An Old-Fashioned Education (3 page)

He walked over to her, carrying the laptop and iPad. “So just what were you going to do with these, young lady? You gave me your other computer. Were you planning to use these in your classroom? And don’t lie to me, because I’ll know.”

Polly sniffed pitifully. She was shaking and scared. Never in her life had she been spanked, or even confronted for her wrongdoings. Not in this manner, at least. She felt small and guilty.

“I thought maybe if you changed your mind…”

“Well, I’m going to keep these until you leave,” he said. “That’s not going to be any time soon, so you should know that I’m appointing myself your guardian until–”

Despite her fear, Polly found herself turning to glare at the man who had just spanked her. “I don’t need a guardian.”

“Well, you’re going to get one,” he said. “You’ve come here under false pretenses and are now stuck here. You can’t be trusted, Ms. Perkins, and you won’t be until you earn back that trust. Whether you care to do that or not is up to you. And since you came here with the intention of infiltrating and subverting our way of life, I can’t help but consider you a danger to this community, which is why you’ll answer to me.”

“And if I don’t want to?” she asked angrily, even though tears still hung from the long lashes above her eyes.

“Then next time you’ll be spanked on the bare bottom,” he said. “And maybe that will convince you that there are worse things in life than answering to me.”

“You can’t do this!” she said, breaking into sobs again.

“Too late,” he replied. “I already am.”

He turned. “I’m going to go tend to my kids now,” he said. “You’re free to stay here unsupervised. I’d suggest you get some rest and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Polly heard him go out the door. She still had a surreal feeling about the situation. Had what just happened really just happened? The throbbing hurt in her buttocks answered a painful, “Yes.”

She looked out the window. The snow was coming down hard. She could barely see through the white now. But they had come in on a road, she thought. And roads lead out. But the one they’d come in on led to an airstrip with no building or anything. Polly suddenly felt completely desolate and hopeless. She allowed her hands to drop to her bottom and rub. It was incredibly tender and sore. She began to cry again, wondering how she could have been so ridiculous.

“I can’t do this!” she thought. “I can’t stay here.”

Then she remembered that Walt Springer had said they had a radio. Was it a two-way radio? Did they possibly have a satellite phone? She wondered where they might be housed. The equipment shed, maybe? She’d seen another building beside it, a smaller building. Could that be the communications center, if a rinky-dink community like Pepper’s Hollow even had something like that? There was only one way to find out. Polly pulled on her jacket and with shaking fingers fastened the button. She put on a scarf and then an overcoat. No way was she going to stand by and let this man boss her around and spank her like a preschooler until spring thaw, which around here might be sometime in July. She was going to find a radio even if she had to break into one of the buildings to do it. And once she did, she’d call for help and tell Walt Springer to go straight to hell.

Polly’s teeth were chattering. She’d never felt this kind of cold. The wind stung her cheeks as bits of ice flew into her face. It even hurt to breathe air this cold. But still she pushed on, keeping close to the buildings and praying she would not be spotted. Her bottom was still sore from the spanking she’d received over Walt Springer’s lap. The outrage she felt motivated her to press on towards the little building beside the equipment shed, where she prayed she’d find a satellite phone or working radio.

She heard a noise and ducked down by a large box holding firewood. It was coming from the trees near the building. Her heart pounded. What was it? She saw movement and felt relief when the two deer that had spotted her bounded away, their tails raised in alarm as they ran.

By the time she reached the little building, her fingers were burning from the cold.

“Please don’t be locked!” she prayed as she turned the knob. It opened, and she felt a another flash of relief. Of course it was open; there were no outsiders here to worry about. Everyone obviously trusted everyone else.

She smiled when she saw the interior of the little building. A long bank of tables lay against the wall. On it were controls for various things; she assumed one of the contraptions controlled the floodlights she’d seen outside. She wondered why the compound would have floodlights out in the middle of nowhere. The other table held a radio. She did not see a satellite phone. She turned off the flashlight she was holding and ducked down, looking over the windowsill. It had occurred to her that the shine of her flashlight might alert someone. She felt her way across the floor. When she reached the table, she reached up, her hands feeling around for the radio. Polly felt the edge of it and pulled it forward across the rough wood surface of the table.

The radio stopped moving. Polly felt around. There was a knot in the wood. She pulled it harder and gasped when it fell to the floor. She heard a sickening crack of the housing.

“Oh God.” She felt a new kind of chill as she picked it up. In the dark, there was no way to examine what had been broken.

Polly sat there, unsure of what to do. Somewhere a dog bark and she felt panic rise in her chest. She switched on the flashlight, shielding it with her glove and felt a wave of nausea. The housing was cracked. Wires hung out the back. She pushed a button on the front. Nothing happened.

