Chapter Four
Louisa stopped at the last corner before the Hamilton home. She wasn’t eager to start the session with Ellie.
Rather than dwell on her doubts and fears, she thought of the few hours she and her sisters had spent at the orphanage. Louisa had dreaded the event but was determined not to let her sisters know. However, from the first rowdy greeting to the last goodbye, she’d enjoyed every minute. The children were happy to see them. Several acted as if they especially liked Louisa, which was heartwarming. One of the older girls brought her some drawings she’d done and listened eagerly as Louisa showed her how to add shading and correct perspective to her rather appealing work. Another child, a girl close to Ellie’s age, brought a book and begged Louisa to read it to her.
“What grade are you in, Leila?” she’d asked.
“Grade one. I’m six.”
Louisa asked her to read aloud from her reader. The child read eagerly and clearly. Ellie was in second grade and should read even better.
Perhaps today, Louisa would discover Ellie’s reading level. She turned the corner and headed toward the house. At the front gate, she parked, gathered up determination and courage and shoved them into place, then stepped forth to face the battle. God, guide me, bless me with Your wisdom. She took the awkward parcel from the backseat.
Emmet opened the door as she approached. He sent a questioning look at the bundle in her arms but didn’t ask about it.
At the way he seemed to assess her, Louisa’s cheeks burned. Judd should not have told him about Louisa’s illnesses. Three bouts of pneumonia. Influenza that hit her so hard. She’d asked Madge to remind him no one outside the family must hear of Louisa’s barrenness. She didn’t want to be the recipient of pitying looks.
“Good morning.” She kept her voice cool. Professional. She wasn’t a teacher, but she would act like one. Emmet was a parent of a student. Nothing more. “How is Ellie this morning?”
“Okay. And you?”
She faltered the slightest. Why did he ask? Did he think she might get ill at the least little thing? She tilted her chin. She had no intention of getting ill. “I’m fine, thank you. Eager to start my day.” Eager might be a slight exaggeration. But she would show no fear, no regret, no desperation. God was at her side. The Lord is my shepherd. He leadeth me beside still waters. Would the waters be still or troubled today?
Emmet kept pace at her side as she crossed the front room. “I’m glad you understand that Ellie is finding it difficult to adjust to her situation. It’s a relief to know you’ll be patient with her.”
Did she detect a warning in his voice? She stopped and faced him. “Mr. Hamilton—”
“Please, call me Emmet.”
Did teachers call parents by their first name? Would doing so cross a line she didn’t wish to cross? She needed to keep things impersonal between them. Not one step further than her feelings had already transgressed.
“As you please. I am being paid to teach your child.” The school board had hired her with specific expectations…keep the child up to speed with her classmates. Only, her position depended as much on Emmet’s approval as the school board’s expectations. Emmet had the right to say yes or no to her being Ellie’s tutor. “I’ll do my best to help her keep up with her class work.”
“I care less about Ellie’s schoolwork than about her happiness.”
What more could anyone ask of a parent? But life wasn’t always that simple. “I hope I can achieve the one without sacrificing the other.” But it would take Ellie’s cooperation. Something she suspected that would not come without a battle.
“That’s all I ask.”
Louisa stepped into Ellie’s room and read instant defiance in the child’s eyes. She was trapped between what Emmet believed was possible and what Ellie clearly would not allow—Louisa teaching her.
She considered putting aside the role of teacher and simply amusing the child, but her agreement with the board was quite specific and she couldn’t, in good conscience, pretend she fulfilled the terms without doing so. If she couldn’t teach Ellie she must quit. And that was something she would not do. Not with those medical bills stacked up on Mother’s desk.
Adele had given her more advice. “Make it clear that there is a certain amount of work to be done each day. Be matter-of-fact about it. Then do it.”
“But what if she doesn’t cooperate?”
“That’s where discipline comes in. You might try providing rewards, incentives, if you like.”
Louisa crossed to the little table where she arranged her lesson plans that she and Adele had drawn up together, the books she intended to use and the odd-shaped parcel.
“What’s that?”
“It’s for you. You can have it when you complete today’s lesson.” She picked up the chalk and wrote on the blackboard: “Reading, Arithmetic and History.” “Three subjects. We won’t spend long on each, but they all have an assignment that must be completed.”
Ellie eyed the package, her curiosity obvious.
Good. Louisa had already tried reading and arithmetic without success, so she went for history. “Grade twos are studying the history of Alberta. Today we are going to talk about the establishment of the North-West Mounted Police.” She loved the drama of the march west and had a picture book illustrating it. She began with explaining the need for a police force to settle the troubles in the West. She showed a picture of the colorful troop ready to set out—noble and hopeful, unaware of the challenges they would face.
But Ellie stared at the present as Louisa continued reading. If Ellie cared to look at the pictures, they were there before her. Adele had assured Louisa that Ellie would soon be drawn into the lessons.
Louisa came to the end of what she planned to read for the day.
“Now I want you to choose a project. You can either draw a picture about the march west or write a story. You can pretend to be one of the young police officers or—”
“What is that?” Her gaze hadn’t shifted from the parcel.
“If you want to open it, you have to do your lessons.” She placed a bed tray before Ellie, tilted so the child could write, and put a sheet of paper on it. “Do you wish to draw a picture or write a story?”
“Neither.” The girl certainly knew how to put on a pout. “Daddy won’t like that you’re teasing me. He lets me have anything I want.”
“That makes for mighty poor character.” Adele had prepared a list of questions should Ellie balk at working on her own initiative. “Here are questions about the North-West Mounted Police. You can do them.” There were five very simple questions.
“I don’t want to.”
At least she wasn’t insisting she didn’t know or couldn’t remember. Louisa wondered if this was progress. “If you want to see
