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A Widowed Mom Bought a $12 Abandoned Schoolhouse — Then Her Daughter Found a Desk With Her Name — Transcript

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0:00In the 14 months since her husband died,
0:03Lorna Haskett had learned one hard
0:05thing. Grief doesn't change people. It
0:08only takes off their masks. Her
0:10mother-in-law's mask came off on a
0:12Tuesday at Lorna's own kitchen table.
0:15Vera Haskett slid a single sheet of
0:18paper across the oilcloth with one
0:20crooked little finger. "This farm is in
0:22my name," she said. "It always was. You
0:26have until Friday." Then she looked past
0:28Lorna at the 9-year-old girl doing
0:31homework by the window. "Clementine
0:33stays with me." Lorna took her daughter
0:36and left instead. With $412
0:39to her name, she bought the only thing
0:41in Ardell County she could afford. A
0:44one-room schoolhouse empty since 1967.
0:48The price was $12. Vera laughed when she
0:52heard. "$12." She told half the church
0:55that Sunday. "That's about what it's
0:57worth." But on their first night inside,
1:00Lorna's daughter found the old teacher's
1:02desk. And on it, in tarnished brass, was
1:06her own name. Then Lorna opened the
1:09attendance book on top. One little girl
1:12had been marked present every single day
1:14of the winter of 1966.
1:17Even Christmas Day. Lorna didn't know it
1:20yet, but that little girl was the reason
1:22Vera wanted her gone. "Stay until the
1:25end. The last secret is the one that
1:28matters most." The schoolhouse stood
1:30alone where two gravel roads crossed, 4
1:33miles outside Ardell, Iowa. Lorna saw it
1:36first as a shape against the last of the
1:38light. A white box with a steep roof. A
1:42little bell tower with no bell in it.
1:44Corn stubble on three sides running flat
1:47to the edge of the sky. She pulled into
1:50the weeds and turned off the engine. In
1:52the backseat, Clem pressed her face to
1:55the window. "It looks like a church."
1:58"It's a school," Lorna said. "It was a
2:01school."
2:02"Where are the kids?"
2:03"Grown up, baby. A long time ago."
2:06Everything they owned was in the car.
2:09Two suitcases,
2:10a laundry basket of dishes, and a box of
2:14Wes's flannel shirts that Lorna couldn't
2:16leave behind. 14 months ago, Wes Haskett
2:20had driven to the grain elevator before
2:22dawn on an icy January morning. A truck
2:25crossed the center line on Route 9. The
2:28trooper said Wes never saw it coming. He
2:31was 40. A quiet man who planned things
2:34early and kept them to himself.
2:37After the funeral, Lorna and Clem stayed
2:39on at the farm. It was Wes's late
2:42father's land. Lorna had always known
2:45the deed was in Vera's name. She had
2:47never thought it mattered. For a while,
2:50Vera brought groceries, then she brought
2:52opinions.
2:54Then she brought a real estate agent.
2:56"You can't run a farm, Lorna. You can't
2:58even keep a job." It wasn't fair. Lorna
3:02was a home health aide and her long-time
3:04client had died in November. Since then,
3:08the agency could only find her 9 hours a
3:10week. Then came the Tuesday at the
3:13kitchen table, the paper,
3:15the crooked finger.
3:16"Friday, move into my house in town."
3:20Vera had said.
3:21"Both of you.
3:22Clementine will have the blue room. You
3:25can have the basement until you're on
3:26your feet."
3:28"And if I say no?" Vera folded her
3:30hands. "Then you can explain to my
3:32granddaughter why she's sleeping in a
3:34car."
3:35Lorna said no. On Wednesday, Bonnie
3:39Kraus from the township office called.
3:42"Mrs. Haskett, this is awkward." Bonnie
3:45said. "But your husband wrote us a
3:47letter every spring for 6 years asking
3:50to buy the old number four schoolhouse
3:52out on Quarry Road.
3:54The board kept putting him off.
3:56Lorna had never heard about any letters.
3:59Last month, they finally voted to get
4:01rid of it. Sold as is. Minimum bid is
4:05just the fee to record the deed. $12.
4:08Bonnie paused. Nobody's bid. And I kept
4:11thinking how badly he wanted it. I
4:13thought you should know.
4:15On Thursday, Lorna drove to the fire
4:18hall and laid $12 on Bonnie's counter.
4:22That Sunday, Vera would tell the whole
4:24church. Now, on Friday evening, Lorna
4:27climbed the three stone steps.
4:30The door was heavy oak, gone gray with
4:33weather. Above it, carved into the
4:35stone, were the words Ardel number four.
4:401889.
4:41The key Bonnie had given her turned
4:43easily. Too easily, Lorna thought later.
4:47As if someone had been oiling the lock.
4:49Inside, the air was cold and still. It
4:52smelled of chalk dust and old pine.
4:55Lorna lifted the camping lantern. Six
4:58rows of wooden desks faced the front of
5:00the room. Iron legs, hinged lids.
5:04Against the side wall stood a black
5:06pot-bellied stove. At the front was a
5:09long slate blackboard. Above it hung a
5:11pull-down map of the world, rolled up
5:14tight. And in front of the blackboard,
5:16on a low wooden platform, stood the
5:19teacher's desk. It was twice the size of
5:21the others. Dark oak, with brass handles
5:25on the drawers.
