Hope at Dawn (23 page)

Her words stopped Fredrick’s agitated steps. He had to warn Livy. A handful of patriotic sketches—especially one of him—might not be enough to tip the scales in her favor. Not since she’d decided against hanging the war bond poster and not if Mr. Foster had learned about his and Livy’s deepening friendship.

“When does he plan to make the visit?”

“This afternoon.” She returned to her seat.

He needed to leave, but one final question compelled him to stay a few moments more. “How come you never told Mr. Foster about seeing me in front of the jail? Or did you?” he added when she remained silent.

The secretary lifted her chin, a gesture that reminded Friedrick of Livy. “I never breathed a word about that, and it wasn’t because I didn’t recognize you. I knew at once you were being hauled in there, for Heaven knows why.” She bit her lip as if she’d said too much.

“Why keep silent then?”

Her response was scarcely more than a whisper. “My grandmother came here from Germany as a little girl.” She leveled him with a look, then picked up her magazine. “I have some things to do, Mr. Wagner. If you’d be good enough to be on your way.”

“Good day…” He paused, hoping she’d supply him with her name. He wanted to know whom to thank.

“Nellie,” she said, her face softening.

“Thank you, Nellie.”

“You’re welcome,” she mouthed before she glued her gaze to her magazine once more.

Friedrick hurried down the stairs, his boots echoing loudly off the walls. What would his family say when he told them he’d lost his job? They might try selling family heirlooms to pay for his father’s medicine, though people weren’t likely to buy things from Germans.

And Livy? Would he get there in time to warn her about Mr. Foster’s impending visit and tell her how sorry he was for complicating her life?

Elsa had been right. He and Livy couldn’t be together—not with the whole world fighting against them. The realization felt like a punch to his gut, bringing more pain than anger. Friedrick might be able to save her job, though, which would keep Livy close. With that determined thought, he sprinted out the door to his waiting wagon and team.

F
ive minutes to go before school ended for the day. And not a moment too soon, Livy thought wryly. The sunshine had been taunting the children since recess, making them chattier and more restless than usual.

The rumble of an automobile outside made her stomach twist with sudden nerves. A shadow of the fear she’d felt after Robert struck her last night wormed its way up her spine as well.

It can’t be Robert’s car
, she told herself.
He’s long gone by now.

Hands clasped together, she reined in her emotions and walked between the rows of desks as the children bent over their readers. Friedrick would be by soon, with a smile to make her day more complete. The thought soothed her nervousness. Everything was right in the world when he was near.

The sound of the door creaking open brought her head up, along with nearly every student. A moment later Mr. Foster entered the room, a grim expression on his face. Livy’s heart lurched in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to visit today, and in the late afternoon, no less. What would he think of the patriotic pictures lining the windowsills on either side of the room? The one she’d drawn of Friedrick felt as large as the war bond poster she’d destroyed. If only the superintendent wouldn’t notice it…

“Good day, Mr. Foster,” she said, coercing calm and pleasantness into her voice. “Children, let’s say hello to our school superintendent, Mr. Foster.”

A chorus of “Hello, Mr. Foster” filled the room. The man removed his hat and gave them a stiff nod.

“Is there something you wish to say to the class?” Livy asked.

Mr. Foster shook his head. “No, carry on.” He went to stand near the stove at the back of the room, his gaze settling on her in an unnerving way.

Livy straightened her shoulders and did her best to ignore him. “You may return to your readers, children.”

She resumed her slow pacing, though her mind raced wildly ahead. Why did the man already act displeased? Had he noticed his poster was missing? If he questioned her, what would she say?

After another glance at the clock, she cleared her throat. “School is dismissed. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

Her students noisily gathered up their things and moved in pairs and groups toward the door, ignoring the silent observer in the back. Livy longed to go with them. Even Harlan and Greta abandoned the school for the call of the outdoors.

When the last of the children had filed out, Livy forced her mouth into a smile. “What can I do for you, Mr. Foster? If you’d come earlier, you might have joined us for our geography lesson.”

The man stepped forward. “I’m afraid my visit is not to observe your teaching skills, Miss Campbell.”

“Oh?” She busied herself with picking up the readers from the desks. The task gave her something to do besides stand still, facing the brunt of his irritation. She hoped he didn’t hear the blood pumping in her ears. “To what do I owe this visit then?”

“Miss Campbell.” The name was a command.

Livy set the stack of books down and turned to face him directly.

“I believe you have some explaining to do.”

“About?” she hedged, still uncertain which of her choices had him most upset.

“To begin with, where is the poster I asked you to hang?” He gestured with his hat toward the front wall. “And what is all this falderal in the windows?”

