Where Hope Prevails Page 3

  Seated at Molly’s kitchen table, she chose her words carefully as her friend discussed the lodging arrangement.

  “Dearie, I was pleased for ya that you could have some solitude this time. And soon you may well be carin’ for a husband too. Ya haven’t said, but we’ve all been wonderin’—guessin’, I suppose—how soon there might be weddin’ bells. So we figured it might be wise for ya to be on yer own.”

  No, Molly, Jarrick and I haven’t even spoken of when that might occur. In fact, he hasn’t even actually proposed to me yet. “That’s kind of you, Molly. It’s a generous gesture, since I’m certainly aware there’s a shortage of housing here.”

  “Well, we didn’t want the place ya lived to be any hindrance ta future plans.” Molly smiled broadly and set the kettle on the table, lowering herself into the chair opposite Beth. She seemed to be moving more slowly than Beth remembered. “’Course, I’m sorry we didn’t lay it all out fer ya ahead of time. It all seemed to come out in little shocks. Ya sure you’re okay with everything now? You ’pear to be a mite low.”

  “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.” Beth quickly turned the conversation toward more pleasant topics. “But it was so nice to be able to talk with so many of the children and their mothers. Everyone here seems hale and happy. And they’ve grown. Not just taller, but older somehow.”

  “You’re surprised, dearie?” Molly said playfully. “Didn’t they teach ya in yer schoolin’ that’s what children do every time they close their eyes?”

  Beth was relieved she was able to laugh along easily. “Yes, but it rather sneaks up on one during an absence. I suppose I just expected them to stay as they were in my memory.”

  “Nor did any of us expect all that’d come yer way while you were gone,” Molly said, reaching across the table for Beth’s hand. “I was so sorry to hear of yer troubles in the summer, during what was to be such a lovely time. Who can tell when strife will come? Reading yer last letter just broke my heart fer ya all, but I’m glad to have ya near enough to see fer myself that you’re back to normal.”

  Beth shook her head and sat straighter in her chair. “Most of my visit with my family was very nice. We had some lovely weeks traveling together, then that truly dreadful week when Julie was missing. But we managed to cling to hope in God, and He was faithful.”

  Molly took a sip. “He always is. But it don’t make the journey easy, anyhow.”

  “Oh no, it was not. It certainly was not.” Again Beth searched for a way to direct the conversation to something more cheerful. She reached for a cookie and carefully broke it into two pieces. Dabbing up the crumbs with an index finger she said, “Jarrick wished he could have come out with me to see all of you today. He’s awfully busy now. I think they’re having him catch up on his duties all at once.”

  “No doubt they’re glad to have him back. Such a blessin’, though, that he could follow Edward out east to help.”

  “It truly was. Molly, I got to know him in new ways. His strength. His certainty. His gentleness.” Beth flushed self-consciously. “He’s such a wonderful man.”

  “I’m happy fer ya, dearie. I truly am.”

  “And you,” Beth met the older woman’s eyes. “How is it with you? Married now—to another wonderful man.”

  “Pshaw. I can’t deny that he is. But I guess my blushin’ days is over. We’re good together, me an’ Frank. I’ll allow you that. And I’m mighty grateful fer him. I truly am.”

  “You’re perfect for each other,” Beth sighed. “And you both deserve love.”

  “Well, now, I’m not sure I want ta claim that I deserve it, but a gracious God seen fit to bless me anyway with a second husband, a pair of the best children to care fer that a woman could want, and a whole community to be part of. And a lovely young friend.” Molly grasped Beth’s hand. “The way I figure, I’ve got more’n my share of blessed.”

  Marnie was thrilled at Beth’s invitation to spend the night, and Beth could not have been more relieved. The teenager appeared entirely at ease moving around the Grants’ frightening little apartment, digging into the cupboard below the washbasin for a small bar of soap she said was left over from their cleaning. She pulled and pushed at the trunks until Beth identified the one that held things she needed immediately, and then climbed on a chair to fetch another lamp from the top of the wardrobe in the bedroom. Beth was rather ashamed of her own tentativeness in the dreary space. She reminded herself that Marnie had already been there often as she helped with cleaning and readying the two small rooms.

