The Teacher and the Preacher

by Victoria Phelps

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude,” Caroline blurted. “You’re so smart and independent. I never imagined John spanked you.”

  “Well, he means to be the head of his house same as any other man,” Marcie sighed. “It’s been a long time, but I deserved it. When we first married, I looked at the floor more often than the sky. Once we got the hang of marriage, and I understood his expectations, the spankings almost stopped. John would never punish me without reason.”

  Caroline’s eyes were round as robin eggs. “What did you do?” She breathed the question.

  Marcie crossed the room and entered the kitchen. “Tea?” She held the pot up in question.

  “Please,” Caroline replied.

  “Well, I guess it started a while back. John said he wanted another baby. The twins have each other and little Katie is left too much on her own. He wanted her to have a brother or sister to grow up with. He said he doesn’t believe in an odd number of children.” Marcie laughed.

  “An odd number of children?” Caroline tested the idea.

  “Right. Not one or three. But what if we have another set of twins? Do we need to have one more to even it up?” Marcie filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. “He said we’d cross that bridge when we came to it, but I’m the one who carries, delivers and nurses for a year,” she sighed. “But I agree. Another baby would be a joy, and Katie would adore a sibling.”

  “What happened?” Caroline was riveted to the story.

  “I was feeling a little low. I might be pregnant. Even though we decided to try to get in the family way, the reality of it made me a little, oh, I guess depressed is as good a word as any.” She motioned to a chair, and Caroline sat.

  “The twins had cabin fever, and they’d nagged me all day to take them to town. They each have a penny, and when I wouldn’t take them, they asked to walk to town on their own. John and I have told them they may walk to town on their own when they are ten and not before, and the twins know that. I guess they meant to wear me down, and it worked. John had gone to deliver horses, Katie was down for a nap, and I thought what could it hurt? To be honest, I was enticed by the idea of a little time alone. I knew I shouldn’t do it, but I let them go.”

  “Oh, no,” Caroline said.

  “Oh, no, is right.” Marcie’s laugh was rueful. “John returned early and came upon the twins walking down the road. He got the story from them right quick and turned them back towards home. When they entered the yard, I knew I was in trouble. One, I broke a rule for the twins that we had made together, and, two, he knew I meant to hide the fact. He would have learned of it eventually. The children aren’t good at keeping a secret, and I wouldn’t ask them to lie to their father. I was sneaky to let them go while he was away. I violated his trust.” Tears coursed down her cheeks. “He spanked me, and he forgave me.” She mopped her face with the corner of her apron.

  “Will he spank the twins? They knew better than to ask,” Caroline wondered.

  Marcie removed the kettle from the stove and filled their cups with steaming tea. “No, he doesn’t believe in spanking children. Only his wife.” She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “They’ll be mucking out the barn for a week or two is my guess. He said there would be a few years before Adam becomes a man when he will rebel. Young men can get mighty full of themselves. He said his father kept him and his brothers so tired they didn’t have the energy to cause trouble, but the woodshed was a last resort. He remembers it well. A father has to hold a son back until his mind catches up with his body.” She blew on the hot liquid in her cup. “Enough about me and my poor behavior. How can I help you?”

  “Well, I need help finishing my dress for the wedding, and I hoped John had two more old horse blankets we could use. I have two more shepherds to dress. The MacGregor boys came to school Friday, and I had to give them a part,” Caroline explained.

  “I’m sure he does. Why don’t you lay the dress out on the table, and I’ll go get the blankets,” Marcie said.

  When the door closed behind her friend, Caroline opened the sheet and withdrew the unfinished dress. It was deep rose. A color Sven loved. She threaded her needle and began attaching a row of lace around the collar with tiny, even stitches. Two more rows would stretch from shoulder to waist, and another would trim the cuffs. The hem was marked but unsewn.

  Marcie returned with two blankets. “I’ll sew the ties on these, and they’ll be ready to go. Then I’ll begin on the hem. We can get this done.” Her voice was confident. Her manner sure.

  “May I ask you a personal question?” Caroline enquired.

