God rest his soul—and me first come to these parts. People in and out’a here all the time now, and the road’s only gettin’ better. Wish ya could’a met the new man today. But he’s already gone back out this week to see his fiancée. So many folks comin’ an’ goin’. I can’t keep up.”
“I’m sorry, who?”
“The new teacher.”
Beth spun to fully face Molly. “The new what?”
Molly’s lips puckered, and her forehead drew together in a frown. “Oh, ya didn’t know?” She hurried on, reaching for Beth’s hand. “Was sure you’d heard that bit. Don’t fret. It’s good news, dearie. The school board come, had a long look at our town, made a list of kids we got now, and decided it’ll take two teachers to educate ’em all. So you’ll only have ta teach half of ’em this year. And even that’s plenty.” She squeezed Beth’s hand, giving her a comforting smile.
Unspoken questions tumbled around in Beth’s mind. Where will he . . . ? What will I . . . ? Which of my children . . . ? It was too difficult to comprehend.
“The dividin’ up ain’t been done yet,” Molly continued. “’Course, no decision on that till the both of ya are present. But I s’pose most is of the mind he’d take the older and you’d have the younger—a gentler, motherin’ touch.”
Beth’s thoughts flew instantly to Teddy and his best friend, Addison, to Luela and James, Peter and Bonnie. She had expected to spend much of her time and focus preparing these older students for their end-of-year exams. She had been looking forward to watching them graduate with so many more opportunities beyond the coal mine. Just how many of my students is this new teacher taking? Beth concealed a shudder by setting her coffee cup down. “Who is this man? What do you know about him?”
“We’re lucky to have him,” Molly answered, still holding Beth’s hand. “Mr. Robert Harris Hughes he’s called—two last names, if ya can imagine.” But her chuckle sounded a bit forced. “He’s real educated—from the East, like yerself.”
“You’ve all met him?”
“Sure. Was here most’a last week. He stayed at my place.”
“And where is he now?”
“Back in Calgary—went to visit his fiancée. ’Peers she don’t care much ta come out so far. Then again, they ain’t married yet either. So there’s no point anyhow.”
Beth processed the patchy information aloud. “He’s engaged to a woman who doesn’t live in the area—doesn’t even want to visit. He’s wealthy—and educated in the East. Then whatever would induce him to come way out here?”
Molly smiled wryly and snorted. “Well, dearie, you did.”
CHAPTER
2
BY THE TIME HER WELCOME-HOME FESTIVITIES were concluding and people were drifting away, Beth was more than ready to head over to Molly’s in order to wash up and take a nap.
Marnie approached with a warm smile. “I come ta show you to yer place. Ya ready?”
“I surely am. Do you know where my luggage has gone?”
Marnie, who was already heading toward the exit, called back confidently, “The boys took everything over for ya.”
Abigail hurried over from a final table she had wiped clean, a gentle smile on her face. “I’m so glad we’ll be sharing space this year, Miss Beth,” she said. “We’ve cleaned and scrubbed to get everything all ready. I hope you’ll like it.”
Beth was caught off guard by the unexpected words. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Are you staying with Molly now too?”
Beth forced away her disappointment, battling to conceal a tumult of thoughts. Whoever said I was soon to be married? Why should that rumor put me out on my own? So the new teacher’s even going to claim my room at Molly’s! This is too much! I wish she’d asked me. I think I’d have slept in the bathtub if I could have just stayed there with them. . . . But Beth was also fully aware that there was no way they could have communicated these decisions efficiently over such a distance. She could only weather the storm and make the best of what had already been decided without her knowledge or participation.
Studying Beth’s expression, Abigail hesitated again, finally clearing her throat. Her words came tenderly. “I’m so sorry no one told ya, Miss Beth. I’m sure this comes as a big surprise to ya.” She forced a smile. “Guess it’s the day fer those—fer surprises—the good ones and the troublin’.” She glanced around the room again. “I don’t see Molly no more. Do you wanna go find her now? She’s likely already gone home—busy getting supper on the table for her boarders, I suppose. But I’ll go with ya if you like. I don’t know what’s to be done. . . .”
