Where Hope Prevails Page 12

  Placing the order had reminded Beth of her resolve to buy some fabric for new dresses for Molly—a nice light wool for Sundays and two flowered lengths for housedresses. When they were delivered, Molly was quite overcome by the gift.

  “But you’re always letting me eat with you,” Beth argued. “This is just a small way to show my gratitude.”

  “Family is always welcome,” the woman protested. But Molly’s eyes glowed warmly.

  At last Beth and Marnie were ready to begin work on the flowers. The girl borrowed Molly’s good sewing scissors, a vast improvement over Beth’s school set, and the two went to work at the small kitchen table tucked into the corner of Beth’s main room, trying to use an assembly-line approach. Marnie did the cutting, and Beth held the raw edges over a flame with a steady, quick hand. Soon she was able to do so nimbly without scorching the fabric. And then came the stacking and stitching together, fussing over the curling layers until each was satisfactory.

  “How many d’ya think you need, again?” Marnie asked for the tenth time.

  Beth’s answer had gradually changed to simply, “As many as we can make in time.”

  They soon had used up all of the materials Beth had ordered. She knew she’d need at least twice as much and that with winter coming there would be fewer trips into town. So she was delighted to hear that Philip would be driving to Lethbridge on Saturday for a meeting with the district leaders of their church. He cheerfully agreed to chauffeur Beth, along with his other passenger. Philip explained that the man was a new worker who’d injured his hand when he tripped and fell into some of the sawmill machinery. His fellow workers had already set the bone and stitched the wound as best they could, but it had become clear that Donato needed surgery in Lethbridge. And, in a rather surprising act of benevolence, the company had agreed to pay for the expense.

  On Saturday morning, Beth met Philip at the truck. The other passenger had already climbed over its tailgate and into the bed of the clunky old vehicle Philip had borrowed. There were several blankets ready to create a comfortable ride for the man.

  “But I didn’t know there were only two seats,” Beth whispered to Philip. “I don’t want him to have to sit in the back because of me. Please tell him I can—”

  “You can what? You can sit in the back?” Philip shook his head with a cockeyed grin. “This is the only way. But believe me, he’s just grateful to be getting the hand repaired by proper doctors. He doesn’t mind.”

  A whiskered smile and a nod in their direction seemed to confirm Philip’s claims. Beth watched from the corner of her eye as the man pulled a blanket around his shoulders and tucked the thickly bandaged hand beneath it. Philip helped her into the front seat, and she took a quick glance at the bundled figure leaning against the cab’s window. I hope he’ll be all right, but Philip probably will keep an eye on him during our drive.

  It took several miles before Beth could focus on other things. The thought that distracted her most was the possibility of surprising Jarrick and having a nice meal together. But with no telephone connection, she couldn’t be certain he would even be in town.

  “We might get snow again soon,” Philip noted as the vehicle rumbled along. “And this time more than just a light dusting. I sure hope it doesn’t come until after we’ve gotten back tonight.”

  “I don’t mind the feeling of being snowed in. I find it rather pleasant and cozy, at least once we’re home again!”

  “Agreed,” he said, “and at least we know there’s plenty of food stored up with all the gardening last summer.”

  “Oh yes, and what a relief!”

  “Say, Beth, I heard a rumor that you’re up to something.” Philip’s voice had taken on a teasing tone. “I’m tempted to say again, but that would be overstating—just a little.”

  “Why, you flatter me,” she joked in turn.

  “I was intrigued the other day when Frank mentioned that you and he discussed holding an election for a new mayor. At first I was more than a little surprised. And then it occurred to me to wonder why no one else has suggested it before. It seems rather obvious. How did we miss it?”

  “Well . . . yes, that’s true. We’ve been stirring things up a little, but what I really want is a school board. Frank’s the one who suggested we get a mayor first. So I made up copies of a flyer calling for a town meeting next Saturday evening, and he posted them around town and in the company building down by the river.”

  “Why a school board? I would think it’s much more fun to just do things your own way.” The lines in the corners of his eyes were crinkling with merriment.

