Above Rubies (Uncharted Beginnings Book 2) Page 3

  Peggy ignored that too. “By the by, I saw you in the chapel with Gabriel yesterday. I do hope he wasn’t tormenting you again.”

  “Not at all.”

  “I know how he says sweet things to you, but I always feel so terribly sorry for you when he laughs about it afterward.” Peggy fluffed the lace at the end of her sleeves as she spoke. “He says the sweetest things to me too, but he knows I see through his games. He can be such a cad. I do fear someday you’ll fall for his jokes.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t.” Olivia began to climb back up the steps, but Peggy took hold of her wrist.

  “He flirts with the older girls now too, you know. He has my sister Frances intrigued with him and so is Cecelia Foster. I do wish he’d learn to control himself.”

  Peggy’s words felt like a dull blade being thrust between Olivia’s ribs, but she couldn’t be angry with her. Though Peggy had a bold fondness for herself, she had also kept Olivia well warned of Gabriel’s charms. She had hoped he would grow out of his childish amusements by now, but according to Peggy he had not.

  Olivia couldn’t let it matter. They weren’t children anymore, and there were children who needed her. She patted Peggy’s hand. “Thank you for bringing the children to school. I will send them home at noon today.”

  Dimples pitted Peggy’s rosy cheeks. “Excellent. And if you are looking for Benjamin Foster, he’s around the side of the chapel, hiding behind the lumber pile.” Peggy snapped a fake smile at the Vestal children as she walked away.

  Olivia climbed to the top of the steps and leaned over the wooden railing to peer around the side of the chapel. Instead of behaving like a disciplined twelve-year-old, Benjamin was crouching by the lumber, holding a magnifying glass over an insect. “Benjamin? Leave that poor creature alone and come inside for class, please.”

  Benjamin twitched and his hair dropped over his eye as he looked up at her. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” he grumbled.

  Two of the Vestal children ascended the steps, and Olivia wanted to make sure they had a pleasant greeting on their first day of school. She quickly leaned back over the railing once more. “Come inside, please, Benjamin.”

  She turned her attention to young Wade and Doris Vestal. “Good morning, children.” She glanced down the road to the north. “Will Hannah and David be joining us this morning?”

  Doris stared at her feet.

  Wade slurred through crooked front teeth. “Father said David has to work in the orchard. And Hannah has to take care of the babies because Mother couldn’t get out of bed today.”

  Olivia recalled Susanna Vestal’s exhaustion at the picnic. “Is your mother all right?”

  “She says she’s just tired. But sometimes nobody can wake her.” Wade scrunched his nose. “And sometimes she wakes up all right and then later she gets tired but doesn’t make it back to the bed before she falls over.”

  “Falls over?” Olivia put a hand on his shoulder. “Has Doctor Ashton been to see her?”

  Wade shrugged. “I guess,” he said as he looked into the church behind her. Laughter rose as the children who were waiting for class began to play in the big empty room.

  Olivia pointed toward the entrance. “Go on inside, children.” She gave one last glance in each direction. No one else was coming.

  Across the road, Henry Roberts stood in the open doorway of his father’s printing shop, keeping a watchful eye on the cauldron full of flax boiling over the fire pit out front. To the south, Gabe and his father were working with the Ashtons on their home addition. The rest of the adults would be on their farms, in their barns or vegetable patches or homes.

  She was alone and in charge of her first class. A room of twenty-one children awaited her instruction. This was what she was made for.

  Standing near the arched door, she held the bell to her chest and prayed before she went inside. She lifted her face toward the clear blue sky. “Thank you, Lord, for entrusting me with these children. Let my words speak Your wisdom and may Your strength sustain me. And when I look at the page, please let me see the words.”

  Olivia stepped into the chapel and pulled the heavy wooden door closed behind her. The children stopped talking and turned to look at her. Their expectant stares made her stomach flutter. The calculated steps to the front of the room and the confident speech she had planned dissolved into an awkward shuffle through the scattering of children and a mumble about wishing there were desks.