She couldn’t tell him she’d ripped the poster into shreds and burned it—she’d be fired at once. “I wanted to help the children find their own ways of expressing their love of their country.”

“Their country—you mean Germany?”

Despite her fear, his words brought the sting of anger. Livy bit her cheek until she could respond calmly. “No, sir. Their love of America. Each picture is an expression of patriotism. And because the children drew them, I believe, the sentiment behind the pictures makes a more lasting impression.”

“Humph.” He crossed to the nearest window to examine the artwork. Livy’s drawing of Friedrick stood only a few feet away.

“If you’d care to look over here, Mr. Foster.” She waved to the opposite side of the room. “Henry is quite the artist. He drew a naval ship—”

“Which student drew this one?” He pointed his hat at Livy’s sketch. Her heart throbbed with new dread, but she reminded herself she’d done nothing wrong. It was only a drawing.

“I drew that, Mr. Foster.” She lifted her chin a notch, despite the clammy feeling of worry that made her collar feel suddenly hot and choking. “I wanted to contribute to the art project and thought a simple scene of a family reading the Bible captured the American spirit of hearth and home.”

“It’s a very good likeness of our maintenance man, isn’t it?”

Livy pressed her lips together.

Mr. Foster spun around. “I imagine you’ve gotten to know him quite well.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You need not play innocent with me, Miss Campbell. I know far more than you might suspect.”

Livy maintained a level gaze on his round face, though her pulse thudded faster with fear. “Is there something you find lacking in my ability as a teacher, Mr. Foster?”

He gave a mirthless laugh. “No, and that’s the real shame.” He tucked his hands behind him and walked past the windows toward the back of the room. “Do you recall a few weeks back when I expressly asked for you to tell me if Mr. Wagner said or did anything that might make one believe his allegiance lies with his mother country?” He paused to look at her.

“Yes.” Livy had no remorse or regret at protecting Friedrick. “I remember.”

“Would you consider a jail stay of three nights, even in his mother’s place, smacks a bit of German loyalty? Perhaps Mr. Wagner was using his mother to conduct business against this country.”

He pierced Livy with a long glare when she remained silent. How had the man learned about Friedrick’s time in jail? As if reading her mind, Mr. Foster continued, “A new acquaintance of mine did a little digging around town today and found out about Mr. Wagner’s time in jail. However, I’m more curious to know if you knew about it.”

“Only after the fact, sir.”

“Yet you did not feel the need to inform me?”

“I couldn’t…” She’d been nursing Friedrick through his illness. Not that she would have gone to tell Mr. Foster anything, even if she’d been given the chance. Would he be further enraged if he learned how much time she’d spent here with Friedrick, alone? Would others find out? Would she be branded a German sympathizer?

“You couldn’t come? Is that what you were about to say, Miss Campbell? And why is that?”

Tell the truth.
Her father’s repeated council from her youth entered her mind and gave her courage. She’d done the humane thing in caring for Friedrick, which was nothing to be ashamed of.

“I was not able to come, Mr. Foster, because I was nursing Mr. Wagner back to health.” She kept her head held high. “While in jail, he came down with influenza. He was too sick to make it home, and so I stayed here in the school with him and cared for him until he was well enough to return to his farm.”

A flicker of surprise crossed the man’s face.

“You may ask any of the neighbors. They can testify to the truth of my story. A man was in need of help and I was the one who could provide it.”

“I wasn’t aware you were here in the school alone with him.”

Livy hated the blush that crept into her cheeks. “I promise you nothing untoward happened. He was nearly at death’s door for most of the time.”

“I believe you, Miss Campbell, but your promise holds little weight with me.” He plunked on his hat and marched toward the door, where he stopped. “You have failed to put up the poster I gave you. You have also withheld information from me regarding Mr. Wagner’s loyalty or lack thereof to this country. We may not have evidence of any true wrongdoing on his part, but such is not the case with you.”

Too angry and stunned to keep silent, Livy opened her mouth to protest, but the superintendent wasn’t finished.

“I came here to get a feel for your own loyalties, Miss Campbell.”

“I assure you, Mr. Foster, my loyalties—”

“Apparently he was right about you and your German sympathies.”

Livy blinked in confusion. “He?”

“You are hereby released of your position, just as Mr. Wagner has been released from his.” He withdrew a piece of paper and extended it toward her. “This is your first and final paycheck.”

Friedrick had lost his job, too? The revelation stung as hard and biting as Robert’s slap last night. “What is Mr. Wagner being fired for?”

“I can’t very well employ a maintenance man whose mother broke the law, can I?”

She wanted to argue for Friedrick’s innocence, but she knew she couldn’t change Mr. Foster’s opinion of the situation, at least not at present. The man had made up his mind, probably before he’d even set foot inside the school.