  Beth ignored his mirth. “I’m sorry, but that’s just it. I’ve been struggling with Robert regarding our conflicting opinions on how we teach.” She went on to explain their differences, trying very hard not to stumble into personal judgments and gossip. “I think a school board would settle the issue rather promptly, and for that . . . well, I guess we need a mayor first.”

  “Would you teachers be on the board?”

  “I doubt it. They usually aren’t included. Although we have such a small community that it might be necessary for now, especially since so few parents are graduates themselves. What I want is a group with authority to oversee what is taught and how it’s presented.” She paused and drew her coat collar tighter against the cold in the drafty vehicle, casting another quick glance over her shoulder toward the passenger in the back. She shuddered at his chilly travel situation before continuing, “I’ll admit, I’m not particularly comfortable meeting alone with Robert.”

  “I can understand that. It might not even be considered appropriate, although Coal Valley doesn’t stand much on such social prohibitions.”

  The engine wheezed as they mounted a steep hill; Beth grasped for a handhold and cast a worried glance at Philip, who merely chuckled. “She’s old and she’s noisy, but she’s entirely dependable.”

  As the truck rattled down the other side, Beth rallied her courage. “Philip, why don’t you run for mayor?”

  “Me?”

  “Sure. You’re college educated. You know everyone quite well. And everyone likes you.”

  “Well, not everyone.” He tipped his head and forced a chuckle. “You can’t preach too many sermons without stirring up somebody who feels that you’re wrong.”

  “Seriously, Philip, I think you’d be the ideal candidate.”

  “Where would I find the time? And what’s more, wouldn’t that automatically put me at odds with even more of the people in my congregation?”

  “I can’t think of why that would be.” But Beth knew he was probably right.

  “Besides, I don’t want to be a political figure. I want to be more of a shepherd—a servant. I don’t think the two roles are complementary. Can you picture me trying to run for office, handing out buttons after church on Sunday? It would be harder to be salt and light while wheeling and dealing to arrive at policy, pave roads, and fine lawbreakers.” He gave another laugh. “Let me put it this way, Beth—I don’t want to decide where to build bridges, I just want to be one, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do,” she sighed. “And you’re right, of course. I guess it was wishful thinking.”

  Jarrick was indeed amazed to find Beth standing in the station’s reception area. Her rushed explanation tumbled out as soon as their eyes met and they hurried toward one another. “I’m sorry I couldn’t let you know I was coming, Jarrick. I didn’t have any way to get in touch with you.”

  He clasped both of her hands in his and drew her closer. “When Ollie said you were here, I thought he was just ragging on me again. This is the very best surprise.”

  “Are you terribly busy? Do you have any time at all?”

  “I’ll make time, Beth. I’m just glad I was in town today. I only came back last night.”

  Beth felt herself relax. “I was worried you wouldn’t be here, or that I’d be in the way.”

  “You never need worry about that.” Jarrick turned toward the de
sk, Beth’s arm pulled through his. “Ollie, can you call a taxicab for us? I’m going to take my lunch break early today. Right now, in fact.”

  The man winked at Beth. “Can’t I just saddle up your horse for you, Jack?”

  “That’s very clever, Ollie. Never heard that one before. We’ll be waiting outside.” Jarrick rapped on the desktop with a grin at Ollie, then guided Beth out the door.

  Already it seemed that time was standing still. As they waited together on the steps of the building, Beth tucked her shoulder closer to him as if to somehow push away the loneliness she’d felt. “This is dreadfully difficult—to miss you so much,” she whispered.

  “Believe me, I understand what you mean,” he murmured against her hair.

  The chill wind stung Beth’s face, and she turned it closer to his coat sleeve. “Do you really have a horse, Jarrick?” she asked, her voice muffled by the fabric.

