Coming Home
by: Melanie Shawaluk

Jo woke up one sunny morning at Plumfield and turned towards the window. She could hear birds chirping outside, their sounds muffled by that of the children as they hurried towards the barn. Suddenly, she sat up and looked at the clock on the wall - nine o'clock - she had overslept! Sighing, she got up out of bed and quickly put on her housecoat before hurrying downstairs. Nick greeted her at the bottom of the staircase.
"G'mornin, Jo," he said as he kissed her on the cheek. He then proceeded to lead her into the kitchen, where he had prepared a simple breakfast for her that morning.
Sitting down, Jo looked up at Nick, to whom she had now been married for three years, and smiled.
"Nick, why didn't you wake me up? I know that the children can get ready for school by themselves, but I like to be awake to greet them before they begin their day of school."
Nick smiled back at her, "Ya just looked so peaceful sleepin' there, that I didn't have the heart to wake ya," and he sat down across the table from her.
Jo smiled sweetly at her husband, and picked up a roll from out of the basket. Seven years ago she would have questioned his cooking skills, but now she knew that he could cook just as well as anyone, herself being the exception. Nick returned the smile and they started to eat their breakfast.

Back in the barn, a newer group of students was preparing for the day's lesson. Suddenly, they all grew quiet as a tall man of 23 walked through the doors and sat at the desk in front of the room. He ran his fingers over the smooth wooden top of the desk, and remembered when he had been a student, so many years ago, and Franz had sat here teaching him and his classmates. Sighing, he cleared his throat and looked around the room at the eager faces. He never thought that he would be teaching here, although he had been for a year now. It had been his idea to start teaching once Nick and Jo had gotten married. And of course, Jo was happy to see one of her own students teach at her school. He wondered what had become of Franz, and if he would ever see his childhood teacher and friend again.
"Uh, Mr. Blake, sir, are we going to start our lessons soon, or are you just going to sit there?" a small voice called from the back of the classroom.
"Yes, of course," Nat replied. He was still getting used to being called 'Mr. Blake'; it made him feel so much older than he was. Sighing, he continued, "Please, everyone, take out your history books and turn to page 26."

In Concord, a wagon was rolling into town from the train station. In the front sat a man, almost thirty, wearing his best suit; one that he had not worn in six years, and a hat that had been given to him years ago by a small group of children at Plumfield. He gazed upon the town with his eager hazel eyes; it had changed so much in the six years that he had been gone. He remembered Gerson's store, which was still there, but under the management of his daughter, Charlotte. His eyes then wandered over to the Hotel on the other side of the street, and he smiled. Stopping the wagon for a moment, he looked back over his shoulder.
In the back of the wagon sat a woman of twenty-seven with dark hair that was coiled up neatly underneath the straw hat she was wearing. She was wearing a simple dark blue calico dress that she had made herself along with others that were neatly packed in her bag. In her arms, she held a small baby girl with big hazel eyes like her father and her head covered with soft brown hair. Noticing that the wagon had stopped, she looked up at her husband and smiled lovingly into his eyes; however, her gaze was broken by a small, rambunctious boy, about four years old with brown eyes and dark curly hair, running from one side of the wagon to the other.
"Is this Concord, Mama?" the boy asked as his eyes widened with wonder.
"Yes, this is Concord, Fritzy," she said as she continued to rock the baby in her arms. "And over there," she continued, pointing to an old, run down building at the side of the road, "that is the hotel where I worked. And that is where I met your father."
Franz looked at his wife and children, and smiled at Isabelle. He could remember as clearly as if it were yesterday, the day that he had met her. Laughing to himself, he remembered how she had splashed him with a bucket of cold, soapy water, which had been followed the next day by a sack of flour. Isabelle had changed so much since those days. Of course, she could still be as bold as she had been six years ago, but her boldness had been softened by married life, and even more so by the joys of motherhood. True, she would never be able to discuss literature with him, and she would always be bored to tears by a poetry reading, but Isabelle had so many other wonderful qualities that would always hold them together.
"Isabelle, dear, would you like to stop by the hotel first to say hello to your friends, or would you like to go straight on to Plumfield?"
"Oh, let's go to Plumfield, first, please," Isabelle said as the baby in her arms woke up, stretching out her arms towards the Massachusetts sky. Blinking, she looked up at the clouds overhead, and then at her mother.
"Well, hello, there, Josie!" Isabelle exclaimed, "how did you like your little nap?" she touched the baby's nose with her finger, which the baby then took ahold of with her tiny hand, cooing with delight.
"Okay, then," Franz said with a smile, "It's off to Plumfield."

Part Two