Where Courage Calls: A When Calls the Heart Novel

by Janette Oke

The topmost layer was an array of hats, and underneath were shoes. Beth was growing frustrated at the rather frivolous nature of Mother’s selections. But beneath these were towels and soap, brushes and hairpins, candles and stationery, as well as sundry other sensible items. There was also a plentiful supply of the dreaded elixir. Mother has not forgotten.

  However, packed carefully in the center to avoid damage in transit was a dainty tea set. At first it seemed an unusual addition, but almost immediately Beth began to formulate a plan. Why not have two or three of the children at a time come for a visit and serve them tea? This would perhaps promote a relationship with them outside of school as well as help them become familiar with some etiquette which Beth believed they would need if they were to travel beyond their small world. She was certain Molly would be in favor of such “lessons” given in her home. Beth arranged the tea set on her dresser.

  As she unfastened the third trunk, she was greatly relieved to finally see books. Duplicates of all that Beth had gathered previously were there—as well as some additions made by Mother. And a precious Bible. Knowing how poorly the school was supplied, Beth appreciated the extra paper, pencils, and chalk. Also a flag, at last, a protractor for geometry, simple chemicals for science lessons, and paints for teaching art. There was even a set of percussion instruments—small triangles, bells, cymbals, and a tambourine.

  The last items brought a heavy sigh as Beth remembered her stolen violin. How wonderful it would have been to be able to play for her students—to introduce them to music of the classical masters. Once more Beth fingered the locket and recited the verse silently. God was able to provide all that she needed. He had already done so—all these things in abundance for which she was unspeakably grateful. She asked once more for the faith to trust Him, and turned back toward the bountiful provisions spread out before her. All the extras Mother had included would be invaluable in providing new experiences to her students.

  The last thing Beth opened was a long letter from Mother included in the third trunk. Beth smiled at the familiar looping handwriting, and welcomed the bits of family news. But as she had feared, there was much criticism about her “uncivilized” surroundings, including the school being “held in a saloon, of all places!” and staying in a residence “with gentlemen guests.”

  “Dearest Beth”—she could clearly imagine the reproof in her mother’s voice as she read the words—“I can’t help but worry about your health, your safety, in such a place,” she finished, along with promises to pray for her. Then she added a postscript: “There’s no shame in coming home, dear, if you must. You know you will be welcomed with open arms.”

  Beth sighed and tucked the letter away. She had to admit that home sounded rather inviting. But she shook her head when Marnie’s face filled her mind. No, she had followed the Lord’s leading, and she would stay.

  CHAPTER

  9

  BETH STOOD IN FRONT of the mirror early Monday morning, holding some of the dresses her mother had sent. What am I to wear to school this morning? After having begun a good relationship with her students, the last thing she wanted was to transform herself into someone else, someone visibly different from them. She chose the simplest of the dresses and held it up, scrutinizing herself carefully. It was still uncomfortably excessive. But perhaps something could be done. . . .

  She reached for the pair of scissors her mother had included in the shipment. Fighting against long-standing principles decrying such a reckless and wasteful act, she began clipping away the lacy embellishments. She was well aware of the value she was destroying and that the dress had been purchased with Father’s money. She told herself he would approve had he been standing next to her, but such a belief did not stop her hands from trembling. And Mother? Beth was quite certain she could predict Mother’s shocked reaction.

  At last Beth slipped into the garment and surveyed her work. It was a vast improvement, much simpler and fairly unassuming. But the modern dropped-waist style still set it apart from the more serviceable skirts and blouses worn by most of the women around her. And the extra flounce on the bottom hem—lowering the length to near her ankles—would surely be viewed as a terrible excess by the mothers working to produce as many clothing items as possible from each length of fabric they could afford. However, if Beth had trimmed it from the dress, she could not possibly have hemmed it again before school. So what she had already accomplished would have to suffice.