  “Sure, what’s on your mind?” Marcie paused in her creation of shepherd garb.

  “You said you decided to have another baby. Doesn’t God decide those things?”

  “Well, yes and no. Many couples let God decide. But it is possible to have a say in when and how many children you have. I buy condoms from a store in Denver. They are tubes of rubber a man wears while having sex. They’re not fool proof, but it helps prevent pregnancy. Talk it over with Sven. I’m sure he knows they’re available.”

  “I will. Now I better get busy with this lace.” The two women worked the afternoon away. The sun was just slipping over the horizon when the last thread was snipped.

  John entered the house with two tired, dirty children. “Marcie, these young ones need bathing and dinner. They are to go directly to bed after they eat.”

  “All right. Come on, children.” She gave Caroline a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning when you bring Micah on your way to school.” She herded the twins from the room.

  “I’ll walk you home.” John helped her into her coat. “I’m sure Sven doesn’t want you on the road alone after the sun sets.”

  “Thank you. I was supposed to be back before dark.” Marcie wrapped her scarf around her throat and gathered her dress in her arms.

  Her mind and heart were full. Her dress was finished. Her shepherds would all be clothed, and maybe she needn’t get pregnant every time she and Sven made love. Now she knew it could happen that way, she wanted to have a say.

  Chapter 10

  Sven

  Sven walked the short distance to Caroline’s rooms with Loki trotting by his side. The program was tonight, and he’d promised to help ready the little school room.

  Caroline had been a whirling dervish of nervous energy all week. He’d managed not to turn her bottom a bright pink, but his hand itched. He rubbed the offending palm against the side of his pants. She’d worked herself into a lather. She wasn’t eating well, and he didn’t believe she was getting enough sleep. After Saturday, he would monitor those behaviors for himself.

  Saturday couldn’t come soon enough as far as he was concerned. Caroline would calm down after they’d said their ‘I dos’, or he’d calm her down. One way or the other. Yes, sir, one way or the other.

  He pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. “Caroline,” he called, “I’m here. Are you ready?”

  Her flushed face appeared at the top of the stairs. “Just a minute. Would you come up and get Micah?”

  “Micah? Where are you, Micah?” he sang as he climbed the stairs. It was a little game they had, the boy and he. Micah’s loud screech split the air, and when Sven entered the room, the baby had thrown a blanket over his head. He wriggled on his bottom and kicked his feet in delight.

  “Where’s Micah?” Sven roared again.

  The baby giggled and ripped the blanket from his head with a squeal.

  “There he is,” Sven declared. He scooped him into his arms pausing to put his lips to the baby’s tummy and blow. More giggles and more wriggling were Sven’s rewards.

  Sven lowered the child to the ground so he could pet the dog.

  “Oki,” Micah gave him several thumping pats.

  “Stop playing and get him ready for the cold.” Caroline ordered from the door to the bedroom.

  “Caroline.” Sven’s pale blue eyes snapped.

  “I’m sorry
. I’m so nervous.” She wrung her hands. “I hope Margaret Foster doesn’t forget to bring her baby.”

  “I don’t believe the Fosters will forget they have a baby, but why are you worried about him?” Sven wrapped Micah in a quilt and tied the bow of his knitted cap under his chin.

  “He’s going to be baby Jesus. I talked to her yesterday. It will be so much more lifelike with a real baby in the manger.” Caroline buttoned her coat and wrapped a scarf around her neck. She picked up a tray of cookies. “Ready,” she declared and headed for the stairs.

  “I thought the parents were providing the food,” Sven said. “Come, Loki.” He pointed at a spot next to his leg, and the dog took his position.

  “They are, but I was worried there wouldn’t be enough,” she called over her shoulder.

  The walk to the school was achieved in silence. Sven wanted the evening to go well, and a scolding on the way wouldn’t help achieve that goal.

  Once in the little room, Sven sat Micah on a blanket and motioned Loki to guard him. The big dog dropped to the ground. His nose settled between his paws, and his tail thumped the ground. Micah crawled closer to get a fist full of fur. Sven grinned. A dog was a loyal friend. Sometimes better than the ones that stood on two legs, and that was a fact.

