Hope at Dawn (5 page)

Rolling up her sleeves, Livy changed into an old work dress and threw herself into the task of cleaning her small house. She heated water on the stove and used it to scrub every inch of the floor and furniture. Sweat formed on her hairline, and her clothes were soon damp and dirty.

When the single room shone with cleanliness, she turned her attention to unpacking. The more of her things she put away or set out, the more she felt at home. The work also drove away any lingering nostalgia she felt for the farm.

At last, only one box remained—the one with her school supplies. “Now is as good a time as any to take it over,” she murmured to herself.

She covered her disheveled hair with her traveling hat and her work clothes with a coat, in case she should happen upon any of her neighbors or students. Taking the box in hand, she left the cabin and headed toward the school.

The sky in the west burned with brilliant pink and orange streaks. Livy shivered as the cold air penetrated her coat. Thankfully she didn’t have far to walk. In front of her, the school stood tall and stark, its windows black.

Livy slowed her steps as she approached, suddenly reluctant to go inside. What would she find? Splashes of yellow paint, books in a foreign language, a German flag displayed prominently? Or perhaps things would be in complete disarray, in protest of the last teacher being fired.

An archway loomed over her, revealing a door on one side of the wide entry. Livy gulped. Perhaps she ought to wait until morning. She glanced back at her little cabin, but it looked as shadowed as the school from this distance.

“You’re being silly,” she told herself firmly.

She set down her box to retrieve the keys from her pocket. In the dark of the archway, she had to stick her face close to the lock to see where to fit the key. She twisted it and the door opened with a ominous
creak
.

Gnawing her cheek, Livy lifted her box and entered the building. Deep shadows pressed in on her as she walked past what appeared to be a coat closet. A loud
thud
made her heart leap into her throat. She rushed forward to escape, only to stumble over something on the floor. Her cry of fear echoed against the walls, but nothing jumped out at her.

When her pulse had slowed, she reached down to pick up the object off the floor. It was one of her books, which had fallen from the box and nearly tripped her. Livy let out a nervous laugh as she walked into the schoolroom.

In the dim light from the windows, she spied four neat rows of desks. A blackboard covered most of the far wall, except where a map of the world had been hung beside the American flag. The patriotic symbol brought Livy a measure of relief. She wouldn’t have to take down any German flags or pictures of the Kaiser.

Livy set her hat and box on the teacher’s desk at the front of the room and went to stand before the map. She placed her finger on Iowa and traced a line across the ocean to France. Joel and Tom weren’t allowed to tell the family where they were stationed or fighting, but they were somewhere in that country.

She calculated the difference in time between Iowa and France. Joel and Tom might still be sleeping or perhaps they were awake and getting an early start on the day. What would they say about her job? Livy knew they’d be proud of her for becoming a teacher, but she wasn’t sure how they’d feel about her possibly teaching German students.

An intense longing to see them welled up inside her. Her older brothers had always been her greatest friends, despite Tom being three years older and Joel five years. They were a close-knit trio and always had been. Every day she lived with the fear one or both of them might not come back.

Livy lowered her hand and frowned at the map. It would be another reminder of her brothers’ absence, but one she could control. She yanked out the nails holding the map to the wall. After carefully rolling the large paper, she placed it against the small bookcase on one side of the room.

“Better,” she whispered as she surveyed the now empty spot on the wall.

She shed her coat and unpacked more clean rags to dust the desks and windowsills. Though she suspected they could benefit from a good scrubbing as well, she was too tired to do a more thorough cleaning tonight.

After dusting, Livy unloaded her supplies. Some of her enthusiasm—and energy—returned as she placed the pencils, paper, and books inside or on top of the teacher’s desk.

My desk now
, she thought with a smile.

When everything was in order, she slipped outside and locked the door. The sky had changed to twilight blue. Livy drew her coat tighter around her shoulders and stepped quicker, anxious to be out of the cold. She found a dwindling pile of wood along the cabin’s back wall and put as many logs in her now empty box as she could carry. She’d have to see about borrowing an axe to split more or she’d freeze at night.

