Donovan's Daughter (The Californians, Book 4) (2 page)

Dear Marcail,

Well, summer is upon us. The weather is hot in the
extreme and all the grass in Santa Rosa is already brown.
Every window in the kitchen is open as I write this letter.

Rigg's mood has been nothing short of nonsensical
tonight. He keeps coming through the kitchen and giving
me messagesforyou. The last one was that a man was here,
a doctor, seven feet tall, and he was askingforyour band in
marriage. Honestly, Marc, he certainly can be outrageous
when he makes up his mind!

Business picked up at the mercantile, and 1 was able to
ordera new rug for thegirls' bedroom. You remember how
worn the old one was. I know Rigg hated to see itgo since it
had been his grandmother's, butMolly'sfoot catches on the
loose threads time and again, and I'm afraid she'sgoing to
hurt herself. I cut them, but I can't seem to stay ahead of it.

We painted your bedroom a soft peach color. It really
brightened things up. Wish you could see it. (That was a hint,
in case you didn't catch it)

I'm glad your studies and tutoring are progressing
well. We're praying for you, Mitchell, and Renee. I have
every confidence you'll have your certificate in record
time. I'm so proud of you. Write me soon.

Love, Katie

June 17, 1881

Visalia, California

Dear Katie,

I stood atMiss Wilkins'side today and watchedhersign
my teaching certificate. I can't really explain the way I fel4
except to say that I was excited and scared all at once.

I knew that the Lord would want me to trustHim, asyou
trusted Him so many years ago the first time you taught in
Santa Rosa without Mother's help. I loved the schoolhouse
there, and I love thinking back to your gentle way of
teaching; so often you reminded me of Mother. I think she
would be thrilled with the decision I've made.

I don't believe for a moment that I would be receiving
my certificate if you hadn't been such an encouragement
tome. Thanks, Katie, for all you've taught me, and for being
the pillar of love and strength you've been in my life.

Love, Marcail

July 25, 1881

Santa Rosa, California

Dear Marcail,

I prayed this morning about the perfect tea ching posi-
tionfor you, and then found myself asking God to open the
doors here in Santa Rosa. Then I realized that I was trying
to help God with your life, and I was not trusting.

This letter is to inform you that I'vegiven you over to the
Lord and His tender care. Here are some verses that 1 know
you love and have shared with me in thepast. As 1 read them
this morning, I found them a real comfort. Thanks, Marcail.

Isaiah 55:8,9, `For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the
heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher
than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts."

All my love, Katie

August 12, 1881

Visalia, California

Dear Katie,

I've received letters from three school boards who have
seen my credentials and want to hire me. Father and I
talked and prayed beforefinally deciding on the school in
Willits, which is only about five hours from Santa Rosa by
train.

I'll be coming through Santa Rosa on August 25, on my
way to Willits. I can't stay any longer than the train does,
but if you re at the station around 10.00 a.m., we'll have a
few moments.

The conduct and dress code laid down by this school
board is very strict, but I think that's part of the reason
Father liked it; that and knowing how close I'll be to you
and Rigg. I know he wants peace of mind over how I'm
being cared for.

Father can't get away to come up with me, but he asked
me to tell you he's planning on coming to Santa Rosa for
Christmas, and we'll all be together then. If this won't work
for you, be in touch. I won't write again before I leave, but
don'tforget to write me once Iget to my new home. Thanks
for all your prayers.

Love, Marcail

Santa Rosa, California

August 25, 1881

Marcail Donovan waved from the window as the
train pulled away from the Santa Rosa station. Her sister,
Kaitlin, brother-in-law, Marshall Riggs, and nieces,
Gretchen and Molly, all waved furiously in reply. Her
nephew, eight-month-old Donovan, sitting comfortably
on his father's arm, was too busy working on the thumb
in his mouth to notice his aunt's departure.

When the train station was out of sight, Marcail settled back against her seat with a smile and a sigh. How
good it had been to see them, however briefly. It was an
unexpected blessing amid numerous blessings of late
from the Lord.

If Marcail had had the luxury of time, she would have
loved to stay and visit, but knowing her teaching position awaited her further up the tracks was enough to
keep Marcail's mind from how deeply she missed her
family.

Marcail suddenly thought of her father, Patrick Donovan, and again she smiled. It wasn't every girl who had
a full-time father for the first nine years of her life, saw him only occasionally for the next ten years, and then
had him come back into her life to stay when she was
nearly 19.

It had taken some weeks, but father and daughter had
become close. At first Patrick had struggled with the fact
that his little girl was now a grown woman, and there
were times he had treated her like a child. But he was
always swift to apologize when he saw the disappointment in her eyes. He soon saw that her manner of life,
and the loving way she responded to his affection and
counsel, showed that Marcail was level-headed enough
to know what she wanted.

