Loving Liza Jane

by Unknown

  Lili brightened. “Did you hear that, Papa? Perhaps I’ll wind up being her favorite little girl.”

  Liza laughed again. “Well, you never can tell.”

  “I will pound your erasers for you every day if you like, and straighten up the classroom, and pick up slates, and—”

  “How about we discuss classroom responsibilities later?” Liza suggested with a smile.

  “It’s running late, Lil,” Ben interrupted. “We best be going.”

  “But, Papa, Miss Merriwether and me just met.”

  “Miss Merriwether and I just met,” he corrected.

  “I thought you met a couple days ago,” Lili said, confused.

  Liza laughed outright. “I think your papa is right; I need to get some rest. It’s been a very—long day.” She threw Ben a knowing look, and he couldn’t resist the urge to chuckle, though it still bothered him that she refused to report the incident. He was tempted to go to the sheriff on his own, but he’d halfway agreed to keep the matter quiet.

  “Lili, you go climb in the wagon. I’ll be along shortly.”

  “But, Papa…”

  “Go.” Sometimes all it took was one word and a stern look to make his message clear. This was one of those moments. Offering one last smile to her new teacher, Lili turned and headed for the wagon. “I’ll come visit you again if Papa brings me, Miss Merriwether,” she called.

  “You do that, Lili,” Liza returned. Then to Ben, “She is charming.”

  “I hope you find her so in a couple of months.”

  “I’ve no doubt I will.” She reached a finger to Molly’s cheek, then looked at Ben and whispered, “I want to thank you for rescuing me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I suppose I was a tiny bit hysterical at first.”

  “You had the right to be.”

  She looked surprised. “Really?”

  He gave her a thin smile. “You should talk to Sheriff Murdock. I think he’d give the matter more than a five-minute investigation.”

  “Perhaps. But I meant it when I said I want this to remain under your hat.”

  Hesitating as he thought that over, he finally said, “I’ll agree, but on one condition.”

  “What is that?”

  “If even one more such incident occurs, or you are threatened in any way whatsoever, you will go straight to the sheriff.”

  “And if I don’t agree?”

  “Then I shall have to take the matter into my own hands.” With that, he tipped his head toward hers and, with his index finger, tapped her lightly on the tip of her nose.

  She stepped back, as if the tiny touch of his finger had emitted a shock. “I suppose that is reasonable, Mr. Broughton.”

  “Do you ever intend to call me Ben?”

  “No.” She gave him a sheepish look. “You are, after all, the parent of one of my students.”

  “Which would make it quite improper, I suppose?”

  “Precisely.”

  He chuckled. “You are quite a lady, Miss Merriwether.”

  ***

  Thankfully, the next several days passed without incident. Liza busied herself in her classroom, dusting, scrubbing the hard plank flooring, washing windowsills, sorting through old files and notes from former teachers, and learning what she could about her forthcoming students.

  From what she had determined, she was to have two first graders, three second graders, two third graders, three fourth graders, three sixth graders, and five students that ranged between the ages of twelve to fifteen, all of whom were working at varying levels. If her figuring were accurate, she would greet exactly eleven boys and seven girls on the morning of Monday, August 26.

  The schoolhouse was situated at the end of Main Street, easily within walking distance of Emma Browning’s place. It was a tall, rectangular building with a steep, gabled roof, white clapboard siding, and three uniform windows on each of the longer sides. The front of the schoolhouse had three steps going up to a wide front door, while the back of the schoolhouse had a much narrower door. She expected the students would use that door for such times as taking trips to the necessary, going out to the small playing field, or hauling in coal with which to feed the fire. In the winter months they would use the front door for entering and exiting since the coat hooks were stationed there.

