by Janette Oke
“Who’s it for, you or me?”
“Neither, it’s for . . . it’s for Robert! It must have come to us by accident. We’ll need to get it to him as soon as possible.”
Julie reached for the telegram, but Beth immediately tucked it away in her coat pocket. “I said it’s for Robert. We can’t read it.”
“He’ll never know. He—”
“Julie! We’re not going to read someone else’s telegram. We’ll take it to him at Molly’s.”
“Fiddlesticks! Then you might as well just read it. If he knows you had it he’ll assume you know what it says.”
Beth paced away from the table and returned again. “Then we’ll just take it back to the store,” Beth said firmly. “Now, what shall we make for dinner? We might as well get started. I’ll get the fire going while you figure out what it will be.”
Julie was correct about the further preparations required before the wedding. Mother’s letter reenergized Beth to finish the things already begun, including the tedious copying and folding of the programs, while Julie put her artistic skills to work, adding a vine of roses all around the script.
Beth hadn’t yet solved the problem of an archway for the center of the platform, but she hoped an idea would come shortly. One that was simple to erect yet would please her own mother—and maybe even satisfy her mother-in-law-to-be.
On the following afternoon, the sisters wrapped themselves in layers, left some scraps for Penelope at the bottom of the stairs, and struck out for Molly’s, squinting against the icy crystals flung by the wind.
Teddy answered their knock, hurrying them inside and shutting the door firmly behind them. “We thought ya might find your way over, now that the worst has died down.”
Julie stamped her feet on the mat and unwound the scarf from her neck. “Doesn’t seem like the worst has died down to me!” she joked. “Have you all been busy? What exciting things have you found for entertainment?”
“Not much,” he grumbled. “Unless you wanna watch Marnie and Harry moonin’ over each other in the dining room. The rest of us are in the kitchen.”
Beth and Julie followed him into the warm room, where Frank and Molly were sipping coffee.
“Look at you two,” Molly teased, “just a couple’a mountain women headin’ out in a storm like pioneers.”
Beth dropped into the nearest chair, rubbing her hands together. “Oh, Molly, it’s less than four weeks until the wedding. What if the roads aren’t passable and my parents can’t come? Oh, goodness, what if even Jarrick can’t get through?”
“A Mountie? Not able to travel through a little snow? Nonsense, dearie. And a good, sunny day can bring some startlin’ changes. You just wait an’ see.”
“I hope so.”
They were ready to head home when Beth discovered the telegram still in her pocket. Still determined not to leave it at Molly’s for Mr. Harris Hughes and have him find out it had come into her possession, she was sure that returning it to the store would be best.
“Say, Teddy, do you know if the store is open today?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Molly sent me to check. Maybe tomorrow. What do ya need?”
“Oh, nothing, really. But I got somebody’s mail by mistake.”
“I’m goin’ out first thing if the wind dies down by then. Meeting Addie to do some ice fishin’. Want me to take it over for ya?”
Beth, relieved, said, “Yes, please. It’s a telegram for Mr. Harris Hughes.” She handed it to the boy. “I have no idea what it says, but if it was worth paying to send it, it’s probably important. Now, you won’t lose it, Teddy, or forget?” she warned as she turned away.
“Hey, says here Mr. Harris Hughes is leavin’ soon.”
Beth froze. She wanted badly to ask for clarification but knew the boy had already said too much. “That doesn’t belong to you. Close it up, Teddy.”
“All right.” He shrugged. “But it seems pretty strange, him bein’ mayor now and all. Guess that didn’t stop Mr. Ramsey from movin’ away though.”
Beth stood for a moment, trying to decide how to proceed. If she left the telegram in Teddy’s possession, the information likely would be spread around. “You’d better give it to me,” she finally said. “I’ll take it over in the morning. And Teddy, you need to promise you won’t tell anyone what you read here. You were wrong to read it. It’s private information,” she told him as she returned it to her pocket.
