“I suppose you will find out tomorrow when class resumes,” I said.

  “I hope it’s not too soon after such a long journey. The parents are eager to get their children back in school. Education is important to most folks around here. A better life for the next generation.” Mrs. Foster handed me a key. “This is for you. I will take my leave now, and let you get comfortable in the space. Feel free to set it up as you see fit. The room is yours until next summer.”

  The next hour Chris and I cleaned and set the room into a more modern style, or at least one I thought would work for eight grades in one place. It was a big room, so I created a cozy nook, by spreading a colorful quilt I’d found on a top ledge in a back closet, on the floor for a reading group. A few shelves had been nailed to the wall to hold books and on it sat a good range of exciting subjects, and skill levels to choose from. Tomorrow, I would get the children to draw pictures of them reading their favorite book, and we’d decorate the wall close to the floor, with their self-portraits.

  Mama, what about a do-it-yourself corner? That was my favorite spot at the school in Texas.”

  “That’s a great idea. Keep all those busy fingers doing something creative. Let’s drag that long table from the back and put it under the window in the front corner.”

  Chris looked at the chair facing the wall and a funny hat sitting on top. “What is this for?”

  “A punishment corner. It’s not my idea of discipline - to make fun of a child in front of his peers. That will be put away, and your activity corner will take its place.”

  The hands-on work projects area began to take shape. Some information, especially those explored in the world of science, was better learned by doing. I found some posters tucked in a storage closet of the world, past inventors, nature, even crafts of all kinds to satisfy a variety of interests.

  Chris led out in with playful melody, and I joined in the singing, the stomping and dramatizing the words of the song. We were so preoccupied with our task we never heard the door open and close. Someone cleared his throat, and I bolted around to face Joel Parker. I felt my cheeks turn every shade of red.

  “Mr. Parker. I thought you left town already?”

  “I had some business at the bank. Kept me longer than planned. Couldn’t resist popping in to pay you, happy workers, a final visit. Can hear your lively entertainment ringing all through Livingston.”

  “Oh my. I forgot the schoolhouse was in close proximity to the hub-bub of town activity.”

  “Not to fear. You’re putting all the folks in the Christmas spirit - singing about reindeers and the jolly man in his sleigh.”

  “I suppose that’s a good thing. Tis the season to be bright and cheery.” I pointed to our designated areas of learning. “What do you think of our centers?”

  “Thinking the young’uns will love it. But don’t go too easy on the rascals. Mr. Jacobs was a strict teacher, and you don’t want to give the false impression that you’re easy prey.”

  Chris tugged at his arm. “Mr. Parker, come and see.” She raced to the middle row of seats and pointed. “Annie is here, and I got the vacant seat right in front of her. I think that’s a sign - we’re meant to be best friends.”

  Joel roared laughing. “You are a high-spirited lass. You saved all that pent-up enthusiasm till you cleared the scrutiny of the dining room, uh?”

  Chris glanced at me, in hopes that her eagerness had not ruined the start of a good reputation. I smiled. “I fear Mr. Parker has seen through your charade. But, judging by his reaction, I’m guessing he likes the good-humored side of you as well.”

  “Definitely. Children need to cut loose from time to time. Can’t expect them to be adults before their time.”

  I raised my eyebrows for effect. “As an adult, Mr. Parker, do you never cut loose?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Except only the cattle can verify if they like the tunes I hum and my fancy footwork.”

  “Does Livingston put on a Christmas dance, Mr. Parker? Mama loves fancy footwork, and she’s needing the practice.”

  “Christine Spencer!”

  “Whoops, she used my given name. Guess I overstepped my cutting-loose boundaries again.” She grabbed her coat. “It’s snowing. Can I go outside?”

  “Yes, go!” I said before I thought it through. Now Joel and I stood alone and awkward in the room, the air still ringing from Chris’ blunder.

  Joel broke the silence. “It was a good suggestion. I could introduce you to folks, and we could get to know one another. If the girls are meant to be kindred spirit buddies, I suppose there’s no harm in us being friends.”

