Harriet's Hope (The Alphabet Mail-Order Brides Series Book 8) Read online

  Of course, Harriet had protested about him already beginning to work on it since he had only just recovered from his accident two weeks ago, but he saw no reason for him to just sit around the house which was no doubt a nuisance to her.

  Besides, he was fine and didn’t feel any pain anymore.

  With a smile on his face, he climbed up onto the seat of the wagon loaded with wood and waved to his wife leaning in the doorway before making his way in the direction of his unfinished home.

  Chapter 29

  Harriet lifted her skirts as she climbed up the steps to the schoolhouse which was empty other than Miss White who sat at her desk writing something. Her dark brown hair was in a twisted back bun, with loose curls hanging in front of her eyes.

  “Excuse me, Miss White? I’m Mrs. Anderson.”

  The schoolteacher looked up, her dark brown eyes meeting Harriet’s before she stood. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. What can I do for you, Mrs. Anderson?”

  Harriet walked over to her desk and smiled. “I was just hoping to discuss something I’d like to perhaps offer for your students.”

  “Anything of benefit to my students sounds wonderful. What is it?”

  “Well, I was taken in as a baby and raised at the Wigg School and Foundling Home, where I eventually taught art classes. All my life I’ve drawn and painted, and I was wondering what kind of art classes, if any, there are at this school.”

  Miss White nodded, motioning for Harriet to sit on one of the pews. “There are no art classes here because it’s considered an unnecessary thing to teach.”

  Harriet felt her stomach sink as she frowned.

  “But,” Miss White continued, “I don’t think of it that way. In fact, I think children should be able to learn to be artistic, and I know some students excel in areas like art more so than academic areas. The only reason I haven’t done any art projects with them is because I’m terrible at it.”

  Harriet smiled, sitting up straighter. “Well, I was hoping to teach art to your students. Don’t worry about the supplies or funding because I have my old benefactor, by the name of Madam Wigg, who will be generously donating.”

  Miss White’s eyes widened. “You have to be some kind of blessing to this community, Mrs. Anderson. I can’t say your pay will be much, though, but that will be up to the school board.”

  “Oh no, I don’t want any pay. I love teaching, and Madam Wigg believed and taught me to believe that all children deserve equal opportunities and fair treatment. I want to offer this to them for no cost.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Anderson! You can’t be serious!”

  “But I am, Miss White. I love teaching, and I believe art is something many children can benefit from.”

  Miss White shook her head in disbelief. “Well, I certainly have some students I hope will benefit from it. I’ve always thought of art as a way to express feelings, and allow you to understand yourself better. I certainly have some children who could use art to help them right now.”

  “Oh yes, if they should take a liking to drawing and painting, I’m sure they’d find it to be most beneficial.”

  Miss White sat quietly for a few seconds, before nodding. “I’ll talk to the school board at our meeting tonight. But I don’t see why it would be any problem to them, considering it will cost them nothing. I think the best way to do this would be for you to come in once a week for two hours.”

  “That would work perfectly. What day should I come?”

  “How does Thursdays at one o’clock sound? That way, the children’s afternoons would be art and then dismissal.”

  Harriet smiled, pushing herself to a stand. “That sounds wonderful, Miss White. Thank you for being so open-minded to this. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  “I know I won’t. Maybe I can even learn something from your classes.” Miss White laughed. “I’ll send Isabella home with a letter, with what the school board’s decision is tomorrow, but I’m confident it will be approved. You can start whenever you have all the supplies ready.”

  “Thank you, Miss White. Have a good rest of your day.”

  “Goodbye and thank you, Mrs. Anderson.”

  Harriet smiled, as she made her way out of the schoolhouse, her heart pounding. She was eager to tell Matthew the good news, so as fast as her limp could allow her to go, she set off for home and the direction where he was working on the house.

  “Matthew! Matthew!” Harriet called as she walked up the hill toward where he was sawing a log.

  He dropped the saw and rushed over to her, but she smiled and he seemed to relax. “What is it?”

  “I talked to Miss White, and she thinks it’s a wonderful idea! She’s going to talk to the school board about it tonight, and if they approve it, I will teach every Thursday from one o’clock until dismissal!”

  “Oh, Harriet, that’s so exciting. You’ll be a perfect teacher.” Matthew smiled before leaning in to kiss her, and as he did, Harriet realized her whole life was coming together and that finally, since embarking on her trip out here, she was almost settled.

  She was standing on the property she and Matthew owned, with a frame of a house, and an opportunity to teach art. What more could she ask for?

  Chapter 30

  Matthew was almost finished the house, and he couldn’t believe the time had actually arrived for him to be able to start his life here with Harriet.

  Nathaniel smiled at him from where he was hammering the door handle on to the heavy, oak door. “Are you excited?”

  “Of course, I am. But don’t worry, I’ll still help you with your farm and family.”

  Matthew noticed his brother roll his eyes, and he paused in what he was doing, expecting to receive a lecture.

  It soon came as Nathaniel huffed a breath. “I don’t need your help with my farm, Matthew. I’m the older brother here, remember? You have your own life to live, and your own land to farm.”

