[Canadian West 01] - When Calls the Heart (23 page)

I said that I was so glad Phil was now able to rejoin his
family.

"I'm sure that Wynn, also, is glad to see me finally make
it," said Phil. "I think that he may be a bit tired of riding the
binder and milking the cows."

"Soft touch!" was Wynn's rejoinder.

"Now he's going to tell me that he'll be glad to get back to
some real work," Phil predicted.

"Right," teased Wynn, "I was getting-"

"Don't say it." Phil held up his hand. "Soft or not, we
couldn't have made it without you."

"You'll need a few months to regain your strength, but I
guess you'll get it back during the winter. It'll be five months
before you'll need to put your hand to the plow."

"I'm afraid that I'm going to have a tough job holding him
down," said Lydia.

"Young Thebeau is good with stock. There's no excuse for
Phil to get out there," Wynn assured her.

The Delaneys continued discussing future plans. and I realized that Wynn had no thought of staying on at the farm
once Phil was home again. I wondered where he was going and
if I'd ever see him again. But I was afraid to ask.

I noticed Lydia holding Phil's hand tightly. She looked as
if she were afraid to let go, lest he leave her again. I could
imagine how many things they had to talk about. I stood up.

"I must get back to my seat," I said. "I need to gather my
things together."

Wynn stood and moved aside so that I could pass him. The train gave a sudden lurch, and I nearly lost my balance. His
arm was quick to steady me. I hurriedly righted myself by
grabbing the back of a seat and withdrew from him. This contact, however short and unplanned, had unnerved me.

I had gathered my few belongings together in short order
and knew by the landmarks that we still had some minutes
left before arrival. I picked up my book and stared at the
pages, but I didn't read. I heard a stirring and looked up in
time to see Wynn lower himself' in the seat opposite me.

"May I?"

"Certainly."

"I wondered if you had arranged for a way home."

"I-not really. I guess when I left I wasn't thinking that far
ahead."

"Fine. Then you can ride with us."

"I-thank you."

"You don't mind?"

"No, of course not. That is, if you don't mind."

"Then it's settled."

He was about to go but I detained him. "Mr. Delaney," I
said. I had never called him by his first name, though I
thought of him as "Wynn." "I know that I tried to explain
about the box social, but I didn't say how-how sorry I am for
publicly embarrassing you."

"Embarrassing me?"

"Yes. Even though I thought that you were married, your
neighbors-they knew that you weren't, and they had no idea
that I thought-what I did-and-"

"Would it have made a difference?" His tone was forthright. "Would you have found time to share your lunch if you
had known the truth?"

"Of course."

He considered that for a moment.

I started, "Why else would I-"

"Miss Thatcher," he said and he grinned at me-that slow,
teasing grin, "I am not so conceited as to believe that a young
lady such as yourself, cultured and refined, would jump at the
chance of sharing a lunch with the likes of me-untamed and unpolished-under any circumstances. You were quite within
your rights to turn me down-for whatever your reason-no
questions asked."

I gasped.

"But-but I wouldn't have."

"And if Bill Laverly had been the lucky purchaser, as he
wanted to be, would you have had lunch with him?"

I was cornered, but I had to be honest. I struggled for
words. There didn't seem to be any truly appropriate onesjust truthful ones.

"Yes-yes, of course. That was the whole idea."

He lifted his hat to me with the same smile shining out of
his eyes.

"You're a good sport, Elizabeth," he said. "See you in Lacombe." He replaced his hat and was gone.

A hired auto was waiting for us in Lacombe. It had been arranged for Phil so that the trip would not be too tiring. Because the family still clung together, I shared the front seat
with Wynn who was driving. I'm sure that he noticed my silence, but he said nothing about it. Instead, he gave me a
short Alberta biology lesson about the local flora and fauna. I
found it all very interesting; in fact, he was providing some of
the very information for which I had unsuccessfully searched
in the Calgary library.