  She lifted her lesson plan book from the floor and willed her spine to straighten as she neared the same spot on the hardwood floor where Reverend Colburn had stood yesterday to deliver his sermon. Though her knees vibrated beneath her skirt, her volition kept her standing. She ran her finger down the roster and smiled, just as her mother always had when she taught. “Good morning, class.”

  When her greeting was met with silence, a lump formed in her throat, disseminating all hope of establishing her authority. She swallowed hard and glanced at the closed chapel door. Though surrounded by a room full of other human beings, she was alone. “We don’t have pews to sit on yet, but we will still sit in rows by age so we can share books. Remember your place on the floor and sit in the same spot each day.”

  She flipped to her seating chart and pointed at the floor near her feet. “Nearest the front will be our seven-year-old pupils. Billy, Jane, and Doris, please sit here in a row. Behind them, Anthony, Sarah, and Conrad.” She stepped away from the front as the children sat where she instructed. “Next, our nine-year-olds: Richie, Virginia, Roseanna, and Barnabus.”

  The children took their places, except for Barnabus McIntosh, who hadn’t heard her instruction. He stood by the window on the south side of the room, watching his big brother work on the home addition across the road. She touched Barnabus’ hand and he started. A few of the children giggled as she led him to his seat. If it happened again, she would lecture them on treating others kindly, but she couldn’t begin the first day of school with a scolding.

  After Barnabus sat on the floor, Olivia checked her roster. “Wade, you will be my only ten-year-old student this year, for now at least. Perhaps the children who stayed home will join us for school once they see how much we all enjoy learning.”

  One of the older students chortled.

  She ignored it and formed the next row. “You may sit with the eleven-year-olds for now, which will be Martha, Edward, Ruth, and Ellenore. Our last row will be our twelve-year-olds: Almeda, Sally, and Ben—” She glanced around the room. “Benjamin didn’t come inside, did he?”

  Her sister Alice hurried to the door. “I’ll tell him to come in.”

  “Yes, thank you, Alice.” As she returned to the front of the room, she motioned to the two adolescents who were standing at the back. “Hazel and James are two of our senior students, as is Alice. Since they have completed their primary education, they will be your monitors. They will be assisting you in your lessons and make sure you stay focused and quiet. Though they are monitors, they are continuing their education and will receive special assignments, as you will once you are their age… if your parents allow it.”

  Alice returned with Benjamin in tow. Everyone turned to gawk at him, and a mixture of snickers and whispers broke out. Olivia’s mother would have reprimanded Benjamin to make an example of his misbehavior, but he looked too pitiful for Olivia to administer harsh treatment. His shaggy hair partially covered his downcast eyes and his freckled nostrils flared. He didn’t want to be in school and he certainly didn’t want the attention.

  “Thank you, Alice. Benjamin, your seat is beside Sally and Almeda.”

  The anxious children fidgeted and shifted their legs while sitting on the hardwood floor. It was more comfortable than when she helped her mother teach lessons in the stairwell of the ship. That was two years ago and the children were younger with nothing else to entertain them.

  Girls began to whisper and boys stared out the windows. Olivia raised her voice to regain their attention. “We have a limited s
upply of readers, so we will have to share until Mr. Roberts can print more materials.” She lifted a stack of books. “One for each learning level. Since everyone here either started school in Virginia or had lessons on the ship, you should be able to keep up with your grade level. But if you have difficulty, simply ask one of the monitors for extra help. Jane, get your finger out of your nose. Do not mark in the books.” She continued to distribute the readers but stopped when she reached the fifth graders. “Martha, Ruth, please save your conversation for recess.” She tried to get Edward’s attention, but his gaze was fixed on something outside the north window. “Edward?”

  “Smoke!” he yelled as he jumped to his feet and pointed at the window. “Smoke!”

  A thin fog quickly turned into a thick haze. It billowed outside and roiled against the windowpane. Gasps from the older children and timid cries from the young filled the chapel.

  Olivia rushed to the window. Tongues of orange flames engulfed the lumber piled beside the chapel. “Everyone outside!” she yelled over the din of cries.