  Beth hurried to the classroom to set up some of the new items. Marnie helped carry over what they could. When the children arrived there would be a printed alphabet on cards tacked along the edge of the long bar counter. A world map was mounted next to the door, and the flag stood at the front beside a picture of the king. She now had individual slate boards upon which they could practice sums and spelling, saving precious paper. And there were three complete sets of readers ready for the children to share. Finally, with a little of the money that Father had sent with her, Beth purchased an oil lamp for each table from the company store, a great help when the sun was not shining brightly.

  With effort Beth restrained her excitement and did not display all the school supplies immediately. These children had so little, and she did not want to seem like she was flaunting her affluence. She hoped she had chosen the correct balance. Just as she had expected, there was a hushed tone while each child, upon entering, surveyed the room with wide eyes.

  “Now, children, please take your places quickly so we can begin.” She waited until everyone was quiet. “You can see that we have received our classroom supplies. I’m sure you will appreciate these materials that will help each of you to succeed as we learn together. Remember to treat them with care so that many children will benefit from them.”

  She looked around at the eager faces and smiled warmly. “Now, as we begin our day together, let’s say a special prayer of thanks to God for giving us everything we need. Who would like to come to the front and lead us in an opening prayer today?” Though Beth’s words were matter-of-fact, her heart thrilled to see their glowing expressions.

  However, as soon as the question had left her mouth, she suspected she had overstepped her bounds. She knew very little about the spiritual circumstances in the homes of the children who sat before her. Would any of them be willing to pray publicly—even if there were those among them who had been taught to pray? She held her breath and was about to suggest that perhaps she herself would lead the prayer. But she noticed a hand far to one side waving in the air.

  It was the least likely one Beth would have expected to volunteer. She had already gathered that the neediest of her indigent families was the Blanes. The three children dressed more poorly than the others, with too-small, threadbare clothes. Their shoes were so worn they had strung grocery store string around them to hold them to their feet. Yet it was the youngest, six-year-old Anna Kate, who was eagerly offering to pray.

  Beth stood in wonder, delighted yet worried about what might happen next. She nodded reassuringly, indicating with a gesture that the little girl should step to the front of the classroom. Anna Kate moved quickly, already folding her hands as she came forward.

  “You need ta stand up and close yer eyes,” the little girl informed her listeners in a soft voice. Then she waited while chairs scraped against rough floorboards. Each child stood and responded with bowed head and folded hands.

  “Dear God,” began Anna Kate in a hushed yet steady voice, and Beth, still working her way through the unexpected, was reminded that she too should close her eyes.

  “Thank you, God, for bein’ good. Thank you for the new teacher and the new books and . . . and all that other stuff. Help us to learn real good, and . . . and to obey like Momma says.” She paused, as if contemplating what more should be covered. Then finished, “Okay—amen.”

  Beth heard some murmured amens. Children resumed their seats. But Anna Kate called out an afterthought. “Just a minute.” All eyes turned back to her sober face as she looked up at Beth. “I
forgot to say, ‘Be-with-us-this-day-that-we-might-honor-You.’” The syllables rattled off so quickly it sounded as if they were all one word. She explained, “Momma always says that.”

  To Beth’s surprise all heads bowed and hands folded once again so little Anna Kate could pronounce the benediction as she had been taught.

  Beth blinked and swallowed a lump in her throat as she announced the pledge of allegiance, this time with the new flag in place.

  With the new resources, lessons were suddenly a much more interesting endeavor—for Beth as much as for the students. After lunch, she selected a book of fairy tales by Hans Christian Andersen, first showing them on the map where the author had lived and telling them a few facts about his life. She began to read The Little Match Girl, holding up the book to show the colorful illustrations as they appeared. The children—all ages and both genders—listened to the story, their faces enthralled. Beth could hardly contain her own joy. This is exactly what she had envisioned teaching would be—well, not exactly, but close enough, she decided.