“Yes, ma’am. If you say so.”
Beth knew he could be trusted, but the questions prompted by his discovery tumbled through her mind as she followed Julie across the snowy street. Is Robert truly planning to leave? But Ivy said they were building a house soon. Would they do so if not intending to remain for at least a while? Perhaps they’re only making short-term plans. Or perhaps Ivy is incorrect in her assessment of Robert’s intentions. After all, she spoke in terms of supposing what he would do next. Then Beth recalled that Frank had mentioned the land purchase had already transpired.
Once home she banked the fire carefully, dawdling over the last chores for the night. Julie retired first, and still Beth lingered, fighting the urge to pull out the telegram. At last she went to change for bed, moving slowly in the dark so as not to disturb Julie’s even breathing. She was glad she had been victorious as she slid under the covers.
At first light Beth prepared hastily for her errand. Standing at the door, she asked Julie if there was anything she’d like from the store.
“Something sweet, please? Hard candy or a package of cookies?”
“I’ll see what they have.” Beth stepped out onto the landing, shielding her eyes from the blowing snow, and picked her way carefully down the stairs. The familiar ring of the bell over the store’s door announced Beth’s arrival.
Toby appeared almost instantly from the back, smiling cheerfully. “I wondered who’d arrive here first today. You must be out of coffee—or maybe tea, in the case of you and yer sister.”
“No, nothing like that. I’d like to buy a ream of white paper, and Julie would like something sweet. I’ll go look at your packaged cookies.” Beth pulled a mitten off one hand and dug inside her pocket. “I also want to bring this telegram back. It must have inadvertently gotten in with some of my mail.”
Toby scratched his head, taking the telegram with the other hand. “That’s odd. My fault, I guess. Must be the one for Mr. Harris Hughes. I wondered where it went. Thanks fer bringin’ it back. He don’t seem like the type could easily overlook such an error.”
Beth smiled, glad to be rid of the temptation. “I’ll look for Julie’s cookies and be back in a moment.”
“Take yer time. I ain’t got nobody else ta help.” He lifted a corner of the account book in the center of the counter and shoved the telegram underneath.
Beth noticed a cloth-covered table near the front window and took a step closer, studying the rows of products forming Julie’s display. On a whim she lifted a small jar of lotion. I might as well give her a little encouragement. She carried it with her to the display of baked goods.
The front bell jangled again, and Toby called out, “Well, speak o’ the devil. Good morning, Mr. Harris Hughes. How’d ya fare in this here blizzard? Ya get out fer your hike yet this morning?”
Beth ducked down a bit as Robert strode forward to the counter. “Good morning, Mr. Coulter,” he said, his tone hearty. “How are you? I have just a short list today.”
“Ya know we don’t always have what ya want in stock, an’ we didn’t get the last shipment ’cause of the storm. But I’ll do what I can.”
“Of course,” Robert answered. “Of course.”
Toby drew a small box from beneath the counter and began gathering the items on Robert’s list. Beth kept her head low, hoping to be overlooked.
“Say, a telegram came fer ya, Mr. Harris Hughes. From yer hometown. It got stuck in with some mail fer Miss Thatcher. But she brung it back. Fella who wrote it says somethin’ about a bet he made with ya. And tha
t he’ll meet ya at the train station to collect on it when ya get back home in June. Ya goin’ back east soon?”
Beth felt like she had turned to stone. Toby as much as announced the contents aloud. And he told Robert I received the message first by mistake! All her efforts were for naught.
Robert cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that’s my own personal business, Mr. Coulter. And I’d ask that you respect my privacy on the matter.”
“Sure, sure,” the storekeeper answered with a grin, seeming rather pleased with himself. He cast a glance toward the aisle where Beth was trying to hide. “Anyhow, here it is.” He passed the folded page to Robert.
Beth breathed out a prayer that Robert’s list would be filled promptly, and she looked desperately for a second exit from the room.