Inside she lit one of her lamps and stoked the dying fire in the stove. She kept her coat on as she warmed the leftovers from lunch, until enough heat penetrated the room to stop her shivering. She sat down at the table to eat and eyed the empty chair across from her. If eating with only her father for company had felt odd, sitting alone felt twice as foreign. Even in college, she’d taken meals with her aunt, whom she’d lived with, or she’d invited friends to dine with them.

The stillness pressed down on her, magnifying the scrape of her fork against the plate and the distant bark of a dog outside. The food itself tasted less appealing without someone to share it with.

What is everyone at home doing now?
she wondered.

A sudden pang of loneliness tightened her throat and made eating difficult. The family was probably gathered around the dinner table, talking and laughing and jostling for more of Mother’s biscuits. Livy imagined Joel and Tom were there, too—every seat filled but hers—though she knew that was impossible.

She forcibly replaced such thoughts with ones about her job. Since she’d just arrived today, none of the children would know school could resume. She would need to make visits to the neighboring farms tomorrow and let them know she was the new teacher.

As her gaze swept the room, she told herself she was doing the right thing. She would find happiness here, a place where she belonged. She had to. Going back home, especially with Robert there, was not a choice anymore.

Desperate to wash off the dust and grime from cleaning, Livy grabbed the lamp and the empty bucket by the door. Full dark covered the land now, and even with the lamp in her hand, she wished Allen or even her littlest brothers were around.

She walked inside a tiny pool of light to the pump and set the lamp down. The sudden hoot of an owl made her gasp. She forced a laugh at her jumpiness—something she hadn’t experienced at home or at college—as she primed the pump and filled her bucket.

With the dishes rinsed and her face and arms scrubbed clean, Livy dressed for bed. Exhaustion tugged at her mind and body, but she found satisfaction in the feeling. Today she’d worked hard at setting things in order, and very soon she’d be hard at work teaching her students.

She released a yawn and knelt beside the newly made bed for her nightly prayers. Her lips moved in silence as she thanked God for her job and her new home and petitioned Heaven’s blessings on her time here. Next she prayed for each member of her family and for Joel and Tom’s continued safety. She nearly ended her prayer there, but instead, she found herself praying for Robert’s return to sobriety. Even if it meant he married one of the ogle-eyed girls at church, Livy wanted him to find true happiness.

The thought of someone else as “Robert’s girl” inspired a prick of jealousy within her, but memories of their unhappy times together surfaced to drive it away. If Robert did remain sober, she still wasn’t entirely convinced they were the match she’d envisioned before he’d left for the war. She might miss his kisses and his handsome, dark looks, but deep down, she believed she’d made the right decision in leaving.

Livy slipped beneath her covers and shut her eyes, willing sleep to come. The air felt too still and yet noisy, too, with all the wrong sounds. She missed Mary’s soft snoring and the younger boys’ whispered ghost stories in the next room. Remembering some of those toe-curling tales, she burrowed deeper into her blankets and squeezed her eyes shut.
I’m a grown woman; I’ll be just fine.

The sounds of a team and wagon lumbering by penetrated her drowsiness. Livy jerked her eyes open, feeling wide awake again. She told herself it was likely someone driving past on the main road, until she heard a strange bump close to the cabin. Heavy footfalls neared her door and the handle rattled. Cold fear clutched Livy’s heart. She’d been so tired earlier she’d forgotten to lock the door.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, nearly drowning out the soft
screech
of the handle as it twisted. Someone was coming inside. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

The door inched opened. Livy’s pulse raced so fast it almost hurt. She searched the room for something to protect herself. Her gaze latched on to the fire poker. With one eye on the door, Livy sprang from her bed and grabbed up the fire poker. She grasped it tightly in both hands and prepared to face her intruder.

Armed with some way to protect herself, her fear changed to anger.
I have a right to be here
, she told herself. She’d done nothing wrong by accepting this job. But as the door swung fully open and a tall figure appeared on the threshold, she couldn’t help thinking her decision may have been a mistake after all.

