The Moonlight School

by Suzanne Woods Fisher

  Cora Wilson Stewart was a good-sized woman, well-endowed in all the right places, and her presence filled the narrow hallway. Whatever size room she was in, she had a way of filling it. Lucy allowed herself to be swallowed up in Cora’s arms.

  Cora released her, though still gripped her forearms. “How was the trip? I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet your train. I tried, I truly did, but something came up, like it always does. Were you able to locate the boarding house? I hope Miss Maude was accommodating. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s decent and clean. Goodness, you must be famished. Exhausted! And how is that Victorian father of yours? Has his young new wife redecorated the palace yet?” Sentences came out in rapid fire, one after the other, with no time or space for Lucy to respond. “Just look at you. You’ve gone and grown up on me. You certainly don’t take after the Wilsons, do you?” She paused at last to let Lucy answer.

  “I suppose not,” Lucy said, after taking a moment to interpret what Cora meant. The Wilsons were bold, handsome people in personality and appearance. In her midthirties, Cora’s angular face and piercing brown eyes made her seem older than her years, though her dark hair had no sign of gray. In a way Lucy had never understood, Cora seemed ageless.

  Cora released the tight grip on Lucy’s forearms and said, “Come in. Come in to my office and let’s catch up before my next meeting. I’ll send someone for tea. Wyatt, have you met my cousin? Of course you have. Have you been waiting long? I do apologize.”

  Hands behind his back, Brother Wyatt lifted his shoulders in a mild shrug. “Not so very long.”

  “Over an hour,” Lucy said, thinking he was being overly kind. “I’ll wait outside while the two of you talk.”

  “Better still, come in, Wyatt, and join us for tea.”

  “Wish I could, but I’ve much to do today. It won’t take long, Cora, but I do need a minute of your time.”

  Some kind of silent exchange passed between the two that Lucy picked up on, suddenly aware Brother Wyatt’s errand required privacy. “I’ll go see about finding some tea,” she said. Working as Cora’s stenographer, she assumed she’d be making quite a bit of tea.

  Cora seemed relieved. “Thank you, Lucy. Down the hall.”

  Lucy came to a modest ladies’ room that seemed to double as a kitchen, including a small electric stove. She rummaged through a cupboard and found cups and a tin of teabags and a small teapot. Tea always seemed to calm her—not the tea, just the fixing of it. As she waited for the water to boil, she started to rearrange the contents of the messy cupboard. It actually cheered her to discover a task she could do to serve Cora. First role: tea making. One thing Lucy was well trained in. Not much else, but tea she could make.

  Father, being a staunch traditionalist, wouldn’t consider educating a woman beyond finishing school. Then came marriage. According to Father’s thinking, anyway. There were a few boys who tried to court Lucy, but they were just that. Boys . . . with very little on their minds. She gradually fell off invitation lists and sat at home, working halfheartedly at embroidery; her only outings were to visit the elderly or attend church or a charitable event.

  And then Father turned everything upside down when he married Hazel, a beautiful, charming debutante who’d been Lucy’s peer all through finishing school.

  Father and Hazel had scarcely returned from their grand honeymoon, following their even grander wedding, when he informed Lucy that cousin Cora had pleaded for her help as a stenographer. As Father muttered while writing the acceptance letter to Cora, “It’s impossible to say no to the Little General.” That was Cora’s childhood nickname. “But just for six months,” he added. “Then back to Lexington.”

  All these thoughts rumbled through Lucy’s head as she returned to Cora’s office carrying a tray of three steaming cups of tea. She stopped short in the hallway as she heard Cora mention her name. “Lucy is my cousin’s daughter. She’s come to help with them.”

  Them? Who was them? Lucy leaned closer to the door left ajar. She strained to hear Brother Wyatt’s response, but his voice was low and deep and gentle. She thought he said something like, “It’s happening more and more often.”

  “I know. The drought doesn’t help.” Cora’s voice, unlike Brother Wyatt’s, could be heard clear and loud.

  “It’s so much more than that.”

