Where Hope Prevails

by Janette Oke

  During the ride home that night, the darkening sky filled with stars as Beth stared out from the back seat of Alberto’s car. Her mind tumbled round and round with the question, Is there any way to avoid moving back east? Any way to keep Jarrick where he belongs?

  She reminded herself that her role as his wife would be to let him know her thoughts, then support his decision. O Lord God, she prayed, I’ve always felt that Mother’s undue influence led to Father’s leaving the sea he loved and taking a management position. But he continued to travel anyway, despite her objections. True, nobody ever told me outright, but I’m sure of it, just the same. And I will not follow her example, no matter what. I won’t try to manipulate my husband. She shook her head and twisted a strand of hair fallen from beneath her hat. I just never thought the issue would be reversed—that I’d be struggling against Jarrick’s taking a city job even though he’d be home every evening. I know if we stayed here it would be much more difficult in so many ways, involving frequent, long absences, but I really can’t see him as anything but part of the Force. Am I wrong, Lord? If so, please give me peace about this. But it’s got to be Jarrick’s decision.

  Supper at Molly’s on Sunday evening was an event. They crowded together at her kitchen table, their hostess scurrying back and forth to serve two rooms filled with people. Once the boarders had been fed and dispersed and just the family had gathered afterward in the parlor for dessert, Beth knew they anticipated she had returned with happy news to report. She looked around at their expectant faces and brought out the engagement ring she had kept hidden all day, glowing with pride and grateful to have her “other family” with which she could share her pleasure.

  “It’s so pretty!” Marnie exclaimed. “Shucks, Miss Thatcher! It’s the prettiest thing I ever seen.”

  Molly patted Beth’s knee as they sat together on the parlor sofa. “Ain’t we glad now that we put ya in Abby’s place?”

  Yes, Beth thought to herself. That’s what I’ll call it. Not the Grants’ anymore, but Abigail’s place. She said, “I’m afraid I’ll be alone there for some time yet. We don’t plan to be married until the spring—probably in April. There are many details to be worked through.”

  “I could stay with ya, ta help,” Marnie offered, rising from the footstool to stand in front of Molly, arms out in a beseeching fashion. “That’ll make it easier here too, Miss Molly. Don’t ya see? Then you can have my room for two of them other men. That’d help you all fit better, wouldn’t it?”

  Beth held her breath. It would certainly be a relief to share the space, especially with someone as dear as Marnie. Aloud she put in, “I wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, I’d truly enjoy her company. If it’s fine with you both, I feel it’s a splendid idea.”

  Molly looked doubtful. “I still gotta have yer help here though, Marnie. With school and all, it don’t leave ya much time. You’d hardly do more ’an sleep over there.”

  “It’s a good idea anyways, and it gives ya my room to rent out.”

  “It would indeed.” Molly looked back and forth between Marnie and Beth and shrugged.

  The arrangement was settled and plans immediately made. Frank would move a straw mattress to Beth’s bedroom to be positioned where the roofline sloped down so low that the area wasn’t useable for much else. Beth would situate the smallest of her trunks for Marnie’s nightstand and also some personal storage. The girl would join Beth each evening after her chores were done.

  “An’ it’ll be so easy to get help with my homework. I’ll be livin’ with the teacher. I might even get the best grades ever!” Marnie exclaimed in triumph.

  Beth smiled and said, “Yes, dear, I can help, but you’ll need to do the actual work yourself, you know.” They all laughed, and Marnie assured them she wouldn’t take advantage of her housing situation.

  Impatient to get things going, Marnie clutched at Frank’s good hand and coaxed him out of his chair so they could get the mattress and her belongings to her new home. Molly and Beth followed, their arms filled with bedding and clothing.

  Outside Abby’s place, three boxes containing Beth’s purchases were waiting at the foot of the stairs. Frank quickly announced that he’d come back to haul them up, “Soon as’a we get the mattress in’a place.”

  As Molly was helping Beth unpack the new supplies, she confessed quietly, “Frank’s gettin’ too old fer so much carryin’ and the like, but there’s no way to tell ’im.”

