Above Rubies (Uncharted Beginnings Book 2) Page 2

  Olivia glanced at the chapel. The last of the gray leaf tree lumber piled on the ground outside awaited the carpentry skills of Gabe and his father to build seats and a lectern. As the reverend had made clear in his lengthy, albeit meaningful, dedication prayer this morning, all of it was for the church. Olivia’s delight was in knowing four days a week the chapel would be her schoolhouse. Of course the impetuousness of claiming the chapel belonged to anyone but God forced her to keep her sentiment to herself.

  Beneath the sounds of the horseshoe game and the laughter and the children singing, the low thuds of Gabe’s hammer echoed from inside the chapel. He’d missed the meal. While everyone was outside, socializing and enjoying a day of rest, Gabe was alone inside, working.

  Olivia walked back to her family’s quilt. She lifted the lid from the meat pot. One lone chunk of venison swam in the lukewarm broth. She forked it onto a plate along with the last baked potato and a heel of fresh bread.

  Holding the plate with one hand, she raised the front of her skirt with the other and climbed the stone steps her father and Walter had laid for the chapel only weeks ago. A chunk of stone propped the arched wooden door open. The minty-sharp scent of freshly hewn gray leaf lumber flowed from the narrow sanctuary.

  It took a moment for her vision to adjust to the low light in the chapel. Gabe was at the front of the empty room on his knees, driving a nail into a floorboard. His hammer paused as he drew another nail from between his lips, and then he drove it into the wood.

  Olivia waited until Gabe finished hammering. “You haven’t eaten.”

  He wiped his forehead with his shirtsleeve and stood. “Did my mother send you?”

  She proffered the plate of food. “No.”

  “Thanks, Liv.” A cheeky grin slowly reached his eyes as he accepted the plate. “So you do care about me.”

  Of course she cared about him. They had known each other their entire lives. His charm couldn’t fool her. He might enjoy flirting, but she didn’t like to pretend there could ever be anything more between them. She put up both hands in resignation. “I’m leaving.”

  “No, please stay,” Gabe slurred through a mouthful of food. He covered his lips with the back of his hand as he swallowed. “I was kidding. Don’t be like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “So easily offended.”

  “I’m not.” When she faced him, his steel blue eyes were studying her. She was glad she’d never fallen in love and always refused to be charmed. Her life belonged to the children she would teach. She fixed her attention on the floorboards. “What was so important you had to work on a Sunday?”

  He balanced the plate on his palm and speared a piece of venison with the fork. “When everyone was in here this morning, I noticed some movement in the floorboards. I didn’t want you to trip on a loose board during your first day teaching tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” A wisp of hair escaped her braid and she tucked it in. “That was thoughtful.”

  “I’m always thinking of you.”

  “Don’t say those things or I will have to leave.” She paced to the edge of the empty room with no intention of leaving, and stopped in front of the north-facing window. Outside, pretty Peggy Cotter and her mother, Mrs. Cora Cotter, were ambling through the picnic area, whispering. Peggy’s honey-hued hair was arranged in a puffy bun and she wore a corset despite the ban of corsets the group agreed upon before they sailed from America two years ago.

  As Peggy and Mrs. Cotter passed the Fosters’ picnic blanket, Mrs. Cotter pointed across the road. When Peggy turned to look in that direction, Mrs. Cotter stooped to peek inside the Fosters’ food basket. As Peggy turned back to her mother, she spotted Olivia looking at them from inside the chapel. Peggy spoke to Mrs. Cotter, who snapped her gaze toward the chapel. Mrs. Cotter’s wiry hair framed her wild-eyed stare.

  Olivia pretended not to see them and backed away from the window. Mrs. Cotter’s demeanor had changed since the voyage, and her attitude was rubbing off on her four daughters, Peggy included. Olivia walked to the front of the high-ceilinged sanctuary and tried to forget about Peggy and Mrs. Cotter.

