Where Courage Calls: A When Calls the Heart Novel (15 page)

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered again.

Molly said nothing in reply, simply gave Beth’s shoulder a pat, then a slight push to send her on her way, blowing out the hallway candle before she departed.

As Beth moved toward her door, a flash of searing lightning lit up the world, followed by a booming roll of thunder that must have awakened the entire town. The wind lashed the downpour of rain against the windows in a new fit of fury. It was the most violent storm Beth had ever heard. Anxiously she crossed to the window for one more look at the angry night. No one—no one in his right mind would be out and about . . . and there was little chance she would find Frank in town on the morrow.

Wait!
She swept the curtain back farther.
Surely I’m seeing things.
A figure was moving through the rain, leaning against the wind, head down and boots fighting for each step.
Who would be out
at this hour?
The figure seemed to be moving toward the school. Fear struck her heart once again. But the unknown someone walked right on past the front door and turned the corner of the building
. Is he going up
the staircase?
Up to the Grants’?
She had no idea why anyone would venture out in such weather. She shook her head and wondered if she was back to dreaming. Nothing was making sense. She had to get back to bed and try to get some sleep.

Beth dreaded facing her fellow boarders over breakfast the next morning. She wondered if they had slept as poorly as she after her ill-informed alert. She felt her cheeks burning as she slid into her usual chair, but no one even lifted his eyes. Teddy mumbled good morning as he slid in beside her, and it looked like the day was going to start as usual.

Molly came, followed by Marnie, with their breakfast. Beth took a moment to spread her napkin and bow her head for a table grace. By the time she said her silent amen, the men around the table were already filling their plates. Henry, on her left, passed on the dish without comment, and the simple meal proceeded in an almost comfortable silence.

Beth breathed a sigh of relief and settled in to try to enjoy the morning’s porridge, eggs, and toast. She helped Molly and Marnie clear the dishes after the meal was over and the men had left. Even Molly had no comment about the previous night’s happening. She did affirm, “’
T
was a nasty storm last night. Saw some branches strewn round this mornin’. Ain’t heard so much thunder for a long while. Glad it’s stopped,” she added, looking out the kitchen window.

Beth wondered if the comment was meant to salve her embarrassment. She was grateful as she gathered her books and supplies to begin the school day. But she had taken only a few steps off the porch when she spotted Frank Russo, his arms loaded with a bundle of freshly chopped wood. She waved a hand at him and hurried to catch up.

“I see you’re busy, Frank, but would it be possible to stop by the school after classes are done for the day?”

For a moment he looked surprised, but then he nodded his agreement. “Yes, miss. Is there something you need’a from me right now?”

“Oh no,” Beth was quick to reply. “It’s not a need. Just your advice.”

“Advice?” He smiled. “Nobody asks advice of this old man.”

“I suspect that isn’t true,” Beth responded with conviction and a smile.

The elderly man’s eyes twinkled. “Three thirty you let’a the kiddies go home, eh?”

Beth nodded. “Three thirty.”

“I see you then,” he promised and shifted the load in his arms.

She would figure out how to send Marnie home with the others so she and Frank could speak privately.

F
RANK
WAS
PUNCTUAL
, arriving just after school was finished for the day. He stood in the classroom doorway. “I am here, miss,” he announced.

Beth greeted him warmly. “I’ll admit, Mr. Russo, that I’ve been distracted as I taught today—anticipating your visit and what I’d like to discuss with you.”

He helped her lift the chalkboard from its hooks and move it into the closet. Beth talked while she pulled the alphabet letters down from the edge of the bar counter. “I have an idea—but I don’t know if it will be possible, and I felt you were the one who had the most familiarity with people in town as well as the men in the camp.”

He stopped pushing the large table and turned quizzically toward her. “What’a you mean, Miss Beth?”

There seemed no better approach than to dive right in. “I’d like to offer to teach the miners English. And Paolo, Alberto’s son, could help. That is, we would help one another. I’ve already talked to Philip—Pastor Davidson. But I wanted to speak with you before I mentioned it to anyone who actually
lives in town. I wanted to be sure that you felt it would be acceptable.” She waited for him to process her words. “What do you think?”

He seemed speechless as he stared at her. “Why?” he finally managed.