  That evening, Beth wrestled again with what to do about her clothing. She had laundered the borrowed items, and it was time to return them. But she would be left with only beautiful things she was too embarrassed to wear. Lifting three of the new dresses over her arm, she slipped down to the kitchen, where Molly was preparing dried beans to soak for the next day.

  It was such a difficult question to phrase. Beth hesitated. “Miss Molly, could you— May I ask for your advice?”

  Not even raising her eyes, Molly answered, “Advice is free, dearie.”

  “I need to return the clothes I borrowed.”

  “Yes, ’pears it’s time.”

  It seemed easiest just to let the new clothing speak for itself. When Beth didn’t say anything further, Molly turned to look as she held up the dresses one at a time for Molly to assess. “My mother sent these to replace what was stolen.”

  Molly studied them and nodded. “I see.” And Beth knew she truly understood.

  Beth stumbled on, “I’m . . . I’m not sure what to do. I think my students will— That is, they’ll see me . . .”

  “As rich?”

  Beth sighed. “Yes—and different.”

  “You are though, ain’t ya?”

  “I’m not different, not really.”

  Molly shook her head. “Then why ya teachin’ ’em? If yer the same as the rest of us, how ya gonna change anything?”

  “I don’t want them to think I’m . . . I don’t know . . . well, better.”

  “You ain’t better—just richer an’ better schooled.” Molly chuckled, then sighed and dried her hands. “The world’s not fair, dearie. It don’t help ’em none to pretend otherwise. Yer comin’ is gonna make it clear that others got more’n them. A child don’t know what they’re lackin’ till they see somebody else got more. But I hope you can help ’em figure it out past that too—that with the learnin’ comes better chances in life. Just help ’em see that books’ll take ’em further than slaving away here.”

  “But I don’t want to wear these clothes. There’s no sense in rubbing it in. Couldn’t I—I don’t know—just ask to trade with the ladies who loaned clothes to me?” She knew it was a poor suggestion.

  “An’ keep them old things? Oh no, ya can’t. That would make them gals feel small as a tick. Besides, they wouldn’t wear the fancy ones either. For the same reasons you said.”

  “But I can’t wear these.” Beth sighed.

  “Hmm.” Molly pondered the dilemma. “Can ya make do till Saturday?”

  “Yes, I have my traveling clothes and what I’m wearing now. I can manage till then.”

  “Fine. There’s a car headin’ to the city Saturday mornin’. I’m sending out for some things. You can ride along.”

  “How does that help?”

  “Go on in and sell what ya don’t wanna wear. Then buy some yard goods—ya know, plain stuff.”

  Beth frowned. “But I don’t know how to sew.”

  “Now, let a body finish. Get them yard goods and ask one or two of the women here to sew up a few dresses for ya. That way, ya get yer common duds, and you can even pay ’em a little for their work.” She winked. “I can even tell ya which mommas to ask. See?”

  Beth smiled, understanding immediately. The idea had merit.

  “Jest one thing though, dearie,” Molly added. “Don’t ya go and get cheap, ugly fabric thinkin’ that’s gonna help. You gotta split the diff’rence and still be dignified and fine. Yer their teacher, after all. And you be sure an’ keep two or three of them fancy frocks for when you need ’em. Ya never know.”

  Beth was comforted to hear Molly’s solution and awed by her wisdom. Then she paused. “But what if someone asks why I’m going?”

  “‘Least said, quickest forgotten,’” quoted Molly. “Ya just don’t waste yer words explainin’. Ya got business in town, plain and simple. And you’ll be back.”

  Beth stole up the stairs, pleased with the common-sense advice she had heard—and from someone with far less “book learnin’” than she had.

  But her satisfaction was soon put to the test. Tuesday was dark and rainy, and she had to face some behavior problems from her students that she hadn’t yet experienced. Little Emily Stanton cried for her momma and refused to take her seat when asked. Alice McDermott and Sadie Shaw whispered together despite multiple warnings, then were insolent when Beth forced them to sit apart.

