Western Christmas Brides. Carol Arens
he had to do it.
Upon approaching the school, his ears picked up the teacher telling the students to listen to Hannah. It was warm, even for November, and the door was open, so he quietly snuck just over the threshold, to where he could peek around the corner of the storage closet. All the children stood at the front of the room, along with their teacher, while Hannah sat in a chair near the front row of desks.
“Thank you, Miss Burnett,” Hannah said. “Children, I asked you all to stand this way for so long because, as Miss Burnett said, I’m drawing a picture. What she didn’t tell you is that the picture is for Miss White.”
“What for?” one of the children asked.
“Because she’s writing an article for the newspaper about what a wonderful performance you gave yesterday and she wants a picture to print along with the article.”
“So we’ll be in the newspaper?” someone asked.
“Yes,” Hannah said, “but, I think we should all keep that a secret. Think how surprised your parents will be when they see the paper next week with you in it, and read about what a wonderful job you all did in reciting Lincoln’s Proclamation.”
Teddy grinned at the squeals of delight and mumbles of agreement.
“Can you do that?” Hannah asked. “Keep it a secret?”
Shouts of yes echoed off the walls.
“Wonderful,” Hannah said. “I’m going to be here for a while longer drawing, and if I ask you to smile at me, it’s because I’m drawing your face and want to get it right.”
Teddy eased out of the door. There was no one else like her on this earth. No one. As he started down the steps, he paused at a sinking sensation. Now he was going to have to make sure Abigail published the etching.
His life may have just gone from bad to worse.
Hannah’s hands hurt, and her eyes ached, but as she gently brushed the etching clean, satisfaction spread throughout her. Smiling, she carefully touched several of the tiny faces. This may very well be her best work. Maybe it was just her, but she could recognize each child.
“Can I see it now?” Fiona asked as she poured hot water into the teapot on the counter.
Sitting at the table, Hannah covered the block of wood with a piece of paper. “I wish you could, but that wouldn’t be fair to Rhett and Wyatt.”
“I know what it is,” Fiona said.
“I’m sure you do,” Hannah answered. “But you’ll act as surprised as every other parent in town when the paper arrives.”
“I’ll have Brett take it to the Gazette in the morning,” Fiona said.
“No, I don’t want him to see it, either. I’ll walk it over there myself. I just hope they haven’t printed the paper yet.”
“Teddy doesn’t print it until Saturday.”
“But he lays it all out on Friday.” Which is why she’d worked on the etching nonstop all day.
“I’m sure he won’t mind redoing a page or two in order to include that,” Fiona said. “Now, it’s late, everyone else has been asleep for hours. I have tea and biscuits ready to take upstairs. You barely stopped working long enough to eat supper.”
“Thank you, and I’m sorry for not being any help to you today.”
“Nonsense. I enjoyed seeing you so engrossed in something. You really enjoyed doing that.”
“I did. I’ve never etched people before.”
“I can’t wait to see it.” With a nod toward the paper-covered etching, Fiona said, “Gather your things. I’ll follow you up the stairs.”
* * *
The following morning, as soon as the breakfast dishes were washed and put away, Hannah set half of a pumpkin pie in the bottom of a basket, covered it with a plate, and then put in the etching and corresponding drawing, as well as a smaller etching and drawing. On top, she stacked the drawings the children had made. After covering the basket with a cloth, she retrieved her coat and left the house.
Everyone from Brett down to Rhett had offered to accompany her to the Gazette office, but she’d declined, stating she’d be back shortly. Although her baby was calm and quiet as she walked toward town, nerves had her stomach churning. Offering this olive branch, which is how she chose to think of her actions, was scary, but she wanted better things for her child than what she’d known, and she had to do something to make that happen. It wasn’t easy, but few things worth doing were easy.
The space between the house and the Gazette office had to have shrunk because before she was fully prepared, she’d arrived.
Abigail was on the other side of the glass window, staring at her, and so was Teddy. Hannah willed her courage to remain, and even managed to produce a smile as Teddy pulled open the door.
“H—Mrs. Olsen, what are you doing here? Is everything all right at Brett’s place?”
The genuine concern in his eyes made her heart swell. “Everything is fine,” she said. “Brett and Fiona say hello.” Holding up the basket, she said, “I have something for Ab—Miss White.”
“What?” Abigail asked.
Ignoring Abigail’s tone and glare, Hannah held her smile in place. “May I?” she asked, gesturing toward the counter.
“Of course,” Teddy said. “Allow me.” He took the basket and set it on the counter.
While removing the cloth, Hannah said, “I made an etching of the children’s recital for you to include with your article.”
“Teddy has already completed the typeset for this week’s edition,” Abigail said, stepping up behind the counter. “We won’t be able to use it.”
Refusing to allow her disappointment to show, and seeing how Teddy was preparing to protest, Hannah said, “I understand. I told the children I may not have it completed in time.” Taking the children’s drawings out of the basket, she handed them to Abigail. “They asked me to give you these either way.”
She’d purposefully put Wyatt’s letter on the top of the pile. Frowning, Abigail started flipping through the pieces of paper.
“Some of the children are too young to write, so they drew pictures,” Hannah explained.
Teddy leaned across the counter and picked up Wyatt’s letter. “‘Dear Miss White. I haven’t read the article yet, but thank you for writing about our recital. It was fun and my ma and pa are going to like seeing my picture in the paper. Sincerely, your friend, Wyatt Blackwell.’”
Hannah smiled at how well Teddy had deciphered some of the misspelled words.
He picked up another one that said Abigail was a very good reporter, and another one that said having their picture in the paper was very exciting. That usually only outlaws got their pictures in newspapers.
Laughing at that one, Teddy picked up the one that Rhett had drawn. It was of several small stick people and one large one with “thank you” written at the bottom. “These are adorable.” Transferring his smiling eyes toward his sister, he said, “Aren’t they, Abigail?”
Abigail didn’t respond, but did seem to be concentrating on a longer letter written by one of the older children. Hannah knew the letter. It was from Patty Owens and claimed she’d like to become a reporter someday.
“May I see the etching?” Teddy asked.
“Of course,” Hannah replied, taking it and the corresponding drawing out of the basket. “I listed all of the children