  She could feel his chest shake as he chuckled. “You don’t already know that? Yes, I do actually. Well, not just one. Those of us who move around often have to share them, but I have a favorite mare that I typically ride when I’m in my main assignment area. The roads get much worse the farther north you go, and cars are often useless. And I’ll admit I enjoy a chance to ride. I really do. It’s an incredible sense of freedom and serenity—at least when it’s not raining, or worse, snowing.”

  “What’s her name, your favorite?”

  “Her name is Luna, an Appaloosa, speckled with the colors of the moon.”

  “She sounds beautiful.”

  “She is. And spunky—like you.”

  “Well, I’m glad I know about her now.” The image in her mind of him riding his horse through the snow felt oddly romantic.

  “You know, sweetheart,” he said, putting his free arm around her, “there are probably a great many things we don’t know about each other yet.”

  She turned her face to his, pushing a windblown strand of hair out of her face. “Then we have to find opportunities to talk more, or . . . or we’ll have to start writing letters again.”

  His blue eyes sparkled. “Well, why not? Just because we live closer to one another doesn’t mean we can’t write letters anyway. It’s not as if we see each other much, or that it’s possible to talk by phone.”

  “And,” she added, “we’ll also have to be efficient—during the times we’re together.”

  “Well, that won’t be easy. I keep getting distracted when I look at your lovely face.”

  “Oh, Jarrick.”

  And then their taxi arrived to take them to lunch.

  As Beth expected, lunch felt far too short, and she hurried to fit in every topic she had hoped to cover, trying to force aside unsettled feelings from their previous discussion in the church. They agreed that Jarrick’s two younger brothers would stand with him. Beth’s bridesmaids would be Julie and Marnie, if the girl agreed.

  Beth was happy to report about her students’ progress, and then Jarrick shared what he was free to say about recent Mountie assignments. After they had ordered dessert she mentioned the upcoming Coal Valley election.

  “You asked Philip to run?” Jarrick seemed amused. “What did he say?”

  Beth mutely shook her head.

  “Well, who else do you have in mind?”

  “I don’t know. Toby Coulter, the man who runs the store, has been there as long as anyone, but he works for the coal company. I wouldn’t want them to gain additional control over what happens in town, though it rules out quite a few of the men.”

  Jarrick nodded.

  “I can’t think of very many who aren’t rather new,” she explained. “And I certainly don’t know many of them outside of church. Howard McDermott is very quiet. I don’t think he’d be at all interested. Bill Shaw, and even his son Parker, are possibilities. He’s older than his brother Roark, who died in the mine collapse—probably at least in his midtwenties.” The meager group of men from which to find their mayor caused a long sigh from Beth. “And if we go ahead and elect someone who works in the mine or the mill, he’s going to be under a great deal of pressure from the company bosses. The only man I can think of who isn’t new and doesn’t work for them is Fred Green. And I wouldn’t want to see him elected. He was a good friend of Davie Grant’s, and I’m afraid I just don’t trust him.”

  “You’re right. There aren’t many good options.” Jarrick’s sigh matched her own. “It’s too bad that Abbie Stanton lost her husband, Noah. He would have made a very good mayor. On the other hand, I suppose there’s nothing to keep one of the new men from throwing his hat into the ring. I’m sure some of them must be quite capable.”

  “We’ll see.” For a moment Beth wavered, uncertain whether to express her next thought aloud, then gave in. “Don’t laugh, but . . . I wish that I could run myself—even though I’m a woman. It’s not as if things haven’t been changing . . . and I could follow in the footsteps of Queen Victoria, right?”

  Jarrick’s face grew earnest. “I’m sure you’d do a very good job, Beth. But . . .”

  Her mind finished the sentence in a dozen different ways. But you’re not a leader. You’re too busy elsewhere. You don’t know enough about politics. A woman should stay at home. You’re small and won’t be forceful enough to hold rowdy coal miners in check. . . . She dropped her gaze to her dessert plate.

  He finished, “. . . but I thought we had agreed to go east at the end of this school year.”

  This was perhaps the worst possibility of them all. Beth had hoped the issue could still be part of an unfinished discussion. “Did we . . . ? I thought . . . Have you spoken to Father?”