  In the course of conversing with Emma, Liza had learned that local farmers and a few handy businessmen had joined together some five years earlier to erect the structure, building it in its entirety in less than a week. In addition to building the schoolhouse, they had also borne the work and cost of providing the outhouses. Once these were completed, the town had raised sufficient funds with which to purchase new textbooks and a few desks. Apparently they’d considered the remainder of the secondhand desks sufficient, although Liza would beg to differ on that point. Most were wobbly and marred from years of use. There were exactly thirty desks, and so she’d determined to put to the side those that were in the worst shape and use them for storing items such as extra readers, teaching supplies, and writing tools.

  Liza knew that once she moved out to the Broughton cabin she would need to consider some mode of transportation but had decided not to worry about it until colder weather set in. Until then she would walk, making the extra half-mile trek to the creek’s crossing. Perhaps she would meet up with Lili on the way, and they could keep each other company.

  It was Saturday morning. Dazzling sunlight cast its glow through the open classroom windows, throwing lazy shadows across the floor and heating up the room. Liza was preparing to take the trash barrel to the outside receptacle when she heard the schoolhouse door open. Whirling around, she discovered Mrs. Winthrop standing in the entryway.

  “Mrs. Winthrop!”

  “I thought I would drop by to see how you’re handling things. I’ve heard from various sources that you’re spending every waking minute in this place.” Mrs. Winthrop set about examining the room in its entirety.

  Liza gave an uneasy laugh. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say every waking minute, but it is true that I’ve spent a good deal of time here. I’ve much to do to prepare for my first day of school.”

  “Yes, it is coming up, isn’t it? Do you think you shall be ready in another week’s time?”

  Liza’s stomach knotted at the thought. “Yes, I’m quite certain I will be.”

  If anyone looked the picture of wealth and refinery, Mrs. Winthrop did in her long, shirtwaist gown of deep purple. The leg-of-mutton sleeves looked hot and uncomfortable, but they were in vogue according to a fashion magazine Liza had had occasion to browse through while still living in Boston. A matching hat with a frilled flap called a bavolet attached to the back of it to protect her neck from the sun, covered her head, where Liza could only imagine a tightly pulled back bun. To add to her stylish look she carried a small bag in one hand and a purple parasol in the other.

  Certainly, she was the best-dressed woman in a town that appeared not to have much in the way of possessions. Liza knew nothing about her other than that her husband owned the town’s only dry goods store. One thing she did know was that Mrs. Winthrop insisted on propriety, and so it also made her wonder what the woman thought of Liza’s own simple calico dress with the missing button, the three-quarter length sleeves, and the apron front.

  “I see that you have cleaned this place up with particular care.” Mrs. Winthrop walked to the windowsill and rubbed a palm along the wooden surface.

  “I have tried,” Liza replied.

  The woman managed a smile. “Yes, well, very good. Are you finding everything you need, then?”

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  “I would imagine there aren’t nearly as many teaching supplies as you would like. Heaven knows I have tried to convince this town to do better in the way of supporting its school.”

  “We will make do.” There were plenty of stone slates and chalk, several reams of old paper, and a good supply of lead pencils. Liza had been happy to find tha
t the majority of the textbooks were in decent shape. In the tall cupboard at the back of the room she had discovered a number of Comly’s Spellers, the Introduction to English Reader, plenty of arithmetic and geography books, and several penmanship books. Of course, they showed wear, but not one was missing pages.

  “I should think you would be comfortable in the winter. The stove is rather new, added when the building was built.” Mrs. Winthrop seemed especially proud of that fact. “The farmers tried to reinstall the old one, but at my insistence, the town purchased a new one. It only seemed fitting in light of the fact that the building was freshly built.”

  “I appreciate that, Mrs. Winthrop. It’s hard to believe on a hot day such as today that we will ever need a stove, but I’m sure we will.”

  “Our winters can grow very bitter, my dear. But I’m sure you’re used to that—coming from Boston.”

  “Yes.”

  “We don’t get much snow, but the frigid temperatures can be particularly loathsome.”

