Unyielding Hope

by Janette Oke

  Lemuel felt a hand on his shoulder. Miss Lillian smiled back encouragingly. Together they followed Mr. Thompson to the last door. This was the moment. Lemuel hoped one last time that his teacher would be kind—that his peers would be friendly.

  “Miss Clark, I have a new student for you. This is Lemuel Andrews.”

  The woman who answered was young and pretty. She was slight in stature, but self-assured and energetic. “Welcome, Lemuel. We’ve just begun our mathematics lesson for the day. Let me introduce you to the class and you can take the empty seat behind Orville.”

  Lemuel looked around at the surprised faces staring back at him. There weren’t many students making up their high school. Only four girls and a boy. That must be Orville. Lemuel hurried to take the offered desk and shrank down into it. His plaster cast clunked clumsily on the wooden surface.

  Orville turned his head to whisper over his shoulder, “Finally! Another boy!”

  “Steady now. Quiet, please. We’ll get to know our new student better at lunchtime. But for now we’re going to finish this lesson. Do you have paper, Lemuel?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered, reaching into his sack for a new notebook and the freshly sharpened pencil.

  Miss Clark’s attention shifted back to the equation she was explaining on the chalkboard. Lemuel let his eyes drift around the room, taking in any clues he could find. There was a chart showing parts of speech, portraits of famous people, and a history timeline. But he also noticed a large poster of a human skeleton, a microscope stored safely on a top shelf, and a row of thick reference books that he hoped might include science topics. The discoveries brought a cautious smile to his face. He hid it behind his hand and turned his attention toward Miss Clark.

  Walking out of the school alone, Lillian paused where the sidewalk intersected with the street. In the quiet morning, the first thing she noticed was that she could actually hear birds singing. No one was asking her questions. No one needed a shoe tied or a drink of water. For a moment she wasn’t certain what to do with her sudden freedom. It felt unfamiliar and awkward to have no pressing activity. Grace was planning to walk home with the children after school. So Lillian wasn’t needed at all until it was time to prepare dinner.

  And then she knew. She’d go to the tearoom for a quiet cup and a scone. She’d stop at the dress shop in town and perhaps purchase new gloves. Then she’d stroll through the library and find two or three good books to read once the children were all in bed. With a deep sigh of satisfaction, she started off toward Main Street.

  “Lillian? Lillian Walsh, is that you?”

  Turning around, Lillian recognized an old classmate, Maeve Norberg, walking up the sidewalk toward her. “Oh, hello.” She tried not to reveal her disappointment that her plans had been interrupted.

  Hurrying closer, Maeve fluttered with enthusiasm. “I was only just talking about you the other day. I was telling Molly Derne—you remember Molly, she and I are neighbors now—I was telling her that I wondered what had become of you since high school. Now that I live so far out in the country, I don’t hear nearly enough of what goes on with you townsfolk.” And then her face fell dramatically. “Oh, but I was so sorry to hear about your poor mum. What a dear, lovely lady she was. I just thought the world of her—and your dad too. Such a wonderful man. How’s he doing, your old dad?”

  Lillian glanced over her shoulder at the window display of gloves before she answered with a forced smile. “He’s gone to Wales. He—”

  “Oh, Great Britain! How lovely. I’m obsessed with travel. My husband, Tommy, promised he’d take me to Europe next year. I want to see it all. Have you met my husband, Tommy? Tommy Gardner? He didn’t grow up with us. He moved here from the States.”

  “No, I haven’t met him. I—”

  “Oh, he’s a catch!” She giggled aloud like she was still sixteen. “A rancher. We live on a big spread outside of town. Imagine happening to see you while I’m in town today! I hardly ever come to town. We’re so busy with the cattle and the horses.”

  “Yes. Lucky.”

  “Do you ride, Lillian? I don’t remember ever seeing you ride. Well, you should come by our place sometime. I’ll take you on a trail ride beside the prettiest little creek you ever saw. We have a view of the mountains that just can’t be beat. And . . .”

  “Hello, Lillian.”