  It sounded like a good arrangement the way he said it. “When is this shindig?”

  “Friday night, at the town center. We have a local band that can rip the tunes out pretty good. Of course, there will be a holiday emphasis. Santa might even show up.”

  I laughed, and the image of the lady on the train came to mind. “Matter of fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was the real McCoy. I think I met his Mrs. on the way. Said her son lived nearby and she was out to find him and bring him home.”

  “You’re a believer, are ya,” Joel said with a tease in his voice.

  “I’m a parent, and Chris is clinging to the legend as the gospel truth. I prefer to emphasize Christ’s birthday, but we do have a little fun with the idea of the jovial man in red that casts his magic wide and makes wishes come true at Christmas time.”

  “If you’re willing, Annie and I will pick you and Chris up at the boarding house around seven. There’s always food, so eat a light supper.”

  “Who brings the food?”

  “My treat, since I’m the one doing the inviting,” Joel said.

  “We will be watching for you out the window, donned in our full skirts and dancing shoes.” A foursome – that was playing safe.

  The next day conjured up emotions that had lain dormant for a long while. I loved my job, and the children responded to my teaching methods with great relief. I quickly learned that Mr. Jacobs was no one’s favorite instructor. Only three scoundrels gave me a hard time in a class of forty, and only twice that first day. That was good odds. I rose eagerly to the challenge and suspected I was winning approval with them as well. Arriving during the Christmas season was in my best interests, and I used every possible theme and opportunity to learn and play with them. We created spectacular crafts to plaster on the remaining walls of the room, made a snowman, read stories of Jesus and Santa Claus. When placed in the right order, I discovered that the students put greater effort into the boring, required subjects to make haste to the more entertaining agenda.

  After school, while I was cleaning up, Chris raced in, dragging in snow from her boots. “Whoa, girl. Boots off at the door.”

  She nearly tripped over her feet with her rushed attempt to remove the overshoes. “Mama,” she called out from the cloakroom, still breathless from her excitement. “Don’t you love, Annie! She is indeed a kindred spirit, and we swore allegiance to each other with pinky fingers – on the very first day, Mama! I’m so glad you brought us here.”

  “She does appear to be a nice girl – polite and smart.” I noticed a shadow cover Chris’ expression. I smiled. An academic review of my student is not what she wanted to hear. “But what I like most about Annie is that she makes my little girl happy.”

  Her face brightened. “Oh, yes, Mama. I am so happy I could burst. The trouble is that leaves me nothing to write on my wish list to put in Santa’s mailbox. That’s never happened in my whole life.”

  “What? Your whole ten years,” I emphasized her dilemma. “How perfectly dreadful.”

  “Ah, Mama, don’t tease. Maybe I could ask Santa to send you something special instead?”

  “I also have everything I need. We are a blessed duo, you and I.”

  The room got quiet, and I looked up from my papers to find Chris pacing the floor and mulling something over in her mind. Her fingers touched things as she moved along the perimeter of the room. Quite suddenly, she dashed for her desk and withdrew her half-finished letter. She scribbled something on it and ran to the Santa mailbox that we’d constructed and placed in the cloakroom. She reappeared a moment later. “There!” she exclaimed like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders.

  I sighed and rose to my feet stretching the weariness from my bones. “It’s time for us to go home. You have heard too many tall tales today.”

  “It was a good first day, right Mama?”

  I moved in her direction and pulled her into my arms. “It was a great first day, Chris Spencer.”

  “Pa would be happy to know we are here, living his dream and getting on fine without him.”

  “Are we?” I noticed her quizzical look and drummed up a reassuring smile. “Of course, we are. And yes, he would be pleased to see us moving forward.”

  I slept like a log that second night in Livingston and felt like a new woman on Friday morning. Fran at the boarding house was spoiling us with delicious meals we did not have to prepare. At this rate, I’d forget how to cook. Room and board was one of the perks of my new job. My first week was to be short. The committee had planned it that way to ease me into the new venture without breaking me. Dare I tell them I loved it – more than even I cared to admit?

