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Authors: The Baby Bequest
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lonely, worrying? Didn’t he know it better than anyone here?
Chapter Six
O n Monday morning, Ellen inhaled deeply, preparing to face teaching school with William in the room. With any luck, tomorrow he would be with Mrs. Brawley. But until then, she’d have to make do.
She entered the still-empty schoolroom and set William in his basket on her desk. She gazed down at him as he slept, his little fists clutching the blanket. Every time she looked at him or held him, the feelings she had for him deepened, coiling tighter around her heart.
She walked outside into the air that still held no fall crispness, and rang the bell. The children stopped playing and ran toward her, jostling for their spots in the line. They filed in, taking their seats row by row. When all were seated, she shut the door with satisfaction at their orderliness and returned to stand by her desk.
“You still have the baby,” Amanda said and then colored. “I’m sorry, Miss Thurston. I didn’t mean to talk out of turn.”
Ellen nodded her forgiveness. “It is an unusual situation but until his mother returns—” Ellen’s heart clamped tight “—or I find someone to care for William, he will have to come to school. Now, I will begin with our youngest grade. Slates out, please. The rest of you, please take out your readers and begin reading silently where we left off on Friday.”
All went well till in the midst of listening to the fifth graders recite their times tables, William woke with a whimper and then a full-scale cry. The sound raced up her spine. But she reminded herself that she already had a plan for this situation.
Every child stopped and turned their attention to the basket on her desk.
Johann popped up. “Miss Thurston, the baby is crying.”
The other students laughed, and Johann looked abashed and sat down with a plump.
Ellen smiled at him. “I think you may be right, Johann.” She lifted the child and checked his diaper. “Amanda, would you be kind enough to take William to my room and change his diaper? I left everything on the table for you. And mix him another bottle of Horlick’s. That’s all laid out, too.”
Amanda beamed and hurried forward to carry William’s basket through the door behind Ellen. Ellen motioned for the fifth grader, who had been interrupted, to begin his times tables again. She listened to the boy with one ear and to the sounds of Amanda crooning to William in the next room with the other.
Ellen could make this work—she knew she could. All she had to do now was prove it to everyone else.
* * *
After supper, Ellen left the Ashfords and began walking to the Brawley’s claim with William in her arms. As she walked, an unread letter from home clamored to be taken out of her pocket. Mr. Ashford, the postmaster, had given it to her before supper.
But she didn’t have the strength to face it yet. She would never admit it to anyone, but rising to feed William at least twice each night had exhausted her, flattened her somehow. And she was not sure she could handle what the letter might hold. She would have to prepare herself for the ordeal of reading it.
Walking steadily, she had no trouble finding the newly built log cabin and she called out the familiar frontier greeting, “Hello, the house!”
Mrs. Brawley came outside to welcome her. “You came!” The petite dark-haired woman, who looked barely twenty, sounded relieved.
Ellen noted that she wore a fresh apron and held her own child, who looked to be a few months older than William. Behind her loomed the young man of the house. He did not seem very happy to see Ellen. Nevertheless, she stepped inside and greeted him, offering her hand.
He shook it, all the while grimacing as if he had a toothache. “I want to make it clear—my wife does not need to work for anybody. I’m able to provide for my family.”
Mrs. Brawley blushed and lowered her eyes.
Ellen realized she should have anticipated this. “I understand that, Mr.
Chapter Six
O n Monday morning, Ellen inhaled deeply, preparing to face teaching school with William in the room. With any luck, tomorrow he would be with Mrs. Brawley. But until then, she’d have to make do.
She entered the still-empty schoolroom and set William in his basket on her desk. She gazed down at him as he slept, his little fists clutching the blanket. Every time she looked at him or held him, the feelings she had for him deepened, coiling tighter around her heart.
She walked outside into the air that still held no fall crispness, and rang the bell. The children stopped playing and ran toward her, jostling for their spots in the line. They filed in, taking their seats row by row. When all were seated, she shut the door with satisfaction at their orderliness and returned to stand by her desk.
“You still have the baby,” Amanda said and then colored. “I’m sorry, Miss Thurston. I didn’t mean to talk out of turn.”
Ellen nodded her forgiveness. “It is an unusual situation but until his mother returns—” Ellen’s heart clamped tight “—or I find someone to care for William, he will have to come to school. Now, I will begin with our youngest grade. Slates out, please. The rest of you, please take out your readers and begin reading silently where we left off on Friday.”
All went well till in the midst of listening to the fifth graders recite their times tables, William woke with a whimper and then a full-scale cry. The sound raced up her spine. But she reminded herself that she already had a plan for this situation.
Every child stopped and turned their attention to the basket on her desk.
Johann popped up. “Miss Thurston, the baby is crying.”
The other students laughed, and Johann looked abashed and sat down with a plump.
Ellen smiled at him. “I think you may be right, Johann.” She lifted the child and checked his diaper. “Amanda, would you be kind enough to take William to my room and change his diaper? I left everything on the table for you. And mix him another bottle of Horlick’s. That’s all laid out, too.”
Amanda beamed and hurried forward to carry William’s basket through the door behind Ellen. Ellen motioned for the fifth grader, who had been interrupted, to begin his times tables again. She listened to the boy with one ear and to the sounds of Amanda crooning to William in the next room with the other.
Ellen could make this work—she knew she could. All she had to do now was prove it to everyone else.
* * *
After supper, Ellen left the Ashfords and began walking to the Brawley’s claim with William in her arms. As she walked, an unread letter from home clamored to be taken out of her pocket. Mr. Ashford, the postmaster, had given it to her before supper.
But she didn’t have the strength to face it yet. She would never admit it to anyone, but rising to feed William at least twice each night had exhausted her, flattened her somehow. And she was not sure she could handle what the letter might hold. She would have to prepare herself for the ordeal of reading it.
Walking steadily, she had no trouble finding the newly built log cabin and she called out the familiar frontier greeting, “Hello, the house!”
Mrs. Brawley came outside to welcome her. “You came!” The petite dark-haired woman, who looked barely twenty, sounded relieved.
Ellen noted that she wore a fresh apron and held her own child, who looked to be a few months older than William. Behind her loomed the young man of the house. He did not seem very happy to see Ellen. Nevertheless, she stepped inside and greeted him, offering her hand.
He shook it, all the while grimacing as if he had a toothache. “I want to make it clear—my wife does not need to work for anybody. I’m able to provide for my family.”
Mrs. Brawley blushed and lowered her eyes.
Ellen realized she should have anticipated this. “I understand that, Mr.
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