5:26Clem went straight to it. She ran her
5:29hand across the dusty top. Then she
5:32stopped. Mom! What, baby? Mom, come
5:35look. It has my name. Lorna brought the
5:38lantern closer. Fixed to the front edge
5:41of the desk was a small brass plate,
5:44dark with age. Clem had rubbed a clean
5:46streak across it with her thumb. The
5:49engraved letters caught the light.
5:51Miss Clementine Roark. Clem looked up,
5:54eyes huge. That's me. That was a
5:57teacher, honey.
5:59A long time ago.
6:00She had the same first name.
6:03But Lorna's skin had gone cold. Nobody
6:06named a baby Clementine anymore.
6:08Lorna had wanted to call her Emma. Wes
6:11had asked, almost shyly, if they could
6:14use Clementine instead.
6:16"Where'd you get that name?" she'd asked
6:18him. He had only smiled.
6:20"From somebody who deserves to be
6:22remembered."
6:23At the hospital, when Wes told his
6:26mother the baby's name, Vera had set
6:28down the flowers she'd brought.
6:30She picked up her purse, and she walked
6:33out of the room without a word. In 9
6:35years, Vera had never once called her
6:38granddaughter by that name, only the
6:40girl
6:41or sweetheart.
6:43Lorna had always thought it was
6:44snobbery. Now she looked at that brass
6:47plate, and she wasn't so sure.
6:50That night they slept on the floor by
6:52the stove, wrapped in every blanket they
6:54owned. Lorna expected to spend an hour
6:57fighting with damp wood,
6:59but beside the stove sat a crate of
7:01kindling, dry, neatly split, and on top
7:05lay a fresh box of kitchen matches. The
7:08stove lit on the first match. The pipe
7:11drew perfectly. Lorna watched the
7:13flames, and the thought she'd been
7:15pushing away came back. The lock had
7:18been oiled. The stove was ready.
7:21Somebody had been taking care of this
7:22place. Clem was asleep in minutes. Lorna
7:26couldn't sleep at all. Around midnight,
7:29she got up and went to the teacher's
7:31desk. The top drawer stuck, then gave.
7:34Inside lay a wooden ruler, a dried-up
7:37bottle of ink, and a thick green
7:39cloth-bound book. On the cover, in faded
7:43gold letters, register of attendance,
7:46Ardell number four, 1966
7:49to 1967.
7:51She opened it by lantern light. 12 names
7:54ran down the left side in neat fountain
7:57pen handwriting. Across each row ran
8:00tiny marks, P for present, A for absent.
8:04The dates of the school year marched
8:06across the top of each page. Most rows
8:09were ordinary. A few A's in February,
8:12empty squares over the Christmas break.
8:15But one row was different. The ninth
8:17name, Vera M. Stoltz. Lorna ran her
8:20finger along it.
8:22PPP
8:23every school day. And past the edge of
8:26the printed columns, the teacher had
8:28drawn extra squares by hand. Saturdays,
8:32Sundays, everyone marked. And in the
8:35middle of the Christmas break, where
8:36every other row was empty, the ninth row
8:39kept going. December 24th, P. December
8:4425th, P. January 1st, P.
8:49Lorna sat back in the teacher's chair.
8:51Who goes to school on Christmas Day? The
8:54stove ticked in the dark. And one word
8:57in that row held her eye a moment too
8:59long. Vera.
9:01She shook her head. Half the old women
9:03in Ardel were named Vera, or Doris, or
9:06Joan.
9:07And Lorna didn't know her
9:08mother-in-law's maiden name. In 12 years
9:11of marriage, no one had ever said it out
9:14loud.
9:14She closed the book, but she didn't put
9:17it back in the drawer. In the morning,
9:19the schoolhouse was full of light. Now
9:22Lorna saw what she'd missed in the dark.
9:25Three of the windows on the south side
9:27had new glass. Not newer, new.
9:31When she pressed the putty around a pane
9:32with her thumbnail, it was still soft.
9:35It had rained all night. The roof hadn't
9:38leaked once. And on the floor beside the
9:40blackboard, half hidden by the edge of
9:43the platform, lay a carpenter's pencil.
9:46Flat, red, sharpened with a pocketknife.
9:50Lorna picked it up. She knew this
9:52pencil. She had pulled a hundred just
9:55like it out of Wes's jeans pockets on
9:58laundry day.
9:59At the blackboard, Clem was tugging at
10:01the big map of the world. Mom, it's
10:04stuck. Lorna reached up and gave it a
10:06pull. The map came down with a clatter.
10:10A faded world in pink and green and
10:12yellow with countries that didn't exist
10:14anymore. Behind it, the wall wasn't a
10:17wall. It was a narrow door painted the
10:20same dull green as the plaster set flush
10:23with the boards. No handle. Just a small
10:26brass keyhole. The map had hidden it for
10:29years. Lorna tried the schoolhouse key.
10:32It didn't fit.
10:34Then she took out Wes's keyring.
10:36There was one small brass key on it she
10:38had never matched to any lock on the
10:40farm.
10:41She had tried them all. It turned. The
10:45door opened onto a room no bigger than a
10:47closet. A cloakroom once.
10:50A row of coat hooks still ran along one
10:52wall at a child's height.