  “I know, I know. They’re so vulnerable. But change comes slowly to the people of the mountain.” Cora let out a loud sigh. “Have faith, Wyatt. You’re always telling me that very thing. ‘For with God, nothing is impossible.’”

  When there was a long moment of silence, Lucy gave up being the bug on the wall and used her elbow to push the door all the way open. “I brought tea.”

  “Thank you, Miss Lucy, but I mustn’t tarry.” Brother Wyatt smiled, though this time it didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, he seemed rather preoccupied. He gave Cora a meaningful nod, and then he left.

  Cora sat behind her desk, an enormous oak piece, ornately carved, and riffled through papers as if looking for something.

  Lucy gazed around the office. A richly colored oriental rug covered the floor. One wall had three standing bookshelves, with books jammed in every spare inch of space. “Cora, where shall I work?” There wasn’t a surfeit of room, and every horizontal inch was taken up with books or papers. “Perhaps I could locate a small desk and set it out in the hallway. Even a table would work.”

  Still hunting for something on top of her desk, Cora didn’t even look up. “You can share my desk. It’s double-sided.”

  “But I’ll get in your way.”

  “Not at all. You’ll hardly be here.”

  “Pardon me?” Still holding the tea tray, Lucy walked toward her cousin’s stately desk. “Where will I be?”

  “Out in the field.” Cora lifted a pile to reveal a fat brown envelope. “There it is!” She set the envelope on top of a stack of books. “These are letters that need answering. Precious letters.”

  “But surely I could do that from here. Take your dictation.”

  “Surely not. These letters aren’t to me. Or from me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There are people in the rural areas who need someone to dictate to. They come all the way into town to have me help them with their correspondence.” She let out a happy sigh. “Oh, Lucy. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re here. These good people work so hard. You can go to their homes and save them a trip to town.” She inked her quill as if that was all there was to say and she had other matters to attend to.

  “Why don’t they write their own letters?”

  Cora’s head snapped up. “Because they never learned to read or write.”

  “So they’re imbeciles?”

  Cora’s swift and stern reaction reminded Lucy of her father’s disapproving looks. “Not in the least.” She set the quill in the inkpot. “Mountain people aren’t stupid, Lucy. They haven’t had an opportunity for an education, but they’re not stupid.”

  “Mountain people? Um . . . just where are their homes?”

  “Up in the hollers.”

  A cold chill trickled down Lucy’s spine. “Oh. I see.” Though Lucy didn’t see at all. She had come to Morehead to help her cousin with secretarial work, not tromp into the hills of eastern Kentucky. “I assume there’s a car and driver to hire?”

  Cora looked up in surprise. “A car?” She gave Lucy a patient smile. “Dear girl, I’d daresay that most everyone you’ll meet up there has yet to lay eyes on an automobile. In fact, there’s not much of any road to speak of into the hollers other than a few logging roads, and you should stay clear of those.”

  Lucy paused. “Then, uh, perhaps I could hire a hansom cab?”

  Cora leaned back in her chair, eyes crinkling with amusement.

  “A dray? A hackney?” Then Lucy had a startling revelation. “Oh, you can’t possibly mean . . .”

  “Horseback. There’s a livery stable down the road. Horses for hire.”

  Oh my stars
and garters. Lucy’s newfound courage, so thin and fragile and untried, began to shatter. The teacups clattered, and she set the tray on her cousin’s desk before she dropped it. “Cora, I’m not trained to ride a horse.” She was well trained in making tea.

  Cora’s eyes lit up at the sight of the tray, as if it just occurred to her that she’d sent Lucy out to make tea. “Why, Lucy! You remembered I like honey in my tea.” She properly loaded her cup with honey and took a sip, then gave Lucy a satisfied smile. “Perfect. Just perfect.”

  Not so fast. “I’ve never been on the back of a horse in my life.”

  Taking another sip, Cora peered over the cup’s rim at Lucy. “You’re not serious.”

  “But I am. Father felt it was unladylike.”

  “Your father”—Cora set the teacup back on the tray with a frown—“likes to forget where he came from. When we were children, we rode bareback all over those hills and hollows.” She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, as if lost in a pleasant memory.

  “Father would never allow me to go into those hills and hollows unchaperoned.”