Her heart began to pound. What had she done? The community relied on this radio to keep in touch with the outside world.

She laid the flashlight on the floor and with shaking hands lifted the radio back up and slid it across the table until it roughly in the position it had been in before she touched it. Then Polly lay down on the floor and inched towards the door. Tears froze on her face when she got outside. She was heartsick about what she’d done, and so emotionally wrought that she was weak with guilt by the time she got back to her cabin.

She stripped quickly of her snow-dampened clothing and warmed herself before the fire. The fire. Had it been blazing this high when she’d left? She seemed to recall just some glowing embers. Had Walt Springer stoked them and added wood before he’d left? Her head felt foggy from the overload of emotions.

Polly had not even unpacked and at that moment she didn’t feel like it. She only wanted to lie down, to sleep and escape the turmoil her life had fallen into. She pulled on her flannel pajamas and a pair of soft, fuzzy socks. The bed in the cabin was in the corner of the one large room. She was relieved to find that it was comfortable. The heavy quilt was warm and the sheets soft. As she lay there feeling the chill leave her body, she wondered what she was going to do next. Her plan to contact someone who could help her leave had ended in disaster, and while she was not a religious person, she found herself praying that the community of Pepper’s Hollow had some a satellite phone or some other means of communication aside from the radio.

She drifted off to sleep with those thoughts in mind and woke the next morning to the sound of an alarm clock. It was 7 a.m.

Polly sat up and blinked. The sky outside the window was dark, and she could see snow piled on the sills of her windows. She got up and dressed in the warmest clothes she had. The jacket she’d hung by the fire the night before was dry. She donned it along with a scarf and a toboggan. She pulled on knee-high sheepskin-lined boots over her jeans, grateful that she’d thought to waterproof them before making the trip. She decided she would take a walk to clear her head, but before she could a crackling sound startled her. She was surprised to see the sound had come from a walkie-talkie on the table in front of the sofa.

“Ms. Perkins?”

She swallowed in fear at the sound of Walt Springer’s voice. “Are you ready for your first day of teaching?”

She glanced towards the window. “You send the kids to school in this weather?”

“Yes.” It was a simple, one-word reply.

“We’re in the main hall having breakfast. The snow’s only seven inches at this point. It shouldn’t be too bad a slog. I expect you here in ten minutes.”

It didn’t sound like a request, but an order. However, Polly was relieved that he didn’t sound angry, which meant he hadn’t discovered the radio. Good. Time was on her side. The longer the damage went undiscovered, the less likely she’d be considered a suspect. The door was left unlocked, after all, and given the culture of punishment within the community she doubted anyone would own up their misdeeds. The thought gave Polly some satisfaction; it was another flaw in Walt’s philosophy that spanking was an appropriate remedy for misbehavior. It didn’t stop it; it only encouraged miscreants to be more cagey. She wondered as she walked to the dining hall whether Noni resented her husband for spanking her.

Her eyes immediately sought out Noni when she reached the hall. She did not know anyone else and was in no mood to see Walt Springer. But as soon as she walked in, she was mobbed by parents.

“It’s so good to see you!” said a pretty auburn-haired woman with a kerchief on her head. She wore overalls stained with dried clay; Polly knew right away she was a potter.

“I’m Willow Criner,” the woman said. “My son Peter will be one of your students.” Behind her, an impish-looking little boy smiled a gap-tooth smile. When Polly smiled back, Peter giggled and ran away.

“He’s a bit of a handful,” Willow said. “If he gives you any problem at all, just talk to me or my husband Benjamin.”

“You can always talk to the parents,” another man said. Polly turned to see a mountain of a man sporting a bushy beard and kind, twinkling eyes. His plaid shirt was spread across his chest like a tablecloth and his blue jeans were held up by suspenders.

“I’m Harry Hart,” he said. “My daughter Sunny will be one of your students as well. I apologize that my wife Greta isn’t here to greet you, but Sunny’s going to be having a baby brother or sister any day and I don’t want her trekking through the snow in these conditions.”

“That’s kind of you,’ Polly said before being distracted by another parent. She’d greeted all of them and met their enthusiastic kids before she even got a chance to sit down for breakfast. The meal was indeed a community affair, and everyone seemed to get along well. Again, she felt reassured; if Walt Springer had discovered the radio, surely the mood of the community would have been more somber.

Noni came over to the table where Polly was sitting. She had her tray of food and put it on the table.

“How are you?” she asked Polly. “Mind if I sit here?”

“No, not at all!” Polly said, but Noni continued to stand before sighing and sitting down. Polly noticed that as she did so, she visibly winced. She could relate; her bottom was still a little sore from the spanking that Walt had delivered, but not so much that it hurt to sit. Polly recalled Noni’s comment about how she wasn’t supposed to gossip; she wondered if Walt had found out and told Noni’s husband. As if summoned by the thought, he appeared at her side. Noni’s spouse was a tall, handsome man with a square jaw, intense eyes and unruly chestnut hair.

