Where Courage Calls: A When Calls the Heart Novel (20 page)

G
ATHERING
TOGETHER
PAPERS
SHE
HAD
GRADED
many days before, Beth had mixed feelings as she set out for school again. The two weeks of rest and fellowship had come just at the right time, and she would miss it. But she also was looking forward to being back with the children—to feel she was accomplishing something significant.

Her students, though, seemed restless and preoccupied as she faced them from the front of the room. Apparently they did not share her desire to be productive once more after the Christmas break. Beth simply stood before them, waiting till they noticed her silence and gave her their attention. She knew she had to be particularly vigilant and creative to keep them on task, pressing forward with the lessons despite their lack of concentration. By the end of the day she felt drained and trudged home disappointed—in herself and in them.

Molly noticed immediately, and without Beth saying a word, she patted her shoulder and told her it would be better tomorrow. And it was. As the winter days moved along, their routine was established once again.

Beth was somewhat nervous as she opened another letter from Mother, then pleasantly surprised when she read of Mother’s regret over having lectured Beth about her activities in her last correspondence. Next followed much more detail about the family’s Christmas celebrations, along with a wish that Beth had been present. Mother also wrote of upcoming plans and news about some friends Beth knew. In the very last paragraph she added, “I’m so glad Edward was able to spend Christmas with you. I do trust you were congenial.”

There it was—Mother’s thinly veiled suggestion that Beth cultivate a relationship with him.
Did he find
some way of communicating his visit to her? Or perhaps
his own mother had passed along the news. . . .

The winter days were short and often drab, and Beth found herself walking to school before the sun was up and coming home in twilight. The meager lamps on the school tables worked hard to provide sufficient light for the students on the cloudy, snowy days. Beth worried about the stuffy room, now that it was far too cold to open the windows. But she was managing to get more sleep, even though she continued Bible club and English lessons each week.

Three additional miners had joined the class at Frank’s cabin. It was now a lively mix of interesting personalities, which Beth enjoyed greatly. The men were learning far more quickly than Beth had ever imagined. She was certain this was due to Paolo’s efforts to coach and challenge them throughout the week. By far, Alberto was the most proficient. Beth suspected that he had already known more English than he’d been willing to admit.

But partway through January a blizzard hit, the first Beth
had experienced since arriving in Coal Valley. Molly told her there was no need to send Teddy to put out the word that school was canceled—the mothers would not allow their children to leave home in this kind of weather even if Beth had managed to get to school herself. For two days icy snow blasted against the windows and whipped over the roof. The howling wind through the trees drowned out all other sounds, including the ever-present mining equipment. At Beth’s question, Molly assured her that the work underground would continue.

Frank also surrendered to the storm, giving up his frequent visits for the duration. Beth had no doubt he’d likely taken in guests too. It would not be the first time he’d invited some of the miners to sleep on his floor when the weather was particularly nasty. His cabin was not large or extravagant, but it stalwartly held on to the heat of its potbelly stove much better than the thin boards of the camp buildings. Some of the miners, Beth was told, would shovel snow up against the sides of their dwellings, hoping for some insulation against the driving winds and bitter cold.

When the storm was finally spent, Beth peered out into a crystal world, polished fresh and clean and bright. Several of her students were already bundled up and playing in the new snow, and she hurried into her own coat and hat and mittens. She’d been ill when she’d last watched them from inside the window. She determined that today she would enjoy some of the pleasures of the snow for herself.

They seemed genuinely surprised at Beth’s appearance but quickly accepted her into their fun. She helped in their efforts to build a snowman—though the powdery snow proved poor for such construction. So they worked instead on digging a tunnel. Her cheeks were rosy and her fingers almost numb
before Molly called them all to sit on the porch for some hot chocolate and cookies. Beth stayed with them, enjoying their chatter and answering their questions.

“Didn’t ya have snow where you grew up?”

“Of course,” she explained, “we often had a great deal of it. But my mother rarely let me play outside in the cold. I was quite sickly as a child.”

“So is Levi. His momma keeps him in too,” Georgie informed her. “Says he gots to stay warm.”

“Did ya have any brothers an’ sisters?”

Beth answered solemnly, “I have two sisters. But I also had a baby brother who died. I still miss him,” she said quietly. The children stared at her with new interest. She smiled around at them and added, “One of my sisters is older, and she’s married. The other sister is younger. And I also have a sweet little nephew named JW.”

“JW? What sorta name is that?”

“It stands for John William. It’s kind of a nickname.”

“Bonnie has a nickname,” Daniel said with a grin. “Want to know what it is?”

Bonnie rose to her feet in a menacing manner. “Stop it, Daniel. I’ll tell Momma!” He laughed, but chose the better part of wisdom, hunching down inside his parka as if the coat would protect him.

“Miss Thatcher, bet yer glad you didn’t grow up with a brother,” muttered Bonnie.

Beth changed the subject. “In the city where I come from it’s quite flat—and there are people and buildings everywhere.”

“I bin to the city,” Maggie piped up. “When I was real small, Momma said. I don’t even ’member. And then we come out here with my daddy.” Speaking the word aloud brought silence all around. “I miss my daddy,” she added softly.

