Hope at Dawn (10 page)

Friedrick stopped walking long to enough to throw the rock in his hand. To his satisfaction, it nearly reached Harlan, who’d beaten them to Livy’s cabin.

“Do you play baseball?”

“Sometimes. Harlan and I like to toss a ball around. I think he’d like to play on a team when he goes to the high school. Did any of your brothers play?”

Livy shook her head. “Only around the farm. They enjoyed football more, but we’d play impromptu baseball games when we were younger.”

“We?”

“I played, too,” she said, her tone smug.

Friedrick reached down and selected a rock similar in size and weight to the one he’d picked up. “Let’s see your throwing arm.”

Livy held out her hand. “All right.” Her green eyes flashed with determination, bringing a grin to Friedrick’s face as he dropped the rock into her open palm.

She cocked her arm, squinted her eyes to slits, and let the rock go. While it didn’t travel as far as Friedrick’s had, her rock landed within five feet or so of his.

“Nicely done.” The petite woman strolling next to him continued to surprise him. “Do you want to be on our team for the church’s spring social game?”

Her triumphant smile drooped. “I’m…um…not sure I’ll be attending there again. I wanted to check out the other church in Hilden.”

Her words, though not entirely unexpected, had the same jarring affect as a slap. Friedrick had let himself believe he and Livy were like any other man and woman, getting to know each other. But they weren’t. He was German-American; she was not. Before the war, such a fact might not have mattered—now it meant a chasm lay between them.

They came to a stop beside her cabin. Friedrick heard the sound of wagon wheels and looked up to see Elsa and Greta coming down the road.

“Thanks for walking with me.” Her words sounded sincere, but Friedrick recognized in the way she held her shoulders and stood apart from him that her guard had returned. He wished he hadn’t brought up the spring social at all—things had been going swimmingly until he reminded her about their German church.

“Do you have any plans for Easter supper?” If she was already missing home today, she might appreciate the company—even if it was with a German family. “You’re welcome to join us.”

The wagon lumbered closer. Greta sat beside Elsa on the seat, a smile on her face. Elsa, on the other hand, didn’t look pleased. Had Friedrick incited more gossip by walking Livy home?

“No, thank you. I actually have plans,” Livy answered. “There’s a family in town who’ve invited me over. The woman’s mother used to be our neighbor back home.”

Disappointment lashed through him, but Friedrick hid it behind a smile. “Glad to hear you have somewhere to go.”

“Hi again, Miss Campbell,” Greta called out as the wagon stopped beside the cabin.

Livy waved. “Hello, Greta.”

Friedrick motioned to Elsa. “This is Elsa Wagner. Mother, this is Livy Campbell, the new schoolteacher.”

Elsa nodded in response but didn’t speak.

“Nice to meet you.” Livy glanced at him. “Thanks again for the walk…Friedrick.”

He met her gaze and wasn’t surprised to see conflict clouding her green eyes. He wanted to reassure her, make her laugh again, but how could he when he knew he was the cause of her confusion?

“Happy Easter, Livy.”

“Happy Easter.” With one more pained look in his direction, she unlocked her door and disappeared inside.

Friedrick watched the door click shut. Something about the finality of the sound stirred him to irritation. At Livy, at himself, at Elsa for her coldness. He called for Harlan to come and marched to the wagon. Once the boy was situated in the back, Friedrick guided the horses toward home.

“What were you doing, Friedrick?” Elsa asked him in German, her voice a half whisper.

Friedrick didn’t need to ask what she meant. “I was walking the new teacher home.”

“But she is not German.”

His hands gripped the reins harder. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Elsa frowned at his sarcasm. “This is not a joke, Friedrick. Do you think those men who came to our farm would like hearing you are befriending the American schoolteacher?”

The thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Of course he’d been concerned about offending Livy and getting himself fired, but he hadn’t considered the implications of simply being friendly to her.

“They might believe you are trying to influence her,” Elsa continued, “to be sympathetic to our people.”

Friedrick lowered his chin and stared at the horses’ backs. His annoyance faded into concern. He couldn’t put his family in danger again.

Elsa placed her hand on his arm until he looked at her. The empathy flowing from her surprised him. She wasn’t angry; she was concerned—for him. Did Elsa sense the magnetic pull between him and Livy? “Promise me you will be careful.”

He adjusted the reins to cover her hand with his. “I will, Mother.” Avoiding Livy would be next to impossible with his new job at the school, but he would fight his attraction for her to keep his family safe.