  “Helping others is so much a part of who he is. It would be very difficult for him to be told to cut back.”

  “To be sure.”

  Molly and Beth set to work making up Marnie’s bed.

  Later that night, in the darkness, Marnie whispered to Beth, “Ya think we’ll hear them noises again?”

  “I suppose so. I heard them again last night.”

  “Maybe we can figure it out. I’ll listen.”

  However, the soft sounds of Marnie’s even breathing came long before the scratching sounds returned. By then just the girl’s presence was enough for Beth to relax and rest more easily.

  Beth rose early Monday, though school would not actually begin until the other teacher returned from Calgary. She was determined to figure out how to use her stove and prepare a breakfast of pancakes and eggs without waking Marnie. But the fire was far more difficult to manage than she had anticipated. Each time she thought the little flames were licking high enough, she’d turn away only to find a moment later they had died again. When Marnie emerged, rubbing her eyes, Beth still hadn’t produced enough fire to heat the pan.

  “I’ll do it,” the teenager offered. “Won’t take me but a few minutes.” She set directly to work. “Now, I’ll tell ya, it’s best not to let them embers die. Keep ’em banked in the night so all ya have to do is stir ’em up in the mornin’ and add fresh wood. Of course, coal will last ya longer. But it don’t start so easy.” The slender shoulders hunched close to the firebox as she gave her instructions, blowing periodically on the infant flame. Beth listened carefully and tried to watch over Marnie’s shoulder to see exactly what she did. In no time Marnie pushed the frying pan in place. “You can fix the temperature fer now by moving the pan around on top here. But soon I’m sure you’ll know by the looks of yer fire how hot it’s gonna be.” She hesitated. “Want me to cook while you get dressed? I heard ya tell Teddy Boy that you’d go fishin’ with him this morning. I know he likes to get started ’fore sun’s up too high.”

  “Yes, he’s excited to show me around the new buildings. ‘Around seven,’ he told me. There’s still plenty of time for me to help with the cooking. I want to learn, Marnie. I truly do. How will I ever feed Jarrick if I can’t even build a fire?” She kept her tone breezy, despite her genuine concerns about running a household for a husband. When Marnie wasn’t looking, Beth held up her hand to admire the new ring.

  The first few pancakes burned before Beth got the hang of testing the temperature. Only the last four were large and plump and evenly browned. She presented them to Marnie. “How’s that?”

  “Good as Miss Molly’s.”

  “Oh, you little fibber.” They both laughed. “But I suppose they’re good enough to eat anyway. And that’s what counts.”

  Teddy’s knock came before Beth and Marnie had finished eating. When he had stepped inside and greeted them both, he looked a bit longingly at the last pancake. Beth smiled and invited him to finish it up while she got ready for their outing. She tied on a straw hat and pulled a light wrap over a simple housedress good enough for fishing.

  Marnie insisted that she would wash up the breakfast dishes, repeating how thankful she was to be living with Beth.

  “The fish’re bitin’ best near the footbridge,” Teddy said over his shoulder. “But I want to take you ’round to the sawmill first. I thought you’d like to see where all this new lumber’s comin’ from.” He grinned in the morning light, and Beth thought she could see a smattering of hairs growing above his lip. “I worked fer the company a lit
tle this summer. Got myself a little money tucked away now.”

  Beth tried to match his stride as they trudged down the road between the company houses. The only movement outdoors yet was a lone father chopping wood next to a pile of logs. They waved their greetings, and then Teddy turned off on a path Beth couldn’t recall, wending their way downhill toward the river. The mine noise she’d heard from town was growing louder. The woods ended abruptly, opening to a wide expanse of barren hillside full of machinery and men. To Beth it seemed like a forest graveyard with the ugly stumps as markers. She felt a pang of sorrow. “They cleared all this in one summer?”

  “You bet we did,” declared Teddy, boyish pride pushing out his chest. “It ain’t hard with the right equipment. An’ we had almost two dozen men workin’ at it most days, not countin’ the ones in the mine.”