  “No, not yet. I told him I wanted to take some time before committing.”

  Beth knew what her father was hoping. What do I say? Jarrick is the leader in our marriage—of our family someday. I want to follow his leadership. What can I say without sounding like his mother, or even mine?

  “Have you made up your mind?” she asked cautiously.

  “I’ve tried to think of other options, Beth, but other than continuing as a Mountie and traveling far too often—not what either you or I would want—there doesn’t seem to be another practical solution.” Jarrick was staring at her intently. “At any rate, no matter what happens, we wouldn’t be in Coal Valley anymore. Just until the end of the school year. Even if I stayed on the Force and we remained in the West, we’d have to live wherever I was assigned. There’s not even a posting in so small a town—”

  “But if I were mayor,” she tried to joke but quickly abandoned the attempt. The troubling thoughts of the uncertain future nearly overwhelmed her. After everything I’ve set out to accomplish here, I’ll end up back in Toronto—no more Coal Valley, no mountains, no freedom, no adventures, only a class of city kids who don’t really need or want me, if I’m even allowed to teach again. I’ll be left running a home with an ordinary life. She felt her lip quiver. And Jarrick won’t ever wear his uniform again, won’t be able to ride his horse, won’t be able to do what he’s felt called to do. She tried stealthily brushing aside a tear before Jarrick could notice, but it was no use.

  “Sweetheart, what is it? What do you want?”

  Beth cleared her throat and attempted a smile. “It’s so hard to think about leaving.”

  The truth, but not all of the truth.

  CHAPTER

  12

  WHERE IS THAT GIRL?” Molly fretted as she and Beth put the finishing touches on Sunday dinner. “I seen her hurry out after church, and she ain’t here.”

  “That’s not like Marnie,” Beth observed, brow wrinkled.

  “Well . . .” Molly scooped mashed potatoes into a serving bowl and handed it to Beth. “More so than what you’d think. This ain’t the first time in the last weeks.”

  Beth brought the potatoes to the dining room, then returned for a dish of steaming beets. After a last check that all was in order, she motioned for the guests to come, and the men took their places with lively conversation and laughter.r />
  Back in the kitchen, Beth moved close and asked quietly, “What did you mean by that, Molly?”

  The woman shook her head, wiping her face on her apron and hanging it up. “She keeps disappearin’ lately, and I have to send Teddy Boy after her. I know it ain’t work she’s dodgin’. She truly seems ta enjoy all that—even more lately. I often hear her humming to herself when she’s workin’. I’m just puzzled, that’s all.”

  “Where does Teddy find her? Not at my place, I presume.”

  Molly paused, shrugged. “No, he don’t really say. Just walkin’, I suppose.”

  “Well, she does like to walk. I’m the same way.”

  “Mm-hmm. But it’s gettin’ too cold fer such.”

  The family filed into their seats around the kitchen table. Marnie appeared at last, sliding quickly into her chair. “Sorry, Miss Molly,” she murmured. “I lost track of time.”

  “Where ya been, child?”

  “Just down ta the river and back.” Her face was aimed downward, her expression hidden. Beth watched as Molly and Frank exchanged glances.

  “Tell ’em.” All eyes instantly turned to Teddy, who was scowling across at his sister. “You tell ’em, or else I will.”

  “Don’t ya dare!”

  But there was no holding back the questions now.

  “What on earth?” demanded Molly.

  “Mia cara,” Frank began, laying a hand on Marnie’s, “we are’a worried about you. You must’a tell us where you go.”

  “Oh, Papa,” she said, lifting now-tearful eyes, “I don’t know how to say it.” Everyone waited, now even more concerned.

  Marnie’s head dropped low again, and her shoulders sagged. “I met a friend—a boy.” She sniffed and lifted a hand to her eyes.

  Beth’s gaze traveled around the table. A parade of schoolboys trooped through her mind. She never said a word. How did I miss this? But Marnie said she’d “met” him. “Who?” Beth managed aloud.