Where Courage Calls: A When Calls the Heart Novel (26 page)

Beth had mixed emotions over the fact that Jarrick had been able to keep the exact nature of Wilton’s illness concealed. However, it did not take long for word to filter through the community that Wilton’s mother, Heidi, had received a bill from the doctor which she had no means to pay. When Julie
heard Molly and Frances discussing it, she pulled Beth aside immediately.

“Why don’t we telephone Father? He’ll help. I know he will.”

Beth grimaced and shook her head. She had often had such thoughts—a plea to Father could swiftly solve some of the problems her neighbors were facing. “We can’t,” she sighed. “This is our town—our responsibility. Not his.”

“I don’t see why not.”

Beth tried to articulate what she had not fully settled in her own mind. “Philip says that would be charity without love. Like Paul describes in 1 Corinthians 13. That it’s not just the meeting of needs which God wants from us—it’s also the importance of seeing the faces of the ones through whom it came that matters. To connect the personal sacrifice to the gift. That’s important too. Or else it has a different effect on the receiver somehow.”

“Hmm.” Julie’s face wrinkled up in puzzlement.

But the sisters watched in amazement as the drama surrounding Heidi’s bill unfolded over the course of the next few days. A collection was begun immediately. Small amounts trickled in at first—only what could be spared by the widows themselves. The few dollars and coins were merely seeds of a gift—a hope and a prayer that somehow God would make them grow. And then Frank delivered what had been collected among the miners. To everyone’s amazement, it covered almost half the bill. Such generosity was overwhelming to all. There was no doubt that the miners’ cash too was needed elsewhere.

And at last the mining company, moved perhaps by the example set for them, paid the remaining balance. Tears streamed down Heidi’s face, trying to find words to express
her gratitude as Molly and Frances placed the precious bills in her hands. She, in turn, would deliver the money to Jarrick, who was to carry it back to Lethbridge.

“I can’t ever repay it,” Heidi lamented.

Frances patted her hand. “We’ve all been where you are, dear. It’s not easy to take help sometimes—but, sure, and you’re not alone. We all share in the good and the bad together.”

Watching the woman’s pinched face, Beth’s heart hurt to see Heidi bearing the weight of her responsibility, caring for the needs of her family of seven without a husband to provide for them. She wondered how different things would have been for Wilton’s mother if her husband were still alive.

Then suddenly Beth’s mind retraced again the recollections of her childhood. She imagined what it had been like for Mother to manage her own small family when all three of her young children had fallen sick with whooping cough, and Father had been away. True, there had been ample resources for doctors—but that would be small comfort to a devastated woman whose baby boy had died in her arms and there was no one in turn to hold her as she wept. For the first time in Beth’s life, it broke her heart to realize the weight that Mother had carried alone. Then Beth began to wonder how often Mother had been forced to bear such solitary burdens. Looking back on her childhood now as a woman, a strong sense of empathy began to weave itself into Beth’s memories.

Beth was brushing out her hair in preparation for bed, still brooding over her contemplations, when she heard a light tap on the door and Julie’s voice, “Bethie, are you still awake?” She hurried to open it for her sister.

Julie, in nightgown and robe, darted past Beth into the room. Before closing the door behind Julie, Beth poked her head out and gave a quick glance down the hall to confirm it was empty. Mother would be scandalized if she knew a daughter of hers might have been seen by one of the male boarders
in
her night clothes!

“I was just remembering when I used to come sleep with you—and we’d be whispering together until all hours of the night,” Julie explained. “I find myself missing those times—those talks—more than anything else since you’ve been gone.” She turned toward Beth with persuasive eyes—the look she knew Beth could not easily dismiss. “May I join you?”

“Oh, I’d like that, darling. I’ve missed it too. We’ve had so many wonderful memories together, haven’t we?” At Julie’s nod, Beth continued brushing out her hair and Julie turned her attention to the dresser top and the open jewelry box—fingering the objects within—the watch pin, the locket, the dove pendant. Beth hurried on before difficult questions could be asked. “It’s fascinating to realize how much more I appreciate
family
when I’ve been away than when we were together all the time. I suppose it’s true what Mother used to quote, ‘Absence—’” and Julie chimed in along with her—“‘makes the heart grow fonder.’” The two laughed merrily at the shared memory. “I think she would quote that to us,” Beth added, “whenever we complained about how much we missed Father.”

Julie tossed her robe across the end of the bed and climbed in, pulling the pink blanket up to her chin to shield herself from the chill in the air. Beth set down her brush and moved toward the other side of the bed, sitting on its edge to remove her slippers.

“Bethie, I really am astonished at how you’ve adjusted to—” Her eyes swept around the room. “—to this kind of life. I’m
thinking about your lovely bedroom at home—twice as large as this room . . . with electric lights instead of oil lamps and a privy just next door—
indoors
,” she emphasized. “I would think you’d wake up every morning, look around, and wonder why you ever left home.”

Beth sighed and slid under the covers beside her sister. “I admit I appreciate pretty things and enjoy the comfort of modern conveniences. But for me those are rather inconsequential, not nearly as important as. . . .” She searched deep inside to find expression for what she was feeling. “What’s important to me,” she started over again, “is that I believe right now I’m supposed to be here in Coal Valley, teaching children to read and write—ones who likely wouldn’t be learning these things if I hadn’t come. At least, I hope I’m effective in that task—I want to make a difference in their futures—and in this town.”

