by Janette Oke
Beth’s words were cut short by the sound of the man sucking air through his teeth. “Pardon me, Miss Thatcher, but I hoped we might begin with the building itself—the reason I’ve set up our meeting here. I do hope you don’t mind very much. I’ve sketched out some design ideas, and there would still be time to change the work order if I were able to speak with the foreman today.”
“There is a foreman?” That seems odd, even unnecessary, just for adding a simple wall.
“Well, I assume so.”
“Who would that be?” Beth felt warmth rising in her cheeks. Why am I being so disagreeable? I feel as if we’re sparring rather than talking. She cleared her throat and tried to relax her shoulders, to sit comfortably instead of poker straight.
The man checked the notes on the table in front of him. “I spoke with a Walter Deedles, who seems to be in charge.”
Beth couldn’t help but smile, calling to mind an image of the small, bespectacled mining supervisor. “Yes, he works for the company, that’s true. I suppose Walter is as good as anyone to serve as liaison. Have they explained to you what they intend to build?”
“Not in detail,” he said, “but if I could just show you these sketches, I think you’d agree with my design. And I’ll pass the instructions along so we can all be in accord.”
Beth held her tongue. It’s just a wall. They’ll put it right down the middle of the space and call it a day. But she leaned closer as he explained his proposal. The plan seemed equitable and very workable. She’d be content with either of the classrooms, and he had wisely added a small mudroom, which would be invaluable in this climate. “And in the center of the dividing wall,” he said, “I’ve drawn a door to access the opposite room.”
Beth cocked her head, trying to imagine the reason for his suggested door. “When would we use that?”
“Use what?”
“The door . . . between classrooms. Since we’re dividing the students by age, at what point during the day would they need to pass from one to the other? Wouldn’t it be sufficient to access the rooms from the shared entry?” She hurried to finish before he could interrupt again. “And don’t you think, that is, I’m afraid it would make things a good deal noisier for both of us. The sound would carry between rooms much easier that way.”
“Oh dear. Is that what you envisioned—that we would each teach half of the children?” He sat back in his chair.
“How else would we split the teaching?” she asked meekly.
“I thought, perhaps, that we would teach by subject. Most of my own studies have focused on the disciplines of science and art, though of course my graduate work was in the broader study of education itself. Since I’ve read extensively the various educational philosophies, I can assure you, Miss Thatcher, that the one-room schoolhouse model is rather passé, replaced now with specialized instruction based on subject matter.”
Beth blinked, stared at him for a moment, then blinked again. How can I . . . ? What can he . . . ? What is he talking about? “Mr. Harris, uh, Harris Hughes,” she said, stumbling over his name, “I don’t think you understand our families here. If you could see the progress made last year, in just one year. We focus on reading, on writing and—”
“On ’rithmatic?” He chuckled mockingly. “Please, Miss Thatcher.” He held up a hand, palm out. “Please don’t expect me to believe you’ve surrendered to such archaic methods. There’s so much more that modern children need to know if they’re ever to rise above such backward communities.”
How dare you! She took a quick breath and forced herself to remain calm, though her words sounded more stern than she intended. “I believe in teaching fundamental skills first and using other subjects to enrich the lessons. And I assure you, Mr. . . . Mr. . . . sir, that I received my teaching degree from the best women’s college in Ontario.”
“Ah,” he countered. “Well, then . . . yes, I see.”
Beth took a deep breath and stood to her feet.
“Please, please. Don’t be upset, Miss Thatcher. I meant no disrespect.” He gestured that she should take her seat again.
Beth stood firm, leaning forward with her hands braced on the table before her, ready to mount a defense.
“Miss Thatcher, I’m afraid that people often misunderstand my meaning. Perhaps I should have said simply that I believe there are superior methods now and that we can achieve more using a targeted approach to learning by specializing. I’m certain you’ll agree if you’ll just hear me out.” He rose suddenly and drew a textbook from one of his boxes, laying it on top of Beth’s notebook. “You see, I propose we set our sights higher, think of the classroom’s impact on society as a whole, and educate with the intention of producing thinkers rather than just workers.”