  Staying with the children, she shepherded them as they surged to the door. Barnabus broke away from the group and ran back for the schoolbooks scattered at the front of the chapel. As he began snatching the readers from the floor, the smell of smoke wafted into the chapel.

  Olivia wanted to save their precious few books as much as he did, but it wasn’t worth risking injury or death. “Barnabus!” He couldn’t hear her, but she yelled anyway as she dashed to him. “We have to get out!” She yanked on his sleeve and he dropped one of the books. He looked up at her and, though only nine, his steel blue eyes were as piercing as his older brother’s. She pulled him to the door and pointed at the house where Gabe was working. “Go get your brother!”

  As Barnabus sprinted down the road, Olivia urged the younger children to move away from the building. The older boys ran around the side of the chapel to see the burning lumber, except Benjamin Foster, who hurried across the churchyard toward the grove. She remembered seeing him at the lumber pile with a magnifying glass before class. He had found a way to avoid school after all.

  Henry dashed from his father’s shop across the road with a bucket, water sloshing over its sides. When he reached the burning gray leaf lumber, he tossed the water into the fire. Steam hissed from one doused flame, but the fire blazed, unabated.

  Olivia turned to the older girls. “Alert all the men in the settlement. Tell them to bring water before the burning lumber pile catches the church on fire.”

  She spotted a shovel propped against the side of one of the workshops. Two of the little girls were hanging onto her skirt, weeping. She pointed across the road and yelled to her young sister, “Almeda! Go and get me that shovel!”

  While Almeda ran for the shovel, Olivia knelt to be eye level with the frightened children. As she told them everything would be fine, she lifted her skirt and ripped a layer of fabric from her under petticoat.

  Almeda was running back with the shovel. Mrs. Cotter stood by a tree near the road, tucking her wiry hair under her brown bonnet. She was a long way from home for a woman who claimed to be so busy her children couldn’t stay in school all day.

  Some of the children were running to their houses. They would be out of harm’s way for now, but as soon as the fire was out, she wanted them back for school. When Almeda arrived with the shovel, Olivia gave her charge of the little girls.

  Olivia covered her mouth and nose with the fabric and tied it at the back of her head. Gripping the shovel with both hands, and rushed to the woodpile. “Move away!” she told the boys, who were standing too close to the blaze.

  She sank the shovel into the sandy soil, expecting to fill the blade with a scoop of dirt, but the dry ground was hard and cold. She tossed a paltry amount of dirt into the blaze and thrust the shovel into the earth with the ball of her foot again and again, ignoring the strain in her shoulders and back. Her heavy breath moistened the cloth over her mouth.

  The wooden boards on the side of the chapel were beginning to blacken from the smoke. Olivia refused to allow Benjamin’s blunder with a magnifying glass to burn down the chapel. It had taken the men months to build it. Her books were inside and years of handwritten lesson plans and hand drawn figures for when her written words lost their meaning. The smoke stung her eyes, but she kept throwing dirt onto the fire.

  Her arms began to weaken, but she plunged the shovel blade into the dirt. It hit a rock and vibrated the length of her arms with a dull and deep ache. At once, the shovel was pulled from her hands.

  “Get back!” Gabe commanded as he thrust the shovel into the soil. He gave her a quick glance. She expected him to scowl or look shocked, but he wore a partial grin.

  Henry arrived with another bucket of water, and between their efforts, the fire was out within seconds.

  She untied the cloth from her face and blinked until she produced enough tears to sooth the dry burn stinging her eyes. When she turned her back to the ruined lumber pile and surveyed the lawn from the church to the road, only half her students were in sight. The rest of the frightened children had scattered to their homes.

  Mothers were beginning to appear on porches, wiping their hands on their aprons, trying to figure out what the commotion was. Fathers were coming with buckets, but it was too late. The lumber for the church pews was ruined, but the chapel was saved. The blackened window and siding could be scrubbed and sanded to look like nothing had happened.