  The woman lingered, and Liza wondered if she had more to say. Not wanting to dismiss her intentionally, Liza merely picked up the wastebasket she’d earlier meant to carry outside.

  “Oh, I should also remind you that tomorrow is Sunday.”

  “Yes, I’m quite aware,” Liza replied.

  “You shan’t be working on the Lord’s Day, I would hope.”

  “Of course not.”

  “The service will be held here, as you know,” the woman said, lifting her shoulders.

  “Yes, I’ve been told.”

  “There are benches out in the building at the back of the property. At 7:00 a.m. several of the church elders will move the student desks to the back of the room and make way for the benches. I hope that won’t be too much of an inconvenience for you.”

  Liza offered up a smile but noted Mrs. Winthrop didn’t return one. “Not at all.”

  “I will be here to supervise, of course,” she added with a hint of authority.

  “Thank you. I appreciate that,” Liza said.

  “I would expect to see you in service, of course. After all, the teacher of Little Hickman has a reputation to uphold. But then, no doubt you recall all the rules of etiquette that you agreed to adhere to when you signed the contract.”

  “Naturally. I will do my best not to disappoint you.” Liza prayed her mounting irritation didn’t show.

  Mrs. Winthrop gave just a hint of a smile. “Well then, I suppose I should allow you to get back to work.” With that, she waved and headed out the door, seeming to leave a chilly draft in her wake.

  At suppertime, Liza locked up the schoolhouse, knowing that Mrs. Winthrop had a key with which to unlock the building for the elders in the morning. The neighborhood was peaceful and the main street quiet. Here and there, people passed her on the wooden sidewalk, nodded their greetings, offering warm smiles.

  Perhaps life in Little Hickman would be pleasant after all.

  Chapter Seven

  Lili, it’s time we headed for town. Church will be starting in less than thirty minutes.”

  ��Is Reverend Miller going to preach today?” Lili bounded out of her room all smiles. Her hair ribbons were crooked again, but it couldn’t be helped. Ben had had a difficult time as it was getting both girls moving this morning. The uncanny heat of the night had seemed to steal away a good share of everyone’s sleep.

  “As far as I know,” he said with a smile.

  Reverend Miller had been circuit riding for well over fifty years. To Ben’s knowledge, the man serviced three other churches, traveling from one town to the next every week, and paying visits to sick parishioners all over the region throughout the week. The man easily surpassed seventy and suffered from chronic heart problems. Ben worried that he would keel over on some deserted country road, and no one would discover him till spring.

  As far as Ben was concerned, Little Hickman had grown big enough to support a preacher of its own, and he’d been hoping his longtime friend, Jonathan Atkins, might assume the position. Jon had recently completed his seminary degree and moved back to town.

  Of course, there were bound to be those who would balk at the idea of having to increase their giving. A full-time preacher would require a salary. It would seem there were some in the church who had not yet caught the vision that God was bigger than any of them could imagine. Just the same, he meant to bring up the matter at the next church council meeting.

  “Do you suppose he’ll have a peppermint stick in his pocket?”

  Ben gave his daughter another grin. “He usually does. But don’t ask him for one. That would not be polite.”

  “I know that, Papa. Usually I just go up to him and smile very pretty, and that is all it takes to get him to reach into his pocket.”

  “Lili,” Ben said in a scolding tone while fighting back a smile, “where do you learn such impish ways?”

  Shrugging, she laughed and skipped out of the house, leaving him to tend to a whimpering Molly.

  The schoolhouse was packed to the gills this morning. Whether it was because people wanted to check out the improvements inside, or whether they were hoping to get a look at the new teacher, Ben couldn’t say. He wanted to believe it was because folks were anxious to worship God on this hotter-than-usual August morning.

  He spotted Miss Merriwether almost immediately. There she was, bright as could be in her rose-colored gown and prim little hat. She’d found a place in the very front row and, although he wouldn’t have minded greeting her, he certainly wouldn’t make a point to do so. At least there were several folks gathered around her to make her feel welcome. For that Ben was happy.