Beth sputtered, vainly trying to reply.
He hurried on, “I see we’re getting nowhere. Let me make a suggestion. Let’s lay aside this discussion and return to the building design. I think you’ll find that my overall proposal works well with either teaching model. Yes? And that’s the first hurdle we can surmount together. Don’t you agree?”
Beth forced herself to ease back onto her chair. She tucked trembling hands out of sight in her lap and fidgeted with her ring, spinning it round and round as he spoke.
“I’m sure you must be comfortable enough with what I’ve drawn that it can be given to Mr. Deedles today?”
“I really don’t like the door.”
“Oh my. We needn’t make such a fuss about a door, need we? If you don’t like it, I’m sure you can just ignore it.”
On every point during the remaining discussion Robert Harris Hughes used the same tactic. He appeared to care nothing for Beth’s ideas, the routines she had established, the calendar of school events she hoped would augment the daily lessons, the specific children with whom he’d be entrusted. It was all she could do to keep a carefully measured tone. Of one thing she was certain. She would hold her ground on his muddled division of students into different subjects. She would not leave the precious little ones in the hands of this stranger, no matter what he said to manipulate and intimidate her. It was difficult enough to imagine her older pupils being required to learn under his overbearing tutelage. But he certainly would not be allowed to direct his imperious mannerisms on little Anna Kate or any of the smallest ones from last year’s class. She cringed to picture Jonah Sanders stuttering out an answer to a question posed by this overbearing schoolmaster, or poor little Levi Blane, so thin and frail.
Beth squared her shoulders. If I learned anything over the summer, it’s that I’m not going to ignore my instincts again, particularly when people I love are in jeopardy. I’m not the woman I was, Mr. Robert Harris Hughes. I think you’ll find I’m quite capable of standing up to you now.
But by the time Beth dragged herself back up the stairs she was worn out, body and soul. She knew she’d missed lunch with the boys. The one positive result of their meeting was that Beth had managed to retain sole guardianship of the younger half of the students. Heart-weary, she slipped off and folded away the silly dress and donned a comfortable blouse and skirt, then curled up and fell asleep, exhausted from the mental wrestling match she’d endured.
When Beth woke dark shadows had gathered in the corners of her bedroom. Dusk had fallen, and she had been asleep for hours. Ashamed, she splashed some water on her face and checked her fire. It had gone out. So the long process of nurturing the flames began again until Beth could warm up a simple meal of leftover roast beef and vegetables that Molly had sent home with her. Sitting alone at the table, she held out her left hand and studied the engagement ring in the candlelight, wishing with all her heart that Jarrick were sitting across from her. She would have given almost anything to hear his comforting words just then, to have him stand between the offensive man and herself, to defend her point of view. But Beth refused to cry. She would be able to face this infuriating stranger with the knowledge that he had not driven her to tears.
Sounding like it was jus
t beside her chair, a too-familiar scratching sent shivers up her back. That’s it! That’s what I’ve been hearing!
Beth leaped up and bolted away. From a safe distance she scanned the corner where the table stood. There was nothing on the floor, nothing to be seen at all besides chair legs and table legs. However, there was a small wall next to her chair—a short partition that supported the rafters and created a tiny attic space just beyond it. Whatever I heard is on the other side of that wall!
Beth snatched up her wrap and rushed out. She desperately needed to feel safe again, to hear loving voices and see kind eyes. She hastened away to Molly’s.
CHAPTER
6
BETH FOUND HERSELF avoiding the new teacher whenever possible. The school wall was quickly assembled, and she now was working to clean up the dust and debris left behind. Robert Harris Hughes, it seemed, had more important work elsewhere. It goaded Beth further that he’d been provided a room at Molly’s guest house, though he typically chose not to eat there. He had voiced openly that he preferred Abigail’s quiet dining room to Molly’s bustling one. Still, his presence in the familiar home provided one more reason to eat on her own as often as possible rather than risk crossing paths with him at the boarding house. However, if it weren’t for Molly’s generous servings of leftovers sent over with Marnie, Beth was sure she’d be eating cold canned food morning, noon, and night. She had so little experience cooking, and there were few dishes she knew how to prepare. How on earth will I feed a husband—a family? she fretted.
