Mr. Higgins arrived at eleven o’clock on Friday. I was reading to Sarah and Kathleen and was totally unprepared for such an early call. He rudely barged his way through the house and declared that we were going on a picnic. He carried a picnic basket as evidence that everything was prepared. I tried to stammer a refusal, but he cut me short with a laugh.
“You needn’t bother your pretty little head about a thing. I know that I’ve surprised you—but folks will tell you that I’m full of surprises.”
He seemed to consider people’s comments regarding his surprises as great compliments.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet, not even letting me finish the final half of the last page.
“Come—come,” he said. “Picnics don’t like to be kept waiting.”
“I like picnics,” Kathleen announced hopefully.
“And someday your aunt and I will take you with us—but not today. Today is a picnic for just two.” He turned to me with a wink. “Now run along, my dear, and put on something more suitable for a picnic.” He glanced at my stylish slippers. “Especially on your feet,” he added. “Those flimsy little things are hardly suitable for a walk in the country, and we must have peace and quiet to discuss your future.”
I hurried upstairs and changed, muttering threats the whole time. I chose the plainest of the dresses that I had purchased in Calgary; but I wished with all of my heart that I had something made out of floursacking to wear instead. I searched through the closet for the walking shoes I had used for the classroom and put them on. They’re awfully plain—almost ugly, I thought, but I was glad of it as I descended the stairs.
Mr. Higgins, I thought, today you will tell me where I am to teach—or so help you . . .
I stepped onto the front porch where my caller was waiting, gathered a light shawl from the porch swing, fastened my least becoming hat in place, and reluctantly turned to the impatient Mr. Higgins who sighed loudly with relief.
His gaze then swept over me, both complimenting and criticizing me.
“You won’t need the hat. The sun will feel good—”
“A lady does not leave the house without her hat,” I retorted.
“Here in the West—”
“I am of the East.”
He howled as though I had made a hilarious joke. But he quickly forgot about the hat as his eyes fell to my shoes.
“Those shoes—” he said next, “how will you ever walk in them? They are much too—”
“Mr. Higgins,” I cut in, “I am beginning to have doubts about accompanying you. If these shoes will not do, then I must question where you are about to take me.”
He dropped the matter of my attire and offered me his arm. I pretended not to notice and proceeded down the walk on my own to a rather nice-looking buggy and horse.
Mr. Higgins made a great affair of pointing out to me the fall colors, and I would have enjoyed them had I been with any other company. I did miss the deep reds of the oak and maple I had known at home, but my spirit drank in the gold of the shivering poplar mixed with the green shades of pine and spruce in the river valley. It truly was breathtaking.
Mr. Higgins drove west out of the city. A hill rose directly ahead of us, and I knew that if we topped it, we’d see those glorious mountains. But I did not want to see the mountains with Mr. Higgins. I was deeply relieved when he stopped just short of the brow of the hill.
He leaped from the buggy and came around the horse to me, reaching a hand up to help me down. I could not refuse it without being dreadfully rude, but I pulled away from him as quickly as I was settled on the ground, He found a spot that suited him and spread out a rug and then the picnic things. Happily, the food was good. We talked about this and that; but remembering his comment about withholding business discussion until after one had eaten, I did not try to steer the conversation toward my teaching position. But I was determined that as soon as the meal was cleared away, I would broach the subject, if Mr. Higgins didn’t bring it up himself.
As soon as he had finished eating, he stood up.
“Come, my dear,” he said, holding out his hand.
I wished that he wouldn’t use such a familiar term in addressing me. It unnerved me.
“Come,” he said again. “I want to show you something.”
I waved my hand toward the scattered remains of our lunch. “But the—”
“That’ll keep. We’ll pack it up when we come back,” he said, unconcerned.
“By then the ants and flies—”
“My, my, you are a fussy thing, aren’t you?” He sounded near exasperation, so I turned my back on the rug and its contents. After all, it was his basket, and if he didn’t mind taking home a colony of ants, why should I?
We walked up the side of the grassy hill. I could see now why he had been concerned about my shoes. There was no path up the steep slope, and the walking was difficult. He offered his hand whenever I slowed a bit, so I hurried on ahead of him. By the time he called a halt, I was out of breath and glad to stop.
He reached out and turned me slowly so that I could look back upon the autumn-painted valley. The river and the town stretched out before us. From our vantage point the buildings of Calgary looked sheltered and protected. I tried to pick out Jon and Mary’s house but couldn’t find it.
“I’ve got something to say.” There was excitement and a note of confidence in Mr. Higgins’ voice.
“My school—you’ve decided . . . ?”
He laughed that hearty, grating laugh of his. I turned to look at him, uncharitably noticing the wrinkles in his suit.
“This property—right where we’re standing—it’s mine. I just bought it.”
I blinked, unable to comprehend any connection between what Mr. Higgins had just said and any possible interest of mine. Then, remembering my manners, I offered, “Why, that’s very nice. I’m happy for you. You certainly have picked a nice view. What do you plan—?”
“I’m going to build my house—right here—with a full, clear look at the valley.”
I looked back down the valley. “Very nice,” I commented rather absentmindedly.
“Do you really like it?”
“Why, yes. Yes, of course. It’s lovely.” I hoped that I hadn’t tried to overdo it. It was lovely, but I really didn’t feel that much enthusiasm.
“I knew that you would.” The confidence was in his voice again. “We’ll put the house right here,” he said, waving his arm.
Noticing the “we,” a sympathy for whoever the other member was swept through me, along with a slight thankfulness that even a man like Mr. Higgins could find someone with whom to share life.
“We’ll face this way—the front entry, the living room . . .” he said, making grand gestures with his arm. “What do you think?”