Livy sat back in her chair with a contented sigh. “That ham was delicious, Mrs. Norton.” The older woman smiled at her from across the table.

“Mother always did make a wonderful ham,” her daughter, Mrs. Smithson, said as she began stacking the dinner dishes. Her husband and children had gone outside to take advantage of the sunshine.

“How are you holding up your first week here?” Mrs. Norton asked Livy.

Thoughts of Friedrick filled Livy’s mind, but she shoved them aside. “I can’t complain.” She smiled at the woman. “My students are bright and my little cabin is quite comfortable.”

Mrs. Smithson returned from taking the dishes into the kitchen. “Which township school is yours?” she asked as she joined them at the table.

“Number 1. It’s northwest of town.”

Mrs. Norton’s mouth formed a perfect “O.” “There are quite a few German immigrants living out that way, aren’t there?”

Livy sensed the woman meant it as more of a statement than a question, but she nodded just the same.

Mrs. Smithson played with her hand-stitched napkin. “I don’t think I could teach a room full of German children. They’re a close-knit bunch—a bit suspicious of outsiders.”

“Probably because they’re conspiring with our enemies,” Mrs. Norton added in a loud whisper as though someone might be eavesdropping on their conversation.

Shame flooded Livy to hear some of her former thoughts spoken out loud. “I don’t think—”

“Is that the school where the teacher was fired for being a spy?” Mrs. Norton pressed. “Good thing for all of us they sent her away.”

Livy stared askance at the woman. Didn’t she know Miss Lehmann had been sent to prison? Whatever the woman’s crimes, Livy still felt badly for her. She opened her mouth to tell them so, but Mrs. Norton spoke again. “You can’t be too careful these days, especially with all the Germans in Hilden. I told Edith, here, we can’t shop at Mr. Rosenthal’s store anymore. Wouldn’t do to be seen in a German-owned shop.”

Livy recalled the yellow-painted building she’d seen in town. Was that Mr. Rosenthal’s? Did he have any customers left, or had everyone in town stopped frequenting his shop?

Mrs. Smithson sighed. “Such a shame, too. His were the most reasonable prices.” She folded her napkin into a neat square. “Now tell us, Livy. Where’d you go to church today? We didn’t see you in our congregation.”

Panic drained the color from Livy’s face. She couldn’t very well admit to attending the German congregation, not after what they’d just said. She licked her suddenly dry lips, wishing she still had her glass of water. “I…um…”

“Ma,” one of the children hollered from the back door. Livy wanted to jump up and hug the youngster for his perfectly timed interruption. “When are we going to eat the pie?”

Mrs. Smithson shook her head, though she smiled. “We barely finished dinner, Timmy. I’ll call you in when it’s time.” The screen door slammed in response.

“So tell us, Livy—do you still have eyes for the Drake boy?” Mrs. Norton grinned slyly at her. The ham in Livy’s stomach was beginning to feel less delicious as the inquiries continued. The older woman laughed at her silence. “You keep your secrets then.”

“I know a real nice fellow,” Mrs. Smithson chimed in. “You know Walden’s brother, right, Mother?” She turned to Livy again. “My brother-in-law only lives an hour away, so he comes to town quite often.”

Mrs. Norton murmured in agreement. “Such a nice boy. Came home wounded two months ago, but he’s coping well enough.”

Perhaps with the use of a bottle?
Livy wanted to say. Instead she settled for, “I’ll keep that in mind, although my focus is on my job at the moment.”

The two women exchanged a knowing look. “Of course,” Mrs. Norton said as she tried to hide her smile. “But you never know when love might show up on your doorstep.”

To Livy’s chagrin, an image of Friedrick rose in front of her eyes and the way he’d studied her lips when he caught up to her after church. Had he been thinking about kissing her? She had to admit she’d thought about it, too. Especially during their nice walk together. But she’d thankfully been snapped back to reality—hard—when he’d mentioned returning to the German church. And when she’d caught sight of Elsa’s disapproving look. Despite Mrs. Norton’s predictions, Livy didn’t expect love to show up on her doorstep. Certainly it wouldn’t be in the form of Friedrick, no matter how handsome or kind she thought him.

“I suppose we’ll see,” she said with a forced laugh.

Mrs. Smithson served pie soon afterward, but Livy managed to swallow only a few bites. Her thoughts were a cyclone of confusion after her conversation with the two women. Finally she announced she had to go, using the excuse of the long walk home. Mrs. Smithson offered to have her husband drive Livy in their wagon, but Livy declined.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Mrs. Norton said as she and her daughter followed Livy onto the porch. “If you need anything at all, you come by.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m going to write your mother tonight and tell her all about our lovely visit.”

