News at Last
Christmas came and went, as did New Years. Hope had sent the letter and telegram as intended, and every day that the post office was open, she went and checked to see if she had anything back from Nita Howard only to return empty handed. Likewise, every evening, she’d wait by the front door for her daddy to return from work to see if he’d received a telegram, and each night she went to bed disappointed.
Hope had just about given up when January turned to February, and she still hadn’t heard anything at all. Her grandparents recommended she send another letter; perhaps the first one had gotten lost in the post. While Hope considered it, she’d been sure to mention her letter in the telegram, which she was sure had gone through, and since she hadn’t received an answer to that inquiry either, she thought it might seem a little desperate to write another correspondence.
She’d taken to walking straight from the school to the post office, and even though it was out of the way and took a bit longer, it was a good way to clear her head. The students in her class were doing so well, she didn’t worry about most of them anymore, with the exception of little Freddy. But he was young, and he’d get it. If she were to leave, she wanted all of her students to be well-prepared for the coming school year, in case they didn’t have a competent replacement handy, and she felt they had managed to make at least a year’s progress already and it wasn’t even spring yet.
The looming courthouse building was visible before she reached the square, and each time she looked at it, memories of the stories she’d heard about the night Quantrill raided the town and burned down the original structure filled her mind. Her folks had been involved in stopping that deadly invasion, maybe more so than she even imagined. It was a wonder to think the same woman who had shot a rifle at marauders that night was afraid to let her move to Texas to teach children.
Cordia hadn’t spoken a word about it ever since Hope had first mentioned her intentions on Christmas Eve. She seemed to be waiting to see if there was anything to worry about. Faith wondered aloud to Hope from time to time that perhaps correspondence had come and their mother had “misplaced it” but having heard the story about how Carey Adams had claimed her own mail, there was little doubt in Hope’s mind that Cordia would never do such a thing. Still, as the days wore on, she wondered what her mother might do if a letter did arrive for her before Hope could get to the post office. And what would she say if she finally had to face the possibility of Hope leaving?
There were other schools, after all. Other positions. She’d been checking the newspaper regularly for them and had noted a couple that seemed promising. One was out in Utah, the other all the way in California. That would be much farther than Texas, and she wouldn’t know anyone at all. At least, if she went to McKinney, she’d know of Lola’s aunt. She’d have a family member of a friend to help her get settled. Hope had determined to put off looking at any other openings until she heard back from McKinney, but as the days accumulated with no word, she wasn’t sure if she should try another place or give up altogether.
She’d reached the town square and looked across to the other side only to see Jimmy Brooks loading up his wagon at the feed store. He hadn’t spoken to her at all since Christmas Eve when she’d declined to dance with him. At the time, she hadn’t meant to be rude or unfair; she’d been looking out for his feelings. But he didn’t seem to see it that way, and he looked away now, as if he didn’t recognize her. Hope hated to have sore feelings between them, but she didn’t know what else to do.
The post office door resounded with a clank of the bell, and she tried to keep her voice cheery as she greeted Mr. Green, the attendant. “Good afternoon, sir. No letters today?”
Mr. Green was a middle-aged man who’d been running the post office for about ten or fifteen years. He was always friendly, and every time he told Hope he had nothing for her, he offered a sympathetic smile. But today his smile looked different. “Miss Hope Tucker. Just the gal I’ve been wantin’ to see.” He gave a short chuckle and then pulled out an envelope and slid it across the counter to her.
Hope stared at it for a few seconds, unable to believe it was real. But not only was the envelope addressed to her, she could see by the return address that it was from Nita Howard. “Thank you, Mr. Green,” she muttered, picking the letter up and staring at it in fascination. Part of her wanted to tear it open right then and there, but if it was bad news, she’d just as soon read it in her own home. And if it was good news, well, she wasn’t exactly sure what that would mean either. Could she really move to Texas?
She took off out the door, not even paying attention to where she was headed, and was halfway home before she even took her eyes away from the envelope. Realizing she probably looked silly to anyone passing by, she tucked it into her pocket and increased her speed even more, thankful she’d managed to navigate around puddles and other obstacles while she hadn’t been looking where she was going.
Flinging the door open, she dropped the rest of the items she’d brought home from school on the table by the stairs and then flew up to her room, certain the amount of noise she was making would draw an audience, but she might at least have the opportunity to scan the letter before the rest of her family came to see what all the commotion was about.
Hope used her teeth to pull off her gloves and sank down on the bed. She slipped her finger underneath the fold of the envelope, carefully tearing the seal, and unfolded the single sheet of paper. The handwriting was neat and formal, and as she read, she held her breath. At least her wait was over.
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