Family Lessons. Allie Pleiter

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      Chapter Four

      It took longer than Holly guessed for her and Charlotte Miller to get things in order. The simple task of gathering up bedding and getting the nine pallets laid out on the schoolroom floor felt endless. Still, she reminded herself all of Evans Grove was pitching in to help. Pauline Evans and Beatrice Ward had consented to partner up to get Mr. Brooks settled at the Creekside Hotel, although Holly wasn’t sure Mr. Brooks would survive that team. His importance surely ensured a warm welcome and attentive hosting, but none of that would change the wounds of the day. Even friendly, attentive strangers were still strangers.

      “Goodness, I think that’s the last of them,” said Charlotte as she folded the facecloth of the last washed child. “Why don’t you take Miss Sterling across the yard to your house to wash up,” Charlotte suggested, making Holly think she and Rebecca now looked as bedraggled as she felt. “I’ll mind the little ones until you get back.” A few years older than Holly but with just as much energy, Charlotte rubbed her neck but smiled at the row of clean faces peeking out from under blankets and afghans. “The ones who aren’t asleep already won’t stay awake for long.”

      When Rebecca hesitated, Holly took her by the arm. “I’m sure Charlotte will send for us if any of the children need you. You need rest, and tomorrow’s tasks will come soon enough.” She was sorry to have mentioned tomorrow’s sad tasks, for she saw Rebecca’s eyes well up. The poor woman had been holding back tears all day. Holly felt like crying herself, still feeling the pull of nerves wound tight.

      Rebecca looked back at the schoolhouse twice during the walk across the yard, but allowed Holly to bring her into the tidy frame teacherage that sat across the school yard from the classroom. Home had never felt more wonderful. Holly loved her home, took comfort in the familiarity of her things. She’d always felt the house’s contents gave her a measure of strength and stability after venturing out into the prairie to help meet the need for frontier teachers. The teapot and the pretty china cups that had been her grandmother’s, the rows of precious books, all these things seemed to offer a welcome embrace as she pulled the door shut. The house was warm and cozy, for she had remembered to duck in and start the stove—not to mention start some water warming—just after supper on the square. “I think some tea and a wash up will do wonders, don’t you?”

      Rebecca gave a silent nod. She clutched a handkerchief in a white-knuckled fist, rosy lips set thin and tight. Hanging on by the thinnest of threads, she was. Holly couldn’t blame her one bit—out here in the middle of nowhere, alone to face such a daunting task. Holly’s big trip to Newfield had felt so large and important yesterday; now it felt small and inconsequential. She laid her hand over the woman’s delicate fist. “It will be all right.”

      “How?” It was more a hopeless groan than a question. Rebecca’s eyes overflowed, and tears slid silently down each of her flawless cheeks. Holly felt the lump in her own throat grow larger and thought about how the horrible gray morning after the flood had seemed to snatch away every good thing in Evans Grove. She’d stood that morning and watched the sun fail to rise over Fourth Street, fail to part the gray that cloaked the battered homes. Houses of folks she knew and loved looked like piles of strewn kindling. Soaked and bone tired, Holly had asked the same question of Reverend Turner.

      Holly now gave Rebecca the same answer the Reverend had given her. “That’s not ours to know tonight. Let’s hand it over to the Almighty for a while so we can sleep.”

      Rebecca shook her head. “Lord only knows what will happen to those children.” She dabbed her eyes. “I’ve lain awake praying that God would find them homes even before Newfield. Nothing’s come of it. These children have been passed over stop after stop. I’ve been delighted to see so many of the children we set out with find spots in good homes, but I never expected these last ones to pull on my heart so much. The whole point of the Orphan Salvation Society is to take these boys and girls out of the grime of the city and give them a hopeful future. I know a foster family isn’t the same as an adoption, but it’s close. Only we haven’t come close for these children at all. Greenville is our last stop. If they’re not placed, I’ll have to take them back to New York unplaced...” She clenched her jaw to stop a sob. The desperation in her voice told Holly that whatever waited in New York wasn’t good.

      “Shush now. All of that can wait for daylight.” Holly pulled up one of her mama’s favorite sayings from memory. “God hasn’t closed his eyes, but you ought to.” She checked the kettle. “Evans Grove is full of good people who’ll help you get over this rough patch, you wait and see.” Her mind cast back to the ragtag handful of children. They were neither strong nor pretty; surely not the kind to be caught up by families at first sight. Still, the teacher in her could already see bits of character and personality that made them special—even if they didn’t know it themselves. All God’s children were worthwhile, were deserving of love and security. “God’s watched over them today, hasn’t He?”

      Rebecca voiced the thought that came immediately to Holly’s mind. “And how has God watched over Stuart Arlington today? I can’t see the point in something so senseless. Those men had no reason to shoot Mr. Arlington. None at all.” She began to cry harder. “So much has been lost.”

      Holly put an arm around the poor woman. “Now don’t go thinking such things. We just can’t know the Lord’s hand in something like this. He’s mightier than those horrid men, even if it’s hard to see at the moment.” She was talking to herself as much as Miss Sterling. “Sheriff Wright will see that justice is done. He saw to our safety, even risked his own life to do so. Why, he even got back your bag and jewelry, didn’t he?” It seemed a poor consolation, but Holly was grasping for any silver lining.

      “Baubles,” Rebecca said bitterly. “Trinkets.”

      The kettle whistled, and Holly turned to tend to tea, taking comfort from the warm scent of the brew as it filled the home. “A good meal and a cup of tea. Some of the best medicine for a heavy heart I know, short of prayer.”