“The new teacher, I presume,” he said.

Polly nodded. “Pollyanna Perkins.”

She extended her hand and he took it. “Paul Stone. My wife told me all about you when she got back from the cabin. I apologize if she went a little overboard with information.” He glanced at his wife. “We’re working on that thought, aren’t we, honey?”

Noni flushed and nodded submissively. Polly tried not to show her distaste.

“Sleep well?” Paul asked.

Polly nodded. “Yes, the cabin is very warm and the bed was comfortable.

“We’re glad it met with your liking,” Paul said. “And we sure hope you like it here, especially since there’s no way out for a while.” He shook his head. “Walt said that they’re saying this is one of the worst blizzards to hit this area in fifty years.”

“So did he find this out today?” Polly asked, fishing. “I mean, how did he get that information. I know you guys are against technology.”

“Not totally,” Paul said. “We have a radio in the shed near where we keep the equipment. We had two, but one malfunction a week before you got here. We’ve got parts ordered, but they won’t be here till spring now. So we’re stuck with the one.”

Polly looked down at her plate, afraid that the couple would see the worry in her eyes.

“Isn’t that kind of risky?” she asked. “Just having the one?”

“Not really,” Paul said. “The one in the shed is practically new. Those things last forever if you take care of them. And we do, because they are our lifelines. We take care of ourselves up here, but you never know when something might happen that we can’t handle.

Polly returned her attention to her food, afraid that that Paul would see her guilty expression if she looked up. Had she really left them—and herself—without a link to the outside world? She prayed the radio could be easily fixed.

“Enjoying your breakfast?” Walt Springer had walked over. After the spanking, Polly had vowed she would never speak to him again. But now she was afraid not to. She needed to act cool and normal, as if the painful spanking she’d received from him the night before had not been that big a deal. Best not to arouse his suspicions when—she didn’t want to even think about it.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s good. But I’m going to go ahead and get to the classroom if you folks don’t mind. I like to be prepared before the kids get there.”

“I’ll walk you over,” Walt said.

Men were out snow blowers, clearing a path to the school. Polly cast a sidelong glance at the building near the equipment shed. The windows were dark; no one was inside.

The school building was one large room and she could instantly tell that the community had put a lot of work into it. The desks were all hand-made and sturdy; a shelf ran along the entire side of one wall and full of all sorts of books and educational aids. Laminated posters of the seven continents, solar system and grammatical tips were neatly pinned to the wall. Her desk was a dream come true. Most teachers had to buy their own supplies but here she had everything she could need from staplers to incentive stickers for the younger children.

“Wow,” she said.

“Glad you like it,” Walt replied. “A good teacher needs good tools.”

“Still sure you want me to teach your children?” Polly asked. “It’s a lot to expect from a woman you treated like a child just eight hours ago.” She’d not mean to sound bitter, or to reference the spanking. But she could not stop herself.

“I didn’t treat you like a child, Ms. Perkins,” he said. “I corrected you as men here in Pepper’s Hollow correct women. As far as I’m concerned, the slate is clean.” He paused. “I wasn’t planning to bring it up again. You might want to follow my lead and put the incident out of your mind.”

She bit her tongue. What seemed like a minor incident to him had been an exercise in humiliation to her. But a clean slate? She was reassured. If she feigned total obedience, for the time being, no one would suspect that she had anything to do with the broken radio.

Polly glanced out the window. The snow was falling harder. She didn’t want to think about it. And the kids were starting to file in, bundled up like little Inuit children against the cold. All seemed good-natured in spite of the storm and filed to their desks. Polly assumed they’d been assigned seating. As they settled in, Walt Springer stepped up to the front of the classroom.

“Listen up, boys and girls,” he said. “You all know you’re getting a new teacher.”

“Yeah! Because our Mrs. Springer ran away!”

Polly looked up to see who’d spoken. It was Willow Criner’s son, Peter. Out of the corner of her eye, Polly could see Walt Springer flinched a little as he sought the faces of his own two children, who looked as if they may start crying.

“Let’s allow Mr. Springer to finish speaking, please,” she said, deciding that there was no time like the present to assert her authority.

Walt Springer continued. “Ms. Perkins will be that new teacher. She comes from pretty far away and has promised to pick up where my–where Mrs. Springer left off. I expect all of you to be as cordial and attentive as you can be. I don’t want to hear of any misbehavior from anyone. Is that clear?”

The students nodded obediently.

“I built a snowman!” Peter yelled the comment and Walt Springer frowned.

“Young man, were you not just asked to be quiet?”