10:55But someone had made it into something
10:57else. A narrow iron cot stood against
11:00the back wall with a thin mattress gone
11:03gray with age. On a shelf set a tin cup,
11:06a chipped enamel plate, and a candle
11:09stub in a saucer. Pin to the wall above
11:12the cot was a single red mitten
11:15child-sized hand-knitted worn through at
11:18the thumb.
11:19And beside it scratched into the plaster
11:22in pencil were rows of small tally
11:25marks.
11:26Lorna counted them twice. 97. Someone
11:30had counted nights in this room.
11:32Clem squeezed in beside her and stared
11:34up at the mitten. "Whose is that?" "I
11:37don't know." Lorna said. But the room
11:40held one more thing.
11:42In the corner under a canvas tarp set a
11:44stack of new pine boards, a crate of
11:47window glass wrapped in newspaper, and a
11:50battered red metal toolbox. Lorna knelt
11:53in front of it. Two initials were
11:55painted on the lid in white. W. H. West
11:58Haskett. Her hands shook so hard it took
12:01two tries to open the latch. On top of
12:04his hammer and tape measure lay a spiral
12:06notebook. On the cover in his square
12:09careful printing number four for Clem's
12:1310 T8s, she opened it. Page after page
12:16of drawings, measurements, lists of
12:19lumber and nails, the bell tower with a
12:22bell in it again, the [clears throat]
12:24cloakroom turned into a small kitchen,
12:26and the open loft above the classroom
12:29with a ladder and a little bed tucked
12:31under the slope of the roof. An arrow
12:34pointed to the bed. Beside it, one word,
12:37Clem. On the last page was a note.
12:40Lorne, if you're reading this, either
12:43the township finally sold it to me or I
12:46ran out of time to tell you myself. I
12:49hope it's the first one. I've been
12:51fixing this place for 3 years, Saturdays
12:54mostly, when you thought I was at the
12:56co-op. I'm sorry for the fib. I wanted
12:59it to be a surprise, a place that's
13:02ours, not mom's, not the farms, ours.
13:06This schoolhouse saved somebody I love a
13:09long time ago.
13:11Ask my mother about Miss Rourke. She
13:14won't answer you.
13:15Ask her anyway, and when Clem turns 10,
13:18bring her here and tell her who she's
13:20named for.
13:22W. Lorna read it three times. Then she
13:25sat down on the cold floor with her
13:27husband's toolbox in her lap, and she
13:29cried the way she hadn't let herself cry
13:32at the funeral. Clem sat down beside her
13:35and leaned against her mother's arm. She
13:38didn't ask questions. She just held on.
13:41For 14 months, Lorna had believed Wes
13:44left them with nothing, but he'd been
13:47building them a home the whole time, one
13:49Saturday at a time. If someone you loved
13:52ever left you a gift you found too late,
13:55you know exactly how Lorna felt.
13:58Subscribe and stay with her because the
14:00most important secret in that little
14:02room hasn't been told yet. Just after
14:05noon, a tractor came rumbling up Quarry
14:08Road. The man driving it was even older
14:10than the tractor.
14:12He climbed down stiffly and stood
14:14looking at the smoke rising from the
14:16chimney.
14:17Lorna went out on the steps.
14:20"Saw the smoke," he said. "Figured it
14:22was kids again or the ghost." "The
14:24ghost?" He took off his cap. "Dutch
14:27Halverson. I farm the section across the
14:30road." He looked at her more closely.
14:32"You're Wes's wife, his widow. I know
14:35it." His voice softened. "I was at the
14:38funeral, stood in the back."
14:40"He was a good man, ma'am. I watched him
14:43put a new roof on that school two
14:44summers running." "You knew?"
14:47"Mine's the only house in sight.
14:50He'd come Saturday mornings with a
14:51thermos and work till dark.
14:54Some days I'd walk over with a second
14:56thermos and we'd sit on those steps."
14:59"Did he ever tell you why?"
15:01Dutch looked up at the empty bell tower
15:03for a long moment. "He said he was
15:05finishing something his mother never
15:07could."
15:08Clem came out and stood behind Lorna's
15:10legs.
15:11When Dutch saw her, his face went still,
15:15then very gentle.
15:16"And you'd be Clementine."
15:18Clem nodded. "How do you know?" "Your
15:21daddy told me.
15:23He was awful proud of that name." Dutch
15:25turned his cap in his hands.
15:27"I had a teacher named Clementine, right
15:30in that room, fourth grade." "Miss
15:32Rourke," Lorna said. He looked up
15:34sharply. "You found the desk." "I found
15:37more than the desk." She brought him
15:39inside. She showed him the register.
15:42"The ninth row."
15:43"The P on Christmas Day."
15:45Then she pulled down the map and opened
15:47the narrow door.
15:49Dutch stood in the doorway of the
15:50cloakroom a long time. He didn't go in.
15:54He was looking at the red mitten. "I
15:56haven't seen that room since I was 11
15:58years old," he said.
16:00"Mr. Halverson, what happened here?"
16:03He let out a long breath. "Winter of '66
16:06was a bad one and some families out here
16:09were real poor back then. There was a
16:11girl in our class. Her mama ran off that
16:14fall. Her daddy drank. Some nights he
16:17didn't come home at all. Some nights it
16:20was worse when he did. Miss Rourke found
16:22out. Don't know how.
16:24She started keeping that girl here after
16:26school.