  “I’ll get the fire going in the stove. Until it’s warm in here, you and Micah stay bundled up,” Sven ordered.

  Caroline, buzzing from corner to corner like a hummingbird too friendly with the corn liquor, prepared the stage, lit lanterns, and scattered boughs of greenery about the room.

  Sven snatched her from her frenzied orbit and pulled her into his arms. He held her close, and felt her heart thumping against his chest. “Sweetheart, I love you; the children love you; the town loves you. Everyone is excited for the program. There aren’t many social events, and it’s a treat when there is one. Why, people who don’t even have children in the school are planning to come.” He sat on one of the chairs he’d carried over earlier in the day and pulled her onto his lap. “It’s going to be wonderful.” He patted her back in a soothing rhythm.

  Loki growled at the sound of approaching footsteps. Caroline jumped off his lap. Sven gathered Micah into his arms. Showtime.

  The town folks arrived in buggies, wagons, horses and by foot. Women and children rushed into the warmth of the room while men settled the horses. He thought a flask circulated hand to hand, but it was mighty cold. You couldn’t blame a man for taking a little comfort when he had the chance.

  The door flew open one last time and the MacGregor boys tumbled through.

  “Jeff, Eli, I’m so happy you made it. I know your farm is a fair distance away.” Caroline took each boy by the arm and led them into the whirl of students.

  Jeb MacGregor appeared in the door. He held his shotgun in a loose grip by his side.

  Sven approached him with a welcoming smile. “Jeb,” he greeted the stony-faced man, “it’s good to see you.” He leaned close. “Would you mind leaving your shotgun outside? It’s just a children’s program. You won’t need it.”

  The man squinted at his weapon and took a careful sweep of the room. “I guess you’re right, Preacher. My boys couldn’t talk of nothing else but Mrs. Connors and being in the play. Darned near talked my ear off, so I brung ’em. I’ll just put this in the wagon.” He returned unarmed, and Sven exhaled.

  “If everyone could find a seat, we’ll begin,” Caroline called.

  Sven took Micah into his arms and headed for an open chair.

  “Say, is that your boy?” Jeb MacGregor asked. “I didn’t know you had a young ’un.”

  “No, but he will be on Saturday when I marry his mama,” Sven replied.

  “Well, I’ll be. He looks just like you what with that blond hair. He’s big, too.” Jeb’s voice carried over the heads of the audience.

  “Have a seat, Jeb,” Sven encouraged. He suspected folks had talked about Micah’s appearance before, but no one had ever voiced an opinion. Two more days and he could claim him. The baby and his mama. A smile twitched at his lower lip as Caroline helped the students into their homemade costumes. Her black hair was gathered into a bun at the nape of her neck. Two days from now he could bury his face in that forest of fine, black hair. He planned to bury himself in other parts, too, but he best keep his mind off those matters for now.

  On the little stage at the front of the room, Caroline called for attention. “Thank you all for coming tonight. The children and I are very excited to have you here for our retelling of the Christmas story.” She turned toward the side of the stage and motioned toward the actors. “Children, you may begin.”

  Ava Wayne as Mary came lumbering out with a giant pillow under her dress. Alex Blake playing Joseph held her arm and gazed at her with concern.

  “Let’s stop here, Mary. There must be room.” He banged his fist on Caroline’s desk. “Mister, we need a room. My wife’s gonna have her a baby.” He returned to Mary’s side to a twitter of amusement.

  Adam Wayne appeared. “You quit knocking on my door, stranger. Don’t you know the town’s full up? Everybody’s come to pay their taxes, and I don’t have room for the likes of you,” he snarled.

  “But mister, I need a room. My wife can’t go no further.” He motioned at the pregnant Mary who nodded and patted her pillow.

  “That’s right. I need to lie down,” Mary added.

  “I’m mighty sorry, but there is no room at the inn. If you want to sleep in the stable, you’re welcome to it. I can’t do better than that,” Adam, the innkeeper, said.