And what Marcail wanted was to teach school. Patrick's
first reaction when she expressed this desire had been
enthusiastic, until she informed him that she was willing to travel anywhere in the state to acquire a position.

"Wouldn't you like a teaching position here in Visalia?" he'd asked her in some surprise.

"Yes, I would. It would be wonderful to teach close
enough to live here, but if nothing is available, then I'm
going to look for a position somewhere else."

Marcail could see that her words surprised her father,
and she did not push the point. She also did not tell him
that she felt it was time to be on her own. Marcail knew
that if he was totally against the idea of her teaching
elsewhere, she would drop the subject, but as she hoped
and prayed, he came to her a few days later and told her
to follow her heart.

And follow her heart was just what Marcail did. She
began submitting her resume whenever she found a
school board advertising for a teacher, and in a surprisingly short amount of time, several responded.

Marcail had been careful to consult her father on all the
correspondence she received, and in just a matter of
days, Patrick advised her to take the job in Willits. It was a long way from where they were now living in Visalia,
but not too far from Katie and Rigg. And with the strict
code of dress, Father was certain the townspeople would
be upright and moral.

Marcail had plenty of time to grow nervous as the
train drew ever closer to her destination. She had prayed
for most of the journey and worked at overcoming her
anxieties. There was so much she could panic over if she
allowed her mind to wander; little things, like living
alone for the first time, taking care of all her own finances, and being the sole authority in the classroom.

Marcail had known responsibility for numerous tasks
over many years. She had always risen to the occasion
and seen to every need, but she suddenly found herself
asking, what if something entered her world that was
beyond her control? What if she became sick or the
schoolhouse burned down?

Marcail realized she was working herself into a fine
frenzy and immediately prayed for calm. It was true that
any of those things could happen, but worrying about
them would change nothing. If and when the time came
to handle any and all disasters, she knew the Lord would
lead and guide her to His good work.

She was completely calm by the time the conductor
called Willits as the next stop. As the town came into
view, however, Marcail's heart began to pound once
again. This time there was no fear, only excitement.

Marcail peered through the window as the train pulled
into the Willits station. There was nothing unusual or
remarkable about what she could see of the small town,
but the fact that it was her new home made it, along with
the moment, a thing to be treasured.

The train came to a complete stop. Marcail stood in the
aisle, her carpetbag in one hand. As she stepped forward,
her heart beat against her ribs so hard she was certain the
fabric on her dress was moving. She glanced down at her
simple black gown with the long sleeves and high collar,
and suddenly found herself hoping it would hold up under
the censuring eyes of Willits' school board members.

There were a few other people disembarking with her
at the train station. Marcail, wanting to soak up every
person, every nook and cranny of this small town, smiled
and greeted anyone who met her eyes.

Her letter of introduction, held firmly in one hand, said
she was to locate a Mr. Stanley Flynn. He was, the letter
explained, the local banker. Because Marcail's only piece
of luggage was her one overstuffed bag, she carried it in
one hand and the letter in the other.

More than one shop owner stepped to the boardwalk in
front of his store as she passed, and Marcail took time to smile and greet each one. She didn't tarry long, however. Her desire to meet Mr. Flynn gave her a singleness
of purpose that took her swiftly to the door of the bank
and over the threshold. Once inside the small building,
Marcail approached the single clerk who stood behind
the counter.

"May I help you, miss?" Marcail noticed he was very
businesslike, his speech and manner proper in the extreme.

"Yes, thank you. I'm looking for a Mr. Stanley Flynn."

"May I tell him who is calling?"

Feeling much younger than her 19 years, Marcail gave
her name and watched the bank clerk walk to a private
office at the rear of the building. She looked around
admiringly at the elegant surroundings of the compact
room, taking in the gleaming woodwork. She thought
she detected the faint odor of linseed oil.

Moving to the windows that looked out over the
street, Marcail spotted a cobbler shop, hotel, dry goods
store, and what appeared to be a doctor's office. When
she heard footsteps behind her, she turned with a ready
smile. A man was approaching, his smile cordial but his
eyes watchful. He extended his hand to Marcail, who
was well aware of his scrutiny. She was quite conscious
of the fact that she looked like a girl on the threshold of
womanhood, and not a woman fully grown. But Marcail
was confident of her ability to teach, and in her posture
and the very tilt of her head she unconsciously relayed
just that.

"Miss Donovan, it's a pleasure to meet you." Stanley
Flynn must have liked what he saw because his manner
became very solicitous, his smile genuine.

Marcail smiled in return. "It's a pleasure to be here,
Mr. Flynn."

She might not have been so confident or ready to smile
if she could have read the banker's thoughts, the first of
which was that she was beautiful. The second was that
she looked innocent enough to be malleable. It would be
some time before Marcail would find out that she was
Willits' ninth school teacher in three years.