But right now instead of worrying about such matters, Beth set her mind to being thankful. She could have grumbled about cleaning the schoolrooms alone but decided that in many ways she preferred to manage it on her own without her colleague. So she prayed as she swept and tidied both rooms that God would give her a heart to serve in whatever way she could.
The ample size of her designated classroom delighted Beth. And on Thursday there were new desks delivered by the school district—enough to seat twenty students in each room. Eighteen were actually enrolled in Beth’s classroom from first to fifth grade, including nine of the new children. There would be a similar-sized group next door.
Near the front of her room, between the only window and a chalkboard that spanned most of the wall, Beth arranged the large table and chair meant for her own use. A modest potbellied stove was at the back next to a well-stocked hod of coal and a low row of hooks for the children’s coats. As she thought back to teaching in the borrowed saloon, Beth reveled in the marvelous new bounty. And, best of all, at the end of each day she could simply pull the door closed without having to dismantle and store away her teaching items in preparation for the pool hall’s evening customers.
One by one she hung the precious paintings her sister Julie had furnished, each holding special memories of their travels in the Maritime Provinces. Even on canvas, the vibrant ocean scenes managed to convey life and movement. Almost all of Coal Valley’s children had been born and raised in the mountains or on the prairie. Beth was certain they’d enjoy these Canadian landscapes showing very different scenery from what they knew.
Next Beth tacked up the alphabet cards where they’d be easily seen from every desk. She hung the flag with a framed print of the king’s photograph beside it. Then out came boxes of reading books and primers, an illustrated Bible story book, a globe and an atlas, the science and art and music supplies. That silly man certainly cannot accuse me of not developing my students in all areas of their studies, she told herself, then chuckled at the thought of giving a music lesson while he was trying to lecture on philosophy. Well, it wouldn’t be my fault! She shook her head. He’s the one who insisted on his silly door. In the haste to get the wall erected, the door construction had been rather haphazard, and a one-inch gap remained at the bottom. The doors into the mudroom at the entryway were just as inadequate, and Beth was certain both classes would be frustrated by the unnecessary opening between her classroom and his.
Most evenings found Beth lingering in Molly’s kitchen, reluctant to return to whatever creature—or creatures—might be prowling behind the walls. When Frank learned about her distress, he went over to the apartment and found a small opening under the eaves into the attic space next to her dining table and patched it well. Beth was much relieved that he had found no access from the attic areas into her rooms. Hopefully the night visitations would stop altogether, but at least Frank’s efforts assured Beth that whatever was making the noises should remain on the other side. Still, she often stayed with Molly’s family until Marnie was finished with chores, and the two of them would walk back through the darkness together. Beth drew courage from the girl’s nonchalant attitude toward the undefinable sounds. She could tell Marnie wasn’t interested in discussing the problem further, simply shrugging off Beth’s worries with youthful aplomb.
Twice when she was alone, Beth had plucked up the courage to explore for any evidence of an intruder, though she found nothing specific and could locate no additional openings into the attic areas. However, upon arriving home after school one day she was quite certain an oatmeal bowl she’d placed in the basin after breakfast had mysteriously been licked clean. Surely it couldn’t have dried out so quickly. And as she inspected further in subsequent days, she was sure the trash bucket was being invaded, some choice scraps pilfered. But there was never enough evidence to be absolutely convinced she wasn’t imagining things.
She was able to dismiss it all, though, when Monday morning arrived and school was set to commence. She was both thrilled to begin doing what she loved and also concerned that September was almost spent. There was much instruction time to be recovered somehow before the school year was on track.