"Could you-would you mind coming to the school and
telling some of this to the students?" I blurted out without
thinking. "It's exactly what I've wanted to teach them, but I
know so little-and I couldn't find any books."

"I'd love to," he said, and I was certain that he meant it,
"but I'm leaving tomorrow. It's back to work for me on
Wednesday."

"I see."

I sat silently. He spoke, "You can go ahead and use the little that I've told you; and the next time that I see you, I'll give
you an additional lesson-how's that?"

My heart skipped-then made up for the lost beat in double time. I would be seeing him again.

"You come home often?"

"No-sometimes not for months, or even years. It depends
on where I'm posted."

"And where will you be posted?"

"I don't know that yet."

"You don't know? You go back to work in two days, and
you don't even know where?"

"I'll know in time to get to the place they want to send
me.

"Then there may not be another lesson," I said dully. I
may not ever see him again, my heart mourned.

"True," his voice as serious as mine, "there may not."

We drove in silence for a while. Suddenly he turned to me
in excitement.

"Will Blake!" he exclaimed. "He's a real woodsman. If
anyone knows about our area, Will does. He would be glad to
come and speak to your pupils. Want me to talk to him?"

Disappointment seeped all through me. Couldn't he see
that it was more than knowledge that I was interested in?
Still, I appreciated the fact that he had bothered to consider
the needs of my pupils. I forced a smile.

"That's fine," I said. "You'll be very busy. I'll talk to him.
Thank you."

My students and I settled back into classroom routines.
The air was colder now, so each morning I shivered my way
through starting my own fire; and then, just when the teacherage was beginning to get comfortable. I had to leave the
warmth of it and hurry across to the school to get the fire going
there. It certainly helped to know how to handle the dampers
properly. Even so, on some days I seemed to get more smoke
than flame.

The students, for the most part, were working hard and
making steady progress. Even the older boys were beginning
to study seriously. Andy was still talked about in loving terms.
We missed our cheering section.

In mid-November we began work in earnest on our Christmas program. The students were so eager to make a good
showing that they coaxed me daily for a chance to practice. I
thought that part of their enthusiasm might be due to the fact
that rehearsal kept them from studying spelling and geography, so I vetoed the idea of spending too much time away from
the books and encouraged them to learn their lines at home.

As the time for the performance drew near, we were all
caught up in the excitement. First there would be the program. All of the students were involved in presentations. After
that portion was over, Santa would make an appearance, and
hand out eagerly awaited candy bags. Mr. Laverly had a committee in charge of the bags-and of arranging for Santa, and I was glad that they were not my responsibilities. I was sure
that I would have all I could do to get the program and the
school in order. After the arrival and departure of the jolly red
elf, we would all enjoy a lunch together. It sounded simple
enough, but it actually took hours and hours to prepare.

Whispers began to circulate among the girls as to what
each would be wearing. Many even spoke of new dresses that
their mammas were going to be making out of "Jane's old
one" or "Sally's full skirt" and, in some cases, even brand-new
material, purchased just for that purpose. It was easy to catch
their excitement. If ever they felt in need of and entitled to a
new dress, now was the time.

The boys said nothing about what they would be wearing.
Instead, they talked of the new bells for the team harness or
the fact that their pa had said that they could do the driving.
It seemed that Christmas was an important time for beginning
drivers.

We all hoped for good weather, for snow on the ground to
make things pretty, and temperature not too cold for the
teams. The people could bundle up, but the poor horses had to
stand in the cold while they waited for the proceedings of the
evening to end.

The night finally arrived, crisp and cold but clear. The
wind was not blowing, and I felt thankful for that fact as I
trudged through the snow on my various errands between the
teacherage and schoolhouse. Each step squeaked and
crunched in the dry snow.

I built the fire early so that the room would be comfortably
warm, and put on two big kettles of water to heat. The pump
handle was so cold that even through my woolen mittens, my
hands complained.

I carried the pails of water carefully. knowing that water
splashed on my skirt or shoes would be ice by the time I had
finished my chore and would make for a most uncomfortable
evening.