  Cora shifted to peer out the window. “There’s a boy named Finley James who works over at the livery. Tell him to choose a horse that gives a nice gentle ride and doesn’t shy at snakes.”

  “Snakes?” Lucy sucked in a gasp of air. “Even if I could ride a horse, which I can’t, I have absolutely no idea where to go. I don’t know my way around these parts. It’s not sensible.”

  Cora seemed astounded by Lucy’s objections. “Just follow the creek. Triplett Creek. When there’s a ford in the creek, cross over to the opposite bank and head up the trail. It’ll take you straight up to Mollie McGlothin’s.”

  Ford? Cross a creek? On a horse? Lucy barely had time to digest this, to explain that she had no ability to do any of those things, when Cora added, “As for the rest, you’ve got the names on those letters. Everybody knows everybody else. They’ll point you in the right direction.” She tucked her chin and started to write something.

  “Cora . . . I can’t.”

  She looked up, surprised. “Lucy, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  Nothing? What about snakes? Or falling off a horse? This was crazy! “I can’t ride any kind of four-legged creature into the woods, all alone. What if something happens?” An encounter with a wild beast? A fall off the horse? “Where do I sleep? Or eat?” Lucy had a stomach-sinking feeling that she already knew the answers to those questions. She was on her own.

  “You’ll be back to town in a wink.” Cora tugged at the timepiece pinned to her shoulder and glanced at it, frowning. “Maybe two.”

  “Why would anyone let me in their home? I’m a stranger.”

  “Now that’s easy. Just let them know you’re a Wilson. Tell them you’re my kin and you’ve come to do work for me. Once they know we’re related, they’ll give you the shirt off their backs, and most only have one shirt to speak of.”

  Lucy’s father rarely spoke of his childhood, but the stories he told described a very foreign place inhabited by jelly-making hillbillies. “Father only gave me permission”—she paused as she saw Cora cringe at that word—“to come to Morehead because you told him you needed a stenographer.”

  “And I do.”

  Lucy was having serious doubts. This job wasn’t what she had expected. “But, Cora,” she pleaded, feeling a little teary, “Father would be outraged if he thought I was riding into those hills alone.”

  Cora peered at Lucy. “Your father always overprotected you. He’s not here to make decisions for you. You’re a grown woman, Lucy.”

  Lucy felt like a mouse cornered by a cat. There was no way out and it wasn’t going to end well. “I’m not . . . very brave.”

  “You’re stronger than you think. Every woman is, even if she doesn’t know it.”

  Cora sounded so final that Lucy felt a growing sense of desperation. “But I . . .”

  Palms on her desktop, Cora leaned forward, like a judge delivering the verdict. “Lucille Wilson, this is your chance. To release you from the terrible burden of losing Charlotte.”

  Lucy looked down at the tips of her boots. Would she ever be free of that burden?

  “Oh dear girl,” Cora said, her voice growing tender. “After Charlotte went missing, I saw you change from a happy child, full of curiosity and adventure, into a shell of a girl buried under an enormous weight. It was as if the sun was hidden behind a cloud. You lost interest in everything, as though the very idea of curiosity about life belonged only to the past. I hoped that with time, you’d return to your old self, but when I saw you recently at your father’s wedding, I thought my heart was going to break. It must be so hard to breathe with a heavy stone on one’s chest.” Cora let out a weary sigh. “It’s time, dear girl. High time to rejoin the living.”

  Lucy kept her head down, blinking back tears. She hated being the object of pity. “I admit,” she said softly, “that a change might be needed.”

  “That’s my girl!”

  She chanced a look at Cora and saw a big smile wreath her face.

  “This is the time to discover just how brave you really are.” Cora clapped her hands, as if the matter was settled. “Off to the livery.”

  Lucy’s head snapped up. “I can’t. I just . . . can’t go up in those hills. Not alone. And especially not on a horse. I’ve never had much of a sense of direction.”

  “That’s understandable. Your father never gave you a chance to think for yourself.”

  Lucy swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I just can’t do it alone.”