  “No wonder there’s not enough room to house everyone in town.” Beth’s gaze traveled over the desolation of the hillside, sweeping down toward the frenzy of activity surrounding the enormous mill at the water’s edge. For a moment she watched as men loaded straight, round tree carcasses into one end of an oblong building, while others removed long white boards to be added to mountainous stacks. Hidden somewhere under the long roof, the rattling machinery sliced the wood and spewed sawdust high into the air. Beth clutched her throat. “How much farther do they intend to clear the trees? Do you have any idea?”

  “Naw, guess the plan is to keep cuttin’—soon’s they’re done buildin’ what they need here they’ll start shippin’ lumber out too, along with the coal. Hear there’s a good market for it all. Folks are callin’ it a building boom. And the company men say that by havin’ both businesses, they’ll be makin’ money hand over fist.”

  Beth sighed. Marnie had used the same phrase to describe Teddy’s hopes. “I see” was all she could manage in response.

  She looked over the landscape once more, now recognizing only an outcropping of limestone close to where she had often gathered wildflowers along the river. Rather abruptly turning her back on the devastation, she said, “We don’t have much time. Let’s go fishing. Are you ready?”

  “Sure am,” he agreed. “I already took the poles an’ things to the spot and dug up some fresh bait.”

  “You must have been up before the sun.”

  His nose wrinkled. “Have ta be. Or I don’t got time to do the things I want to do.”

  Soon Addison and Peter joined them, dropping their lines into the water near an overhanging tree. After Teddy got Beth set up with a pole, they sat in a row on the grassy bank and listened to the water gurgling its way over the rocky riverbed.

  Five beautiful fish hung from a line in Teddy’s hand by the time they were ready to leave. Soaked to the knees from wading and splashing one another, they started a ragged parade back to town, Beth trudging beside Teddy, and Peter and Addison ahead. She felt dwarfed by their tall, lean forms. Had they all grown so much over the summer? Her shoes squished water with every step, but she didn’t mind. They were old and would soon dry out.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” a male voice greeted them. “How did you find the fishing today?”

  Unable to see the man yet, Beth assumed he was one of their fathers.

  “Hi,” Addison returned as they approached him.

  “Morning, Mr. Hughes—uh, I mean, Harris—uh, sir.” Peter obviously was trying to remember the correct way to address the man.

  Addison tacked on quickly, “We done pretty good, sir. We got five.” He gestured back toward Teddy, who held the fish in the air, dangling them almost above Beth’s head.

  “We did well,” corrected Mr. Robert Harris Hughes.

  “Yes, sir,” the boys answered in unison, suddenly shy.

  They had shuffled to a halt, and Beth was able merely to peer between a jumble of bodies and arms at the man standing before them. He was rather young and neither particularly tall nor robust, yet the way he carried himself required respect, she knew immediately.

  Beth flinched, wishing she could meet her fellow teacher under more appropriate circumstances, but she forced herself out from among the boys with as much confidence as she could muster. Though painfully aware of her wet shoes, the water marks on her modest frock, and her tangled mass of hair she had snagged on a branch, she managed, “Good morning. You must be Mr. Harris Hughes. I am Miss Elizabeth Thatcher.” Deciding that the name probably meant nothing to him, she forced a wayward curl behind her ear, swallowed, and went on to explain with what she hoped was some dignity, “I’m the—the other teacher.”

  His dark eyebrows rose. “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Thatcher. I had no idea I’d find you . . . here.” His smile turned into something a little less cordial as he stood before her in clothing more appropriate for a horseback ride through a well-manicured field—brown tweed suit belted at the waist and pant legs tucked into tall leather boots. On his head was a flat wool cap tilted toward one ear. “You may imagine my surprise at finding you out fishing here with these boys.”

  “And spending time with my—with our students.” Beth forced a weak smile and shrugged. “Where else?”

  “Indeed.”

  For a long moment no one spoke. The boys seemed uncomfortable, and Beth could think of nothing further until she finally said, “Oh, yes, I was hoping that you and I could sit down together in order to plan for the school year. Do you suppose you’d have time today, Mr. Harris Hughes?” Her voice trailed off.

  He nodded once, his eyes nearly closing contemplatively. “Yes, Miss Thatcher, I had hoped we could do so. How propitious that we came across one another so early in the day.”

