Where Courage Calls: A When Calls the Heart Novel by Janette Oke, Laurel Oke Logan Page A

claim that things had been going well. She did omit mentioning the incident while changing trains in which she had gotten rain-soaked and nearly missed her connection. It seemed unnecessary to burden Mother with those details—even though the omission made her feel uncomfortable. She tried to convince herself that her intention was to retain Mother’s peace of mind. There were so many obvious difficulties which would have to be addressed. Beth struggled through an explanation of the lost trunks, though she knew her father would have provided a brief version of the whole sorry incident.
    A soft knock roused her. At Beth’s invitation, Marnie peeked around the door. “Miss Thatcher, Miss Molly says supper’s on.”
    The meal at Molly’s turned out to be a lively affair. Two company men were also boarding there, and two more joined them only for meals. Molly had explained that she never knew from one week to the next how many boarders she might have. Molly and young Marnie did not sit with the men at the table but kept busy filling and refilling serving dishes, pouring coffee, and gathering empty plates. Their hostess would not allow Beth to help. “No, dearie, yer a paying guest—same’s the men,” she insisted.
    Beth had taken the seat to which one of the visiting gentlemen had gestured, and she pulled the too-short skirt over her legs and tucked her feet beneath the chair, hoping she was the only one in the room aware of her exposed calves.
    Teddy spoke very little, which meant Beth became the focus of attention. Where was she from? asked the first man, the one with the glasses. How long would she stay? he wondered.How much experience did she have teaching? came from one of those who joined the group only for meals. And what was happening back east? was voiced by several, almost at the same time.
    “Oh, how I’d like to see a ballgame again. I miss everything about it!” declared the small man with glasses and a long nose.
    “They have a league near Calgary, north of here, Walter. I’ve seen some games there.”
    “Yeah, but they don’t have those grand stadiums out here in the West. I want the thrill of the crowds. The sound of thousands of people cheering so loud you can scarce hear the crack of the bat.” Walter gestured broadly as if tracing the path of the ball as it sailed across the fence.
    “I saw Babe Ruth play once,” announced a third man, barrel-chested and loud.
    “G’wan wit’ ya, Henry!”
    “I did! He hit a homer—first one ever as a pro ball player. Right here in Canada.”
    “You’re a liar. His first homer was in New York,” the last of the men interjected.
    “No, sir! ’Twas on Toronto Island.”
    “Aw, not a chance!” The interchange was becoming heated.
    The small man pushed his glasses farther up on his nose and turned to Beth. “You seen any ballgames, miss?”
    Beth blushed and the room grew quiet. “My father felt it was not a suitable place for a young lady.”
    “What’d you do for pleasure, then?” he rejoined, looking startled.
    “Well, we enjoyed the symphony, museums, and sometimes theater. We periodically attended lectures as well—but mostly I enjoy reading.” As she spoke of the fine things she had left behind, the reminder brought a cloud of nostalgia.
    “Reading? Well, that’s not very friendly.” Walter grinned toward the others. Beth smiled weakly and let the conversation proceed without her.
    As soon as the meal had ended and she could move unnoticed, she slipped out the door and fled into the kitchen. “Please, Miss Molly, I’d really rather help in here.”
    “Then help you may,” said the woman and tossed a dish towel toward Beth, pointing at the stack of dishes already washed and waiting to be dried and put away. Beth sighed in relief.

CHAPTER 8
    B ETH WOKE AT THE SOUND of a thump in the hallway, followed by footsteps moving away from her door. She crept from her bed and quietly drew the door open. There before her was a pail of fresh