Livy managed a weak smile. “I’m sure she’d like that.”

“I bet they’re right proud of you. Teaching all those German children how to be good citizens.”

Livy stared at the porch boards in embarrassment. Is that what people believed her purpose for being here was—to make these German students more American? Is that what Mr. Foster, the superintendent, wanted from her? What her students’ parents feared from her? Her only desire was to provide the children with a good education, regardless of whether or not they were German.

Did their ethnicity really matter?
It does to you
, her head argued.
Why else would you be reluctant to get to know Friedrick more?
The realization stung.

She murmured a hasty good night to the two women and headed down the sidewalk, her mind as troubled as it had been during the awkward conversation after dinner. Why couldn’t things be simple, straightforward? She’d wanted a teaching job, had obtained one, and now she wanted only to do her best at it. Why did the war have to complicate things, not just at home but here, too?

One thing Livy knew for certain now. Though her school might be away from town, she and her students were being watched nonetheless—by Germans and non-Germans alike.

L
ivy tried to keep her eyes on the book before her, but her gaze rose again to the tall figure outside the school windows. The younger children were each taking turns reading out loud to her, while the older groups read silently at their desks. None of
them
seemed distracted by Friedrick sealing cracks in the schoolhouse brick.

Two weeks had passed since her troubling conversation with Mrs. Norton and her daughter. Livy had returned home that evening determined to be courteous and kind to Friedrick, but she wouldn’t further their acquaintance beyond that.

Her resolve had held strong for a few days, until she realized Friedrick was also acting differently. Despite their lovely walk on Easter Sunday, he’d begun responding to her with equal aloofness. On occasion she’d catch a deeper emotion in his blue eyes when he watched her, seemingly unaware she was watching back. What she couldn’t figure out was why he felt the need to avoid
her
. She was supposed to be the one keeping him at a distance, not the other way around.

Once she’d realized he was equally resolved at maintaining a respectful friendship, Livy had found herself wishing for the exact opposite—in spite of the things Mrs. Norton had said or her own convoluted thoughts.

As much as she hated to admit it, she looked forward to the moment when he slipped into the school for his tools. The firm tread of his boots on the floorboards and the polite smile he gave her before starting his work outdoors brightened Livy’s afternoons. Seeing him infused new energy into her, no matter how exhausting the teaching had been that day. And yet it bothered her to think he didn’t feel the same.

Through the window nearest her desk, she studied his square face and cobalt eyes, narrowed in concentration. His large hands expertly wielded the trowel and mortar—those same hands that had held hers, more than once, in a strong but gentle grip. No wonder the matrons at church had been so protective of him.

“Miss Campbell? What’s the next word?”

Startled, Livy swiveled around to look at her pupils. “Let’s see, Helen.” She looked down at the text, hoping to hide the deep blush on her face. “Which word were you on?”

“The bri…”

Livy saw which one the girl meant. “The word is
bright
.”

“Bright,” Helen repeated before continuing her reading in a halting cadence.

With effort, Livy focused on listening to the rest of the group read, then she stood and called the class to attention.

“Before we dismiss for the day, I want to remind you to tell those who haven’t come to school yet, we are back in session.” She indicated the three empty desks, which hadn’t been claimed in the past three weeks. “Perhaps when you see the other children at church this weekend, you can tell them we’d love to have them join us. Thank you for your hard work. You’re excused.”

While the children raced about, preparing to leave, Livy asked Henry, the oldest boy in the class, to stay behind. He approached her desk slowly, wariness written on his face.

“You’re not in trouble,” Livy said with a laugh as she sat back against the edge of her desk. She waited until the rest of the students had filed out before she spoke again. “I’d like to know if you plan to attend the high school in town this fall.”

Henry shrugged. “I thought about it. I’d have to walk every day.”

An obstacle Livy and her older brothers had also overcome. “I think it would be worthwhile for you. Have you considered the possibility of going to college after you graduate?”

“College?” Henry repeated, his tone incredulous. Livy bit back a smile. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“I’ve noticed you like to draw buildings when we do art, and you seemed especially interested in our discussion the other day on architecture.”

“I like that kind of stuff.”

“Then why not consider going to college to be an architect?” She bent slightly forward in excitement. “Someone who designs buildings and bridges.”

