“Millie covered you,” Altar responded, her eyes appearing bright against her light almond skin.
“What time is it?”
Altar flipped back the shawl over her shoulder and pulled at a watch pinned to her jacket. “It’s about five o’clock.”
“That early?” Heather stood and gave a little stretch, bouncing on her toes. Many of the children were sitting at their desks with their heads on their hands. It didn’t appear a comfortable way to sleep.
“Five o’clock at night. Not in the morning.”
Heather gave an awkward laugh. She felt like she had been asleep for hours, but it was only thirty minutes. “How are you feeling?”
“Well as can be expected.” Altar’s round belly bulged from underneath her jacket.
“You should be at home in bed.”
“Well, I was headed that way,” she chuckled, “but then this bossy woman pulled me into a school.”
Heather walked over to the window by the stove and pulled open one of the shutters and peered outside. “I can’t see anything.” Millie was leaning against the chalkboard with Mary Rose in her arms. The mother and child both had their eyes closed. Heather recognized the blanket that was draped over them as the one from Millie’s wagon.
“That’s cause it’s dark out,” Altar said, in her soft voice. “Hmmm, hmmm.” Heather recognized the tune that Altar was humming softly. She couldn’t place, it but she recognized it.
“Mrs. Barnes?”
Heather turned to see who called her. “Yes, Cecily, what is it?”
“Do you think we can go home soon?”
Heather walked over and smoothed the young girl’s hair. “I certainly hope so.”
“Miss Poppet is scared,” Cecily whispered.
“Is that your doll?”
Cecily held out the doll to Heather. Miss Poppet had a muslin body with a deep blue muslin dress. Her eyes and lips were sewn from embroidery thread and she didn’t have a nose. Yellow yarn had been fashioned into two yellow braids, which peeked out from a bonnet.
“Miss Poppet is very pretty.” Heather smiled at the child and handed the doll back. “You tell Miss Poppet there is nothing to worry about.”
“I’m hungry,” Everett said.
Millie lifted her head. “Do you have anything left in your lunch box?”
“No,” Everett shook his head. “Little Jake took my hardboiled egg.”
“I gave you my cheese sandwich! It was a fair trade.”
“Boys, boys,” Millie said, placing Mary Rose on the ground. “No fighting.” She walked over to the window and peeked out of the shutter. The wind crashed against the glass panes. “Sounds like the storm is still going.”
“Want me to check, Mrs. Reed?”
“I’ll check, Marcus,” Heather replied. “I need to take a break anyway.” She grabbed her jacket from the peg and slid her hands through the arm holes. Shrugging it over her shoulders, she draped her shawl over her head, so it covered her ears and neck. Tying the edges under her chin, she lifted the knot to under her nose. At least part of her face would be covered.
Several of the children followed her, their little faces peering around the wall. “Which way is the privy?” Heather asked.
The children all pointed towards the corner of the school room. Heather nodded and opened the door. The wind whipped into the school, causing the door to pull from Heather’s hand, slamming it against the frame before rebounding and hitting Heather.
She stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind her. Rubbing her arm, she quickly glanced around. The porch ran in front of the school, but only the portion by the door was covered. Heather could see the snow drifting against the wall. The wood box protected part of the porch, blocking the snow. It was only a couple of inches deep.
Heather picked up her skirt and gave a hop and a jump to the end of the porch. Placing a hand against the wall of the schoolhouse, she peered her head around the corner. She could see the side door, where a pump stood against the steps.
The snow had drifted up to the base of the windows on this side. She looked out towards the river, but all she could see was white. The silhouette of the outhouse could be seen not far from the fence.
Deciding she shouldn’t get off the porch, after all she couldn’t even see the steps down, she made her way to the door and went back inside.
“It is too dangerous to be out there,” Heather said, rubbing her hands together. Just those few seconds outside and she felt as though her hands were covered in pins.
“I’m hungry,” Everett said again.
Heather noticed that in the short time she had been gone, all the lunch pails were lined up on top of Millie’s desk.
“I put everything on the desk to see what we have.”
“What do we have?” Marcus asked.
“Unfortunately, not much,” Millie said. “I have some potatoes.” A box of potatoes was a common occurrence at the school, as they would be heated in the colder weather and popped in pockets or under blankets to keep fingers and toes warm.
“I have soup bones,” Heather said. “I forgot about them until just now.”
“I guess we’ll need a pot and some water.”
“The snow is drifting, but the pump is still visible. Let’s take the empty lunch pails and we can fill them.”
“With snow?” Jenny asked.
“No, it takes a lot of snow to melt into a cup of water. I’ll see if the pump is frozen. If it isn’t, we should fill as many vessels as we can find to keep water inside.”
Millie made quick work of dumping the contents of the lunch pails on her desk. There was half a sandwich, a few apples and something that Heather didn’t recognize. “I’ll go with you,” Millie said, picking up the first pail.
“No,” Heather insisted. “You stay here. I’m already wrapped up.” She