  She startled and spun around toward another familiar face. “Walter?” Maeve’s younger brother had certainly changed, matured. When Lillian had last seen him, he was playing baseball for the town, had pitched a perfect game. She returned his smile, just a little too earnestly. “Hello. It’s nice to see you, Walter.”

  He tipped his cowboy hat politely, revealing waves of blond hair. His voice was so much lower than Lillian remembered. “You too. I don’t think I’ve seen you since . . .”

  Maeve batted at him, swinging her dangling purse. “Oh, you silly! Sneaking up on us like that. Do you remember Lillian Walsh? Of course you do! Didn’t she used to help you with your English homework or something?”

  “It was chemistry.”

  “Sure. Of course. Well, she’s promised to come for a ride at the ranch. Oh, and supper! We can cook up some steaks for supper on the new grill that my Tommy just built.”

  “What brings you to town, Lillian?”

  An array of answers flashed through Lillian’s mind, each lengthy and difficult to explain. “I was just going to get a cup of tea—and then, maybe, some gloves.” Her voice grew quieter, less confident. “Or the library.” Her voice had faded to almost a whisper.

  He smiled. His words came slowly, quite the opposite of his frenzied sister. “Would you be interested in some company? I’m drivin’ Maeve back home soon. It’s where I work, too, but . . . I’m sure we’d have time for a visit with you.”

  Lillian remembered how enchanting she’d found his unhurried voice to be, as if among the slow parade of words there was another whole script unfolding, a subtext in his expressive eyes that she found fascinating. He continued, “We can’t stay long. Maybe half an hour, and I understand if you aren’t able . . . if you don’t have time to . . .”

  “No, I’d like that. I’d like the company. It would be nice to catch up a little.”

  “Perfect,” Maeve chimed in, taking Lillian’s arm and drawing her down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Walter fell in behind. “But instead of the tearoom,” Maeve said, “let’s go to the hotel. It’s such a nice atmosphere. They have loads more choices. It’ll be perfect.”

  It was a pricier option. Lillian worried that she should decline. I just won’t buy the gloves. I’ll make do with the ones I have. I’m with old friends, after all. Mother would want me to honor old friendships.

  They were soon in the hotel lobby, thick carpet underfoot, paneled walls surrounding them. Walter added his cowboy hat to the row of Stetsons on the hooks provided and they were escorted farther. A large stone fireplace rose on one side of their table, a broad picture window on the other. When the long, folded menu was placed in Lillian’s hands, she found herself again deflecting the worry that it was too much, that she shouldn’t have come. But Father took me here often. It’s not so strange at all. Yet her mind held stubbornly to a vision of Grace seated in the back of a primary classroom next to Bryony. The guilty feeling grew.

  Maeve took charge when the waiter arrived. “We’re going to have something to eat—fresh fruit salad, I think. Plus a cup of raspberry tea. Let’s get a pot for the table. And a platter of scones with butter and marmalade.”

  Before Lillian could reply, the order had been received. She wondered how she’d ever pay for her portion of what Maeve had decided they’d all share. Then Walter added, “Coffee, eggs, and bacon for me, please.”

  The waiter disappeared again.

  “We’re so busy at our ranch right now. My Tommy ordered up a couple new bulls from England. They should come on the train soon. They’re Herefords. That’s what we raise. He’s a member of the Canadian Heref
ord Association.”

  Walter leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the table. “What are you up to these days, Lillian? Helpin’ out any other miserable students?”

  She laughed. “No, but . . .” She wondered how much she should say about her current situation. One thing was sure, if she told Maeve, she wouldn’t need to tell anyone else. That would be taken care of for her. “I’ve actually gotten involved with caring for a small group of children—staying at my house, in fact.” Again she hesitated.

  Walter nodded approvingly. “Sounds interestin’. Family?” His familiar smile had not changed.

  “No. Well, that is, I’m working alongside my sister.”

  “I didn’t think you had a sister,” Maeve blurted, as if she’d caught Lillian in a fib.

