Where Courage Calls: A When Calls the Heart Novel (30 page)

T
HE
NEXT
AFTERNOON
, Beth returned to the pool hall to collect the school items she kept in a closet there. Should she return in the fall, Beth was determined that school would never again be held in this building. It was easy to surrender it since the pool hall had always been an inappropriate location. She wondered if perhaps the company would allow the school to meet in their hall—even if they were not paying the teacher’s salary. They had been very generous in the recent months with all they had allowed to occur there.

Molly mentioned with a sly smile that it had proven beneficial after all for Beth to cultivate a relationship with some of the men over their shared meals. And then quickly added more seriously, “More’n that, dearie—if ya hadn’t offered yer good will, they might never have begun to come to church, neither.”

Frank recovered Beth’s trunks from where they had been stored in Molly’s attic and set them again under the window in Beth’s room. The decisions involved in repacking them brought much consternation and emotion.

Beth brooded over the handmade dresses she had commissioned as she folded them neatly. “Molly, I think I should just leave these behind. I don’t suppose I’ll have opportunity to wear them once I’m home again—and I know there are women for whom they could be useful here.”

Molly shook her head. “Ya don’t know the future yet. Might jest as well hang on to ’em fer a bit.”

Beth wondered too if she should leave the books and school supplies behind, but Molly insisted she pack them up. “Should ya come back, you’ll still have yer things. But if ya don’t—we ain’t got no use for ’em if there’s nobody ta teach. Won’t do fer the likes of me to try an’ fill yer shoes.” Molly’s voice was heavy with feeling, even though she was trying hard to suppress it.

The trunks were to be shipped on the company train into Lethbridge, and Beth would follow the next day. It was a strange feeling to see them loaded on a truck and borne away, leaving Beth as she had arrived—with almost nothing. She shook her head as she thought back to that first day in Coal Valley . . . how much had changed.
How much I
have changed,
she thought.

Jarrick had offered to drive Beth into Lethbridge, telling her he would be traveling out of the mountains anyway on an assignment. Early Wednesday morning, Beth whisked back the curtain as his car pulled into the space in front of Molly’s picket fence and straightened her hat. She was wearing a traveling suit, her hair tucked neatly beneath one of the new hats Mother had sent. The fancy blue suit felt awkward and unfamiliar to her now—seemed inappropriate for every day. She felt it rather false to don these clothes—as if she were not that person anymore. Then she paused to wonder if such attire had always misrepresented her somewhat. Perhaps she
had long been intended for a humbler station in life. One thing she knew, she would miss terribly her community and the dear friends she had made.

A light knock at the door, and Jarrick stepped inside. “Good morning.” He nodded around to all those gathered in the foyer to bid farewell to Beth.

Beth turned toward them, reminded of similar feelings when saying good-bye to her family before boarding the train not quite one year ago. And then the tears came. . . .

Frank reached for a quick hug. “Now, you come’a back to us, Miss Beth. We don’t want’a to wait too long.”

“I’ll do my best.” She patted his whiskered cheek. “Take care of yourself—and my family here, won’t you?” She leaned close to his ear. “And Molly,” she whispered.

He nodded back, clearing his throat brusquely.

Beth turned to Molly next with a lump in her throat, making it difficult to speak. She threw her arms around the ample woman, receiving a strong hug in return. “I love you, Miss Molly. I’ll miss you so much. Who will I be able to talk things over with?”

“I think you’ll be back,” Molly murmured softly. “At least, thet’s what I’m gonna tell myself.”

Marnie fell into Beth’s arms, burying her face against her shoulder. “You’ll come back. I’m gonna believe that too,” she whispered through a sob.

Beth stroked the girl’s hair and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll miss you, darling. You’re so special to me. We’ve shared some very precious memories together, haven’t we?”

Marnie smiled up at her. “I think so too.”

Teddy reached out an awkward hand and Beth gave a shaky laugh. She pulled him into a small hug, then stepped back and searched his face for a moment. “I’m proud of you, Teddy.
You’ve grown so much while I’ve been here. Taller and so much older too. You’re becoming a fine young man.”

He blushed and turned his face away. Molly came forward and put an arm around him, then pulled Marnie up next to her as well.

With a schedule to keep, Jarrick was reaching for the door, and Beth picked up her handbag. She looked back over her shoulder at the small cluster of faces that had grown so important to her and wiped away her tears while Jarrick ushered her into the car.

As the engine started up, Beth noticed first one and then several of the children hurrying toward the road to wave one last time. She waved back to them through the window glass, sadness spilling more tears onto her cheeks. The children followed the car, running behind and calling words of farewell until the automobile disappeared around the bend. Jarrick passed a fresh handkerchief to Beth, and she wiped more tears from her face.

“You mean a great deal to them, Beth.”

Her voice cracked as she replied, “It’s mutual, to be sure.”

The long road stretched out ahead. Beth planted a foot on the floor of the car and reached for a good handhold on the door. She now knew better how to keep herself from being bounced around mercilessly by the rutted road.

“You’ve had a good year,” he commented.

“Oh, it’s been wonderful—well, perhaps not wonderful all the time—but I’m so grateful for it all.”

Jarrick nodded. “Are you looking forward to getting back to the city—to civilization?”

Beth’s brow furrowed as she contemplated the question honestly. “Well, I’m ready to see my family again. I’ve missed them very much.” She thought wistfully about her little
nephew, already walking—and about Father and Mother. “I wish I could have them all together—my new family here and also my original family at home.” She smiled at how divergent the people were that she was including now as family—hardly able to envision them gathered in one place.

He nodded, and another mile slipped away. At last, she heard him draw a deep breath, and she knew he was working toward a topic he was having a difficult time raising. “Edward Montclair told me he paid you a visit this week.”