  “We can’t share our book if we can’t sit t’gether,” Sadie shot back at Beth.

  “Alice will have plenty of time to finish the reading while you’re busy writing twenty times on the board, ‘I shall speak politely to all.’ You may complete the reading after you’ve finished.” She motioned toward the blackboard as the girl slowly stood, muttering, “Speaking to all is what got me in trouble in the first place,” and strutted to the front.

  Beth had expected there would be bumps along the road, but she had felt she was already beyond the worst of it. When David Noonan pinned Miles Stanton in the hall while they were supposed to be getting a drink of water, Beth had reached her limit.

  “Children! Take your seats!” Pushing back those who had rushed out to watch the scuffle, she fumed at them, “I am very disappointed in your behavior today. I have no idea what is causing such disobedience, but I shall not tolerate it. We are striving for a fine school, and this conduct is appalling.”

  Emily had begun to sniffle again, and the boys were still glowering at each other. Without asking permission, Marnie slipped from her chair and approached Beth.

  “Miss Thatcher,” she whispered hesitantly, “can I talk to ya?” It was the pleading look in the child’s eye that caused Beth to assent. They withdrew to the front of the room. “It’s jest that David’s momma is mad at Miles’s momma on account’a Miles’s daddy owed money—an’ now he’s dead, an’ Miles’s momma can’t pay it. But David’s momma needs it real bad. That’s why them boys are fightin’ an’ Emmy’s so sad.”

  Beth hung her head, embarrassed that she had lost her temper. “And the girls?”

  Marnie shook her head solemnly. “No—the girls, they was just being ornery.”

  “Thank you, Marnie.”

  Beth seated the two boys on opposite sides of the room, called for order, and continued the lessons, giving a little more affectionate attention to little Emily Stanton. Beth understood that she would never know all the things happening in their lives, but she was ashamed she had lost her temper. It brought back to her mind the summary Frances had given her of the previous teacher—all yelling and cursing. She was the adult—and they were children. She should expect that they would behave childishly at times, but she was determined to remain composed despite it all.

  On Thursday afternoon Beth brought in some of the chemicals Mother had sent so she could demonstrate the various reactions upon mixing them. As best she could, she explained the invisible aspects of what was occurring. Beth could see that even the older students among
them were fascinated at the concept of atoms and molecules—the fact that all they could see around them, including themselves, was made up of tiny particles had captivated their imagination. Then Beth produced a science book and announced that anyone particularly interested in chemistry could take a turn reading during the remainder of class. Three of the boys were especially enthusiastic, pressing close together in order to share reading the book, even though most of the concepts were well beyond them.

  Unfortunately, this resulted in Friday being another particularly difficult day. The three, Wilton Coolidge, Georgie Sanders, and Levi Blane, decided it would be a fine idea to play a practical joke on the class. The ingredients which they had tucked away in a trash can, hoping to create merely a loud bang, turned into billowing smoke and a small fire instead. The students were forced to flee the building, coughing and sputtering. Beth stood, hands on hips, over the three as they scrubbed at the floor, trying to remove the resulting residue. Somehow she managed not to lose her temper or say what she was thinking, but it was dreadful for Beth to try and explain the incident to Helen Grant, who was apparently not inclined to modify her own reaction.

  The woman always seemed to be a bit out of sorts with the world, grumbling if the room was not back in order quite soon enough, or if the school items were not stored according to her instructions. Beth began to wonder if she groused just for something to say. She was cold and aloof, not even interacting with the other ladies in the community. But Beth dared not express her concerns to even Molly lest it aggravate the problem. She did not want to appear ungrateful for the use of Helen’s building.

  Beth had mixed emotions as she climbed into the car Saturday morning for the long ride back into Lethbridge with her bundle of dresses to sell. She sighed as she reviewed the week. She had felt the satisfaction of reaching for lofty ideals as well as the frustration of students whose behavior was disappointing and confusing. She was learning how to manage the classroom when things went well . . . and when they did not.