Beth forced herself to slow down, to gather her thoughts before she explained anything further. “I don’t want them to be left out of the community—like you were,” she said. “And I know that speaking English won’t change everything, but I’m convinced it will help. And—” she hoped Frank would understand—“I want them to be able to share in the church services with the rest of us. It’s so important that they know about God and how much He loves us all.” Beth’s voice trailed away. It had all sounded so much more realistic and sensible before she had shared the plan aloud. “I know I’m new here, and that it’s doubtful I’ll be here for long. But I would so much like to accomplish this before my year is over.”

Frank lowered himself into one of the chairs, deep in thought while his left hand, unheeded, rubbed at the stump where his right hand should have been.

Beth moved to take the seat across from him. “We would need your help, though, Mr. Russo. I don’t think I could even ask Molly about it unless you were willing to be part of this—to be the chaperone whenever I would be teaching them.”

He cleared his throat, and Beth could see that he was holding back tears. “I knew I would’a like you,
Miss
Beth. You have a good heart, like’a . . .” But his voice failed him.

Beth finished, “Maybe like your Colette?” Her own eyes were damp too.

He nodded. “She would like’a you too.”

Beth reached a hand to touch his lightly. “But when I talked to Philip about it, he was concerned about where we would
meet. And that might be a bigger problem than I had first thought. We can’t invite the men into town—not yet, and Philip felt it would be considered inappropriate for me to spend time in the camp.”

“That’sa true.”

“What about meeting just across the road from the camp where, I understand, you sometimes gather with them?”

He shook his head. “No light—and the weather, it’sa no good now.”

Discouragement bent her shoulders. He was right. With winter soon approaching, outside would not work.

Beth said sadly, “If we don’t have a place to meet, it won’t work.”

“Don’ta give up yet. You have good idea.”

“But where . . .” began Beth, and her words trailed off in sheer disappointment.

For a moment the man sat deep in thought, then flung his arms wide. “It’sa so simple,” Frank exclaimed. “We meet at’a my place.”

Frank had described his cabin as between the town and camp, making it an ideal location. “Do you think we could?” she whispered, her mind already working through the possibilities he had opened.

“It’sa not very big. But it’sa
my
cabin. I don’t have to ask how I use’a my own cabin, eh?”

Beth returned his wide smile. “That would be perfect, Mr. Russo. I’ll speak with Miss Molly tonight.”

He stayed and chatted with her long enough to see that the room was returned to order and then excused himself with an encouraging nod. “You be doing a good job, Miss Beth.”

“Thank you, Mr. Russo. Thank you so much!”

Beth followed him out the door. Just before departing,
Frank’s eyes took on a mischievous shine. “Miss Beth,” he said in a teasing tone, “please, can I say just’a one thing more?”

“Of course,” Beth assured him.

“You said you doubted you would’a be here for long. When I came to this’a place, I planned on only short time too.” He winked playfully. “An’ that was’a fifty years ago.”

Beth’s eyes widened and she had to chuckle a bit as they said good-night.

But it was different for Frank
, she told herself on the walk home.
He didn’t
sign a contract to serve for just one school term
.
Still, the thought gave her something to ponder.

Beth knew she would have to broach the subject with Molly, perhaps the most difficult conversation yet. It seemed best to wait until supper dishes had been washed and Molly had a chance to rest with a final cup of coffee. Beth did not know the woman well enough yet to be able to predict how it would go.

To Beth’s surprise, Molly was far less reluctant to discuss the endeavor than Beth had feared. Once the necessary constraints were set in place to provide for safety and propriety, Molly had more ideas to add to the plans. “You’ll hafta keep them classes small since Frank’s cabin ain’t that large. Though small is sure to be better in the long run. But ya might get some a’ the other English-speakin’ men to help out. I bin thinkin’ a long time that the company shoulda been teachin’ ’em English all along—even before so many more come.” Then she shook her head and announced, “I’ll go along with ya. Now that the garden is all put up and it gets dark earlier, I can spare some time. ’Sides, gotta keep tongues from waggin’.”

Beth breathed a long sigh. “That would be wonderful!”

“An’ you say you talked to Pastor Philip too. Well, ain’t you bin busy!”

Beth blushed and dropped her head. It felt so strange to be pressing ahead with something so far outside her normal sphere of influence. That was much more typical of Julie—to be drawing any number of others into her own plans. The thought was rather amusing.
Wouldn’t
Julie be surprised!

Over the next couple of weeks, arrangements fell into place for the classes. Beth was convinced that the prayers concerning this idea were having a decided effect. Soon the first class was scheduled for a Saturday evening, and Beth was rushing to assemble something of a lesson.