  Lillian cleared her throat. “I didn’t think I did either. But it turns out, I do.” She smoothed the crisp white napkin on her lap, waiting to see what further comment Maeve might make. But the friend seemed dumbstruck, so Lillian continued, attempting to keep her voice lighthearted. “You see, when my birth parents died, I was told my little sister Grace died too. But, as it turns out, she didn’t. And recently I was able to find her in Lethbridge. So now we’re living back at my parents’ house and caring for five orphaned children until we can find families for them.”

  Maeve gaped in silence.

  Walter sat back in his chair. “That’s astonishing! All of it. That’s just incredible.” He leaned forward again, searching her eyes. “I don’t even know what to say. Good for you, Lillian. What an amazing story.”

  Lillian noticed the flecks of gold in his warm brown eyes. Somehow she had forgotten about those flecks. “Maybe you can meet my sister, Grace, sometime. We’ve become very close.”

  “Sure, I’d like to meet her. And I’d really like to hear more about how this all came to be.”

  Maeve was less impressed. “How come you’re not at home with the children, then?”

  “They’re in school. It’s the first day in their new school.”

  “Well, that explains,” Walter said, chuckling, “how you came to be wanderin’ downtown with vague plans for your day. I’ll bet you haven’t had any time to yourself for a while.”

  “No,” Lillian answered meekly. “It doesn’t feel quite fair, honestly—to be without responsibilities today. Then again, I might not get another opportunity like this for quite some time.”

  Walter began to speak. “But—”

  “Well, that’s it, then,” Maeve declared. “We’ll have all of you over to our ranch. You and your sister and the children too. You can come for a cookout this Saturday. The youngsters can play and we’ll all sit for a good chat by the fire. My husband, Tommy . . .”

  Lillian smiled, only half listening to Maeve’s long explanation of her plans, trying to avert her gaze as Walter drank his coffee and ate his brunch. She found it far too embarrassing to cross glances with him. Instead, she tried to focus on sipping her tea and picking at her food while Maeve managed the bulk of the conversation, taking delight in catching Lillian up on all the latest news from town, the folks she’d claimed to have long since lost track of.

  The bill came and Lillian reached for her purse. “No need,” Maeve declared. “Walter will take care of it. Only the men should ever pay.”

  Lillian felt her face blanch with embarrassment. She began to protest.

  “No, she’s right.” Walter laughed, rising from his chair. He helped Maeve slide her chair back before doing the same for Lillian. As he did so, he answered, “Men should pay. It’s the proper order of things, eh?”

  Lillian accepted his assistance, uncertain if she should pull coins from her purse and press the matter. “But I didn’t intend . . . I never meant for you to . . .”

  He seemed amused by her dismay. “I’m glad to treat. Things are goin’ well in the cattle business. And don’t forget how much I owe you for gettin’ me safely through high school. Not sure I would have made it without your help.”

  “But that hardly means—”

  “Oh goodness, Lillian. Let it go.” Maeve led their way out of the dining room, tossing over her shoulder, “He knows his place.”

  Walter laughed again and, ignoring the insults of his sister, dropped the bill and his money on the cashier’s counter, retrieving his hat from its hook. “I’m glad we crossed paths again, Lillian. I hope I see you around again soon.” He pushed open the door and held it for the women to exit. As Lillian passed close by, he added, “And I hope you do decide to come for the cookout on Saturday. You’d be very welcome.” He tipped the Stetson back onto his head.

  “Thank you. I’ll talk to Grace. I’ll try. If we can come, I’ll telephone by Friday.”

  Lemuel reached for his sack and drew out the packet of sandwiches. He was feeling terribly hungry but even more anxious that he’d be able to follow the unspoken rules about lunchtime in this new setting. Orville lifted his one-piece desk and spun it in place so it would face the center of the room, making conversation easier. The girls followed suit until there was a small circle of students facing inward. Lemuel chose not to reorient himself. It didn’t seem wise with only one functioning arm.

  “Where ya from?” Orville asked, beginning to lay out his large lunch on the desktop in front of him.

  “Lethbridge.” It wasn’t exactly true. But it was much easier to give that answer than to explain everything in the very first sentence he spoke to this new boy.

  “How’d ya break your arm?”

  Looking down, Lemuel answered, “Got kicked by a horse.”