Friedrick entered the cabin, his arms full of wood. He’d meant to leave it outside, but he figured the new teacher might appreciate not having to carry so many logs inside when she arrived.

He turned toward the fireplace and nearly collided with a white figure brandishing something long and dark in its hand. The sinister-looking item swung through the air toward his shoulder.

“Easy there,” Friedrick cried in surprise. He raised a log to block the blow, but it didn’t come.

Instead a feminine voice demanded, “Who are you? What you do want?”

“I just want to put your wood by the fireplace,” he countered. He hadn’t expected the new teacher to be here already. “Look, I’m not here to hurt you. I was told to bring you more wood. The door was unlocked, so I figured you weren’t here yet.”

“Well, I am.” He could see she still held her weapon aloft.

“Tell you what.” Friedrick took a backward step toward the fireplace. “I’m going to set your wood down over here, while you put down whatever it is you’ve got there.”

A tense moment of silence followed his suggestion. “It’s the fire poker,” she finally said, a note of sheepishness in her voice. He watched her slowly lower it to the floor.

Once he felt certain she wasn’t going to bash him over the head, he knelt beside the firebox. “I’ll be done in a moment.”

“I can light a lamp, so you can see.”

The room lit with a soft glow as he stacked the wood neatly in the box. When he’d finished, Friedrick stood and turned around. He was prepared to see a spinster woman with eyeglasses, similar to Miss Lehmann, standing there. Instead he found himself peering into the vibrant, green eyes of the girl from the dance hall.

“You’re the new teacher?” he asked at the same moment she declared, “I know you.” They shared a laugh.

She glanced down at her nightgown and blushed. He’d barged in on her sleeping. Embarrassed, Friedrick spotted a coat near the door and reached for it. “Here you go.” He handed it to her.

She gave him a grateful smile as she pulled it on. The coat and nightgown hid her small waist and curves, but he still thought she looked every bit as lovely as she had the night they’d danced. Especially with her dark blond hair falling over her shoulders and framing her pretty face.

Friedrick realized he was staring. He cleared his throat and focused his gaze on a knot in the pantry cupboard, right above her bare head. “I’m glad to see you got the job.”

“You must be the new maintenance man Mr. Foster told me about.”

“Yes.” A job that suddenly held more appeal to him than just earning money, especially if he got to see her more often. “Sorry about coming in unannounced. Mr. Foster wasn’t sure when you’d arrive and I wanted to be sure you had wood.”

“Thank you.” She lowered her gaze and fingered the hem of her sleeve. Friedrick recognized it as a gesture of shyness.

Funny, she hadn’t struck him as timid the other night. Could that mean she might like him? Might have thought about him since their last meeting? His chest swelled a bit at the possibility.

“I best get going.” He angled toward the door, but stopped when she spoke again.

“My name’s Olivia Campbell, by the way,” she said in a rush. “But most people call me Livy.”

Friedrick dusted his wood-flecked palms against his pants and stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meet you again, Livy Campbell.” His hand swallowed hers as it had when they were dancing. He liked the soft feel of her fingers in his grip. “I’ll be working on the school roof this week, but let me know if I can help you with anything else.”

“And your name?” She smiled, her face reflecting her eagerness to know.

He released her hand and glanced at the open door. If only he could give her a more American-sounding name, one that wouldn’t crush his chance to get to know her better. But he couldn’t lie. “I’m Friedrick Wagner.”

“Wagner?” she repeated, a note of surprise in her voice. “Are you from here?” She quickly shook her head. “From America, I mean.”

“My parents are from Germany, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He didn’t bother to hide the annoyance that colored his words. This was the very reason he’d chosen not to tell her his name before. He’d repeated this very scene so many times while dancing the last year, he’d lost count. “I was born in the United States, though, same as you.”

Her cheeks turned pink at his comment, but that didn’t prevent her from opening her mouth again. “How many of the children at the school are…of German descent?”