Beth reached to brush her rosy cheek and answered tenderly, “I’m so sorry, darling. I’m sure you miss him very much.”

Jonah muttered, “Momma says not to t-t-t-talk about him. But I l-l-like to ’member.”

Beth scooted forward in her seat. “She’s probably still feeling very lonely, because she misses him too. And sometimes when we’re still feeling bad, it’s easiest to try not to think about it. But you can talk about your daddies with me.”

“Don’t it m-m-make you feel bad too?”

Beth could feel her tears welling up and blinked them away quickly. “It makes my heart hurt for
you
. But that’s a different kind of pain. So if you’d like to, you can come and talk to me whenever you want.”

Molly brought one more plate of cookies and offered them around the small circle. “Can I have one fer Levi?” Anna Kate asked. “He don’t get much sweets.”

“He don’t get much sweets ’cause he don’t get much food,” Maggie blurted out.

Anna Kate was too young to be put off by the comment. “Anyways, he’d wanna cookie.” She stuck out a tongue at Maggie.

Beth turned to the pair of little girls. She asked solemnly, “Is that true, Anna Kate? Do you not have enough to eat?”

With childish candor, she answered, “Momma says it’s jest till the s’ply train can get through again.”

Beth tried not to meddle, but the idea that any of her children did not have enough to eat brought serious concern. She thanked them for allowing her to play in the snow with them, stealthily tucked a few more cookies into Anna Kate’s pocket, and waved at them all as they left.

Later Beth approached Molly to see if she were aware of the problem.

“I knew they was hard up, but I didn’t know they was quite so low.”

“Is there anything that can be done?”

Molly dropped down onto a kitchen chair. “Esther Blane’s a real tough nut. She don’t take help none. Even turned down Frank flat out when he tried ta give ’em some fish.”

“How many other families do you think are having a difficult time?”

Molly shook her head. “Three or four. Maybe more. Them pensions is startin’ to run out, dependin’ on how long their man worked in the mine. The gals is jest scared to death what happens next. Problem is, nobody knows.”

Beth would not be deterred. “Then whatever we do can’t be targeted at one family—or even a few. It must be offered to all the children.”

Molly looked at her for a long moment. “What’re ya suggestin’?”

“How about if we see they get a good breakfast? Many schools have done that much. And it’s one of the cheapest meals to provide.” She watched for Molly’s reaction.

“Careful what ya start, dearie. Might be bitin’ off more’n you can chew. And sometimes failin’ is worse ’an not tryin’—when it comes ta stirrin’ things up.”

Beth sighed. Unconsciously she touched the locket again. She could not drive from her mind her recent illness, no doubt brought on by overextending herself. She would need much prayer before she moved ahead.

“How much does it cost to buy a cow?” Beth asked. She had pulled Philip aside to a secluded corner of the hallway after Sunday dinner.

He stared back as if she’d lost her mind. “A cow?”

“The children need milk,” she explained. “I thought we could call it a school project, maybe teach them each to milk it. That way we don’t have to make any of the mothers feel we’re giving charity. The children are the ones providing for it. It would kind of belong to them all. . . .” She could tell she hadn’t been very convincing.

“Have you spoken with anyone else about this idea?”

She looked away self-consciously. “No, I thought I’d try it out on you first—sort of a test run.”

Philip shook his head. “It’s an awful lot of work to keep a cow—you’d be amazed at how much they eat. And have you given any thought to where it would be kept? You had best discuss it with someone who knows cattle a lot better than I do before you move much further with your plans.”

Beth clasped her hands tightly in front of her, her knuckles white. “The Grants have a big shed behind the pool hall. I’m wondering if it might be kept there. I know we’d have to bring in hay too. I just hoped it wouldn’t be
too
complicated.”

“I know you want to help, Beth.” The pastor reached out to squeeze her arm gently. “But what would happen to the cow when you leave at the end of the school year? I admire your good intentions, but perhaps you would be biting off more than you could chew.”

Beth blew out a long breath. “You just repeated Molly’s very words.” She had hoped Philip might be more positive. Now she would have to go back to Molly and see if she might have further ideas.

Molly immediately vetoed the cow as impractical. She was unwilling to even discuss it. “If yer set on gettin’ ’em breakfast, then porridge is yer best bet,” she maintained.

Beth had a difficult time imagining the children would be
very enthusiastic at the idea of porridge every morning, but perhaps if they were hungry enough it would suffice. However, it did not satisfy the wide nutritional range her mother had asserted was required.

“A while ago,” Molly said thoughtfully, “some o’ the mothers were talkin’ ’bout settin’ up somethin’ like this. You should ask Katie Frazier—or Frances. They’d know who else.”

After a quick lunch, Beth walked to Frances Tunnecliffe’s home for a visit. Molly’s friend was able to offer additional information about which families were suffering most through the difficult winter. It was a painful conversation, underscoring to Beth how very poor some of the families were.

As Beth rose to leave, Frances cautioned, “Don’t be lettin’ the gals hear about this. They won’t like to know their private affairs are being discussed. And they wouldn’t take kindly to charity—especially from an outsider.” Beth tried not to let the label hurt. She so wished she could be considered a neighbor among them—but she knew all too well that it took time to earn their trust. And her year was passing quickly.