by R A Wallace
Hazel’s eyes filled with humor. “You’ll learn soon enough that there is a natural divide between the faculty and the rest of the world.”
Delia remembered Mena’s offer to sit with them at church. “Perhaps. But I don’t believe the divide is as great as you make it out to be.”
Sam crossed over to them. “I’m done, Miss Markham.”
Hazel put one thin hand on Sam’s shoulder and introduced him to Delia. “Miss Delia is the new typewriting teacher.”
Sam dropped his eyes and mumbled a polite greeting.
“Go on, then.” Hazel gently nudged the boy away. “Get your dinner before you have to start on your other chores.”
Delia watched the boy move quickly away. In the distance, she heard the sound of a clock begin to chime.
“And you need to get dressed,” Hazel said over her shoulder as she turned to follow Sam.
Chapter Three
The final bend in the track signaled that the end of the journey was near long before the whistle sounded. It also caused the man to shift his position in the seat involuntarily. He ground his teeth at the renewed intensity of pain. Beside him, he heard Otis mutter an oath under his breath.
“I hope that’s the last of it then.” Otis looked out the window with interest as the town of Glennon came into view.
Wes made an effort to unclench his jaw. “It is. I don’t know that we have a right to complain. We skipped some of the stops and continued right through. We made better time because of it.”
“Part of the economies the administration is enforcing to help conserve coal. Like trolleys in the cities, the railways have made reductions on passenger service. No one wants a repeat of last year’s shortages.” Otis braced himself with his good arm as the train began to slow. “What might we look forward to next?”
“My sister will have seen to our transportation to the school.” Wes was certain of it. The generals commanding the armies of the great war could take lessons in organization from Virginia.
When they stepped from the train, Wes spotted a man that he recognized though not well enough to put a name to the face. He tapped Otis on his good arm and pointed. The automobile the man lounged against could only belong to his sister.
The man in the distance doffed his hat and pushed away from the motor car to walk toward them. He introduced himself as he reached them.
“Call me Arch, sir.” Arch nodded at Wesley Glennon then shook hands awkwardly with Otis who held out his left hand with a genial smile.
Wes had a vague memory of his uncle mentioning the school groundskeeper. “This is Otis, my manservant.”
“Lovely town you have here.” Otis eyed the car in the distance with appreciation.
Wes winced in pain as he began moving toward the car.
“We just need to get you settled in the motor car, Captain.” Arch waved to a porter carting more luggage in their direction. He motioned toward the car in the distance.
“I’ll be fine.” Wes watched the two men share a look.
“You both look a bit worse for your wounds.” Arch reached down and picked up the bag next to Wes. “I may have something to help with that.”
A flash of a memory came back of his uncle extolling the virtues of a poultice the groundskeeper made for Jedidiah from the many plants grown on campus.
Wes headed for the car. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”
“I would be interested.” Otis lifted his bag and followed the others. “It won’t be said that I’m too stubborn to take help.”
Wes muttered something unintelligible. Otis ignored him and flashed a smile at Arch as the men helped the porter transfer the luggage.
“I see my sister’s fondness for motor cars hasn’t dimmed.” Wes slid into the back seat of the four-door touring car.
Otis remained standing a few moments longer to examine the attractive specimen in front of him. “Six cylinder, is she?”
Arch slid into the driver’s seat. “That she is. Mrs. Gray hasn’t had this one long.”
Arch raised his voice to be heard in the seat behind him. “Your injury paining you much, Captain?”
“It is nothing.” Wes shifted trying to find a more comfortable position.
“It was the infection,” Otis said as he watched the scenery they passed. “It flared up before we left. The trip didn’t help.”
“I’ll have something for you by the end of the day,” Arch offered.
“Not necessary.” It was impossible to ignore the heat in his own voice.
He was certain the two in the front seat heard it as well. Wes focused on the scenery they passed but didn’t miss Arch turn toward Otis and the nod Otis gave in return.
The two men in the front continued a conversation between them about the town of Glennon. A short time later, they pulled into the drive at Glennon House.
“I’ll handle the luggage, sir.” Arch slid from the driver’s seat and opened the door behind him for Wes.