Julie sighed, “But you’re all alone here.”

“Oh no,” Beth countered. “I’ve made better friends here than I ever had at home. There are the children, and Frank, and Jarr- uh, Jack, and Philip. And then there’s Molly . . .” Beth’s voice trailed off and she blew out the lamp beside the bed, easing herself onto the pillow thoughtfully. “Well, the truth is, Molly is without a doubt the wisest, most loving and caring woman I know.”

As soon as she had said the words, Beth cast a guilty glance toward Julie, who was staring back in shock.

“And Mother?” Julie questioned, eyebrows raised. “Where does that leave Mother? I believe that’s what she wants to be for us, don’t you think, Bethie?”

Beth nodded slowly, frowning toward her sister. “Yes, I suppose she does—in her own manner.”

“You and I don’t view Mother the same way. You see her as someone trying to make all your decisions for you—but I
think she’s just being a—a mother.” She finished with a chuckle to herself. Beth allowed herself to snicker a little along with Julie, who continued as she rearranged the pillow under her head, “You see, you take it all to heart. I think, sister dear, that it’s more upsetting to you when you do something other than what she wishes than it is to Mother herself!” Julie laughed again at her own insightfulness.

This time Beth did not share in her humor, “What do you mean?”

“To hear her brag about you teaching here—so far from home—you’d think it was her idea in the first place.”

“She does—she brags about me?”

Julie’s laughter was fuller now. “Haven’t you figured out Mother yet, Bethie? She wants to be appreciated—and she wants to be right. If you want her approval, all you have to do is succeed, and then she’ll always talk as if she were supportive from the first.”

“But that’s not honest—it’s manipulative. I want her to approve because my decisions are right—not because I’m successful.”

“You mean to say that you honestly expect her to
belive
that it’s right to send her daughter into the wilds
before
she knows if it will be safe. She can’t do that, Bethie. She needs to know first. So if you ask her opinion she’ll always opt for keeping you close. Just stop asking. You’re an adult. Just tell her your plans—and ask her to pray for you. She does that, you know.”

“I know,” Beth whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “I know.”

Silence stretched between them. Then Beth whispered, “Thank you, Julie.”

The second week of Julie’s trip passed quickly. It seemed that before they had even stolen several precious moments together, she was packing again and preparing for the long trip back home. Alberto had been given another errand in Lethbridge, and the sisters were to travel with him. He strapped Julie’s trunk carefully to the back of the company car while she gathered the last of her belongings. Beth was already feeling as if she would cry. They’d had far too little time together.

They sat together in the back seat and used the long miles talking over many things there had not yet been time to say. This time Beth felt the road was not nearly long enough.

Alberto unloaded the trunk at the station and set it on its assigned cart. “I pick’a you up again—two hours, yes?” he said to Beth.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Giordano. I’ll be waiting right here.”

Beth slipped an arm through Julie’s, and they walked together into the station. Upon checking at the window and being assured that the train would depart on schedule, they found a quiet nook where they could spend their last moments together. Arriving passengers from Julie’s train had already alighted, and from where the sisters sat they could see the hasty attention the linked cars were being given—food for the dining car, water and coal for the engine. For some time they continued their forced chatter, watching the train being loaded with all that was to be shipped back east. Then they could avoid it no longer. Sadness descended between them and tears threatened.

Beth sighed, then took a long breath. She had not intended to ask her sister—had even hoped to be able to avoid the question altogether. But her curiosity could no longer be restrained. “What are you going to tell Mother?”

Julie glanced sideways, wiped her eyes, then grinned, as
if she had been expecting the question. “Whatever do you mean?”

Beth offered only a stern look in response.

“Oh, I see. Well, dear Bethie, you know how Mother has worried about your safety. I intend to speak only the truth.” She paused for dramatic flourish. “Actually, I have no idea why you would ever
want
to endure life in such a primitive place. It’s simply unbearable, if you ask me. But I assure you that despite the lack of privacy, the lack of comforts, and the lack of good company—or rather, relatively rare examples of good company—I shall tell Mother not to worry. That you are well cared for and in no real danger. Satisfied, sister dear?”

Beth managed a crooked smile and shook her head.
If Julie indeed shares all those details with Mother,
if all the difficulties of living in Coal Valley are
laid out in candid array—without Julie understanding and articulating
the reasons for such to be endured—Mother will not
simply overlook it. Julie’s list will be enough for
Mother’s level of concern to rise.
Beth was grateful, at least, that her sister knew nothing of Beth’s greatest worries.

“Julie,” she began carefully. “You needn’t share
all
about it—don’t you think?”

A sparkling laugh, with Julie fully enjoying the power she possessed.

Beth felt her temper rising. “I’m not teasing about this! This is extremely important to me.”

Just then the train whistled to alert its passengers. Julie stood and began to gather her bags as if their conversation had not been interrupted by her impending departure. Beth scooped up the items remaining and hurried after her sister. “Julie,” she called anxiously, “please wait.”