16:28Then overnight. Then right through
16:30Christmas. She'd drive out from town
16:32every morning before dawn to stoke that
16:35stove so the room would be warm when the
16:37girl woke up. He touched the door frame
16:40with two fingers. We all knew. Every kid
16:43in that room.
16:45And not one of us told. We brought her
16:47things.
16:48Bread from home. Wool socks. I brought
16:51her my big sister's old mittens. He
16:53nodded at the wall. That's one of them.
16:56Lorna's throat was tight. What happened
16:58to her? In March the school board found
17:01out. Somebody told. His jaw worked. They
17:05fired Miss Rourke.
17:07Said it was improper. A teacher keeping
17:09a child at the school. Next fall they
17:12closed number four for good and bust us
17:14all into town.
17:16And the girl? Dutch was quiet. County
17:19took her. Put her in the children's home
17:21over in Sheldon.
17:23Lorna looked at the register in her
17:24hands.
17:26At the ninth name. Was her name Vera?
17:29Dutch flinched. Just barely. Then he put
17:32his cap back on and looked away.
17:34Out the tall windows toward his own
17:37fields. That's not mine to tell, ma'am.
17:40He said quietly. Wes knew. You ask his
17:43mother. That evening Lorna went through
17:46the teacher's desk drawer by drawer.
17:49The bottom drawer was locked. The little
17:51brass key from Wes's ring opened it,
17:53too. Inside lay a stack of papers in a
17:56folder. On the folder in Wes's square
17:59printing, Miss Rourke. On top was a
18:02letter on stiff cream paper. The
18:04letterhead said Ardel Township School
18:07Board. It was dated March 14th, 1967.
18:11Miss Rourke, it has been reported to
18:14this board that you permitted a pupil to
18:16reside on school property for a period
18:18of several months without the knowledge
18:20or consent of this board or the child's
18:22parent. The board finds this conduct
18:25improper and unbecoming. Your employment
18:27is terminated effective immediately.
18:30Lorna read the words the child's parent
18:33twice. Some parent. A man who didn't
18:36come home and was worse when he did.
18:39Under the letter was a receipt from
18:411968.
18:42When the district sold the empty
18:44schoolhouse, Miss Rourke had bought it
18:46herself. $840.
18:49Every penny she had. So no one could
18:52tear it down.
18:53The next paper was a copy of her will.
18:56It was dated 2004, the year she died. I
19:00leave the Ardell number four schoolhouse
19:02to Ardell Township to be kept for as
19:05long as it stands as a warm place for
19:07any child who needs one.
19:09Lorna set the will down very carefully.
19:12For 22 years, the Township had let it
19:15rot.
19:16Until a farmer's son started showing up
19:19on Saturdays with a box of nails. At the
19:22bottom of the stack was a photograph.
19:24Black and white. 12 children standing in
19:27two rows on the schoolhouse steps
19:30squinting into the sun.
19:32Behind them stood a tall woman in a dark
19:34coat with a long plain kind face.
19:38Miss Clementine Rourke.
19:40Her hand rested on the shoulder of a
19:42thin little girl at the end of the front
19:44row.
19:45The girl wore red mittens. She was
19:48holding a school slate in her left hand
19:50and on the hand holding the slate the
19:52little finger was bent sideways at the
19:55top joint. Crooked.
19:57Lorna had seen that finger four days ago
20:00tapping a sheet of paper across her own
20:02kitchen table.
20:04You have until Friday. She turned the
20:06photo over. On the back in fountain pen.
20:10Number four school, fall 1966.
20:13Vera May, front right.
20:16Brave girl. Her mother-in-law had slept
20:18in that cloakroom for 97 nights.
20:21And now she was trying to take this
20:23building away from her own
20:24granddaughter. Why?
20:27Under the photograph was one more thing,
20:29an envelope. Cream-colored, sealed. It
20:32had never been mailed. On the front, in
20:35that same careful hand, were two words.
20:38For Vera. A note was clipped to it. In
20:41Wes's printing.
20:43"She gave me this at the care home in
20:452003.
20:46Said give it to Mom when Mom was ready.
20:49She never was."
20:51Lorna didn't open it. It wasn't hers to
20:53open. She didn't know it yet. But in
20:56less than 3 weeks, she would stand up in
20:59front of the whole town and put that
21:01envelope into Vera's hands.
21:04Vera came on Sunday afternoon. Her long
21:07silver Buick crunched up the gravel and
21:09stopped by the steps. A heavy man in a
21:12tan sport coat got out of the passenger
21:14side. Lorna recognized him. Gary
21:17Lindquist. Chairman of the Township
21:19Board. He went to Vera's church. He had
21:23carried one corner of Wes's casket.
21:25Vera climbed out more slowly.
21:2871. Pearl earrings. A camel coat. She
21:33stood at the bottom of the steps and
21:34looked up at the schoolhouse. She didn't
21:37come inside.
21:38"Lorna," she said. "This has gone far
21:41enough. Has it? You're living in a
21:44building with no electricity and no
21:46running water. With a 9-year-old."
21:49Vera's voice was perfectly calm. "I'm
21:52offering you a warm home. Both of you.
21:55Gary's board made a mistake selling this
21:57place. Sign it back to the Township and
22:00come home with me. And we will never
22:02speak of it again." Gary cleared his
22:04throat. "Board would refund your $12, of
22:07course."