Henry’s eyes lit up at her words, bringing Livy a measure of pride. How rewarding it would be to see a student of hers continue on to high school and college. “Boy, would I like that.”

“You’ll have to go to the high school first,” Livy explained, “and you’ll need to save up money for college.” His expression fell a little, but she gave him a reassuring smile. “Perhaps you could start by doing some odd jobs this summer. Talk to your parents about it, and be sure to keep studying and reading, even when the school year ends. Once you decide if you want to continue at the high school, I can talk to the superintendent and get some college information for you.”

“Gee, thanks, Miss Campbell.” He grinned and rushed toward the door.

“You’re welcome, Henry.” Livy rose to her feet and began gathering up the papers on her desk.

“Uh…Miss Campbell?”

She turned to see Henry standing by the coatroom. “Yes?”

“I think you should know the Keller kids ain’t comin’.”

“Aren’t coming,” she corrected. An uneasy feeling crept into her stomach at his announcement. “What is their reason for not attending?”

The boy’s face flushed and his next words were directed at the floor. “My friend John Keller said his pa won’t let him come. ’Cause Mr. Keller’s wife’s cousin was…I mean she still is…Miss Lehmann.”

“I see.” Livy stood tall, head up, though inside shock and anger battled for dominance. “Thank you for letting me know, Henry.”

When the door shut behind him, Livy walked around her desk and sank into her chair. She lowered her head into her hands and massaged her now throbbing temples. Someone refused to let their children come to school because of
her
? She wasn’t the enemy; she hadn’t been responsible for Miss Lehmann’s termination or her being sent to prison. Yet the Kellers laid some of the blame on Livy’s shoulders anyway.

The unfairness of it festered in her mind until she could no longer sit still.
Maybe they’ll change their minds once we’ve met.

She gathered up her remaining things and headed to the door. After locking up, she stepped into the thin sunshine. Harlan and Greta were playing a game of tag behind the school, while Friedrick fixed the mortar along the south wall. He glanced up as she approached him.

“Afternoon.”

The detached civility with which he greeted her only infuriated her more. “I need to know where the Kellers live,” she said in a voice bordering on rude.

Friedrick pointed his trowel west. “Their farm is the one just down the road.”

“Thank you.” She kept her words clipped. Let him think what he wanted.

She left her sketchbook and lunch pail beside the school and walked in the direction of the Kellers’ home.

A black dog jumped up from the shade of their porch and growled at Livy.

“It’s okay, boy,” she soothed as she came to a stop in the yard.

The dog ignored her attempts to placate him and began barking instead. A boy about Henry’s age came out of the nearby barn. “Wilheim, be quiet,” he hollered at the dog.

“You must be John Keller.” Livy managed to relax her clenched jaw into a friendly smile. “I’m Miss Campbell, the new teacher at the township school up the road. Is your mother here?”

John eyed her with suspicion, but he nodded. “I’ll go get her.” He jogged up the steps and into the house.

Wilheim threw out another menacing growl, but Livy knew it was a bluff. The old dog reminded her of those they’d owned on the farm at different times. As she’d suspected, he left her unharmed and trotted back to his spot by the porch.

Livy waited for Mrs. Keller, her heart pounding faster with each long second, her hands clasped in front of her. Finally the screen door creaked open and a woman stepped out. Mrs. Keller wiped her hands on the corner of her apron, her gaze distrustful.

“Mrs. Keller, I’m Livy Campbell.” She took a step toward the porch. “I teach at the township school, up the road.”

Mrs. Keller shook her head and called over her shoulder into the house. John strolled onto the porch, followed by two young girls. They stared in curiosity at Livy. Mrs. Keller pointed at Livy, then at her son.

“She doesn’t understand very much English,” John said.

“Could you please tell her, I’m here to talk to her about you and your sisters coming back to school?” Livy asked.

The boy translated Livy’s request. Mrs. Keller frowned and shook her head again. She said something in German to her son.

“She says we can’t come. Not until Marta is released or another German teacher takes her place.”

Fresh anger leapt inside Livy. She gripped her hands tighter to keep the emotion in check. “Even if the superintendent did find another German teacher, he or she would not be allowed to speak anything but English. We have to adhere to the new language law.”

John conveyed Livy’s message to his mother, but the steeliness in Mrs. Keller’s face didn’t abate one bit. She fired more German words at Livy before gesturing for her son to translate.

The boy glanced at Livy, then away. She braced herself for the words she knew would not be pleasant. “She says your kind of people should leave us alone. Then we wouldn’t have to worry about things like language laws or non-German teachers for our children.”