  “Shucks! Must have been some kick. I seen knees and legs hurt, but arms? Do you like horses?”

  Lemuel answered with a crooked smile. “I like the ones that don’t wanna kill me.”

  They laughed together and fell into the food they’d brought from home. Orville explained that he lived in town but had gotten a job in the summer on a nearby ranch. He hoped to be a rancher someday, too, explaining to Lemuel that “that’s where the money is.”

  With a deep breath, Lemuel came close to sharing that he hoped to be a doctor, but at the last moment he swallowed the words. It was too soon. There was no way to know the implications of such a bold statement just yet.

  Chiming in on the boys’ conversation, the girls began to offer their own preferences.

  “I just want to have a family—and my own house here in Brookfield.”

  “I’d like to be a teacher.”

  “Not me! I want to move to Paris. I’d like to travel.”

  “How are you going to do that, Lorraine?”

  “Guess you’ll have to marry somebody rich, eh?”

  Lemuel listened carefully as the back-and-forth banter continued, and he paid special attention to the names of the four girls: Helen, Lorraine, Emily, and Elsie. They seemed nice enough, though they laughed and teased far too much for his preference. Still, it wouldn’t be so terrible to get to know them.

  By the time he was walking home, following the others through town, Lemuel had decided that he was probably going to like living in Brookfield. If only, if only, nothing else would happen to destroy it all again. If only he could trust Miss Grace and Miss Lillian to keep their promise to him for the next few years—just until he was able to graduate from high school.

  But in the back of his mind he was beginning to assemble alternative plans, just in case.

  CHAPTER 10

  Hazel

  Lillian waited impatiently, tapping the tips of her lace gloves against her chair’s armrest. She’d never been called to the principal’s office before. While she’d been a student here, she’d avoided any behavior that might bring trouble, had often avoided even the accolades that could have drawn unwanted attention to herself. She’d preferred to remain fairly anonymous instead.

  Grace seemed unfazed. “What do you suppose Harrison did? It couldn’t have been much. It’s only been four days!”

  The door opened and Mr. Thompson appeared. He beckoned the
m inside. “Thank you for coming. I always appreciate a prompt response from parents . . . uh, I’m sorry, from home.”

  Grace and Lillian sat on one side of the large desk. Across from them, Mr. Thompson rocked back in his oak office chair, rotating it slowly from side to side. “How do you feel the children are adjusting? Do they seem comfortable here?”

  Grace seemed relieved by how he’d chosen to begin. “Well, I can say that Bryony has made excellent progress. She likes Miss Campbell very much, and today she only asked me to stay for twenty minutes before she was fine that I left.”

  “Yes, I’d say that’s encouraging. This was a new situation for us, and we weren’t sure if your presence would be a good idea in the end. So I’m very glad to hear it. Do the others appear to be making friends? Are they able to manage the lessons and the homework?”

  Grace rose straighter in her chair, as if pleased to discuss their progress. “I would say they’re managing well so far. But it’s quite early to tell. They’re still reviewing what the rest of their classes covered in the first weeks of school.”

  Lillian was certain that the other shoe would drop soon. She worried again about Harrison’s behavior.

  “Let’s see . . .” Mr. Thompson consulted a list on the desk in front of him. “I would say that George has settled in well. He appears to be a capable student. I hope he’s already made a few friends?”

  “He talks about two boys—David and Hugh, I believe.”

  Lillian was surprised. There’d been so many conversations—so many new schoolchildren mentioned. She was impressed that Grace had been able to remember the names George had shared.

  “Lemuel appears to be working above average. Miss Clark is pleased with his attitude toward school, his work ethic.”

  Lillian nodded proudly. “Yes, Lemuel is a good worker. And he has a servant’s heart, I think.”

  “Fine, fine. I don’t see any issues at this point with him. It speaks well of his mind, considering the little time in school he’s actually had. His diligence has taken him far. Certainly there are gaps in his knowledge. And high school can be a difficult transition for any student. He’ll have to study extra hard to do well on the provincial exams. I would encourage you to give him time at home for extra reading across all subjects. It will help him tremendously.” He paused. “Harrison also appears to be doing well.”