“Please take your seats, children,” Beth called out over the first-day hubbub. “It’s time to begin. I’m so glad to see you again, and I’m looking forward to getting to know those of you who are new this year. You’ll find a card with your name printed on it taped to the corner of your assigned desk.” The sounds of similar shuffling could be easily heard from the neighboring classroom.
Beth helped the youngest ones find their seats in the front row. Big sister Anna Noonan, all of nine years old, was leading her younger sister, Dorothy, toward the front.
“This is Dotty,” Anna said to Beth. “She can’t read yet. But I been reading to her at home. We don’t got that many books, but she really likes it, ’specially the fairy tales.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Anna. And don’t you worry, she’s in the perfect place for learning now. And you can go on helping her at home.” Beth knelt down to eye level and smiled at the timid child, her long brown hair tied back with a bright yellow bow. “Welcome, Dorothy. I’m glad you’re here.” Her words coaxed out a shy smile.
The last of the students found his name and scurried into his seat.
“We shall begin as we’ve done in the past, with the Lord’s Prayer and the Pledge of Allegiance,” Beth told them. “And, children, don’t worry if this is new for you. We’ll practice every day, and soon you’ll be able to join in easily. Please stand quietly beside your desks, fold your hands, and close your eyes.”
The long summer’s absence seemed to evaporate from Beth’s memory. She was fully alive, doing what she loved best.
“Marnie, I’m sorry, but the fire’s gone out again. I’m afraid breakfast will have to be from the pantry. I think there’s some cheese and a few biscuits left. Do you mind?” It was the third time in one week that Beth had been unable to cook anything for them before school.
“Can I eat that last piece of Miss Molly’s pie?”
“For breakfast?”
“Why not? It tastes just as good cold, an’ it’s apple, so it’s good fer me. You know, an apple a day . . .”
Beth sighed. “I suppose. Don’t forget your assignment.”
“Won’t matter,” Marnie mumbled. “He’s just gonna make me do it over anyhow.”
“You’ve done your best, darling. That’s all any o
f us can do.” Beth set the cold teapot back on its shelf with a sigh.
Marnie’s face emerged from behind the door of the pantry cupboard. “The cheese is gone.”
“What? I’m sure there was still—”
“Something must’a ate it—took bites out’a the biscuits too.”
Beth hurried to look. “What on earth . . . ?”
“Ain’t mice, then,” Marnie declared. “Not ’less there’s a whole passel of ’em.”
“Oh dear! Do you think . . . is it possible that something large, like maybe a raccoon, got in? I’ve been leaving the window open during the day for the fresh air, but there’s a screen on it.”
“We don’t got no raccoons out here.”
“Are you sure?”
Marnie stared back blankly. “Well, have ya seen any?”
“I guess not. I haven’t thought about it, I suppose. Then what? A squirrel? A rat?” She could hardly contain her shudder.
“We don’t got them neither, not rats, leastways. Plenty’a squirrels though. But I don’t think they could get inside the pantry cupboard. Door’s too heavy.”
Beth was losing patience. “I’m sure I have no idea what it might be. But let’s keep things closed up now as a precaution.” She pulled the dormer window shut and turned the handle tightly into place. Marnie checked that the pantry door was secure before they hurried off to the school together.
After the frantic start to her day, Beth enjoyed the quiet moments spent in early-morning preparation in her classroom. She wrote out the first reading assignments and the arithmetic questions on the chalkboard so her older students could begin work quietly while she taught lessons to her younger ones.
This morning it was Daniel Murphy’s turn to tend the fire. He greeted Beth and hurried to stir up the coals before adding more. The crackling blaze soon took the edge off the chilly room. Mr. Harris Hughes had composed a schedule so that each assigned boy was needed only once a week. Thankfully, this was one less thing for Beth to bother with, frustrated as she was from struggling to keep her fire at home lit. Somehow the boys managed to produce far less smoke than Beth. She wondered if she’d ever become proficient.