  “But—”

  “No, Matthew. I will be fine. I know you think you need to help me after the death of my dear Isabella, but I can and will manage. Your help and support has been wonderful, and I’m so grateful for everything you and Harriet have done to help me and the children, but I can handle it from here. How do you think I farmed before my wife’s passing?”

  Matthew sighed. “I know. You’re right. I just don’t want your kids to go hungry. And I want you to be happy.”

  Nathaniel laughed. “Granted my cooking hasn’t improved, and Harriet’s is wonderful. I am happy. Do I still miss Isabella? Of course, I do, but I can’t just stop living. She wouldn’t want that. You can of course harvest this crop with me and we’ll split it, but after that you’ll have your crop here to tend to. Our houses aren’t that far away from each other, and Harriet has already mentioned she’ll be cooking most of the meals down here. It’s not like we won’t be around each other all the time still.”

  Matthew chuckled, moving to pull his brother in to a quick hug. “You’re the best older brother a man could ask for.”

  “And you’re the best younger brother, even if you do try to act like the oldest. Which you’re not.”

  Matthew shook his head as they continued to add the finishing touches to the house.

  The day to fully move into their new home had arrived. Matthew had moved all his and Harriet’s things over, as well as the bed Matthew had moved from the small one-person cabin, to Nathaniel’s, and now here.

  He held Harriet’s hand tightly as they walked toward their new home. It was a small log cabin with a little porch on the front which Matthew thought would be perfect for Harriet to paint or draw on.

  “I’m going to make a bench to go here,” Matthew explained as they stepped onto the porch. “So you can sit and paint our view.”

  Harriet smiled up at him. “I certainly will be. The land seems to stretch on forever out here.”

  Matthew nodded, opening the door and allowing Harriet to go in first.

  “Oh, Matthew, it truly is perfect. I’m go
ing to be so happy here.” Harriet turned to face him, tears in her eyes.

  He smiled, pulling her into a hug. He was glad she thought she’d be happy, because that’s what he wanted for her. He didn’t want her to ever regret coming out here.

  The house smelled of the freshly cut logs, and Matthew took in all that he’d built. It was undeniably not much, but it was enough for Harriet and him.

  A fireplace sat on the back wall with the stove, and eventually Matthew thought Harriet could do a painting and they could hang it above the mantel.

  The bed was in the far left corner, and the unpacked trunks sat on top of it.

  The rest of the house was empty, and Matthew knew it was something they would have to work to complete. He would build a table and chairs first to go in the center of the room, but for now, they had all they needed.

  “I love you.” Matthew kissed the top of Harriet’s head.

  “I love you too.”

  Matthew smiled as she pulled herself out of his arms and spun dramatically in the center of the empty room.

  “Care to dance?” She grinned, and Matthew laughed, taking her outstretched arm as they danced in the silent, empty room that they now called home.

  Chapter 31

  “Good afternoon, children. My name is Mrs. Anderson and I’m sure your teacher has already explained to you what I’m doing here. However, I’ll remind you. I’m going to be teaching you art every Thursday, starting today. Who has ever painted or drawn before?”

  A few children raised their hands, and Harriet smiled. “Good to see, and for those of you who haven’t, now is your chance. We’re going to start with drawing, which is one of my favorite things to do in my spare time. This is my sketchbook, which is filled with a variety of drawings.” Harriet held her book up, so they could see, and one girl put her hand up. “Yes, dear?”

  “What do you draw?”

  “I draw whatever I feel like drawing. Sometimes I draw people or animals, and sometimes I draw what I’m looking at. I’ve drawn rivers, trees, and even New York City. There is no limit to what you can create.” Harriet paused, setting her sketchbook down on the desk beside her.

  “Miss White is going to give each of you a piece of paper, and I will give you a drawing pencil. Don’t draw anything yet, though.”

  Harriet gave each child their pencil, before beginning to explain how to apply pressure to create different shades. After she was sure they had a basic understanding she asked the children to draw their favorite animals.

  “Goodness! That looks just like a real rabbit. What’s your name again, dear?” Harriet held the paper with the rabbit in the corner.

  “Hannah.”

  “Right. It’s wonderful, Hannah.”

  The child frowned, and took her paper back in her tiny hands. “But it doesn’t look like your drawings.”

  “Of course it doesn’t. No one’s drawings ever look the same. Everyone sees things differently, and everyone puts different feelings into them.”

  “No. Not like that. Mine looks messy, and I think it looks like his ear was cut off.”

  Harriet frowned. “Oh, Hannah, this is only your first time drawing. When I first learned, I was about the same age as you. I thought my art didn’t look like my teacher’s either, but I just kept practicing until eventually I realized that art can never be perfect. And that is what makes it unique, and meaningful to you.”

  “You’re right, Mrs. Anderson. I will keep practicing!” Hannah wrapped her arms around Harriet and as she did, Harriet felt the grin spreading on her face.

  She hadn’t realized just how much she missed teaching, and she couldn’t wait to spend every Thursday here.

