[Canadian West 01] - When Calls the Heart (22 page)

"I have four children to care for," she announced with a
smile. "Jon, dear, why don't you move our guests to a more
comfortable setting, and I'll join you in a few minutes."

"I must go, my dear." Nanna said, rising. "This has been
lovely, and I so much enjoy sharing dinner with you and your
children. It's much better than sitting up to a table alone."
She gave a mock shiver. Mare stopped to kiss her on the
cheek.

"We love to have you. You just come over whenever you
wish."

"Oh, I do-I do," she said with a twinkle.

Jon took Nanna home. We all said appropriate things as we
bid her good-bye, and then Mary hurried upstairs to put the
children to bed.

The moment that I had dreaded had come. I knew that
Wynn deserved an explanation for my rudeness in days past,
but I didn't know quite how to approach the subject.

Wynn and I were sent to the front parlor and each given
another cup of coffee-which I neither wanted nor needed, but
at least the cup gave me something to do with my nervous
hands. I knew that Jon would soon be back to join us, so I decided I dared not fill in the time with small talk.

"I'm afraid that I owe you an explanation," I began in a
rather quavering voice as soon as we were seated before the
fire.

He had been watching the flames, but he turned to look at
me. I didn't know if it was my words or my voice that gave
away the fact that what I had to say was important.

His eyes held a question but he did not speak, so I went on.

"You see, I thought-that is, I understood, that-that you
were Phillip's father."

His jaw dropped with astonishment.

"You thought that I-that I--that my brother's wife was
raising my child?"

"I didn't know that you had a brother."

"You thought that-that what"

"I thought that Lydia was Your wife."

"But how...?" He shook his head in disbelief, then held
up a hand as though to stop me from proceeding too quickly.
Finally he spoke again. "Lydia is a sweet, lovely woman-but
my brother Phillip is the fortunate man."

"I know that now. Mary told me."

He stood up and paced a few steps, then stood gazing into
the fire. When he swiveled to face me, his face was still filled
with puzzlement.

"You thought that I-was a married man?"

"Yes.

He again shook his head, then stood thoughtfully looking
into the fire. Finally he turned toward me.

"Where did you ever get such an idea?" His tone was not
accusing, merely baffled. But I was on the defensive now.
Surely it wasn't all stupidity on my part. Tears were stinging
my eyelids. I stood to my feet.

"I got the idea," I said, with deliberate emphasis, "because
you were living in the same house as Lydia, you came to school
to see me about young Phillip, you asked me for his homework, you spoke of `his mother and I,' and you shared the same
last name-and nobody ever mentioned to me that there was
such a person as Phillip, Sr."

My voice had become quite loud by the time I had finished
my speech. The astonished look left his face as he followed my
reasoning; a look of frustration took its place.

"I see. . . ," he said a little lamely when I had finished, and
he turned to the flames again.

I sat back down. My hands were trembling. Carefully I set
my cup and saucer on the small table beside my chair.

"I see," he said again, and turned back to me. "So, figuratively speaking, you tossed your box lunch back in my face?"
Again, his openness and honesty took the sting out of the
words.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't even look up. I just sat there
twisting my handkerchief' slowly around a finger and feeling
the color rising into my face. Suddenly I heard a soft chuckle. I
looked up quickly then, wondering why his sudden change of
mood.

"It's rather funny, isn't it?" His eyes held their usual good
humor, and he chuckled again. "Here I spend ten dollars and
sixty-five cents so that I can sit with the pretty schoolteacher:
and, instead, I eat alone because she thinks-"

"You paid ten dollars and sixth-fine cents? For a box
lunch?"

He laughed as he nodded sheepishly, like a schoolboy.

"But that's--that's ridiculous! All of the baskets were going for one or two--"

"Not that one."

Now my face was hot with embarrassment. That evening I
had not paid attention to the price that my basket had
brought.

"It was a good cause," he assured me seriously, "so I do not
begrudge the ten-sixty-five."

I remembered little Andy again. It had been a good
cause....

"And," he said, this time in false lament, "it could have
been a good buy as well."

