Hope at Dawn by Stacy Henrie

time between Iowa and France. Joel and Tom might still be sleeping or perhaps they were awake and getting an early start on the day. What would they say about her job? Livy knew they’d be proud of her for becoming a teacher, but she wasn’t sure how they’d feel about her possibly teaching German students.
    An intense longing to see them welled up inside her. Her older brothers had always been her greatest friends, despite Tom being three years older and Joel five years. They were a close-knit trio and always had been. Every day she lived with the fear one or both of them might not come back.
    Livy lowered her hand and frowned at the map. It would be another reminder of her brothers’ absence, but one she could control. She yanked out the nails holding the map to the wall. After carefully rolling the large paper, she placed it against the small bookcase on one side of the room.
    “Better,” she whispered as she surveyed the now empty spot on the wall.
    She shed her coat and unpacked more clean rags to dust the desks and windowsills. Though she suspected they could benefit from a good scrubbing as well, she was too tired to do a more thorough cleaning tonight.
    After dusting, Livy unloaded her supplies. Some of her enthusiasm—and energy—returned as she placed the pencils, paper, and books inside or on top of the teacher’s desk.
    My desk now , she thought with a smile.
    When everything was in order, she slipped outside and locked the door. The sky had changed to twilight blue. Livy drew her coat tighter around her shoulders and stepped quicker, anxious to be out of the cold. She found a dwindling pile of wood along the cabin’s back wall and put as many logs in her now empty box as she could carry. She’d have to see about borrowing an axe to split more or she’d freeze at night.
    Inside she lit one of her lamps and stoked the dying fire in the stove. She kept her coat on as she warmed the leftovers from lunch, until enough heat penetrated the room to stop her shivering. She sat down at the table to eat and eyed the empty chair across from her. If eating with only her father for company had felt odd, sitting alone felt twice as foreign. Even in college, she’d taken meals with her aunt, whom she’d lived with, or she’d invited friends to dine with them.
    The stillness pressed down on her, magnifying the scrape of her fork against the plate and the distant bark of a dog outside. The food itself tasted less appealing without someone to share it with.
    What is everyone at home doing now? she wondered.
    A sudden pang of loneliness tightened her throat and made eating difficult. The family was probably gathered around the dinner table, talking and laughing and jostling for more of Mother’s biscuits. Livy imagined Joel and Tom were there, too—every seat filled but hers—though she knew that was impossible.
    She forcibly replaced such thoughts with ones about her job. Since she’d just arrived today, none of the children would know school could resume. She would need to make visits to the neighboring farms tomorrow and let them know she was the new teacher.
    As her gaze swept the room, she told herself she was doing the right thing. She would find happiness here, a place where she belonged. She had to. Going back home, especially with Robert there, was not a choice anymore.
    Desperate to wash off the dust and grime from cleaning, Livy grabbed the lamp and the empty bucket by the door. Full dark covered the land now, and even with the lamp in her hand, she wished Allen or even her littlest brothers were around.
    She walked inside a tiny pool of light to the pump and set the lamp down. The sudden hoot of an owl made her gasp. She forced a laugh at her jumpiness—something she hadn’t experienced at home or at college—as she primed the pump and filled her bucket.
    With the dishes rinsed and her face and arms scrubbed clean, Livy dressed for bed. Exhaustion tugged at her mind and body, but she found