  They chatted easily while preparing for bed. “What else is new, dear? Tell me something that might still be a surprise.” Beth quickly amended, “A good surprise.”

  Marnie squinted reflectively from her seat on the edge of the bed. “Did’ja hear about the new church?”

  “No, is there a plan for that too?”

  “Got it halfways done already. Just up the hill. In the meadow along the back road ’cross from the miners’ camp.”

  “That’s wonderful. Have you seen Pastor Davidson lately? I’m sure he’s glad to have something more permanent than the hall.” Beth held her breath as she stepped behind the open wardrobe door to change into a nightgown. She wanted no more bad news today. Please don’t say that Philip’s gone.

  “He sure is excited fer us! And what’s more, he’s the one who’s gonna be pastor—every Sunday. Soon as it’s done bein’ built.”

  “Wonderful, Marnie! I’m delighted to hear that,” Beth said from her makeshift dressing room.

  “Yeah, he’s got someone in trainin’ now. Follows him around—learnin’ names and places and stuff. Gonna take over them other churches once Pastor comes to stay with us.” Marnie pulled off her stockings and dropped them in the corner where she had let her dress land in a pile, then stood to her feet in a thin white slip, old and neatly patched in several places. Beth went and reached automatically to gather the clothing and drape the items over the bedroom chair, the familiar action reminding her of her sister Julie’s haphazard-looking bedroom at home. Though Marnie was several years younger than Julie, it was a comforting feeling. And Marnie seemed entirely at ease sharing the space as well. “Want to get in first—then I can blow out the light,” Marnie offered.

  Beth was grateful to comply. She would have preferred that it be left burning but knew better than to even consider such nonsense—a fire hazard just to appease her own silly fear of the dark. Sliding her feet gingerly under the sheets, she reminded herself that this was not the Grants’ bed but one provided by Molly or the other generous townsfolk. It was still difficult not to give way to jitters. Beth was too conscious of how close to the Grants’ faded wallpaper she was forced to lie, as if it might bear some lingering hints of evil and tragedy. Instead Beth rolled onto her side and faced the center of the room, retreating as far from the wall as possible. She could just see the profile of Marnie’s face in the darkness, the girl still chattering amiably.

  At last I feel as if it’s going to be fine. Oh my, what a day. Beth’s mind retraced the highs and lows, half listening to Marnie as she thought back over the surprise disclosures. As the room grew quieter, she brought up some questions.

  “Marnie, I suppose you’ve met the new teacher.”

  “Yes. ’Course.”

  “What do you think of him?”

  “He’s all right. Kinda straight and stiff. But seems nice enough. Real smart too. Knows all kinda big words.” Marnie laughed and punched her pillow up, tucking her hands under her head. “I think sometimes folks agree with him just ’cause they don’t understand what he’s sayin’.” She chuckled.

  “Hmmm. Do you like him?”

  There was a teasing tone in her answer. “Might be a hard teacher—but then, so are you. So either way, we still have ta get down to work, I guess.”

  Beth allowed herself a little snicker at Marnie’s assessment. “Have you heard anyone say how the classes will be divided? Do the students have an opinion?”

  “
Well, of course we all want to be with you. But since we can’t, I s’pose we think he’s gonna take the olders, and you’ll keep the littles.” Marnie sighed. “Teddy Boy don’t wanna come back ta school. Did ya know that?”

  “Oh no, he doesn’t?”

  “Don’t worry. Papa Frank’ll talk him inta it.”

  Beth liked the sound of the girl’s affectionate name for Frank. The early loss of their mother had been further intensified by their father’s tragic death in the mine accident. Very soon afterward they’d come to live with Molly, and she had enfolded the pair into her arms and heart. Beth was even more pleased to know that their new stepfather would hold his ground on the issue of Teddy’s education.

  “But you know my brother. Thinks he’s grown and ready to work in them mines. Thinks he’s ready to start makin’ money hand over fist like the other men—he an’ Addie both. Good thing yer back so you can talk to ’em too. Leastwise, the Coolidges could really use the money Addie would make. He’s gotta be the man of their family now, but Teddy Boy, he’s got Papa Frank to care fer ’im. Maybe you could talk to Mrs. Coolidge—fer Addie’s sake.”