"I'm-I'm sorry. Truly, I-I-"

"So am I, Miss Thatcher." His eves fixed on mine for an
instant, then he turned back to the fire.

The few seconds of awkward silence that followed seemed
far longer.

"Actually," he ventured, "perhaps it was all for the best."
He stepped back from the fire and took the seat opposite me,
putting down his now-empty cup.

"The best?" I questioned, not understanding him.

"I'm afraid I was beginning to think like a farmer."

"And there is something wrong with thinking like a farmer?"

He smiled. "Not for a farmer."

"And-you're not a farmer?"

„h„

I nodded.

"No, not I."

"But you-"

"I was given a special leave so that I could give Phillip a
hand-to take off his crop. I was raised on the farm, so at least
I know what to do and when to do it. I even enjoyed it-for a
change. Once or twice, I even wished that I had stayed on the
farm myself. A farmer is, after all, his own boss-to the extent
that the elements will allow him, while ..." He paused and
shrugged. "But Phillip will soon be back to again take charge
of his farm-and his son-and his wife."

He was teasing, and I once more felt my face flush.

I wanted to ask what he now would do. where his work would take him, but I didn't. Instead, I went to the window
and looked out on the quiet evening. I was just in time to see
Jon return from taking Nanna home.

"I think that I will go say good-night to the children," I
said and gathered up the coffee cups to take them to the
kitchen.

I felt his eyes upon me as I left the room. It was rather impolite of me to desert him, but Jon would soon be in to keep
him company.

We saw Wynn, Lydia and Phillip, Jr. at church the next
morning, but we had little opportunity to chat. I was glad
about that. I still had some sorting out to do.

That afternoon, Mary and I had some time alone: she directed the conversation to Wynn.

"So," she said directly, "what do you think of our Deenow that you've allowed him his rightful single status?" She
laughed as she said it. and I tried to laugh with her. but I
flushed too.

"He's-he's a very nice man." The words sounded silly,
but I couldn't think of anything else that I felt was appropriate
to say.

"He's more than nice," Mary said with enthusiasm. "He's
-very special. I had even dared to hope-" She restrained
herself, and looked at me quickly as though to see if I had
caught on to what she had been about to say. Changing her
mind, she said, "Just wish he weren't so stubborn."

"Stubborn?"

"Well, not about everything, but he's got this crazy notion
that marriage and his work do not go together."

"Oh?" I was hoping she would understand that as a question.

"He's determined-absolutely determined-that he will
never ask a woman to share his life with him. He says that
other men can run their lives in this order: God, wife, work; but his has to be God, work, wife, and he won't ask a woman to
take the lesser position."

"My, my," I said, trying to sound casual and even a bit
sarcastic, "he must be a Uery special man."

"No, no. He doesn't think he's special. He just thinks that
his job is. He's totally dedicated to it-but then, of course, it
does take him into some rather primitive settings. He has already spent time up north, and I'm sure he will again. And he
says that he won't ask a woman to share that. I guess it's
rather tough-"

"But if a woman really loved a man," I interrupted, "surely she wouldn't mind ... Doesn't he know there is such a
thing as love-real love-and if a woman--"

"Little Beth," Mary said, her eyes twinkling, "maybe
you'll have to show him."

"Now wait a minute ..." I started, blushing to my roots.
Mary laughed outright.

"I really don't think that he would be such a difficult pupil; and I have heard that you're a good teacher," she teased.

Though blushing and tongue-tied, I still refused to be baited.

"So-" I began, trying to gain control of the conversation-and myself, "what is this special, oh-so-important,
impossible-to-live-with job?"

Marv became serious.

"You don't know what Wynn does?"

"No. Whv should I know?"

"He's a Mountie."

"What?"

"A North West Mounted Policeman."

"I know what a Mountie is. I'm just surprised. I never
thought..."

Then, as if I finally had found the lever to release the nervous tension of the previous twenty-four hours, I burst out in
laughter. "Julie would swoon," I gasped out.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing." I was starting to recover from my laughing.

Babv Elizabeth cried, and Mary rushed off to look after her. I was left alone with my churning thoughts and emotions.