“He did. He came to the school.”

“Hmm.” After a pause, he spoke again. “Do you know . . . do you realize I was uncertain for some time about the nature of your relationship with Edward?”

“Oh?” Beth answered evasively.

“Yes, when I first met the man, he made it rather clear that he had intentions toward you—that the two of you had somewhat of an arrangement.”

Beth held her breath for a moment before answering carefully, “He explained as much to me when he visited. I was quite surprised by his assumption.” She turned her face toward Jarrick just a little, watching his reaction from the corner of her eye.

“We also had a second conversation recently,” he went on. “Edward at that time made a point of admitting that the understanding was one-sided. That it was his presumption and not an agreement you had made.”

Beth nodded quietly.

“It’s funny,” he said, pressing further, “that day we spent together—taking Willie Coolidge to the hospital—I was going to ask you if you might be open to having a gentleman caller.”

Beth looked back in surprise. “What stopped you?” Then she blushed as she realized how straightforward her question had been.

He shook his head. “Your references to Edward at dinner. I had come to believe he had overstated his relationship with you until you were rather candid in your appreciation and esteem of him that night. It made me wonder if you didn’t feel for him as he felt for you.”

“I see.” Beth replayed the moment in her mind. As she recalled, in a bumbling way she had described her gratitude that Edward had found her stolen items.

Jarrick continued, “I knew without your telling me how hard he’d worked to recover your violin and compass. I felt he must have cared for you a great deal to be so vigilant on your behalf.”

“Jarrick,” Beth answered gently, “do you know the story of how the trunks came to be missing in the first place?”

“Well, no—except I heard they were stolen.”

“But you don’t know under what circumstances.”

“No, I have never heard that part.”

Beth laughed softly and shook her head. “Edward chose a porter at the station who did not work for the railway company. He handed my trunks over to . . . well, to a thief.” She let the words take their effect, then quickly added, “It was an easy mistake to make—but it was Edward’s error, not mine.”

Jarrick chuckled. “No, somehow he missed sharing those details. All I heard was how much effort he was expending recovering the items. I assumed he was working to please you—to rescue you from your distress—not to assuage his own guilty feelings.”

Beth waited a moment longer, trying to find an adequate way to express what she wished to say. “I had never considered Edward a suitable life partner. In fact, in our childhood—and even youth—I quite . . .” She fished for the right word. “Perhaps
despised
is too strong a term—but nevertheless . . . I’d
never seen in him the characteristics of a man with whom I would wish to share marriage. I will admit that he seems quite different now—that choosing his occupation and coming west seems to have matured him greatly. I know his father will be delighted to see how much he’s changed. But at no time did I have a serious interest in Edward’s companionship, other than merely as family friends—and for the most part, before this trip I was not even interested in that.”

“I see.” Another mile passed. Jarrick seemed to be deep in thought. Beth felt somewhat uneasy, wondering about his silence.

“There’s something I would like to say, Beth, but I can’t decide if it’s a suitable time to do so—with you preparing to leave. And yet I find it difficult not to speak up at all.”

“What is it?” she asked, her voice low.

Jarrick cleared his throat. “You said you did not find Edward to be a suitable life partner. I suppose I would . . . would like to admit that I’ve seen in you the very qualities I’ve hoped my future wife
would
possess. I’ve seen you giving of yourself and striving to serve in ways that few others would. I’ve seen you pouring out your love on the children you taught and making a great difference in their lives. I’ve seen you being honest in difficult moments, and patient and wise. And I’ve seen you rise to the occasion to defend those you love. I have to tell you, Beth, I’ve come to admire you greatly. You are what I would see as the best of women, and any man would be blessed to share his life with you.”

Beth was so overcome she found it hard to catch her breath. “That’s . . . that is v-very kind,” she stammered. “I—”

He hurried on. “Now, I know I have no right to ask for your permission in a formal way—there being no assurance you’ll return again. But I hoped at least to express my admi
ration and my wish that if God brings you back to us, that you would allow—that you might consider—my request at that time.”

Beth breathed in deeply and managed a nervous smile as her hands fumbled with the gloves she held in her lap. She scarcely dared lift her eyes to the young man at the wheel. “If . . . if I return to the West, I would be very pleased to hear from you again. Unless you’ve changed your mind by then.” She dared catch a peek at him out of the corner of her eye, and he was smiling and shaking his head.

He sobered and posed another question. “Would you consider me too forward if I asked for a way to contact you over the summer?” He seemed painfully uneasy even as he made the request.

“That . . . that would be fine—a pleasure.” Even as she spoke, thoughts of her mother whirled through her mind. What would she think? Would she allow such interaction with a young Mountie, unknown to her? Beth determined in her heart to be forthright in explaining this relationship to Mother—at least to the extent that she herself could summarize it.

Jarrick was explaining, “I never know when I might be transferred, and it sure would be a shame to lose touch . . . to lose you.”

Beth could not speak for a moment. “Of course,” she said, “I will write my address on a slip of paper.” She began immediately to fumble in her handbag, looking for a suitable scrap.

“Would you mind noting a telephone number as well?” he pressed.

Beth could not hide the little smile that quirked at the corner of her mouth.
He is persistent.

“Of course,” she said again with another smile.

Seeming relieved and satisfied, Jarrick turned the conversation to other things.

Though her heart was full, there was little Beth could put into words in their last moment together at the train station. Jarrick seemed to feel the same. Beth was surprised when he asked if he could say a short prayer. They bowed their heads for an intimate moment together. Beth closed her eyes and heard him bless her travels, leaving in God’s hands her direction for the future. Just then the conductor called for final boarding, so he led her toward the familiar steps.