With a decisive nod, Mrs. Keller ushered the girls into the house and slammed the door. John descended the steps. He gave Livy an apologetic look and returned to the barn.

Livy whirled around and marched away from the house, the woman’s accusation still smarting in her ears.
My kind of people?
she thought with a indignant sniff. She wasn’t the one being biased. There was nothing she could do to change the law or bring Miss Lehmann back. She wanted to be a good teacher—to all her would-be pupils. Was that so wrong?

She returned to the school to collect her things and started toward her cabin. Her headache had worsened. Lying down would probably help.

“That was a quick visit,” Friedrick said.

The remark, however innocuous, grated against Livy’s fraying control. She spun around to glare at him. “Tell me, Friedrick. Do all the parents hate me?”

His brow furrowed in confusion, though she wasn’t sure if it was at her question or her anger. “Why would you say that?”

She stomped over to him, anxious not to have Harlan or Greta overhear. “I was informed this afternoon the Keller children won’t be attending school this year, at least not while I’m the teacher. Apparently Mrs. Keller is related to Miss Lehmann.”

Friedrick lowered the trowel and tipped his cap upward. “Now that you mention it, I recall there was a connection between the Kellers and Marta Lehmann.”

“I thought if they met me, they might change their mind.” She pressed her things to her chest and frowned.

“Did it?”

“No. Mrs. Keller was emphatic her children wouldn’t be returning to the school. I couldn’t convince her otherwise.” Her gaze wandered to where his siblings were now climbing one of the trees behind her cabin. Her fury was fast fading into hurt. “Do the other parents despise me for taking Miss Lehmann’s place, too? Or do they prize education too much to keep their children at home?”

Friedrick rubbed his chin, which was covered in tiny blond hairs. Livy had a sudden urge to touch the stubble. Would it be scratchy or soft?

“They don’t hate you, Livy.”

She blinked, trying to remember what they’d been discussing before her thoughts had been waylaid. This was the longest conversation she’d had with Friedrick in two weeks. “What about your parents? How did they feel about a non-German teacher coming here?”

She saw the hesitation in the line of his shoulders and neck before he gave her a level look. “I won’t lie. They were a little disappointed.” Livy opened her mouth to defend herself, but he wasn’t finished. “That being said, Elsa convinced my father it would be good for Harlan and Greta to have a native English-speaking teacher. I think most of the parents around here feel the same.”

Livy kicked at a clump of new grass. The thought of anyone—German or American—disliking her cut worse than she’d thought. How could she ease the concerns of her students’ parents, assure them she was qualified to teach, even if she didn’t share the same pedigree?

She lifted her gaze to find Friedrick at work again. “Looks like you’re almost finished with this wall.”

He grunted in agreement.

She searched for something else to say, suddenly reluctant to face her silent cabin. “What will you do after all the cracks are fixed?”

“I’d like to straighten the outhouse.”

A glance at the leaning privy made Livy chuckle. “I wonder if it had a little help.”

Friedrick looked over his shoulder at her. “How do you mean?”

“Before we got our indoor plumbing, my oldest brother, Joel, played a trick on our brother Tom. I think Joel was eleven at the time, so Tom would have been nine. He told Tom not to use the outhouse on Halloween night or some ghoul might snatch him.”

The happy memory eased her hurt pride. She shifted the things in her arms and leaned against the dry bricks of the school. “Apparently, Tom waited in bed until he couldn’t stand it any longer, then he sneaked out to the outhouse. Unbeknownst to him, Joel and a friend had been waiting in the dark for more than an hour. When Tom went inside, the two boys shook the outhouse as hard as they could. Tom ran out screaming—woke the whole family. That outhouse never sat right again.”

She caught Friedrick watching her, but this time he didn’t turn away. Instead his eyes held hers. Livy’s pulse drummed faster. His look said he admired her, even found her attractive, and yet he hadn’t bothered to talk to her like this in weeks. Could they ever be more than polite acquaintances? Would that be so wrong? Surely no one would fault her for making a friend in a place where she so often felt lonely.

If only she could talk to Joel or Tom about her situation with the Kellers, with her students, with Friedrick. What would they say? She missed Joel’s sage advice and Tom’s ability to make her laugh—really laugh. Hilden might be far from home, but she’d brought the memories of her brothers right along with her.

“I miss them,” she said without thinking. “I sometimes wish they hadn’t gone to fight.”