  Gabe was watching Olivia. She could feel it. She tried to divert his focus. “How long will it take you and your father to build the pews?”

  “A couple of weeks. The gray leaf lumber is easy to work with. That’s the reason we’ve been able to build so much so fast.”

  “What about the school desks?”

  “Reverend Colburn said only pews and a lectern in the chapel.”

  She spun on her heel. “No desks?”

  “Sorry, Liv.” Gabe shoveled a forkful of potato into his mouth. “Not in the chapel.”

  “When did Reverend Colburn decide that?”

  This time he finished chewing before he spoke. “At the elder meeting last week.”

  “Why wasn’t I informed?”

  Gabe shrugged. “What does it matter? The children can sit on the pews.”

  “Their writing will suffer. We had school desks in Virginia.”

  “Because we had a schoolhouse in Virginia. Reverend Colburn says he prefers the chapel to be used only for church. He wants to instill respect for it and says if the children use the sanctuary as their playground all week, they won’t have reverence on Sundays.”

  “Then build a separate schoolhouse.”

  “You can’t demand to have something built for the settlement.” He handed the empty plate to her. “The elders make all the village decisions.”

  “You are training to become an elder. Can’t you suggest it?”

  Gabe shook his head. “That isn’t how it works, Liv. Everyone is supposed to take their concerns to their family’s elder. Yours is your father. He will decide if it’s a matter for the council to hear.”

  “I thought we left America to start a simpler society.”

  “Even simple societies need a governing system. So far, one elder per family works for us. Could you imagine what it would be like if we followed through on every idea every person suggested?” He grinned in the way men do when trying to placate a woman with charm.

  It was infuriating.

  Her cheeks heated and she curled her toes inside her shoes. “I want my students to have desks so they can concentrate and learn.”

  He tilted his chin. “If it were up to me, I’d build you a schoolhouse with a desk for every child, and for you,” he motioned to the front of the chapel, “a long desk with locking drawers and a blackboard from ceiling to chair rail.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” Her feet relaxed. “Suggest that to the elders.”

  Gabe looked away.

  She hadn’t meant to be pushy. He usually chuckled at her whenever her assertiveness got the better of her. Not this time. He seemed mature in a way she’d never seen him before—almost solemn. “What is the matter?”

  He ran a hand through his thick brown hair but didn’t answer. No charming joke, no change of subject, just silence.

  She stepped forward. “Gabriel, tell me.”

  He picked up his hammer and wiped dust from its claw. “We aren’t supposed to talk about council meetings, but I know I can trust you.” He glanced at the empty doorway. “The elders were divided over the school. Most of the men wanted to keep their children home to help with the chores. Homesteading is harder work than the families foresaw. They need all the help they can get. Why do you think there have been half a dozen babies born in the past year? Some of the men are afraid we don’t have enough people here to make a decent life for the next generation. They think our survival is at stake and it’s more important than book learning. They don’t see the need for formal education, considering our circumstances—”

  “That is absurd! Look at the harvest everyone had this year. Our barns are full and root cellars are packed for the winter.”

  “No, Liv, it’s not absurd.”

  “Yes, it is.” Her volume rose. “The settlement is stable. Children should be in school.”

  “Shouldn’t
parents make the decisions about their children’s education?”

  “Of course…” Olivia took a step back. “Of course they should, so long as they make the right choice… and that is to send children to school.”

  “That is your opinion.”

  More strands of hair escaped her experimental braid. She didn’t bother trying to tuck them back. “Every child deserves a proper education. I am ready to teach. I haven’t spent two years making lesson plans for nothing.”

  “Some of the elders agree with you. They want their children in school this year and suggested we use the chapel. Since the vote was split, they allowed Jonah to vote because he is a parent now. He voted to start school. He knows how important this is to you… and how important you are to me.” Gabe lowered his voice. “This was the most divisive matter the council has dealt with. You would be wise to take what you have been given and forget the rest. Someday we will have a schoolhouse in Good Springs, but not yet. Most of the men are tired of building, and the carpentry work is left to my father and me. We wouldn’t mind, but as long as we are building and not farming, the village has to provide for our family.”