  “Papa, there’s Miss Merriwether,” Lili said, tugging on his arm as they made their way past other worshippers to sit on a bench about halfway back.

  “So I see.”

  “Can we go sit with her?” she asked midway down the pew.

  “No, Lili. We will sit here.”

  “Can I go sit with her?”

  “We will sit as a family.”

  Molly began to fidget as soon as they sat, and Ben told her in a whisper to behave, bringing about a batch of tears. Frustrated, Ben shifted her on his lap and jostled her, but she wouldn’t be comforted. When Molly’s cries intensified and she started kicking, several heads turned, particularly those of the women. Somehow he managed to ignore their blatant stares and kept up with his incessant bouncing.

  To Ben’s relief Carl Hardy went to the front and led the gathering in the singing of the first hymn. Ben sang out in his deep bass voice, hoping to drown out the sounds of his anxious child. Lili paid no mind to her sister’s whimpers, more bent on getting a better view of the much more exciting Eliza Merriwether.

  At the close of the five-verse song, Molly was still going strong. In fact, she’d geared up for her second round by the sounds of it, her blotchy, puffy face and runny nose a clear indication of her sour mood. “Lili, stay here,” Ben instructed quietly. “I’ll try to calm Molly outside. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Can I go sit with Miss Merriwether?” Lili whispered loudly.

  Pausing in the middle of the row, and knowing he was blocking the view of everyone behind him, he nodded in haste. He was in no position to argue with her, and Lili knew it. He would have to speak with her later for having manipulated him unfairly, particularly when he’d already told her no. Of course, he’d also told her they would sit as a family, and now here he was deserting her.

  Ben paced outside the building in an attempt to calm Molly. A woman would know what to do, he ruled. Ridiculous. No woman knew his Molly the way he did. She was simply going through a persnickety stage, as he’d heard one woman refer to these cranky times, and no amount of fussing by any woman would change that fact. Still, the notion that two heads were better than one came to mind and stuck there.

  “God, what would You have me do?” he muttered heavenward, mopping his wet brow as he marched about. Seeing a shady oak tree to stand under, he made for the
spot while talking in low tones to Molly.

  Life was anything but easy these days with the farm chores never ending, the housework mounting, those feelings of failure as a single parent spiraling, and now the pressure to finish the cabin. He was only one man. How was he supposed to pull it all together?

  “Be still and know that I am God…” The familiar verse of Scripture buried itself in his consciousness, and he thanked his heavenly Father for the gentle reminder. Still, it didn’t solve the problem of Molly’s hysteria and his own sense of helplessness.

  “Peace I leave with you…” Another wonderful reminder of God’s faithfulness and ability to care for his needs if he would simply let them all go into His hands. Easier said than done, he ruled, as he sat down and then leaned against the aged oak’s trunk.

  At long last, Molly settled into his chest and heaved a couple of long, deep sighs. He suspected she’d slept as restlessly as he had last night. “Feeling better?” he asked in a gentle tone, rubbing her soft cheek with his callused hand. As if in answer she looked up at him and managed a weak smile. “Now you decide to smile,” he said with a chuckle. “What got into you?” he asked, reaching into his back pocket for a handkerchief with which to wipe her eyes and runny nose. Pulling it out, he also pulled out a rumpled piece of paper. After wiping her face, he unwrapped the piece of paper to study its contents.

  Marriage Made in Heaven Agency

  It was the classified ad he’d run across in the post office a couple of weeks ago. Was it some kind of sign from God that he’d drawn it from his pocket in the churchyard? He studied the ad again, noting each woman’s name with particular care and then her individual specifications. Specifications seemed an odd word to use in describing each woman’s character, rather like searching out a prize horse.

  Each one of these women claimed to be God-fearing, even going so far as to describe briefly their testimonies of faith, although the space given them to do so was sorely lacking.