Sadness washed over Livy, making her steps feel weighted as she walked forward. She hated to think how the children would feel when they learned they had lost another teacher. And what would Friedrick’s family do without the extra money?

“I’m sorry,” she said as she took her check from Mr. Foster.

“So am I.” The man shifted his weight as if suddenly nervous. “There is one other thing that must be done.” When he lifted his head, his face had hardened. “But this is your own doing, Miss Campbell. Please get your coat.”

Livy drew back, a worm of panic uncurling inside her. “I don’t understand.”

Mr. Foster went to the door. “You may take over now,” he said to someone outside as he exited the school.

A man wearing a sheriff’s badge appeared in the doorway. “Miss Olivia Campbell?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Sheriff Tate.” He sounded tired. “I’m here to inform you that you’re under arrest for seditious behavior against this country.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “You can’t be serious.”

“Quite serious, miss. You withheld information from the superintendent and refused to show allegiance to America by hanging a war bond poster.” He reached out and took hold of her arm, gentle but firm. “If you’ll get your coat, please.”

Too numb to think, Livy put on her coat. She stuffed her check into one of the pockets and allowed Sheriff Tate to lead her from the school. An automobile sat waiting out front, with Mr. Foster in the front seat.

“No, wait.” Livy hung back.

“Please, Miss Campbell.” The sheriff gave her a soft push toward the car. “Don’t make things worse by resisting arrest.”

“But I…” This wasn’t happening. She felt as though she were moving through a dream. The nightmarish quality only intensified when her gaze jumped to a familiar car parked in front of her cabin. Robert leaned against the fender, a smug expression on his face. He’d threatened her and Friedrick, and now he was making good on his threat.

Fury burned through her as she averted her face. At that moment she caught sight of Friedrick driving his horses hard up the road.

“Livy?” he hollered.

Her heart twisted with both relief and panic. Would they arrest him, too? His family couldn’t afford to have him in jail again—for who knew how long this time.

“Miss, please get in the car.” Sheriff Tate opened the door with his free hand.

“Wait,” Friedrick shouted. He drove past the car and jerked his horses to a stop.

“Come on, Sheriff,” Mr. Foster grumbled from the front seat. “I need to get back to my office.”

Livy stepped toward Friedrick. There was no mistaking the anguish in his eyes, even from a distance.

She wanted so much to break free—to find solace in his strong embrace, to kiss him until she forgot all about the fear—but she wasn’t free. And neither was he, not in the way they’d pretended.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Friedrick before the sheriff placed her inside the car.

Friedrick watched, powerless, as the sheriff’s car sped down the road in the direction he’d come. Why had Livy been arrested? His biggest fear had been over her losing her job, not being hauled off to jail. He gathered the reins, ready to turn the horses around and go after her, when he noticed another automobile and its owner.

His initial surprise at Livy’s arrest exploded into rage as he sprang from the wagon seat and marched toward Robert. How dare the man try to hurt Livy again and again and again.

“You!” Friedrick forced out between clenched teeth. His hands, balled into fists, shook with fury. “You were the one who had us both fired.”

Robert lifted his shoulders in a bored shrug. “I told you I’d get even.”

“And for what? To see the girl you supposedly love carted to jail by the town sheriff?”

“I wasn’t the traitor.”

Friedrick came to stop near the car, his jaw so tense it hurt. “What did you accuse her of?” he demanded in a loud voice. “Why is Livy going to jail?”

“I told you.” Robert stepped away from his car. “She’s a German sympathizer.”

“Livy Campbell is no traitor.”

“Whether she is or isn’t is not your concern,” Robert said, his voice low and deadly. “You leave her alone from now on or you’ll find yourself in a worse situation than losing your job. Seems I heard in town you got yourself a real sick pa and some kid brother and sister. Wouldn’t want any harm coming to them, would you?”

The ugly words hit their mark, as Friedrick suspected Robert wanted. If the man found Joe and his crowd, there could be real trouble for Friedrick’s family. This thought alone gave him the strength to unclench his aching fingers and walk away.

“That’s right. You run on home now,” Robert scoffed.

Friedrick climbed onto the wagon and snapped the reins. He needed to formulate a plan—a way to help Livy out of jail before she could be tried and sentenced to prison like Miss Lehmann—but the anger still pounding in his head made thinking difficult. If only he could have sent Robert back to where he belonged, more than a little bruised. But he wouldn’t fight violence with violence.

The lash of the wind on Friedrick’s face as he drove the horses hard toward the farm cooled his neck and his fury. Deep anguish rushed in to take its place, though. If he’d kept himself from falling for Livy, she wouldn’t be in such a mess.