  “We all trade and barter and help each other. That was supposed to be the basis of our society: we all work and we all eat. Can’t you at least mention building a schoolhouse to Reverend Colburn?”

  Gabe opened his mouth to speak, but glanced behind her and stopped short.

  Jonah and Marian Ashton stepped inside the chapel. Marian held their infant son, Frederick, and made the perfect silhouette of a young mother as she stood in the arched doorway, backlit by the autumn sunshine.

  Olivia gave Marian a weary smile. They could convey with a glance what could not be said—one thousand memories, their feelings, hopes, and fears, candlelit sleepovers, shared sufferings and triumphs and secrets.

  Seeing her best friend hold her firstborn child—the proof of their adult lives—jolted her into the present. This was it… what she had trained and planned and worked for… fulfilling her calling as the first teacher in the new settlement of Good Springs.

  Jonah glanced between Olivia and Gabe. He raised an eyebrow. “Are we interrupting something?”

  “Kind of,” Gabe replied, giving Jonah a look.

  “No.” Olivia ignored it and moved close to Marian to see the baby. “You aren’t interrupting. I brought Gabriel some food. It is the least I could do since he’s making sure the chapel is ready for school tomorrow.”

  Chapter Two

  At nine o’clock Monday morning, Olivia stood on the chapel’s stone steps, poised and ready with a brass bell in hand. Her insides fluttered as she gave a sidelong glance to Reverend Colburn. He checked his pocket watch and responded with a noble nod.

  The autumn wind carried gold and crimson leaves and the scent of wood-burning stoves. Beneath the unending blue sky, eight cabins—one for each of the families that sailed aboard the Providence—shadowed the road across from the chapel. Mr. McIntosh and Gabriel McIntosh had expanded some of the cabins into comfortable homes, but a few of the families had gone on to build farmhouses outside the village where they could work the fertile soil. When a family moved out, their old cabin in the village became a workshop. One was now Mr. Roberts’ printing press, one for glass making, and one a blacksmith shop.

  In the middle of the workshops, a vacant sandy lot marked where the families initially camped under shelters made from the sails of the Providence. Olivia believed they should build the schoolhouse on that lot, but her father had ignored her request. He insisted she could teach school in the new chapel just as comfortably.

  Schoolhouse or no, this settlement was now her home: a place once unknown, made productive by work, comfortable by family and friends and food, and now inseparable from the hearts that lived therein. She wouldn’t leave if she could, especially now that all she’d worked for finally was coming to fruition. She smiled and rang the bell.

  Children trekked down the road from both the north and the south ends of the settlement, some escorted by a parent, most flanked by siblings. It felt like back-to-school time in Accomack County, Virginia, and for a moment Olivia forgot Good Springs was a settlement on an uncharted land somewhere in the South Atlantic Ocean.

  Mrs. Lillian Colburn was the first to arrive with her children. The reverend’s wife wore a cornflower blue shawl draped over her shoulders and held a one-year-old baby on her hip. She pushed a wicker pram with the other hand.

  The reverend met his pretty wife at the bottom of the stairs. He kissed her and then pushed his spectacles higher on his nose as he peeked into the pram at his newborn son. Lillian waved a gloved hand, and five of her eight children politely climbed the steps for school.

  Olivia paused ringing the bell and greeted the Colburn children as they passed her. “Good morning, Ruth, Virginia, Roseanna. Hello, Anthony. Good morning, Billy.”

  “Good morning, Miss Owens,” each child replied in turn, then stepped into the church and joined Olivia’s four youngest siblings.

  Lillian raised her elegant brow. “Thank you, Olivia, or Miss Owens, rather. Do send them home promptly at two o’clock, please.”

  “I will. Where is Johnny?”