“It’s fine, Abigail.” Beth reached out for a reassuring touch on the other woman’s arm. “If you all feel you’ve found a good situation for me, I’m confident it’ll work out fine. However, I admit I am—well, surprised. That’s all. I just didn’t expect that where I roomed would be in question.”
“Would you like to come see for yerself, then?”
“Yes, of course. Thank you.”
Marnie hurried out the door, a step or two ahead of Abigail and Beth. But the girl didn’t turn to the left, as Beth presumed, toward Abigail’s small home in the tidy row of company-housing duplicates. She was moving directly across the street.
Beth refused to betray her questions this time, forcing her facial muscles to hold a smile so they wouldn’t reveal further objections. Where are we going? Am I to stay in the teahouse? Is it possible that Abigail lives there now—saving money that way? Is there enough room to share? I don’t remember anything off the main room but a small kitchen and a storage room.
Taking a shortcut with a hop over the flowerbed, Marnie continued past the main door and rushed around the far end of the building. Beth could hear her footsteps skipping up the outdoor stairs.
Suddenly Beth couldn’t breathe. Not there! Anywhere but there! The Grants’ second-floor residence was the only place in Coal Valley Beth never wanted to set foot. Having had no cause to venture near, she managed to avoid the unpleasant couple who had lived above the school—who had owned the building in which she had taught the previous year.
The Grants were gone now from Coal Valley, but Beth’s fears about them were unchanged. Merely the sound of Marnie’s footsteps on their stairway had stirred memories of Davie’s cruel threats and attempted attack, of Helen’s scowling demeanor, of the husband’s eventual arrest and his wife’s attempted suicide. Beth could not at this moment recall if she’d been told where that last incident had occurred—here in Coal Valley or elsewhere. The reality was she hadn’t wanted to know any details. Now her mind conjured up an image of the despairing woman’s blood on the floor. . . . Surely, surely, that’s not what Abigail meant when she said they had “cleaned and scrubbed.”
Obediently—in stunned silence—Beth climbed up after Marnie and Abigail to the landing. The woman reached into her pocket for a key and hurried to unlock the door, then placed the cold metal item into Beth’s open palm as Marnie disappeared inside. “This is yours, dear.” Abigail cleared her throat quietly, drawing back her shoulders. She seemed to comprehend at least some of Beth’s thoughts and was now empathetically dismayed at the situation.
Beth dropped her gaze a moment and struggled for a response that would be considered gracious. “I’m not sure how big it is inside—but the more the merrier, eh? I’m grateful you’re willing to share.”
Abigail’s expression fell further. “I’ve been livin’ with Ruth Murphy—now that I’m alone.”
“A-alone?” Beth stuttered. “What about the children?”
Bewilderment spread to Abigail’s face. “Why, Beth, I lost my son, my Peter. Don’t you recall?”
They stared at one another, each unable to speak. At last Beth tipped her head to one side quizzically. “But Emily? And Miles and Gabe?”
Abigail’s mouth fell open, and her eyes dropped. Soft tears were already forming in their corners. “Oh no, dear. They ain’t mine. Didn’t ya never know that?” She sighed deeply, as if a familiar pain pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe. “No, they ain’t mine. Just my niece and my nephews. They belonged ta my husband’s brother.” She cleared her throat before she seemed able to continue. “We lost ’em both—Noah and Cyrus—on the day of the accident. And their momma, Grace, it seemed she just couldn’t bear it all. She took to bed an’ solitude fer a long, long time.” Again Abigail’s eyes lowered. “Not one of us knew what to do—so I guess we did nothin’ but wait and pray. Didn’t even speak on it much. Just cared fer them kids best we could. But Grace’s come through it now, and she’s moved back with her own momma . . . and them kids went too.”