22:08Lorna didn't answer him. She looked at
22:10her mother-in-law.
22:12"Who was Vera Mae Stoltz?" she asked.
22:15For 1 second, nothing moved. Then Vera's
22:18right hand closed around the strap of
22:20her purse.
22:21The crooked little finger stuck out
22:22stiffly from the rest.
22:24"I don't know what you're talking about.
22:27She was marked present on Christmas Day
22:291966
22:31in this building. Vera's face didn't
22:33change, but all the color drained out of
22:36it slowly. The way the light leaves a
22:38field at dusk. Behind Lorna, Clem
22:41stepped into the doorway. Grandma, she
22:44said brightly, there's a desk in here
22:46with my name on it.
22:48Do you want to see? Vera looked at her
22:50granddaughter. Something crossed her
22:53face. It wasn't anger. It was something
22:56much older than anger. No, she said, no,
23:00sweetheart, I don't. She turned and
23:03walked back to the car. At the passenger
23:05door, she stopped and spoke without
23:08looking back. Gary,
23:10the board meets on the 26th. Put it on
23:13the agenda. The Buick pulled away. Its
23:16dust hung in the cold air over Quarry
23:18Road a long time after it was gone.
23:21Dutch walked over at dusk with two
23:24thermoses. They sat on the steps while
23:26Clem played hopscotch in the dirt. Lorna
23:29told him everything.
23:30Dutch didn't seem surprised. She's going
23:33to fight me for this place, Lorna said,
23:36and she's going to win. She's got Gary,
23:39she's got the church, she's got money.
23:42She pressed her palms against her eyes.
23:44I've got $290
23:46left and 9 hours of work a week. Dutch
23:50frowned.
23:51What about Wes's policy?
23:53Lorna lowered her hands.
23:55What policy?
23:57His life insurance. My son-in-law, Ken
24:00Albrecht, sold it to him right after
24:02Clementine was born.
24:04Dutch was looking at her strangely now.
24:07Wes came to supper at our place the day
24:10he signed.
24:11He was so pleased with himself. Said
24:14whatever happened, his girls were taken
24:16care of.
24:17Lorna stared at him. There was a policy
24:20through his work, she said slowly. It
24:22paid for the funeral. That's all there
24:24was.
24:26Dutch set his thermos down on the step.
24:28"Ma'am," he said, "you need to call
24:31Ken."
24:32On Monday morning, she drove to the gas
24:34station in Ardell, where her phone
24:36finally got a signal, and called him at
24:398:00. Ken Albrecht was a careful,
24:41soft-spoken man. He was quiet a while,
24:44typing.
24:46"Mrs. Haskett, there's a term life
24:48policy on Wesley, purchased in 2016.
24:51Shh. $250,000.
24:54You're the primary beneficiary.
24:57Clementine is the contingent." He
24:59paused. "The premiums were paid through
25:01this coming April. The policy was active
25:04when he died. No claim has ever been
25:06filed." Lorna had to sit down on the
25:09curb beside the ice machine.
25:11$250,000.
25:14For 14 months, she had counted change
25:16for gas. She had watered down Clem's
25:18milk to make it last. She had sold her
25:21wedding ring to a pawn shop in Sioux
25:23City in September, and told Clem she'd
25:25lost it. "How did I not know?" she
25:28whispered.
25:29"Wes kept the paperwork at the farm, in
25:32a gray file box, I think. He said you'd
25:35find it if you ever needed it." Ken
25:37hesitated. "Mrs. Haskett, there's
25:40something else you should know. I
25:42assumed you'd already been told." "Told
25:44what?" "Your mother-in-law called me
25:46last April. She had the policy
25:49documents.
25:50She asked whether the money could be put
25:52into a trust for Clementine, with her as
25:55trustee." A grain truck rumbled past on
25:58the highway. Lorna didn't hear it. "I
26:01told her no. Only the named beneficiary
26:03can file. That's you."
26:06"She thanked me, and asked me not to
26:08trouble you about it while you were
26:09grieving."
26:11His voice was unhappy now.
26:13"I thought she'd tell you herself.
26:15I should have called."
26:17Lorna thanked him. She asked him to send
26:20the claim forms that same day.
26:22Then she hung up and sat very still.
26:25The gray file box. When Vera's movers
26:28boxed up the farmhouse, every carton
26:30came back to Lorna.
26:32Everyone but that one. Vera had known.
26:35For 11 months she had known exactly how
26:38much money was waiting with Lorna's name
26:40on it. And she had watched Lorna count
26:42change for gas. She had watched her pack
26:45her daughter's life into a car. She had
26:48waited for Lorna to break so she could
26:50take Clem.
26:51That afternoon Ken drove the claim forms
26:54out to the schoolhouse himself.
26:56Lorna filled them out at Miss Rourke's
26:58desk while he waited. And he took them
27:00back to town. Two days later a notice
27:04was taped to the schoolhouse door.
27:06Ardelle Township Board special meeting.
27:10Thursday, March 26th, 7:00 p.m. Fire
27:14Hall. Agenda item one. Motion to rescind
27:18the sale of Ardelle number four
27:19schoolhouse on the grounds that the sale
27:22violated the terms of the Rourke
27:24bequest. If rescinded, the structure
27:27shall be demolished at township expense.
