A Time to Bloom (Leah's Garden #2)(30)
“Best to bed, girls. Morning comes early.”
Yet when she lay beneath the sheet, listening to her sisters’ soft breathing, Lark’s mind wouldn’t unwind. Tomorrow, taking the money to pay Hiram Young—had he given them a fair price? Had they made the right decision in taking the land farther from the station—would it make little difference in such a small town? At least it was small for now. Who knew what the future held. God does, and leave it there, Ma would say.
Lark turned over. But now to find a way to build the boardinghouse, all while trying to recover from the grasshoppers. If only RJ would take the project on, as she’d no inkling of how to design a building. Or to get the workers needed.
She squeezed her eyes tightly. Forgive me, Lord. You’ve guided us this far, surely you’ll get us the rest of the way.
Sometimes casting all her cares upon Him sure was a hard command to keep.
9
If only she felt ready to start.
Del stood at the front of the church, the altar behind her, and stared around the room, searching for anything that was missing. Benches for sitting, narrow tables in front to form the desks. Four students to a bench, a sure cause for devilment. At least she knew her students from last spring, so she had a head start over last year, when she took over the schoolroom mid-fall. The woman who’d been Salton’s first teacher had to leave rather abruptly, so Del had been able to get a last-minute meeting with the county superintendent. After passing the exam for her certificate with flying colors, she had stepped right into the job—and loved it.
So far she had eighteen pupils registered, but she wasn’t sure she had contacted everyone. It promised to be a blistering August day, so she’d already opened the windows to get some ventilation moving the heavy humid air out or up or somewhere.
She still hadn’t heard a word about increasing her salary. Well, she had tried.
Since all their materials had blown away with the schoolhouse in the tornado, they had fewer textbooks, chalkboards, slates, paper, and pencils to start with, along with a total lack of library books. Their current supplies failed to fill the shelves under the window that Rev. Pritchard was so proud of. Mr. Caldwell had asked her to make a list of all the things they needed, the most important at the top.
Even her desk consisted solely of a chair with a narrow table in front of it, like those for the students. There wasn’t one drawer in the place.
Lord, I know you know all about this, and I try not to complain, but surely our schoolhouse should be of more import than the completion of the train station. Or at least we should have enough supplies. I know, I know, in everything give thanks. When thanks for nothing snuck through her mind, she clapped her hands over her face. Forgive me, Lord, for being so very ungrateful. Help me, please help me.
At the sound of a door opening behind her, she dropped her hands and pasted at least a portion of a smile on her face.
“Good morning, Miss Nielsen. What a wonderful day to start school.” Rev. Pritchard stopped beside her and looked around the room. “We’re missing a stand and a bucket and dipper for the water.”
Her shoulders slumped. “You’re right. We are.”
“I’ll run over to the store and get a bucket, and we can set it on a stool there in the vestibule.”
“You could wait until after school starts. The children will be coming any minute.”
He smiled and nodded. “All right. I’ll give the blessing, we can salute the flag, and then what song are you planning to sing this morning? You can play the piano, correct?”
“A little. Enough to find the opening chord. I should have asked Forsythia to come play the song for today.” Another strike of should against her.
She could hear the children chattering outside as they waited to be called in. The desire for a school bell—they’d never found the one sucked off by the tornado—chewed on her. She didn’t even have a handbell to ring. Perhaps they could rig an iron triangle with a hanging bar like the one Jesse had made for the soddy.
Rev. Pritchard pulled a round watch from his pocket. “It’s time.”
She stepped out onto the front steps, ready to call for the children to line up. Mr. Caldwell stood off to the side of the group and held up an arm to catch her attention.
“Sorry I didn’t get here sooner, but my wife found this bell and wants you to have it for the school.” He handed her a brass bell with a black handle.
“Why, thank you.” Lord, you did it again. I hardly even asked, just mentioned it in my musings. She hated to admit to complaining.
She took the bell and, now smiling, rang it, the cheerful notes catching the children’s attention. Those from the year before ran to get in line, one of the older girls guiding the new children into their places. The line started with the youngest leading to the oldest, with all of them looking at Del.
“Very good. Now we will walk in and sit down according to grades. If you are not sure where you should sit, we’ll attend to that after our opening. Put your dinner pails on the benches in the entryway. Elsie, will you please help seat the first graders?”
“Yes, Miss Nielsen.” Elsie, a girl tall for her age, with one dark braid hanging down her back, smiled at her three charges.
The other children filled up the rows of benches with a minimum of scuffling, and when the experienced ones remained standing, those who’d sat down quickly jumped up again.