  “I’ll do what I can.” Beth truly hoped to influence Addison’s mother to allow the boy one more school year, his last before graduation. “I think I read in a letter that they’re living in Frank’s old cabin. Is that true?”

  “Yah. With seven, though, they really fill it up to overflowin’.”

  “Have they said anything—?”

  Beth stopped midsentence as a sudden shiver ran through her body. She was certain she’d heard a faint noise in the next room. “Marnie,” she whispered tersely, “did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  The scratching sound came again, more distinctly. “That!”

  “Prob’ly just mice.”

  “Mice! Where?”

  Something thumped.

  “Nope, that ain’t mice,” the girl said, rolling toward the door.

  Beth could feel herself trembling already. “Could you . . . ? Do you think we should . . . could you check?”

  Without hesitation Marnie threw back her covers, dropped her feet to the floor, and relit the lamp. Beth forced herself to follow as the circle of flickering glow moved ahead of Marnie into the main room. Shifting shadows all around made Beth press a hand to her lips to keep from crying out.

  “Where d’ya hear it?”

  “I—I’m not sure. But it sounded close.”

  They stood in silence for several long moments, Beth breathing in shallow puffs. However, no more sounds were heard.

  “Guess it’s gone.”

  “Gone? Gone where?”

  “Just gone. Back where it come from.”

  Beth retreated after Marnie into the bedroom and crawled back into bed. The low ceiling seemed to crowd even closer now as the girl blew out the light.

  “Marnie, what do you suppose . . . ?” She dared not finish the thought.

  “Can’t of been much. Maybe a bird or a squirrel.”

  “At night?”

  “I s’pose that’d be odd. ’Less they was disturbed by people livin’ here again.” She chuckled.

  Beth clutched the covers more snugly under her chin, hunching beneath them. Eyes wide, she looked around the room from one dark shadow to the next. She dreaded voicing her rising fear aloud. In fact, she fought against it desperately, her mind telling her the wild thought was utter nonsense. At last, the question tumbled out in a tremulous voice. “You don’t suppose . . . it couldn’t be something like . . . like a ghost, could it? Of Mrs. Grant, or her husband?”

  Marnie was staring at Beth. “That what you’re thinkin’?”

  Beth attempted a feeble laugh, as if she’d been kidding. “No, well, I mean . . . it’s not that I believe in ghosts, it’s just, I just couldn’t help but think . . . to wonder if . . .”

  “I don’t know much ’bout that, Miss Thatcher, but I just figure,” said Marnie around a deep yawn, “I figure ya gotta be dead ’fore you could haunt somebody. An’ old Davie, he ain’t dead. Just stuck in some jail in Calgary. Nor his missus neither. Even if she tried to get herself dead.”

  “I see. Of course. I suppose you’re right.”

  “If yer scared’a the dark, Miss Thatcher, maybe try countin’ sheep.”

  Marnie’s innocent suggestion did not feel at all helpful to Beth, though she said nothing further. It was rather humbling to be given such advice from someone who’d been her student—a mere teenager. Yet tired as Beth was, hours passed before she was able to ignore the many muted sounds she heard and surrender to sleep.

  CHAPTER

  3

  AFTER A LONG DAY of unpacking and organizing, along with contrived trips back to Molly’s for this and that, Beth was disappointed that Marnie would not be permitted a second night with her. She knew at some point she would have to face her fears, but she had hoped to have at least a little longer to acclimate herself to her new home.

  That evening Beth first stashed away every scrap of food Molly had sent back with her, hoping to ward off any small creatures searching for a handout. She really didn’t relish relying so heavily on Molly’s generosity. But, in truth, she’d had no opportunity to prepare for setting up housekeeping on her own.

  It was obvious she would need to return to Lethbridge to purchase dishes, pots, and other housekeeping items. Even though the return trip would be time-consuming, the possibilities for setting up her own living quarters raised her spirits a little. As she wrote out her list, she allowed herself to imagine living there as Jarrick’s wife. Oh, if only things work out for us soon. And just maybe, Jarrick will be back in Lethbridge this weekend!