My breath preceded me in little wisps of silvery smoke,
curling around my head as I moved forward. Overhead the
stars shone so brightly that I felt I had only to reach out my hand to feel the warmth of them. As I walked toward the
schoolhouse, one glittering star was shaken from its celestial
bed and streaked earthward, leaving a long silver streamer
trailing behind it.

In the distance I heard the wail of a coyote. They were not
very close tonight. I waited for the answer of the pack, but it
did not come. Perhaps the rest were snuggled closely together
in an underground den.

By the time I heard the jingling of harness bells and the
squealing of sleigh runners, the schoolroom was comfortably
warm and the final preparations were complete. I straightened
my hair, smoothed out the skirt of my green velvet dress that I
had decided to bring with me from Calgary for this very night,
and prepared to meet the first arrivals.

The women and children bustled into the schoolroom to be
unbundled from their many wraps, while the men remained
outside for a moment to care for the horses. Blankets that had
been used to tuck in children were now thrown over animals,
and hay was placed within the teams' reach. There was not
enough room in our small barn, so many of the horses were
tied to fence posts around the schoolyard.

The Christmas program went very well, all things considered. There were a few minor calamities: Mindy Blake forgot
her lines and fled the make-shift stage in tears; Tim Mattoch,
with his poor eyesight, tripped his way onto the platform, but
he bounced back up and led the people in the laughter; Maudie Clark became confused in the drill and misled Olga Peterson and Ruthie Clark-soon the whole group was in a snarl, so
I had to stop the whole thing and have them start over. Their
second attempt was nearly flawless. Sally Clark did a wonderful job reciting "The Night Before Christmas," and little Else
sang "Away in a Manger" in such a sweet, clear voice that it
brought tears to more than a few eyes. Our playlet went well,
too, and we had a most responsive audience. I'm sure that
with the evening's performance each of the students felt like a
star, and there were no parents there who would have argued
with them.

When the program had ended, each of the students found a
seat. It was now time for Santa to make an appearance. We
waited, every ear straining, and then we heard a distant jingling of my hand-held school bell and a "Ho-ho-ho." A cheer
went up from all of the children in the group-I think that
even some of the adults joined them.

Santa entered-red suit, whiskers, and all-with his hoho-ho ringing out merrily. He said a few muffled words to the
children, asking if they had been good, to which they replied
in chorus, "Yes!" He then went right to work calling out
names and passing out the candy bags. At the sound of each
name, a child bounded forward, eyes shining and hands
reaching out eagerly. As the last child returned to her seat, I
gave Mr. Laverly a nod-he was to thank our unknown Santa.
But to my surprise, Santa produced another bag, this one
from within his jacket. He called loudly, "Miss Elizabeth
Thatcher."

I stood dumb-struck.

My students cheered and clapped.

"Miss Elizabeth Thatcher," Santa called again.

"C'mon, Teacher. C'mon," the students coaxed.

I could feel my face flushing, but I finally got to my feet
and began moving toward Santa.

"C'mon now, Miss Thatcher," Santa echoed the children
in a hearty, disguised voice. "Step right up here on the platform. Don't be shy, now."

With the help of several hands I found myself on the platform. I reached timidly for the brown bag in Santa's hand, but
he pulled it back with another ho-ho-ho.

"Not so fast now, Miss Thatcher. Have you been a good
girl?"

The children howled, and I blushed.

"I-I've tried to be," I answered.

"Has she, children?" Santa asked my little group. A big
cheer went up, along with some shrill whistles. Santa ho-ho'ed
again.

"Well, then I guess you can have it. But first give Santa a
little kiss." He tapped his whiskered cheek with a gloved
hand.

I'm not sure if my face was red or white at that point.

"C'mon now," he said, "give Santa a little kiss." He continued to point at his cheek. Cheers and howls filled the room.

I looked at the whiskered cheek, shrugged my shoulders
slightly, and standing on tiptoe, planted a kiss on dear old
Santa amid shouts, cheers, whistles and clapping.