27:30Under the notice, folded small, was a
27:32note on Vera's monogrammed paper.
27:35I have Wesley's papers. Drop this
27:38foolishness and come home and we'll
27:40discuss them. Vera read the note twice.
27:43Then she drove back to the gas station
27:45in Ardelle and called her mother-in-law.
27:48Vera answered on the first ring.
27:51"I've already filed the claim." Lorna
27:53said. "Ken Albrecht has everything he
27:55needs."
27:57"Those papers were never yours to trade,
27:59Vera." Silence. "Keep the box. I'll see
28:02you Thursday." She hung up before Vera
28:04could answer. When she got back to the
28:06schoolhouse, Clem was sitting at the
28:08teacher's desk with the notice in her
28:10hands. She could read well enough. Her
28:13chin was trembling.
28:14"They're going to knock it down." she
28:16said. "Miss Clementine's school and
28:19Daddy's roof." Lorna knelt beside the
28:22chair. "Not if I can help it, baby." Can
28:25you help it? Lorna looked around the
28:27room. At the new glass in the old
28:30windows. At the stove that lit on the
28:32first match. At the map pulled down over
28:36a narrow green door. "Your daddy thought
28:38so," she said, "and so did a teacher a
28:41long time ago." That night she read Miss
28:44Rourke's will again. Word by word by
28:48lantern light. "To be kept for as long
28:50as it stands as a warm place for any
28:53child who needs one." She read it a
28:55fourth time, a fifth. Then she sat back
28:59in the teacher's chair and almost
29:01laughed. The fire hall was full on
29:03Thursday night. Word had gone around
29:06Ardell the way it always did. Farmers in
29:09seed caps, women from Vera's church,
29:12Dutch Halverson in the back row, his cap
29:15on his knee. Gary Lindquist sat at a
29:18long table at the front with two other
29:20board members. Bonnie Kraus sat at the
29:23end with her minutes book. Vera sat in
29:26the front row, camel coat, pearl
29:29earrings, hands folded in her lap. She
29:32didn't turn around when Lorna walked in
29:34with Clem. Gary read the motion aloud.
29:37"The Rourke bequest said the building
29:39was to be kept for children, so it
29:41should never have been sold. The board
29:44should take it back and tear it down.
29:46Discussion," Gary said. "Mrs. Haskett,
29:49I'm told you want to speak." Lorna stood
29:52up. Her knees were shaking. She held the
29:54green register against her chest like a
29:56shield. "Mr. Lindquist is right about
29:59one thing," she said. "Miss Rourke's
30:02will is very clear. She read it out
30:05loud. I leave the schoolhouse to Ardell
30:07Township to be kept for as long as it
30:10stands as a warm place for any child who
30:13needs one." She looked up at the board.
30:16"It doesn't say to keep it empty for 22
30:19years.
30:20It doesn't say to let the roof fall in,
30:22and it doesn't say to knock it down."
30:25Her voice was steadier now. "It says a
30:27warm place for any child who needs one."
30:30She put her hand on Clem's shoulder. "My
30:33daughter is a child, and 3 weeks ago she
30:36needed a warm place very badly.
30:39She turned and looked straight at the
30:41front row. You made sure of that, Vera.
30:44A murmur moved through the folding
30:46chairs. Vera sat perfectly still.
30:49Lorna opened the register. She walked to
30:51the front row and held it out, open to
30:54the ninth row.
30:56"You were marked present on Christmas
30:57Day," she said quietly.
31:00"97 nights. They're still scratched into
31:03the wall. Your mitten is still hanging
31:05over the cot." Then she laid the black
31:07and white photograph on Vera's lap.
31:09"Brave girl," Lorna said. "That's what
31:12she wrote on the back." Vera looked down
31:14at the photograph, at the thin girl in
31:17red mittens,
31:18at the tall teacher with one hand on her
31:20shoulder. For a long moment, the fire
31:23hall was silent. Then Vera Haskett stood
31:26up. She didn't face the board. She faced
31:29the room. The farmers and the church
31:32women and the neighbors she had known
31:34her whole life.
31:35"It was me," she said. Her voice was
31:39thin and dry.
31:40Nothing like the voice from the kitchen
31:42table. "I was Vera May Stoltz. My mother
31:46left in September of 1966.
31:49My father she stopped. My father was who
31:52he was.
31:54Miss Rourke found me sleeping in the
31:55coal shed behind this fire hall the
31:58first week of December. She took me to
32:00the schoolhouse. She fed me.
32:03She marked me present every day, so if
32:05the county ever asked, there'd be a
32:07record I was somewhere safe." She
32:09swallowed. "You've all heard that
32:11somebody told the school board Dutch has
32:14wondered for 59 years who it was." She
32:17looked down at the photograph in her
32:19hands.
32:20"It wasn't somebody.
32:22It was me." The room went utterly
32:24silent. "My father found out where I'd
32:26been. He told me that when the board
32:28asked, I was to say she'd kept me there,
32:32wouldn't let me go home,
32:34that she'd locked me in."
32:35Vera's voice cracked. "I was 11. I was
32:39more afraid of him than I loved her, so
32:41I said it.
32:43I signed my name to it. They fired her
32:45the next day. She never taught again,
32:48not one day.
32:49And the county took me to Sheldon
32:51anyway. She pressed the photograph flat
32:53against her coat. I spent 59 years
32:56making sure nobody in this town ever
32:58knew that girl. I married well. I sat in
33:02the front pew.
