Autumn Changes
The infernal heat of summer eventually began to morph into a singe instead of a sizzle, and then the rains came, and Hope trudge through the mud and muck to get to the schoolhouse each day with her dress tucked into her boots, or if she was lucky, Mr. Howard would wake early enough to give her a ride on those days when she was likely to be swept into a sewer drain. The children lamented indoor recess, and the teacher did, too, and then around the last few weeks of September, there was another shift and the rain petered out, though it was still often warmer than the weather Hope was used to this time of year further north.
Each day, she inspected the progress on the little cabin from a distance, not wanting to get too close since it wasn’t finished yet, and she had the idea in her mind that if she touched it, the building might crumple and disappear like the vision it was. Though the size itself wasn’t remarkable, the way in which it was being put together, the craftsmanship, as well as the materials themselves, were such high quality, it was no wonder it seemed to be taking longer than expected.
She had an idea that the slow rate of progress might actually have something to do with the school board election in the next month as well, but there was no one for her to voice her suspicions to, so she kept her mouth closed.
Not every morning revealed a change, but several times a week, she’d come in to see something had been done overnight, and the most progress could be marked of a Monday morning when she hadn’t seen the structure in a few days. She felt certain by the beginning of October it was nearly complete, and she began to allow herself to think about the possibility of living there, uninhibited by her current hosts or their opinions about what she should or should not do and who she should or should not speak to.
It didn’t make much difference anyway since she hadn’t seen Judah in months. If he came to pick up the children, he kept a fair distance, and she’d only catch a glimpse of his hat or maybe his profile. He never seemed to turn to see if she was watching, nor did he ever make any effort to accidentally bump into her as he had those few times on the square. Hope pretended not to mind and tried not to think about him, but she was lying to herself; the burning feeling deep down within her heart told her she longed to see him again regardless of what anyone else said, particularly Judah himself.
In early October, she’d finally written a letter home asking for advice. She tried to keep her mood nonchalant, only inquiring of her parents about what they had done when they’d been away from each other for so long. Of course, she knew that predicament was quite different. Her parents wanted to be together and simply couldn’t be because of the war. In her case, there was no catastrophe to get through that would eventually result in the two of them being together. Even if Hope’s contract wasn’t in the way, Judah still didn’t want to be with her.
There was a slight chill in the air one morning when Hope finished styling her hair and headed downstairs, ready to grab her lunch and a biscuit to eat on the way to class. She wanted to get to school ahead of time to write some math problems on the board for her primary students. Their addition was starting to come along, and now that they were used to using their slates, she’d be able to get them started and then move to her older students.
Mrs. Howard was in the kitchen bustling around, preparing breakfast for her husband, and Hope didn’t want to disturb her. Though they were still friendly, there’d been a strain between herself and the entire family originating with Nicholas’s revelation about his feelings for her, and it was growing to be more of a chasm after Judah commissioned the cabin. Now, they would speak and be polite, but Hope wanted her freedom, and she was afraid she’d just about outstayed her welcome.
“Hope, good mornin’,” Nita said with a smile. “I ran into Mr. Stewart yesterday. He says he’s havin’ a hard time findin’ folks who’ll put in the vote for him. He wanted me to ask you—would you mind speakin’ to some of the parents when they come to get their children after school? Maybe even walk home with few of them and have that conversation?”
Hope stared at Nita wide-eyed, not having expected such a request. She’d been making signs and helping Mr. Canton for months, and now Mr. Stewart wanted her to support him? “Oh, I don’t know if I’d be comfortable with that,” she said, tossing her lunch together quickly. “I think I should try to remain as neutral as possible.”
“Well, that’s just the thing, darlin’. He knows you been helpin’ out Mr. Canton in secret. I think everyone knows that. He’s not too happy about it, and as you know, he’s still your boss.”
Hope froze, apple in hand and turned to look at Mrs. Howard. “What are you saying, Nita?”
“I’m sayin’ I wouldn’t give ‘im no excuse to start lookin’ for another teacher. Election day’s not that far off. Who knows what he might do between now and then? He seems to think it might be a better idea to find someone who ain’t so... how did he put it? Demanding. Listen, honey, I ain’t tryin’ to tell you what to do, but he asked me to speak to you, so I told ‘im I would. And I’d just be careful, that’s all. Don’t be seen speakin’ to no one who could get you in any trouble, you hear?”
She knew exactly what Nita was getting at then. Hope let out a sigh and thought of a compromise. “I will speak to the parents about the election,” she said with as pleasant of a smile as she could force onto her face. She didn’t need to elaborate any further than that.
“All righty then, darlin’. You have a good day.” Nita turned back to the frying pan and Hope bid her farewell before starting for the front door. “Oh! I almost forgot!”
Turning back around, Hope saw Nita digging in her apron for something. “Ye gotta letter yesterday. I was in the post office, and Twinny handed it over to me.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Hope smiled and took it, wishing Nita wouldn’t pick up her mail at all, or if she did, she’d put it on her dresser, as they’d discussed a few times before, but there was no reason to point that out now that—hopefully—her days in the Howard home were numbered. She took a look at it and saw the letter was from her father, and instantly Hope felt better about the entire universe. She slipped the letter into her own pocket, thinking she’d have to find time to read it later, maybe at recess.
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