Suddenly Toby called, “Ya find those cookies ya wanting yet, Miss Thatcher?”
Beth felt her cheeks warm, but there was nothing left to do but step forward and place the package of Oreos she was holding on the counter. “These will be fine, Mr. Coulter. Would you add them to my account, please? And this jar of cream from my sister’s table.”
“Sure, miss. And here’s yer white paper. Would you like a box?”
Beth kept her eyes directly on Toby’s face and managed, “No, thank you. I can carry them just fine without.” She accepted the items and stepped toward the door, her gaze on the floor to avoid interacting with Robert.
“Miss Thatcher,” he spoke sternly. “Good morning.”
She glanced at him, said a quick, “Good morning,” and slipped out the door.
Beth was able to avoid Robert for the remainder of the day, but she dreaded what might happen on Thursday before school. She had absolutely no doubt that he would mention the betrayed confidence and the contents of the message. Will he deny it? Will he try to explain it away? Or will he simply acknowledge his intention to resign at the end of the school year?
Though Beth fully anticipated a knock at that shared door, she was nonetheless on edge and startled when it finally came. “Miss Thatcher, might I have a moment of your time?”
“Of course.” She laid the chalk on its ledge and drew back her shoulders to foster confidence. There’s no sense waiting for him to speak first, she told herself. “I presume you’ve come regarding the telegram. I want to assure you, Mr. Harris Hughes, that I did not at any point read it myself. That I, in fact, was very guarded about the confidentiality of your message. Even so, I’m truly sorry that Mr. Coulter . . . that its contents were divulged. You must be rather perturbed.”
Robert lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head in a half nod of acknowledgment. “I appreciate your candor, Miss Thatcher. In most situations I would merely let bygones be bygones, but I felt it was necessary to offer something of an explanation in this case, most especially because your good opinion has come to matter to me.”
“I’m sure it’s not necessary.” Beth’s words sounded feeble in her ears, and her mind was whirling. What? It matters to him what I think? What I think?
“Nevertheless,” he said, clearing his throat, “it’s true that I do intend to return east, Miss Thatcher. And when I do I hope to have sufficient data to demonstrate that my educational techniques are effective. I hope to publish and thereby broaden my influence.”
“I see.”
“However, one year’s success would be entirely inadequate for such an endeavor, as I’ve many times explained to my friend who sent the telegram. My intention is to remain in this town for ten years—for one entire decade. My friend, who has chosen to ridicule my resolve, was teasing in his message. But I assure you that once I make up my mind, as I have on this, I see no reason why I should leave any time before the full ten years has passed. During which period I hope to produce measurable improvements in the students who are shaped by this small school.”
Ten whole years? Beth felt a strange sensation rising from the pit of her stomach. Not anger or even frustration. It was jealousy, strong and hungry. Most of my children will have graduated by then. He’s going to instruct them all, virtually single-handedly. What will they become under those years of his influence?
“I see,” Beth murmured again.
“I would expect to have a second teacher assigned upon your departure—perhaps one who will share my philosophy. But . . .” He hesitated, glancing back toward the entry door. “I would have preferred to have continued with you, Miss Thatcher. You have been respectful and honest and trustworthy, even though our beliefs could scarcely have been further apart.”
“You’re generous to say so, Mr. Harris Hughes.”
He inclined his head and turned back to the other classroom. Beth sank into a chair and struggled to regain her composure. Her children would arrive shortly. But they were not hers for much longer—they would be his.
CHAPTER
24
BETH STEPPED OUT onto the sidewalk after school on Friday and looked up into the blue sky with a line of soft white clouds sweeping across it. The warmth of the sunshine was already melting snow from the sidewalk and road, one little trickle at a time. The official first day of spring, she exulted, then reminded herself that another blizzard could come even tomorrow. But she was determined to enjoy this day while it lasted.