  As Olivia tried to call for the children to return, her throat stung. She needed a moment to catch her breath and will herself not to cry. Reverend Colburn walked toward the chapel with two of the Colburn children on the road behind him. They had alerted their father. Good, maybe he would help her get the children back inside for class.

  Olivia trudged to the chapel steps. The Reverend held up a finger as he passed her and hurried to the flame-marked side of the chapel. She wiped her face, combed her hair back into place with her fingers, and brushed the dirt from her hem while she waited for him to return.

  After a moment of muffled men’s voices, Henry and the others, holding empty buckets, left the churchyard. Gabe walked around the corner with the shovel in one hand. He looked at Olivia, but he wasn’t grinning any longer. He squeezed her shoulder as he passed her.

  Finally, the reverend returned to the front of the church building. He raised his voice for the crowd. “Everyone, go back to your homes and your work today. School is hereby canceled. The elders are to meet here at sundown. Please, spread the word. Good day to you all.” He whirled past Olivia and up the steps. “Miss Owens, come with me.”

  As she followed the reverend into the chapel, he blew out a frustrated breath. Even during the arduous voyage when they sailed from America to this unpopulated land, she had never witnessed him showing impatience. The schoolbooks were scattered about the room. She wanted to pick them up but didn’t.

  The reverend paced to the blackened window and shook his head. “I never should have allowed this misuse of God’s house.”

  “Reverend Colburn, I know the children were frightened by the fire, but they are all safe and everything is all right.”

  “The lumber for the church’s furniture is ruined.”

  “Yes, I understand. But the students and the chapel are fine.” She bent to pick up one of the readers. The embossed letters on the book’s spine were inscrutable marks, but by its burgundy cover, she recognized the third grade reader. “Perhaps after an hour or so the chapel will air out, and I can bring the students back to class.”

  “No. Collect your things and return home.”

  His command gripped her insides like an iron vise clamp. Her jaw hardened as she struggled to find her voice. “I—I believe it would ease their minds to come back inside and see that everything is indeed fine.”

  “Indeed not. Tell your father the elders will meet here at sundown.”

  “But, sir—”

  “Good day, Miss Owens.”

  Chapter Thre
e

  Olivia sat on the stoop of Marian’s cabin, waiting alone. The oval moon’s bluish light spilled over her skin and the porch and the cleared land between Marian and Jonah’s home and the chapel where the elders were meeting to discuss the fire damage. Oil lanterns filled the distant chapel windows with warm light, but it wasn’t enough for Olivia to see what was happening inside the church. Hopefully, the elders were deciding to allow school to resume tomorrow.

  Shadows from the nearby gray leaf trees streaked the lawn around the moonlit house while Marian was inside tucking the baby into his cradle. Peace emanated from Marian and Jonah’s cozy home. If only it could calm Olivia’s anxious heart tonight.

  A cold breeze brought a chill through her woolen shawl. When she shivered, her aching shoulder muscles burned. She untied the ribbon from her braid and combed out the long strands with her fingers. Her thick hair covered her neck and back. The scent of smoke clung to every tress. It probably looked as terrible as it smelled, but after such a wearisome day, vanity lost to fatigue.

  Marian tiptoed out of the cabin and pulled the door closed, save a two-inch gap. She put her ear to it for a moment. Olivia held her breath, also trying to listen for the baby.

  Complete silence.

  Marian left the door cracked. “He is asleep,” she said softly as she sat beside Olivia on the porch steps.

  “I’m sorry to bother you at night,” Olivia whispered.

  “You don’t have to whisper. Frederick will sleep until his next feeding. And you are never a bother to me.”

  “I thought the elders would be done with their meeting by now.”

  Marian planted her palms behind her on the porch and lifted her face to the starry sky. “When the elders meet at sundown, I don’t expect Jonah home for hours.”

  Olivia looked up too, but the stars could not hold her attention. Her eyes returned to the chapel and the one blackened window. The marred glass mocked her attempt at establishing a school for the remote settlement. The first day after a crisis was always the hardest and she probably wasn’t the most anxious person tonight. She glanced at Marian. “Did you see Benjamin or your parents after the fire?”