Chapter 6

Mira pushed away from the door and shrugged off her wrap. She would apologize to Miss Ophelia later. If Pastor Watkins had Gordon's address, she would even write him an apology.

As if compelled, she went to the window. The man surely wouldn't come after her. If he did, she would refuse to open the door. The thought came to her that she had already refused to open her heart. But that was ridiculous. She couldn't be expected to open her heart to a man she barely knew.

She had opened her heart fully to Edward and ended up with nothing but sorrow. Still, she had continued on, opening her heart to her students and to the Lord. That had been enough. That would always be enough.

She saw the years stretching out ahead of her until she was like Miss Ophelia. And what would be wrong with that? She would have helped youngsters learn. She would have served her church and improved her mind through reading, without the distraction of children of her own. She closed her eyes for just a second, her heart heavy as she considered that future. She would be old, cantankerous, and lonely.

Miss Ophelia might not agree with that description. But hadn't she been the one to prod Mira to consider the impossible? The ridiculous impossible.

She opened her eyes and stared down at the front walkway. It was empty. As empty as she felt. Gordon must be drinking the coffee Miss Ophelia had brewed. Mira's face burned at the thought of what they must be saying about her. She leaned her forehead against the cold windowpane. It didn't matter. Gordon would go back to this Sourwood he talked about. He would be gone from her life.

She shook her head. He had never been part of her life. And never would be. That child he wished for would not be her child. She clutched her arms in front of her. That was as she wished. But she stayed at the window.

One of the noisy automobiles rattled past out on the street. Already the snow was being colored with the grime of people. What would snow be like in the mountains? Deeper, she imagined. Whiter. The pines that grew so abundantly on the hills would be frosted in white. She had seen pictures. In late spring, rhododendrons would burst into bloom on those hills.

People had flowers in the city. Gardens of flowers in some places. She had promised to help Miss Ophelia clean out her flower beds behind the house when the weather warmed.

So many plans. Perhaps the niece would help her now, and Mira would find flowers in other places. The vision of those flower-covered hills came to mind again, but she didn't let it linger. Instead, she thought of Miss Ophelia's rosebush that so looked like the one beside the porch where she grew up. Before she lost her mother and father. Before she lost Edward.

Stop dwelling on losses, she ordered herself. Better to think about what she needed to do before students returned to school on the morrow. She should go make sure her room was ready. She had lessons to prepare. She had no choice but to search out new accommodations. Life would continue despite whatever troubles came her way. Didn't it always as long as a person kept breathing?

She was still at the window when Gordon came out on Miss Ophelia's walkway. She stepped back when he looked up toward her window, but she didn't turn away. He stood for a long moment before he put his hands in his pockets and turned toward the street.

She moved closer to the window again. His shoulders appeared hunched against the cold. He needed a warmer coat. His first steps away seemed reluctant, but then he began moving with purpose. As he should. He had a train to catch.

She watched until he was out of sight. She might never see him again.

That was no reason for tears to come to her eyes. She hadn't even thought about Gordon Covington once since their school days. Seeing him walk away was no reason to feel suddenly bereft.

She almost expected to hear Miss Ophelia's bell clang to summon her down to apologize. Instead, silence pounded against her ears. Silence she should welcome. With the start of school, the quiet of her rooms would be a treat at the end of each day. At least for as long as she was here. And who was to say that wherever she found to move would not be as silent or as good? Maybe even better, without a woman downstairs clanging a bell to demand her presence. She angrily swiped away the tears on her cheeks. Tears that were immediately replaced by more.

The morning passed slowly. She considered taking a walk, but the snow was melting away and lacked the beauty of the early morning. She needed a dog. If she had a dog, she would be forced to walk it. Probably everybody had a dog in Sourwood. Wherever Sourwood was. And what kind of name was that for a town? If it was even a town.

She pulled her atlas off the bookshelf. No Sourwood was listed in the towns of Kentucky. She shoved the book back into place. It didn't matter where Sourwood was or what it was.

She found a dustcloth and swiped every surface she had. That took only minutes. After settling in her chair, she picked up Jack London's book about the wilds of Alaska, but the words swam in front of her eyes and lacked meaning. Without even marking her place, she shut the book and laid it on the table beside her Bible. Reading Scripture might settle her jumbled thoughts, but what if the word "barren" jumped out at her from the Bible's pages the way it had Sunday? She needed comfort, not more stabs of sorrow.

Instead, she picked up her mother's bluebird. As usual, it warmed in her hands. When Mira was a child, her mother always seemed at peace no matter what hardships they faced. Whenever Mira's father worried if they lacked money for their needs, her mother would take his hands and they would pray. Then she would say the Lord would provide. He always did. Sometimes not plentifully, but adequately. And other times abundantly. For certain, they had abundant love.

"I miss you, Mother," Mira whispered. "You could help me know why I've let Gordon Covington upset me so. My path is set."

Who set your path?The question was in her head, an echo of an answer to something she had asked her mother years before. When Mira had not known what to say, her mother had Mira look up a verse in Proverbs. She tried to remember the verse, but the words had faded from her memory.

She picked up her Bible and turned to Proverbs. She could read every verse until she found the right one. It didn't take long. Chapter 3, verses 5 and 6. Trust in the LORD with all thine heart;and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

She laid her hand on the Bible page as she remembered reading the verses aloud. Then her mother had assured Mira the Lord would show her the way if she would give up her will and attend the paths the Lord opened to her.