  Cora stared at Lucy for a long while, then dropped her pen, jumped up, and knocked on the window. She waved to someone down below, beckoning whoever it was to come to her office. She turned back to Lucy with a smile. “I do believe I’ve found you a suitable chaperone.”

  Not two minutes later, a skinny barefoot teenaged boy dressed in bib overalls stood at the open door. “You needing somethin’, Miss Cora?”

  “Finley James, why aren’t you in school this morning?”

  “Teacher’s ailin’ agen.”

  Cora frowned. “You telling the truth?”

  “Cross my heart.” He made a big X over his chest. “But, Miss Cora, I do believe Miss Norah is playin’ possum. She only gits sick on days when the postman comes through these parts. I think she’s sweet on him.”

  “Now you’re twisting the yarn.”

  “I ain’t lying. I wouldn’ nary tell a lie.”

  “Don’t say ain’t. Say isn’t.” Under her breath, Cora muttered, “Norah is absent far too often.” She looked straight at Finley James. “In the meantime, how’d you like to earn two bits?”

  His eyes brightened. “You need me to fetch and carry agen?”

  “Better than that. I need you to take Miss Lucy to a few cabins in Deerlick Hollow. She’s got some letters to read and ones to write.” She pointed to Lucy, whom the boy had yet to notice. When he turned to see her, he startled, staring wide-eyed and openmouthed.

  “Stop gawking, Finley James.”

  He snapped his mouth shut, then opened it again. “Pardon me for saying, Miss Cora, but she don’t look like she’d last long on a mount. Even on Jenny.”

  “Yes! My sentiments exactly,” Lucy said. “Who’s Jenny?”

  They ignored her. “You need to stay with her, Finley James, and bring her back in one piece. Just head to Mollie’s and Sally Ann’s and back down to town.” Cora felt the thick envelope. “Perhaps a few more, if time allows. Lucy just needs a little help learning the trails. She’ll get a nose for it soon enough.”

  Lucy fanned herself a little more vigorously. She would never get a nose for this.

  “In fact, Finley James, you can be even more than a trail guide. Lucy is new to our ways. Teach her about the mountain people. Interpret for her.”

  “Interpret?” Lucy said. “Don’t they speak English?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  Finley James stroked his u
nwhiskered chin. “All that for jest two little tiny bits?”

  Eyes twinkling in amusement, Cora released a longsuffering sigh. “Fine. Four bits.”

  “Hmm, that does shed a new light on the matter.” He tapped his chin, a gesture that made him look much older than his years. “But I’ll need new bullets in m’gun. That’ll cost y’ some.”

  Lucy’s eyes went wide. “Gun? Whatever for?”

  As if quoting someone, he said, “There ain’t nothing more important to a Rowan County man than his gun.”

  “But . . . ,” Lucy looked to her cousin, “what does he need a gun for?”

  Once again, she was ignored. Cora’s eyes were fastened on the boy’s. “No need for bullets. There will be an extra two bits if you get her back to town in one piece. So, then, do we have a deal?”

  Finley James stuck his hand out to shake Cora’s. “I’m your man,” he answered without another moment’s hesitation.

  And with that, the bargain was sealed, and Lucy Wilson’s new life in Rowan County began.

  Two

  NOW AND AGAIN, Finley James would lean back in his saddle to see how Miss Lucy was faring on ol’ Jenny. His heart beat a little faster each time he got another look at her. There was something entirely different about this fine city lady than any other female he’d knowed. Something sweet and shy. Something refined.

  He hoped Miss Cora knew what she was doing when she brung her here. Miss Lucy sat on the oldest, gentlest pony in all Kentucky, but she was shaking in her fancy shiny black boots and her eyes looked all glittery, like she was trying hard not to cry. It took every ounce of Fin’s self-control not to double over in laughter as she stood on the mounting block and tried to climb up on Jenny. Three tries—first as a side saddle, which only tangled her up—then she finally figured out it was best to hitch up her skirts a wee bit and swing a leg over the pony’s back.

  “Miss, you ought not to feel so squirrelly,” he said. “Jenny ain’t gonna hurtcha none.”

  “What if she rears and tosses me off?”