  “Indeed. Is there, would there be a time that would suit you?” She inwardly berated herself for sounding so tentative.

  “I am just setting off for a vigorous morning walk. If you are available at half past ten, I believe we would have the schoolhouse at our disposal.”

  “That would work nicely.”

  “Fine. Good day then, Miss Thatcher. I look forward to speaking with you shortly.” He doffed his cap slightly and paused briefly to nod toward the boys. “Gentlemen.” Then he pushed his way between them on the narrow path.

  “Have a nice walk, sir.” The boys stood staring after him until he had rounded the first bend.

  Teddy let out a low whistle. “Ain’t he just . . .”

  “Isn’t he,” Beth muttered.

  “Okay, yeah, isn’t he just a humdinger! Did ya see them boots? Bet he even polishes ’em!”

  “Oh, Teddy, please.”

  Beth hurried her entourage back into town, promising she’d stop by Addison’s home after her meeting to share their catch for lunch, then rushed back to her modest residence. She left the shoes on the steps to dry. Beth wished fleetingly that she’d be able to bathe before her appointment, but there was not enough time. And it was going to take enough work to put her tangled hair back in order. Washing up well in the large basin would have to suffice. She scrubbed hard. It would be inexcusable if she still smelled the slightest bit like fish by ten thirty.

  CHAPTER

  5

  WEARING A TEA-LENGTH DRESS of smoky-gray georgette embroidered with pink roses, proper shoes, and her hair now pinned up in a neat and sensible fashion, Beth made her way across the rutted dirt street. Though she knew she was more than compensating for her earlier impression, she had found nothing else in her wardrobe that seemed quite appropriate to the moment. She could only hope she wouldn’t cross paths with anyone. They would likely assume she was on her way to a funeral and would wonder whose.

  She approached the door, pondering whether she should knock or boldly enter. She decided on the latter and pushed her way into the schoolhouse. To her surprise the large room was now littered with sawn boards and workmen’s tools. “Hello? Mr. Harris Hughes?” she called.

  He emerged immediately from a corner hidden behind the door. “Miss Thatcher, you’re very punctual. I appreciate your respect of another’s time.”

  “Of c
ourse.” She stepped forward cautiously and looked around. “I had expected things to be ready for school. I was here just last week, and there wasn’t any clutter then at all. Do you know what’s happening?”

  He held out a hand to escort her past the rubble, and Beth accepted it gingerly. He had laid aside jacket and hat, and she could now see his hair slicked straight back except for one tidy wave sculpted in the front. In collared shirt, suspenders, and full-cut trousers he brought to mind some of the gentlemen who had shared the summer cruise ship—a pretentious mixture of leisure and high style. Stop it, she admonished herself, you don’t even know him yet.

  His demeanor, however, was brashly confident and fully in charge. “Our space is being divided into two classrooms. I’m not certain why it wasn’t completed sooner, but one can only assume the decision was confirmed over the weekend. I tried to encourage the construction two weeks ago while I was in town, but apparently they must have thought better of it back then.”

  “I see.” He seemed to be rather sure of his own opinions. Perhaps they wished to wait until my arrival. Shouldn’t you assume I should be given a voice, Mr. Harris Hughes? But then she silently acknowledged that no one had talked to her about much of anything related to the school, and certainly not this construction.

  He motioned to a table in the only tidy corner of the space.

  “We could meet at Abigail’s,” Beth suggested. “At least it would be clean and quiet.”

  “Oh?” He seemed surprised. “I thought you’d want to talk here about the design. I’ve thoroughly dusted off this table as you can see. I have my books in these boxes nearby.” He gestured toward them. “And I’ve asked the workmen to take a break so we’ll have some quiet for our discussion.”

  “Yes, if you like,” Beth agreed.

  He drew out a chair, wiped it with a handkerchief—“Just to be sure,” he said with a little smile—and helped Beth settle on it. She laid the notebook she’d brought with her on the table and opened it to where she’d tucked a pencil. “I think we should begin with the students,” she said. “I’ve listed them here, and I’ve been thinking—”