Mira whispered a prayer. "Dear Lord, I do trust you to direct my paths. Help me to know thy will for my future."

The Lord was already directing her paths. He had brought her through the sorrow of loss. He had supplied a teaching job to give her purpose. She had no reason to doubt that path now.

She would put Gordon Covington's words behind her and continue on the path she knew. She was not the teacher, the wife he sought. That was some other woman's path.

As soon as she ate lunch, she would walk to the school to prepare her room for the students' return tomorrow.

The sight of the Sanderson School's brick facade lifted Mira's spirits. The school was a second home, a place she belonged. Mira taught English and history to the older boys and girls. Another teacher covered math and science. Her classes in the private school were small, which gave her the opportunity to give individual attention to each student. She took joy in teaching children eager to learn.

The unknown children in the mountains who had haunted her dreams came to mind, but she shut the vision away. Her prayer earlier had settled her thoughts. The Lord had directed her path to the one she was already on.

When she walked inside, the scent of chalk dust and books settled around her like a welcoming cloak.

In the front hallway, Mr. Martin, the other teacher of the older students, gave her an odd look and hesitated a moment before he spoke. "Miss Dean. I didn't expect to see you."

She frowned a little at his peculiar greeting. "School does start tomorrow, Mr. Martin. Time to get ready, don't you think?"

"Uh, yes." He pushed his spectacles up on his nose and stared at the wall behind her.

Mira had never seen him so at a loss for words. "Is something wrong?"

"Perhaps you should speak with Principal Harrison." He fidgeted with the corners of his suit jacket as he slid his gaze to her face and quickly away.

"Certainly. I will look for him after I go to my room." She headed down the hallway.

"I am sorry," he called after her.

Sorry? She stopped to ask what he meant, but he was walking away in the opposite direction. Not toward his room at all but toward the lower-level classrooms. She started to follow him, then shrugged. Whatever his problem, she could find out about it later.

Her room was not as she'd left it before Christmas. A box sat on the floor by her desk. A few of the student desks were gone. The bookshelf under the window was empty. She had been right to come set things in order before the next day. But where were her things?

She took off her coat and hat to get to work. She needed to make a list of what was missing. She pulled open the drawer where she kept extra paper. Empty. Every drawer was empty.

Her gaze was drawn to the box on the floor. Her name was printed across one side. She pulled up one of the flaps. A pair of gloves, a couple of scarves, a few pens, and her rulers were on top of her dictionary. She didn't dig down into the box. Without looking, she knew it must hold her other personal books and charts of words and pictures that usually adorned the walls.

Her heart felt heavy as she looked up from the box and stared out the window where the sun was as bright as ever.

"Miss Dean." Principal Harrison came into the room and shut the door behind him. "So good of you to come retrieve your belongings, but we did plan to deliver them to you."

"I don't understand." Mira turned toward him.

He ran his hand through his gray hair the way he always did when he was bothered. He was a short man with a generous middle. He fingered his watch chain as if he'd like to pull it out to look at the time and say he had a meeting to attend. He moistened his lips. "Did you not get the letter I sent you after the term ended in December?"

"Letter? I received no letter."

"The mail. So unreliable these days." His gaze slid to the blackboard and across some of the desks that remained. He did not look at Mira or the box in front of her.

Mira stared straight at him without saying anything to help his unease or hers.

Principal Harrison cleared his throat and wobbled from one foot to the other. "I am sorry, but you do understand our enrollment has dropped among the older students. That has necessitated some staff changes. Hard times, you know. Hard times for everyone."

"I fear that no, I do not understand."

He ran his hand through his hair again. "I did want to save you from this embarrassment. That was the purpose of the letter." He finally looked at her then. "We have had to let you go." He rushed on before she could speak. "With great reluctance, of course. You are an excellent teacher. I have no fear you will find another position without difficulty."

"The term starts tomorrow."

"Yes, yes. Well, it would have been better if you'd gotten the letter days ago so you could have begun your search."

"I was given a promise of employment at the beginning of the school year." She managed to keep the quaver out of her voice. "I have a written agreement with your signature."

"Should you read through that agreement, you will note it is subject to cancellation if the school has financial difficulties. I realize this is a shock to you."

"And has Mr. Martin's agreement also been negated?"

"Well, no. We need a teacher for our older students."

"He doesn't teach English or history."

Principal Harrison waved his hand to dismiss that concern. "He has agreed to add those subjects to his teaching schedule."

"I could add algebra and science to my classes."

"Could you?" Doubt sounded in his words.

"I could." Mira spoke with the same firmness she sometimes used on her students. "Plus, I have been teaching here longer than he has. Two years longer."

"Well true, but Mr. Martin has a family to support. A wife and three young children. I'm sure you can understand that we could not jeopardize his family's well-being."

"And my well-being?"

He started to reach for his hair again but stayed his hand. "I'm sure Miss Vandercleve will be understanding until you find a new position. We will supply you with glowing references."

"How very kind." Mira didn't quite keep the sarcasm out of her tone.

Principal Harrison's voice stiffened. "The decision has been made. If you need help with your belongings, I can find someone to assist you." After he turned toward the door, he looked back. "We hope to have an increase in attendance before next school year. Should you wish to do so, you can apply for the position again if we have need for another teacher."

She stared at the door for a long time after he went out and closed it firmly behind him.

He shall direct thy paths.The words slid through her mind. But was he blocking every other path first?