  “Everyone is welcome to take their drawing pencils home with them. They will be yours to keep, but be sure to remember them every Thursday. You can also take a piece of paper if you want to practice drawing at home, but don’t have anything to draw on.” Harriet smiled. Equal opportunities for all.

  Harriet pushed the door of the house open and stepped inside, smiling as she noticed Mathew leaning against the now finished table dramatically.

  “That looks wonderful. Now we just need some chairs,” Harriet teased, moving to brush her hand across the smoothly cut wood.

  “I can only do one thing at a time, but I’m going to start the first chair next.” Matthew paused, his blue eyes sparkling. “How was your first day?”

  “It went great, and I forgot just how much I’ve missed teaching. It’s just a simple thing I’ll do once a week, so I won’t be too busy by it, but I believe it will be a great opportunity for the children.” Harriet felt her heartbeat quicken at the thought of how much fun it had been watching each of the children draw today.

  She didn’t know if they would end up loving art as much as she did, but even if just one child learned how to connect to themselves in their art and find comfort in it, Harriet knew she would feel she had done her job.

  “I’m happy that you’ve been able to start doing this—I know it will help a lot of children, especially since many of the families around here can’t afford supplies for their children to try painting or anything like that.”

  “Me too.” Harriet smiled, reaching for her apron hanging next to the stove.

  “I invited Nathaniel and the children over for supper. I hope that’s all right with you.”

  Harriet laughed lightly, turning to face him. “Of course it’s all right. Why wouldn’t it be? The children are so sweet, and I hope you mentioned to Nathaniel that should he ever need someone to look after the children, I’d be perfectly happy to have them over.”

  “I told him, and he said he would keep it in mind. Especially for when he makes trips in to the city.”

  Suddenly, Harriet realized something that Matthew had clearly forgotten. “Matthew?”

  “Yes?”

  “How are we going to have people over for supper when we don’t even have chairs at our table yet?” Harriet laughed as Matthew’s eyes widened before he began to laugh too.

  “I guess we will have our supper outside as a picnic. The children always love doing that anyway. I never even thought about the fact we don’t have chairs.” Matthew continued to laugh, and before long Harriet’s stomach ached from laughing so hard.

  She wasn’t sure she was still laughing about the chairs at this point, or it she was just hearing Matthew which made her laugh even more.

  Whatever the reason, Harriet knew she couldn’t be happier.

  Chapter 32

  Matthew sat quietly by the fire, watching the orange flame grow and shrink, the heat from it washing over him.

  Harriet sat at the table with her sketchbook in front of her. As she focused on her drawing, her long brown hair fell in front of her eyes and she continued to push it out of the way.

  Matthew watched her and as he did, he realized just how far he’d come. In the beginning, he had put an ad in the paper for a mail order bride, thinking no one would actually answer him, but sure enough, someone had.

  He’d thought it would be perfect to have a woman figure around to help out with Nathaniel’s children, and in the end, he’d been right about that.

  What he hadn’t been right about was the idea that he shouldn’t fall in love because he was afraid to get hurt.

  He had learned that sometimes love can be painful, because those you care about are able to hurt you more than others. Sometimes in ways they would never want to hurt you. Sometimes people leave, but Matthew knew there was no way for him or anyone to stop that.

  He had learned all this from her. From Harriet.

  And he hoped she had learned something from him too. When she’d first arrived, she’d tried to hide her limp because she was ashamed of it, but to Matthew, it didn’t change what he thought of her. If anything, Matthew thought she was the bravest woman for all she’d gone through.

  She was beautiful inside and out, and nothing could change that. Her art reflected every bit of it. Matthew looked to the painting above the
fire now. One Harriet had done after living in their new home for a few weeks—of the creek where she’d gone for a picnic with the children.

  It was the first thing people saw when they entered their home, and Matthew was proud of it displayed above the mantel for all to see.

  Matthew now hoped his brother could find someone again, but he knew it would take time and may not even happen at all, but he worried for him. Perhaps his brother was afraid to love too, just as he had been afraid of once.

  Love, Matthew realized was the riskiest gamble of all.

  Epilogue

  The sounds of the birds in the valley of trees below was all Harriet heard as she sat before her empty canvas, trying to figure out how best to start this painting.

  She sat on the bench Matthew had promised he would make for the front porch of their home, and her easel was in front of her.

  From the beginning, she knew she wanted to paint a picture of the view from their home, because this was the place she belonged now.

  She’d sat down to start this painting several times before, but she had never known how to get the feeling of home just right. She knew she could paint the view and it would look like home, but she wanted it to feel like it too.

  Harriet smiled as the feeling came to her and she realized what important thing she’d been missing from the very start. She began to paint the green grass of the hill in which their house sat, and the leaves of the trees in the distance. The sky was next, a pale blue that made the picture brighter, and soon every detail was in place except one.

  Everything was there except for what made her house feel like home.

  At the top of the hill she painted herself, her long brown hair in loose curls, with her favorite white blouse and pink skirt. And next to her, she painted Matthew with his dark blond hair and his arm wrapped around her shoulders.