33:03I never said her name. She looked at
33:05Lorna then. Her eyes were wet. Then my
33:08son found her. Wesley volunteered at the
33:11care home in Sheldon when he was 17. She
33:14was there. She was old. She told him
33:16everything except what I'd done. She
33:19never told anyone that. Vera's mouth
33:22trembled. And then he named his daughter
33:24after her. And every time anyone said
33:27that name, I was 11 years old again
33:30signing that paper.
33:32Lorna's voice was very quiet. And the
33:34insurance? Vera closed her eyes. I
33:38thought if you had nothing, you'd give
33:40her to me. The words came out in pieces.
33:43I thought, I'll keep her warm. I'll be
33:46the one. For once in my life, I'll be
33:49the one who kept a little girl warm. She
33:51opened her eyes and looked at her
33:53granddaughter. I'm so sorry, sweetheart.
33:56I'm so sorry. Lorna reached into her
33:59coat. She took out the cream-colored
34:01envelope and held it out. She left this
34:04for you. I didn't open it. Vera stared
34:07at her own name in that fountain pen
34:09hand. Her fingers shook too badly to
34:12tear the flap. Lorna opened it for her
34:15and put the single folded page into her
34:17hands. Vera began to read aloud. She got
34:21as far as the first line. Vera May,
34:24I know you were made to say it. Then she
34:26couldn't go on. She held the letter out
34:29to Lorna.
34:30Lorna took it and read the rest to the
34:32silent room. I never blamed you.
34:35Not for a single day. You were 11 years
34:38old and frightened. And you did what
34:40frightened children do to survive. There
34:43is nothing to forgive.
34:45There never was. Wherever you go, you
34:48will always be marked present in my
34:50book. Your teacher, Clementine Rourke.
34:54Vera sat down in her folding chair and
34:56wept. The kind of crying that has waited
34:5959 years. Nobody in the fire hall moved.
35:03Then Gary Lindquist cleared his throat.
35:06His face was red. I'll
35:09I'll withdraw the motion. He said.
35:11Second, said Bonnie Krawczyk from the
35:14end of the table before anyone could ask
35:16her. Then she blushed. I'm sorry. I
35:19don't think you second a withdrawal. For
35:22the first time all night, the room
35:24laughed. The motion was withdrawn.
35:27The sale of number four stood.
35:29Afterward, as the folding chairs were
35:31stacked, Vera came to Lorna by the door.
35:35She held out a gray cardboard file box.
35:38I'm not asking you to forgive me, she
35:40said. I know, Lorna said. She took the
35:44box. Clem's birthday is in June. Wes
35:47wanted it at the schoolhouse.
35:49Vera looked at her.
35:51You can come, Lorna said, if you tell
35:53her the truth, all of it. Vera nodded.
35:57She couldn't speak. The insurance
35:59company paid in May. Lorna put most of
36:02it away for Clem. Then she took out
36:04Wes's spiral notebook, opened it to the
36:07first page, and began.
36:10Dutch's nephew wired the schoolhouse for
36:12electricity. A well man drilled down to
36:15good water. A plumber added a small
36:18bathroom on the north side. The
36:20cloakroom became a kitchen, just the way
36:23Wes had drawn it. A little white stove,
36:26a sink under a new window, open shelves
36:29for the dishes from the laundry basket.
36:32The tally marks stayed on the plaster.
36:34Lorna had a carpenter build a glass
36:36frame around them.
36:38The red mitten hung inside it. Lorna
36:40painted the outside of the schoolhouse
36:42white again.
36:43She painted the heavy oak door a deep,
36:46bright blue
36:47because Wes had always said a house
36:49should have one brave color. She built
36:51the ladder to the loft herself,
36:53following his measurements to the
36:55quarter inch. The first night Clem slept
36:58up there, she called down through the
37:00dark. "Mom, I can see the stars through
37:03the bell tower." "Go to sleep, baby.
37:06Daddy measured it right." Clem said very
37:09sleepily.
37:10"It's exactly the right size for me."
37:12The old desk stayed. Two pushed together
37:15under the south windows became the
37:17kitchen table.
37:19Clem wrote the grocery list on the
37:20blackboard in chalk, and the teacher's
37:23desk stayed exactly where it was, on its
37:26platform at the front of the room. With
37:28its brass plate polished until you could
37:30read the name from the door.
37:32In late May, Dutch drove up with his
37:35tractor and a flatbed trailer. On the
37:37trailer, wrapped in a moving blanket,
37:40sat a black iron bell.
37:42"District sold it in '68," he said. "My
37:45dad bought it for scrap. Never had the
37:47heart to melt it down."
37:49At sunset, Clem pulled the rope.
37:52The bell rang out over the flat fields
37:54for the first time in 59 years. Across
37:57the road, Dutch's cows lifted their
37:59heads.
38:00Down in Ardell, people stepped out onto
38:03their porches to see what it was. Clem's
38:0610th birthday fell on a warm Saturday in
38:08June. Streamers on the fence.
38:11A sheet cake. Bonnie brought lemonade.
38:14Dutch brought his grandchildren. Vera
38:17came last. She parked the Buick at the
38:19very edge of the road and walked up the
38:22gravel slowly, holding a small wrapped
38:24box. Clem met her at the bottom of the
38:27steps. "Hi, Grandma." Vera looked at her
38:30for a long moment.