  But as the shadows lengthened, Beth’s joyful contemplations could no longer put off the inevitable. She locked the exterior door carefully and checked each corner of the room for any intruders—real and imagined—even locking the unpacked trunks filled with clothes and school supplies and searching behind them. Then she forced herself into the bedroom. Once more she methodically examined the whole room, tiny as it was—beneath the bed, behind the overstuffed chair, and all around the wardrobe. Still she could feel prickles of anxiety over her body.

  This is ridiculous! What would Julie say? Then she whispered aloud rather pitifully, “Oh, I wish Julie were here. I could use her fearlessness tonight.”

  Rather forcefully, Beth threw back the covers and plumped up her pillow. Now stop it, she scolded. You’re an adult. You’re responsible for meeting the educational goals of children. You can spend the night by yourself in a place that has been empty for months, has been thoroughly cleaned, and is safe and secure. She climbed in, pulled the covers up to her chin. You can certainly manage to sleep here, she continued. And there are no such things as ghosts! Besides, as Marnie said, Davie and Helen are both alive, remember, and long gone from these rooms and from Coal Valley.

  Almost as soon as she blew out the lamp and settled her tired body against the rather lumpy mattress, the noises came again. Mentally she sorted them into categories. Now, that was just the floorboards creaking . . . that one was from outdoors. I’m sure that was just the snap of dying embers in the woodstove—oh, I wonder if that flapping sound could be a bird? Do birds fly at night? I hope so.

  Beth prayed valiantly. Father, I need courage. It’s silly and I feel like a child again, but please have mercy and answer me anyway. What is the verse I learned in Sunday school? Oh yes, Psalm 4:8. “I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, LORD, only makest me dwell in safety.” I take that promise, God, as my own. I know I can trust You—only You. She rolled to her side facing the center of the room and silently recited the verse over again several times.

  But then . . . What is that? She sat up, blanket clutched tight against her chest. This sound seemed to come from somewhere on the roof, or worse, from the long attic space running under the peak of the roof. Beth’s fears rolled over her, wave upon wave.

  “A mighty fortress is our God,” she sang al
oud. “A bulwark never failing . . .” The song seemed to shore up Beth’s confidence and likely drowned out whatever sounds might have come next. Unfortunately, though, it did little to induce sleep.

  One more night, then back to Lethbridge. The escape could not come soon enough.

  With bleary eyes, Beth greeted Alberto Giordano, the familiar miner who was the company driver for trips back and forth to the city. He held the car door open for Beth, and though his warm smile came easily, he spoke slowly with a thick accent. “I am glad you are back here, miss.”

  “Your English is coming along so nicely, signore. I’m very glad to see you again too,” she told him as she settled into the back seat of the car. As much as she disliked the road before them, Beth was grateful for a ride on one of his frequent errands back out to the prairie, bringing supplies and mail along with the occasional passenger.

  Almost instantly Beth fell asleep and woke only as she felt the vehicle slowing to a stop. “Are we there already?” She reached quickly to check her hair and straighten her hat.

  “Yes, miss,” he answered with a twinkle in his eye.

  Beth pushed open the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  “I meet you here at eight? Is good, yes?” he suggested.

  “Yes, thank you. I’ll be back right here at eight this evening.”

  Stepping away from the car, Beth looked carefully around, sorting through how to proceed next. Her thoughts centered first on Jarrick. She had worried about how best to contact him, not relishing the thought of showing up at his station unannounced. Instead, she hurried inside the nearest shop—a drugstore—and asked if she might be allowed to use their wall-mounted telephone. “It’s a local call,” she assured him. She was relieved that the man behind the counter agreed easily.

  “Hello, operator, will you please connect me with the RCMP station? Thank you.” She cleared her throat to steady her voice as she waited, leaning closer to the mouthpiece in hopes that this would give her added privacy. At last she heard a strong male voice answer, “RCMP, Lethbridge Station—how may I help you?”