In her enthusiasm and demanding activities in preparation for the new venture as well as her school and tea parties and Bible club, she refused to admit to Molly or anyone else that her throat was growing sore. By Friday morning she was coughing frequently. Rather than succumb, Beth managed to teach while sipping often on a cup of herbal tea. She was all too familiar with such respiratory symptoms—her body had frequently struggled to fight off what others seemed to take in stride. But on this occasion Beth was most frustrated with the timing. And she was determined that because of their prayers this affliction would be short-lived and incidental.

Undaunted, she and Molly met with Frank at his cabin on Friday night. Paolo and his father were also present. It was the exciting culmination of a great deal of effort, but at the same time it was all happening very quickly indeed, and Beth’s foggy head made it difficult to concentrate on what each was saying. By speaking very little she hoped to deny her illness a little longer.

But she awoke Saturday morning with a swollen throat, stuffy head, and a slight fever. There was simply no alterna
tive but to admit to Molly that she was sick. She knew from experience that once this illness had taken hold, it would only prolong her misery to ignore it. There was, in fact, little need to confess, for as soon as she began to speak Molly was alerted.

“How long yer throat bin hurtin’ like that?” A practiced hand was already sweeping across Beth’s forehead and cheeks.

“A couple of days,” Beth mumbled, swallowing back the prickling pain.

“You shoulda said. Teddy Boy, git the afghan please. Marnie, pull the kettle forward. We’ll clear out yer head over some steam, and then ya can gargle some salt water.” When Teddy returned, Molly draped the blanket around Beth’s shoulders. “Set down, dearie. We’ll get ya feelin’ better real soon. I think I got a few aspirins around here somewhere.”

“No, please, Miss Molly. I don’t want to waste your medication.”

But Molly was already rummaging in the medicine cabinet despite Beth’s protests. She slumped into a kitchen chair and pulled the blanket closer around with trembling fingers. Now that she had completely surrendered, she realized her whole body was aching and stiff.

“It’s not fair,” she whimpered pathetically. “We have the first class tonight.”

Molly returned with a glass of water and two small pills. “Swallow,” she commanded. “I’m sorry thet it come at such a bad time—but ya can’t wish it away now.” Once the water had begun to boil, Molly placed a steaming bowl of it on the table, added some type of liquid, and pulled a towel over Beth’s head. “Now breathe it in till ya clear out yer head.”

Beth, defeated, leaned forward and closed her eyes.
Why now? How can
sickness strike now?

She wasn’t able to swallow down any breakfast. Molly made
some chamomile tea with honey and lemon juice for her to sip and then ordered her back up to bed. Marnie was sent to inform the guests that the day’s tea party would be postponed. Alone again, Beth let tears slide unheeded down her face until she fell into a fitful sleep.

She woke shortly after lunch and was given chicken broth to sip slowly. Then Molly doled out two more precious aspirins. Following these, she crushed some dry ginger into some honey, had Beth swallow a little at a time off the spoon, and sent her right back to bed. Though she was deeply remorseful about being ill, Beth couldn’t help feeling grateful for Molly’s manner of treating her illness. Her mother would have been pushing nasty elixirs on her every few hours. Almost as soon as Beth laid her head down, she was sound asleep.

The remainder of the day was only a blur. Beth was vaguely aware of sounds when Molly left the house that evening. Mumbling a prayer that things would go well without her, Beth blew her nose and went back to sleep.

Sunday was equally uneventful, though she hung on every word of Molly’s terse description of the previous evening. “Frances come with me—’stead’a you. There was four men—an’ Frank, along with Paolo an’ his dad. They did some talking—learned a few words—and seemed satisfied.”

“Did Paolo teach?”

“Eh, he give some instruction in Italian, I guess. ’Cept I missed all that. Then we all said the words he told us t’gether.”

Beth let the topic drop. Her head was beginning to clear. Now she could only hold out hope that she would be able to teach on Monday. Dutifully she began a letter to Mother. This time, however, Beth added more about the English classes that she had helped arrange and admitted her own disappointment that she had not been able to attend the first of them due to
a cold. If Mother were to chastise her for becoming involved with foreign men and for working so hard that she had made herself ill, at least Beth knew she had been completely honest.

But it took another day for Beth to recover enough to return to her classroom. On Monday about a half hour before school was to begin, Molly asked Marnie and Teddy to deliver the message down the row of homes that class would be canceled for a day. They left the house at full gallop, like ponies set free in a spring pasture. Beth tried not to let their enthusiasm hurt her feelings.