38:32"Happy birthday, Clementine," she said.
38:35It was the first time she had ever said
38:36the name.
38:38Clem opened the box on the steps.
38:40Inside, folded in tissue paper, was a
38:43small red mitten, hand-knitted,
38:45[clears throat]
38:46worn through at the thumb. The other one
38:49I kept it, Vera said. 59 years in my
38:53jewelry box.
38:55I never knew why. Clem looked at it.
38:57Then she looked up at her grandmother
38:59very seriously. Is this the mitten from
39:02daddy's room? Yes, Vera said. It's the
39:05other half. That evening after the
39:08guests had gone, the three of them sat
39:10at the teacher's desk. Lorna, Clem, and
39:14Vera.
39:15Lorna opened Wes's notebook to the last
39:17page and read his note aloud. And when
39:20Clem turns 10, bring her here and tell
39:23her who she's named for, Vera told her.
39:27All of it. The coal shed, the 97 nights,
39:31the paper she signed. She didn't make
39:33any of it softer than it was. Clem
39:36listened without interrupting once.
39:38When it was over, she got up and went to
39:40the glass frame in the kitchen. She
39:42stood on her tiptoes and looked at the
39:44first mitten for a while. Then she came
39:47back and put the second mitten in her
39:49grandmother's hand. You should hang it
39:51next to the other one, she said. They've
39:53been apart long enough.
39:55Vera hung it herself inside the glass
39:58beside the first one. It was October
40:01when Lorna noticed the girl at the
40:02corner of Quarry Road. Eight years old
40:05maybe. A thin jacket. She got off the
40:08school bus every afternoon at 4:00 and
40:10sat on the culvert pipe by the road with
40:13a little boy beside her. Every afternoon
40:15she was still there at 6:00. On the
40:18fourth day, Lorna walked down the road.
40:21Hi, she said. I'm Lorna. I live in the
40:24schoolhouse.
40:25The girl looked at her warily. I know.
40:28You're the bell lady. What's your name?
40:31Marisol. This is Benny. She put a
40:34protective hand on the little boy's
40:36back.
40:37Our mom works second shift at the pork
40:39plant. She picks us up when she gets off
40:42break. We're not supposed to talk to
40:44people. That's a good rule, Lorna said.
40:47She looked at the gray sky. The wind was
40:50coming hard off the fields. It's going
40:52to get cold out here soon. Do you want
40:55to wait inside?
40:56There's a stove and my daughter's got a
40:59whole box of markers she won't share
41:00with me.
41:01Marisol looked at the schoolhouse with
41:03its blue door, then at her little
41:05brother whose nose was running.
41:08Can I call my mom first? Of course you
41:10can. By November, there were four of
41:13them. By January, there were seven.
41:16Children whose parents worked late
41:18shifts. Children who got off the bus to
41:21an empty house. They did homework at the
41:23old desks, fought over the markers, and
41:26ate whatever was on the little white
41:28stove.
41:29Every afternoon at 4:00, Lorna sat at
41:32Miss Rourke's desk and opened a new
41:34green book from the stationery store in
41:36Sioux City.
41:37She called the names out loud. Each one
41:40got a P and every Thursday, a silver
41:43Buick pulled up at the blue door. Vera
41:46Haskett hung up her camel coat and sat
41:49in a rocking chair by the stove with a
41:51stack of library books. The children
41:53crowded around her on the floor. None of
41:56them knew who she was.
41:58Just Clem's grandma who read the best
42:01voices. One snowy Thursday in February,
42:04Lorna finished the roll call. Marisol,
42:07present. Benny, present. Clementine,
42:11present. She closed the book. Then a
42:14voice spoke from the rocking chair by
42:16the stove. Very soft. Present. Lorna
42:20looked up. Vera was sitting with a book
42:22open on her lap. She wasn't looking at
42:24anyone. She was looking at the two red
42:26mittens in the glass frame on the
42:28kitchen wall.
42:29Lorna opened the book again. She picked
42:32up her pen and at the bottom of the
42:34page, she wrote one more name. Vera May,
42:37P. For 59 years, Vera Haskett believed
42:41the worst thing she had ever done had
42:44erased everything good that came before
42:46it. She was wrong. The kindness she was
42:49shown in that little cloakroom never
42:51left her. It waited in a teacher's
42:54sealed letter, in a mitten and a jewelry
42:56box, in a son who quietly fixed a roof
43:00on Saturdays and gave his daughter a
43:02name nobody else understood. Some people
43:05show us cruelty because cruelty was all
43:07they learned and some people show us
43:09kindness long before we deserve it and
43:13never take it back. Miss Roark lost her
43:15job for keeping one cold girl warm. She
43:18never saw what that kindness became but
43:21it outlived her. Kindness is never
43:23wasted. Sometimes it just takes two
43:26generations to come home
43:28and the people who try hardest to tear
43:30down a place are often the ones who were
43:33saved there.
43:34If Lorna, Clem and Vera's story touched
43:37your heart, please like this video,
43:40subscribe for more stories of families
43:42finding their way back to each other and
43:44share it with someone who needs it
43:46today. And tell us in the comments, was
43:49there ever a teacher or a stranger who
43:52kept you warm when no one else did?

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