I couldn’t imagine why he was asking me, but I mumbled that I supposed that would be just fine.
“I think that we’ll build of brick rather than lumber, though lumber is easier to get. Four or five bedrooms, do you think?”
“Mr. Higgins, I—”
“You don’t need to call me Mr. Higgins, my dear Beth,” he said ingratiatingly. I was shocked at his liberty in using my first name. “It’s Thomas—Tom, if you like—” his eyes were filled with feeling as he looked at me, “or anything else you’d care to call me.”
“Mr. Higgins,” I stubbornly repeated his formal name. “I’m afraid that I don’t understand. We came here to discuss my school, and instead—”
“Ah, my dear. I see that I haven’t made myself clear. You won’t need to take a teaching position. We can be married soon and I—”
“Married?” My reply sounded almost like a shriek. “Married? What are you speaking of?”
“Don’t be coy, my dear. I see no need for waiting. Some may think it a bit hasty, but here in the West a man is given the privilege of deciding quickly. There is no need to wait just for convention’s sake. The marriage—”
“But I came west to teach!”
“Of course,” he said knowingly, “until such time as a suitable—”
“Mr. Higgins, I don’t think that you understand.” I took a deep breath to calm myself. “There were ‘suitable’ men back East. I have no intention of forsaking teaching to—to marry—to marry you!”
It was several minutes before I convinced Mr. Higgins that I meant what I said. He couldn’t believe that any woman in her right mind would actually reject his offer—so you can readily see how he, henceforth, rated me. With disgust he abruptly turned to descend the slope ahead of me, and I was hard put to keep up with him. Without another word between us, he jammed leftovers, dishes, ants and all into his picnic basket, piled it all into the buggy, and we drove back to Jon’s in awkward silence.
“Remember,” he finally grated out as we neared my brother’s place, “I am the school superintendent. I hire and I fire.”
“Perhaps you would rather I returned to the East. I’ll just tell Jonathan—”
“How absurd,” he cut in. “We’ve plenty of schools where teachers are needed. I’m sure that I’ll be able to find a spot suitable for you.”
“Thank you,” I said stiffly. “That is why I came.”
The appointment came by letter. The note was short and formal. After careful consideration, it stated, I was to be given the Pine Springs school. Enclosed was a train ticket which I was to use the next Wednesday. The train would take me to Lacombe where I would be met by Mr. Laverly, the local school-board chairman. I would have the remaining days to get settled before classes commenced on the following Monday.
“Lacombe,” I said aloud. “Where is Lacombe?”
“North,” said Jon from behind his paper. “Why?”
“That’s where I’m to go.”
The paper went down and Jon’s face appeared.
“Go? For what?”
“My school.”
“That can’t be.”
“It’s right here—even a train ticket.”
“But it’s—it’s more than a hundred miles from here. That can’t be.”
“Over a hundred?”
“Right. There must be some mistake.”
It hit me then. Mr. Higgins was seeing to it that I was a long way removed from Calgary. His revenge? Perhaps he was even hoping that I would refuse the placement and go whimpering back east. Well, I wouldn’t.
“I’m sure that there’s no mistake, Jon,” I said evenly. “It sounds delightful.”
“You mean you’d consider—”
“Lacombe, eh?”
“No, actually it’s called Pine Springs.”
“It’s way out in the country!”
“Sounds delightful,” I said again.
“It’s backwoods, barely opened up. I’m sure there’s been a mistake. I’ll talk to Thomas.”
“No, Jon, please,” I said quickly. “I want to take it.”
At the startled and hurt look in Jon’s eyes I hurried to explain. “Oh, I’ll hate to leave you, and Mary, and the children. I’ve learned to love you all so, but really, it’ll be good for me. Can’t you see? I’ve been so sheltered, so—so coddled. I’d like to find out if I can care for myself, if I can stand on my own two feet.”
“You’re sure?” Jon looked at my carefully groomed hair, my soft hands and manicured nails, at my stylish clothes.
I understood his look. “I’m sure,” I said emphatically.
“Well, I don’t know what Mother will think. You were supposed to be under my protective wing.”
“Mother won’t need to know—yet.”
“But—”
“She’ll know that I am on my own, certainly, but as to the distance between us, that would only worry her unnecessarily.”
“I’m still not convinced, but if you think—”
“Oh, I do. I really want to try it, Jon.”
Jon’s newspaper went back up to indicate that he considered the issue closed. I sat very still and fingered the ticket to Lacombe.
“Say, I just thought of something,” said Jon, coming out from behind his paper again. “Pine Springs—that’s Wynn’s country.”
“Who?”
“Wynn, the fellow that you saw me talking to the other day when you did your shopping. Remember?”
Did I remember! I tried to sound very nonchalant. “Oh, yes, I believe I recall the one you mean. He’s not from Calgary?”
“Not really. He comes and goes. He was in that day visiting his brother Phillip. Phillip’s been in the hospital here.”
“Oh, I see.”
I could feel the excitement flowing through my veins, warming my cheeks. I was glad that Jon was behind his paper again.
I gathered up my short letter and my now-welcome train ticket and muttered something about beginning my packing, then headed for my room.
So Jon’s friend Wynn was from Pine Springs. Perhaps when I reached Pine Springs I would have the pleasure of meeting him. Jon had not introduced me to him, even though he had been given the perfect opportunity. If I understood my brother’s little code, this meant that Wynn was single. I smiled softly.
You silly goose! I scolded myself. You’re acting in a manner that even Julie would declare to be childish. Stop this nonsense this minute! I honestly don’t know what has come over you.
Still, I couldn’t help but whisper as I fingered the train ticket, “Thank you, Mr. Thomas Higgins.”