  The reverend and Lillian exchanged a look, and he returned to the steps. “We will allow you to teach our younger children for the time being, but we will see to their secondary education at home, beginning with Johnny.”

  “But he hasn’t been in school for two years. There is much to review.”

  Reverend Colburn crossed his long arms. “We have kept up with his instruction at home. Thank you, Miss Owens,” he said in a calm but dismissive tone and turned to leave with his wife.

  The pounding of hammers across the road broke the quiet of the morning. The far side of Doctor Ashton’s house was visible from the top chapel step. Doctor Ashton and two of his sons were working with Mr. McIntosh and Gabe to build an addition onto the Ashton house.

  Dust flew on the road as the youngest Ashton boy and his sister raced each other toward the chapel. James won, but Sarah wasn’t far behind. They panted their greetings to Olivia as they climbed the stone steps. Once they were inside the church, she continued ringing the bell.

  To the north, the three youngest McIntosh children stepped out of their house. Mrs. McIntosh followed them out to the porch. She kissed nine-year-old Barnabus on the top of his head and signed something to him before he left. Deaf since birth, Barnabus might be Olivia’s most challenging student. She was familiar with many of the hand motions he used to communicate, but she had planned special lessons for him using pictures and new hand motions. If she could learn to read between bouts of not being able to see words, she could teach him words without using sound. She felt the commonality of their struggles, but he had an advantage in that others knew about his impairment.

  Only one person knew Olivia’s secret.

  The youngest two of the Roberts children were behind the McIntoshes on the road. And as Olivia continued ringing the bell, Peggy Cotter came into view, escorting two of her siblings from their farm north of the settlement. Honey-blond ringlets bounced on either side of Peggy’s perfectly voluminous chignon.

  Olivia switched the bell to the other hand while waiting for some sign of the Vestal children and Benjamin Foster. Their families’ farms were the farthest from the chapel and in opposite directions, but they all should have heard the bell. She wouldn’t be surprised if Benjamin had been distracted on the way or decided to play hooky in the grove on the first day of school, but the Vestal children were well behaved. They should have been here by now.

  Peggy arrived at the church with Conrad and little Jane. She didn’t say goodbye to her siblings but shooed them up the chapel steps. She stayed on the bottom step and craned her neck toward the house where Gabe and the others were working on the Ashtons’ addition. She finally looked away from the men, smoothing the top of her puffy bun. “My mother said to tell you to let them come home at noon.”

  Olivia fingered her p
lain braid. “The children were supposed to bring their lunch and eat here.”

  “Mother doesn’t want them to go home to eat lunch. She wants them to be finished with school by noon and go home to work.”

  “The elders agreed school hours are from nine till two. That leaves plenty of daylight for chores.”

  Peggy shook her head and her iron-formed curls bounced. “Mother said noon. There is a terrible amount of work to be done. The spring box in our creek is too full of milk and it will spoil soon. She needs the girls to help churn butter.”

  “Butter?” Olivia wanted to inveigh against the Cotters’ disregard for the school hours, not to mention her work of preparing lessons and teaching class—all for butter. How disrespectful! Besides, the Owens family’s milk cow gave less and less milk each day, and they certainly didn’t have enough to make butter.

  Olivia would deign to Mrs. Cotter’s request to send her children home early, but she wouldn’t excuse her for the three children who hadn’t been sent to school. “Fine. I will send them home at noon, but only today. Your other siblings are tardy. When will they be here?”

  Peggy ignored her and returned her gaze to the men across the road.

  “Peggy?” Olivia lifted a palm, wanting an explanation for the absent Cotter children.

  “What?” Peggy shrugged. “I thought I heard Gabriel call my name.”

  He hadn’t and wasn’t even looking in their direction.

  Olivia moved down the steps. “Frances is old enough to decide whether or not she wants to finish school, but where are Judah and Editha and Eveline this morning? All of the children in Good Springs deserve a proper education.”