I remembered the words, ". . . I was beginning to think like
a farmer," and I thought that I now understood what Wynn
had meant-at least a bit. A farmer certainly didn't need to
worry about his work conflicting with the taking of a wife.

On Monday morning I wanted to spend time in the local library to search out some information I needed in my teaching;
I asked Jon if he would drive me downtown well before train
time. So he delivered me to the station where we purchased
my ticket and left my suitcase with the clerk. I bid Jon goodbye, trying hard to explain just how much the weekend had
meant to me. I now felt ready to return to my classroom.

I walked the short distance to the library and began to
browse through the titles. It was a small library so I had not
bothered asking for help but went looking on my own. My eyes
caught a rather unusual title, The Origin and Meaning of
Names. I pulled it from the shelf and flipped through the
pages. I found "Elizabeth." It was Hebrew, the book said, and
meant "consecrated to God." The meaning pleased me. It was
nice to belong to Him.

I cast a quick look around to see if anyone was near, then
turned quickly to the W's. I didn't expect to find Wynn, but I
did. "Old Welsh," it said-"fair one." I closed the book quickly and tucked the small bit of information away. I agreed with
the book. I then thought of Mary's teasing-that I should try
to change Wynn's mind about marriage. Against my will, the
idea popped into my mind, I'd like to-I'd really LIKE to.
With a smile I thought that I should have taken lessons in winsomeness from Julie. I had no idea how to go about changing a
man's mind-especially regarding marriage. I jolted myself
from my reverie and set about searching for the information I
needed for teaching.

Boarding the train in plenty of time, I selected my seat. It
appeared that the coach would not be very full. I settled myself for a long, tedious journey as we pulled away from the depot. This time I was prepared-I had brought along a book to
read. Perhaps the stopping and unloading, loading and shuf fling, would not bother me quite so much if I kept my mind occupied.

I couldn't concentrate on my book. I found myself staring
out of the window watching the slowly passing landscape and
the bustle of activity in the small towns where we stopped to
exchange passengers and cargo. As we pulled out of Red Deer,
I decided to take a walk thorugh the coach and stretch my
legs.

When I stood up and looked down the car, I discovered that
I had been sharing the car with the Delaneys. I attempted to
quietly sit back down before I was spotted, but Lydia noticed
me. She waved and I returned her greeting, and then she
beckoned me to come and join them. I didn't see how I could
politely refuse. Wynn rose to his feet as I approached them,
and he motioned for me to take his seat beside Phillip, Jr., facing Lydia and Phillip, Sr. I had not met the elder Phillip before. It would have been easy to tell that he and Wynn were
brothers, even though Phillip was pale from his hospital stay
and was shorter and fairer than Wynn. Lydia was beside herself with joy; it was plain to see that she had missed her husband terribly, and I imagined the strain it must have been on
her. No wonder there had been so many weekend trips to Calgary. It seemed strange to me that Phillip had never mentioned his father, but perhaps that was the way the small boy
had determined to handle his anxiety. In fact, I had never
heard him refer to his Uncle Wynn either, though he certainly
seemed to think highly of him.

"Mother is waiting at home," Lydia confided. "She can
hardly wait for Phil to get home so that she can fatten him up!
I can imagine that she's been cooking for two days straight."

"I'm willing," her husband said. "I am so weary of hospital
cooking that I'll be happy to have Mother fuss for a while. I see
that she's managed to put a few pounds on Wynn-though I'm
sure that it wasn't as many as she would have liked."

"That was a difficult assignment," Lydia jested. "Wynn
worked it off as quickly as Mother cooked it on."

Young Phillip decided to take his new Animals of the
World picture book to the seat across the aisle. I then moved
over so that Wynn might sit down again.

Although Phil seemed to have the same sense of humor as
his brother, he didn't possess quite the same unruffled confidence. Perhaps it is because Phillip has been ill, I reasoned.
But even beyond that, there was something about Wynn that
set him apart. Maybe being a member of the Mounted Police
has given him assurance, I further told myself-but that
didn't seem to be the whole answer either. I finally decided
that it was just "Wynn." That was why he took his work so
seriously and why he was capable of such dedication to his difficult job. I was convinced that he must be a very efficient
member of the Force.