  I tugged the furry hood around my ears and went outside to face the day. Frost nipped at the morning air like a puppy wanting to play. A thin layer of its icy residue covered the rooftops and skimmed the top of the packed snow. I moved cautiously along the boardwalk, and at the edge of town, I dropped my feet to ground level and looked at the cold, uninviting schoolhouse in the distance. I covered the short span quickly and grabbed a load of wood and some dry kindling from the shed to start the fire. I wiped the wet off my boots and snuck into the classroom, breaking rule number four - boots off and indoor shoes on. Oh, well, what the children didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. My legs and feet were still cold from the frigid morning walk.

  A huge potbelly stove stood against the back corner wall. It was cool to the touch. I glanced inside and was relieved to see a hint of red amongst the dying embers. I stirred it then placed the small pieces strategically and blew on it. It ignited, and the fire sparked to life. I opened the curtains and did a quick check of the room before my students arrived.

  I set the lessons across my desk in order of the day. I’d always been an organized person. Some considered it a positive quality, but it drove my mother-in-law crazy. The difference between her and I was that she hired people to keep the details of her day running like a well-oiled axle, whereas I planned the events of my day in whatever order I saw fit.

  Chris bounded in ten minutes later. “Brr...” Her voice shivered. “It is so cold out there my eyes are playing tricks on me.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “Had my face targeting the schoolhouse door and out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash, so fast I thought it was a streak of lightning. But, of course, that’s nonsense. Not a cloud in the sky.” She kept rambling. “I side-tracked - you know - I had to investigate, and I saw a wee little man peeking in the cloakroom window. I stopped dead in my tracks. You can be certain I felt a terrible fear rising for your welfare, you being alone in the building. But, then I thought, honestly, what can a short, green man do anyway?”

  “A short, green man? Chris, not only are your eyes playing tricks on you, so is your mind. You can blame that wild imagination of yours.”

  “My thoughts exactly! But I rubbed my eyes with my wool mitts, and when I looked again, he was still there – jiggling the bottom of the window open.”

  “Well, you feel free to go check it out, Chris. We don’t need any windows open in December.”

  I heard her shout from the entrance room. “Mama, the windows closed tight.” She arrived back at the door into the classroom with a puzzled expression. “But, I never saw this before, did you?” She brought out a gift-wrapped box from behind her back. She examined it closer and shouted, “It’s from Mrs. Claus, Mama! It’s not even Christmas Eve yet. Maybe his wife gives early gifts to people who don’t write out a list – like you.”

  “Whatever are you babbling on about, girl?” I asked.

  “I get it now! It must have been an elf I saw at the window. They wear cute little green outfits in the picture books, but I never truly caught a peek at his face, so it might have been flesh color or green.”

  I walked around the side of the desk and rested my hands across my hips. “Chris Spencer. You are ten years old and should be casting aside these childish fancies.”

  “Ten is not old, Mama. Remember? Mr. Parker says we’ve plenty of time to grow up.” She rushed up the middle aisle and passed me the box. A wide grin covered her face, and her eyes lit up like the North Star.

  I smiled at her enthusiasm. “Well, the lady certainly does wrap a nice parcel.”

  Chris was dancing impatiently now. She pointed to the tag. “It says to open before Christmas. How come I didn’t get an early present?”

  “Did you ever think it was intended for Mr. Jacobs?” I turned it over in my hand, and Chris pointed again.

  “It’s addressed to Livingston’s new teacher, Tamara Spencer. That’s you, Mama.”

  “I suppose I could take a peek. Perhaps one of the children left it as a kind of a lark. We did make the Santa mailbox yesterday.” My curiosity was winning out. “The wrapping skills are perfect – but of course, Mrs. Claus would be an expert at such things,” I played along. “I love the red plaid paper, complete with a white bow and tied with embroidered edged ribbons. How elaborate.”