On impulse she stacked her books on the steps to her apartment and struck out for a walk in celebration of the change of seasons and to spend some moments in prayer. Patches of sunshine streaming through the trees led her onto the main road toward Lethbridge. Toward Jarrick, she thought, missing him once more.
As she walked she thought again about Robert’s disclosure and the children she had come to care about so much. But she said quietly to herself, I have prayed for God’s will, whatever that might be. I will not take back my submission to Him, no matter how much I believe I know what should occur.
She thought of Marnie and Harold next, so much in love and thrilled to be together. And yet their impulsive decision had created a strained living arrangement, suspending Molly’s family in uneasy tension until some kind of resolution was found. For how long, Father? I can’t imagine how they’ll be able to afford a home. Will they move into my place after I’ve gone? That question reminded her that though the end of the school year was still weeks away, it felt as if she were on the very threshold of leaving Coal Valley.
Beth stood in the center of the road, breathing in deeply with her face tipped upward toward the sun. She lifted her hands toward its warmth. You know everything about what’s going to happen, Lord God. You have a perfect solution. I’ll wait for You. And she said aloud those eternal words, “‘But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles.’” She wanted that—to have strength while waiting, her hope for the future finding wings to rise above her worries. It wasn’t ever easy, this waiting—she knew that full well. But God had always been with her, even in her darkest hours.
At last she turned back toward home, rejuvenated by the freshness of this day full of spring’s hope. Her mind focused now on last plans for the wedding. There was little left to do, and she trusted it wouldn’t prove too difficult.
Just as Beth approached the stairs leading to her home, she heard a rustling in the bushes where Penelope often lingered.
Beth stepped toward the familiar area and drew back the thick branches, but instead of the small tabby cat, she saw black fur. Lots of it. She let out a cry as the branches snapped back into place. A deep answering growl confirmed it was a bear.
Beth staggered backward, her legs weak with fear and her feet refusing to function. One shoe caught against the other, and she tumbled onto her back on the damp ground. More growling, and a brown snout appeared, sniffing the air. Beth let loose a piercing scream, and she scrambled backward toward the stairs, scraping hands and legs against the rough ground. Now a broad black head, lolling back and forth, emerged, and the gaping mouth spewed another prolonged guttural sound.
“Get away,” she shouted, still facing the beast. �
��Go on!” Desperately clutching at the stair rail to keep from collapsing, Beth inched up the stairs. “Help!”
A fierce hiss from somewhere beneath her feet preceded a gray streak bolting toward the animal. Penelope stood on her hind legs, her front paws spread wide above her head, claws raking the air, as if to appear much larger than she was. The yowling cat lunged and batted at the snout, and it disappeared, retreating back into the foliage.
Beth heard fast footsteps from around the side of the building.
“What’s wrong?” Abigail called.
Beth pointed. “A bear! In the bushes!”
Abigail clapped her hands to further ward off the animal, at the same time calling the alarm over her shoulder. “Bear!” She clapped and shouted even more loudly, flapping her apron. “Go on! Get out! Go away!”
Penelope disappeared into the bushes, and terrible growls and yowls, snarls and roars ensued. Tears rolled down Beth’s cheeks. The sounds were absolutely dreadful, and she fought the urge to rush forward to save the cat.
Next came an explosion of gunshot from somewhere on the road, and the awful noises faded into the woods. At last there was silence.
“Who saw it?”
“How big was it?” A crowd had gathered already.
“Beth saw it,” Abigail answered, pressing her hands against the side of her face. “But the cat took it on, so it can’t of been very large.”
“A cub?” asked a man.
“Probably a yearling out explorin’ on its own, still too young ta know to stay away from the sounds of machinery.”
“Then the mother’s bound to be near.”
More men arrived. From her position on the stairs, Beth was startled at the number of guns that had so quickly assembled.
“Bethie! Are you hurt?” Julie rushed forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Beth.
“It was a bear, Julie.” Beth tried to keep the tremble from her voice.