From beyond the door, sounds echoed as Marnie moved about inside.
Abigail paused, then said, “When I said we’d be sharin’, I meant we’re sharin’ the building—since I’ll be running the tearoom downstairs and you’ll be livin’ right here above.” She finished with a forced nod.
Beth drew in a deep breath, trying to summon the same stubborn courage etched across Abigail’s face. “I’m so sorry. I—I’ll be fine here. Thank you, Abigail.”
With a solemn squeeze of Beth’s shoulder, Abigail retreated down the stairs and Beth turned toward the looming doorway. Oh, Father, she cried out silently, I thought I knew this place. I thought I knew these people. How could I have been blind to such sorrow? Help me now. Please, please give me strength.
Forcing herself forward, Beth entered her new home. Marnie had drawn back the curtains of two small gabled windows facing north toward the top of the mountain, allowing a little additional light. The small lamp only dimly lit the room. Beth took one step at a time inside, her eyes darting in every direction quickly, ashamed of how much fear she was feeling. Further, she was shocked at how small the living area actually was, the low slope of the roof cutting away much of the usable space beneath.
“Yer trunks are against the short wall, Miss Thatcher,” Marnie said with a wave of her hand. “They don’t fit so good, since we already brung in some furniture for ya. See! Miss Molly gave ya a sofa she found in the city. Looks ’most as good as new. And you got a table and two chairs from some other ladies here. They don’t match, but that don’t matter. Mrs. Blane made yer curtains. She pieced ’em from scraps, and we all agreed they look real nice.” Marnie paused. “Do you like ’em?”
Beth lifted her eyebrows as if doing so could drag the corners of her mouth into a smile. “They’re very nice—like a patchwork quilt. I’ll be sure to thank her.”
“The bedroom’s through here. I’ll get the windows open, and you’ll have a nice cross breeze if you use just the screen door fer now.”
But Beth’s feet felt fastened to the floor. She let her eyes scan around carefully for any telltale signs of
previous trouble. I will not cry. I will not cry—at least, not until after Marnie leaves.
“Ya look tired,” Marnie blurted. “Do you wanna lie down a spell?”
“Yes. Oh yes. I’d like that. Thank you, darling. I’ll stop by at Molly’s after a bit for a nice visit.” She shook her head slightly to clear the dark cloud that had descended. “Thanks so much. I’m glad you came with me. I hope you come back often—anytime. You’re such good company, Marnie. Anytime at all.”
“I’d like that, Miss Thatcher. I’m so glad yer back.” Marnie smiled warmly, and Beth was reminded of how much more mature she seemed. The girl turned at the door with a little wave, and Beth listened to the footsteps retreating down the staircase.
All Beth wanted at the moment was to fall onto a soft bed and cry through her turbulent emotions. But entering the dusky bedroom seemed impossible. She turned instead to the small sofa that Molly had graciously provided and curled up against an armrest, her feet tucked under her skirt. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and soon her breath was ragged and uneven. I don’t understand, Father. I thought You brought me back here. And now it seems everything, absolutely everything, is falling apart. I don’t have a proper home—can’t stay where I wanted with the people I love—and now I find I was oblivious to just how terrible the consequences of the mine tragedy truly were—especially for the children I thought I had come to know. Did I speak to them about their mother? Did I say anything that caused them more pain? I suppose I’ll never know. I’ll never even see the three of them again. Beth tucked her face into the crook of her arm. And now the town’s gone and hired another teacher. And Jarrick is so busy elsewhere I might hardly see him at all.
Beth woke with a sharp ache in her neck. After a quick wash, touching as little in the apartment as possible, she was relieved to pull the door shut behind her and abandon the Grants’ abode, even if it would be only for a short visit with her dear second family—Molly and Frank, Teddy and Marnie. She hoped she could convince Marnie to spend the night with her. It was entirely inconceivable that Beth could stay alone.