  Joseph shrugged his shoulders and looked down at Mary. “That all right with you?”

  “It’ll do,” the pregnant Mary replied. The couple meandered off the stage and circled behind. Props were hustled onto the stage: a manger, a star hanging from a long pole, straw scattered on the floor.

  Mary, minus the pillow, appeared on stage and sank to her knees next to the manger. Joseph joined her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Caroline smiled and tipped her head toward the manger, and Margaret Foster carried her three-month old baby to the stage and placed him with care in the manger. She pulled his blanket tight and patted his little belly before returning to her seat beside her husband.

  Younger children entered the stage each with a mask tied over their face. A cow, two sheep and a donkey peeped through eyeholes cut into the paper. They broke into a chorus of moos, baas and hee-haws until a wave from Caroline brought the cacophony to a close.

  Sven cleared his throat to keep from laughing. A few other men and several mamas hadn’t been quite as circumspect.

  Silence regained, shepherds filed by in a line to make a soldier proud and stood in front of the stage.

  Jenny Blake draped in a white sheet with a ring of paper around the crown of her head rose behind them. “Do not be afraid,” she cautioned the boys wearing capes made of horse blankets. “I have good news. Today in Bethlehem a Savior has been born. You will find him lying in a manger.”

  Another young girl with a paper crown rose from behind the boys, “Glory to God in the highest and peace on earth,” she said before both angels sank from sight.

  Eli MacGregor shouted, “Hark.”

  Not to be outdone, his brother raised his own voice a decibel or two over his brother’s and added his own, “Hark.”

  Sven sent a surreptitious glance in the direction of Jeb MacGregor. Praise be, the man’s face glowed like he’d swallowed a candle. He might be a bit of a curmudgeon; he might shoot at anyone who set foot on his land, but he loved those boys. He wondered about the man he might have been before his wife passed.

  The remaining shepherds took control of the scene. “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see what’s happened,” one suggested. “Yup, let’s go,” the other agreed and the four shepherds exited to the right.

  Three children entered from the left wearing old horse blankets that had been decorated with bits of lace and buttons. These characters were clearly of a higher intelligence and ra
nk.

  One of them pointed at the star hanging from a pole, “Would you look at that,” he said.

  “I’ve never seen a star so bright. I say we follow it,” the second traveler stated.

  “Yup, let’s go,” agreed the third.

  Sven wondered at the popularity of that particular line. Caroline had told him she simply explained their parts and let them find the words. Well, you couldn’t argue with, “Yup, let’s go.” He stifled another chuckle.

  The three children wandered back and forth for a few minutes before joining the others on stage. It was a bit crowded with Mary, Joseph, the Foster baby, various animals, a squadron of shepherds, two angels and three wise men.

  At that moment, the Foster baby decided he’d had just about enough. His little face scrunched into a tight fist and took on a purplish hue. A cry loud enough to bring a grown man to his knees filled the room.

  Margaret Foster scurried to the front of the room and retrieved the unhappy baby from the manger. She gave an apologetic smile and a shrug of her shoulders before she rescued the unhappy infant.

  Now the room did rock with good natured laughter. Even Caroline wiped tears from her eyes to Sven’s relief. She wanted the program to be perfect, but there was no figuring or fighting what a baby might do.

  The chuckles spread across the room and just when he thought they were finished, someone burst forth another guffaw. It was cleansing, good-natured, community laughter, and Sven loved it. It was, after all, the season of joy and good-will to men.

  The children waited until calm reigned and at a signal from Caroline they began to sing. “Silent night, holy, night. All is calm, all is bright.” Joseph stepped to the fore and motioned for the audience to sing along, and sing they did.

  It was glorious. It was Christmas spirit made real. When the room rang with “Christ the Savior is Born,” Sven didn’t believe there was a dry eye in the house.

  Caroline appeared with the actors. “Thank you for coming. You have the most wonderful children, and they have worked hard to prepare for tonight. The good women of this town have provided refreshments. Please stay and celebrate with us.”