  “Mama, would you hurry. I can’t stand the suspense.”

  I returned to my desk and sat down. Chris hovered over me, watching like a hawk. She never missed a mystery if she could help it. Her brain moved into those strange realms of intrigue and solving clues quite naturally. I could see her working for the Pinkertons someday and perhaps becoming a famous detective. The thought sounded too likely, and I shied from it. That would be a dangerous job, and the mother in me would never rest from worry. For now, I had no doubt the alleged elf would torment my daughter until she could wrap her head around a logical explanation.

  The bow came off with one easy tug, and I placed it to the side to reuse. Likewise, a gentle pull of the ribbon unwound it from the box, and the plaid paper fell loose. A red box sat in the middle, and it appeared to have sprinkles of icy dust all over it. I felt it and smiled. “Seems Jack Frost had his part in wrapping this gift. The package is still cool. Feels kind of strange.”

  “Like magic, Mama?”

  I avoided answering that question and slowly opened the top folds of the gift box. I leaned closer and peeked inside, afraid at this point at what might jump out at me. Red tissue paper lay on the bottom. I reached inside and carefully withdrew it. Pulling the folds off I sat amazed at the sight of a plaid reindeer ornament with a wispy swirl encasing it.

  “Mrs. Claus must have a surplus of everything red and plaid up there at the North Pole, Mama.”

  My heart was in my mouth, and I could barely find the words. “It’s a unique plaid. Take a closer look, Chris, and tell me where you’ve seen this pattern before.”

  She took it from my hands and squealed. “Did you feel a tingle?”

  “Yes. Must have been some frost got sprinkled on it. It’s chilly to the touch and at the same time warm and fuzzy,” I suggested, mesmerized once again by this fairy-tale enchantment.

  Chris brought the ornament close to her face. “It looks like the center of Grandma’s family quilt. You remember – the reindeer I always cuddled up to when I was a baby.” She bent in closer. “Yes, this is a mystery for Detective Chris Spencer. Do you suppose Mrs. Clause gave your Ma that roll of fabric a long time ago?” She was babbling theories now, although she might be close with this one. That, or the ladies shopped at the same Mercantile. A new thought hit her, and she jumped to attention. “Is it Mrs. Claus’ job to deliver letters to Santa?” Chris didn’t wait for an answer. She dropped the reindeer on the desk and ran to the red painted mailbox. She opened it and yelled, “It’s gone!”

  She raced back to the desk. “My letter to Santa is gone! Whatever can it mean? Everyone’s is gone. Did you take them to the post office to mail them? Or Mama, do you think it could have been Mrs. Claus, or that elf, that took them. Personal mail delivery to the North Pole! Who ever thought of such a thing?”

  “Only you!” A smile teased on the edge of my lips and threatened to expand. “I think you are asking far too many questions so early in the morning,” I said as I lifted the plaid reindeer again. “Every stitch is intricately detailed, and the lines look so real like someone made it from a live model.”

  “Mrs. Claus would have a live model, Mama.”

  I was running out of arguments. “I suppose the woman would.”

  The lady I’d met inside the train car – the one that screamed Christmas and romance – popped into my mind. She’d left a strong impression on me. It was fun to see Chris so excited, so I decided to feed her mystery fever even more.

  “Do you recall the lady that you bumped into on your fast escape from the train on Wednesday?”

  “I said I was sorry, Mama. Did she get all mad?”

  “On the contrary. The elderly woman was very understanding, and we had an interesting chat. But, even in your rush to leave, I am surprised you never noticed her attire. Plush red velvet material, with fluffy white fur around her face, balls of rosy cheeks like she lived outdoors in the frigid cold: It’s all adding up, Detective Spencer.”

  Chris dropped into a nearby chair crisscrossing her palms against her heart and expelling a dramatic sigh. “Do you think you actually met the real Mrs. Claus on the train?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Just throwing it out there for the good detective to investigate.”

 

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