Wes climbed from the car with a sigh of relief. The old stone house covered with ivy on the left side brought back memories of his youth. He used to know every nook and cranny of the sprawling three-story structure. On his visits there as a boy, exploring them was the only amusement to be had. Though he was warned each visit that the servants’ quarters on the third floor were off limits, it only served as an enticement to his younger self.
He was surprised to find his sister waiting on the veranda. It was unlike her to make any type of public display. He straightened to his full height with effort and crossed to meet her. Her embrace was hesitant.
“I’m not certain what hurts,” she said as she stepped back. “Come inside. You look ready to collapse.”
He wondered at the moisture he saw in her eyes before she turned away. He followed her to his uncle’s sitting room. He barely recognized it.
“I see we’ve made changes.” He sat stiffly in a large chair he didn’t recognize.
She perched on a davenport across from him and took in his appearance. “Uncle Jedidiah kept the place the way his mother had it. You know it would never do.”
Her banal words belied the turmoil in her eyes. He looked down at her hands. She was worrying an embroidered handkerchief in her fingers.
He softened his voice. “Ginny, it’s nothing.”
“You could have been killed.” Virginia stood and began pacing.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” He couldn’t see her face but she stopped pacing and stiffened. “When Thomas died. I couldn’t get away. I’m sorry.”
“It couldn’t be helped.” She turned toward him, her face now composed.
“How are the children taking it?”
“It’s been a year since Thomas’s death. They’re young.” She crossed back to the davenport and perched again. “But we are not, Wesley.”
He felt the tiredness seep into his soul. He knew what was coming next.
“You’re back here where you belong. It’s time that you forget about the past and move on with your life.” The look on her face was resolute. “Time for both of us.”
He felt his brows rise. “So soon, Ginny?”
“Virginia,” she corrected. “It’s been a year.” She smoothed a nonexistent crease in her skirt. “You will take your rightful place as the principal at the school named for our family.”
“Acting principal,” he reminded her. He saw the flash in her eyes and repeated himself. “I’m the acting principal at Glennon Normal School. Until my wound heals.”
“Then what?”
“Then I’ll return to the war, if necessary,” he said firmly. The shrewd look in her eyes let him know that he didn’t have the upper hand in the conversation.
Her smile held a slight challenge. “Perhaps it is as well. I’ve been thinking. Now that Thomas is gone, perhaps I should have Thomas Junior’s name changed from Gray to Glennon. It would help to ensure that the name continues.”
His body pitched forward in the seat without warning in reacti
on to her words. It caused another stabbing pain.
A flash of concern filled her eyes. “Wesley.”
He raised one hand as he took shallow breaths. When the pain was manageable again, he carefully settled back in the chair. “Ginny. It is my first day back. My first hour here in our new home. Can we not forget our family duties, just for the moment?”
“I never forget my family duties,” she reminded him.
He sighed audibly. “Of course not. It explains your unhappy marriage.”
“I disagree,” she said without heat. “My marriage secured my future, just as our parents intended. They were very wise in that regard. It is now our responsibility to ensure the same for our children.”
She watched him wince and knew it wasn’t a physical pain that caused it.
“In the matter of your care, I’ve made arrangements,” she continued. “I see you brought your own man.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. Otis Hart. He’ll handle my personal needs.”
“He served under you in the war?”
“He did.”
“Excellent. I hired someone to handle your business needs. He has been here since Uncle Jedidiah passed to deal with the day-to-day necessities in the principal’s office.”
Wesley didn’t try to hide the relief he felt. It was short-lived.
“I’ve also met someone. She is a most agreeable lady with whom you should make the effort to acquaint yourself.”
He didn’t bother to argue. He knew her too well.
“From all accounts, she comes from a very fine family in the west.” A small frown creased her forehead at the sound of voices in the hallway.
Wes ignored her attempt at matchmaking. “The young man that you hired. He hasn’t volunteered?”
“Bennie tried. His family was very happy to hear he was denied for health reasons. The hope is that situation will remain in effect even when he reaches twenty-one and is required to register for the draft.” Virginia stood when the voices in the hall grew louder. The look of disapproval on her face quieted the two children as they burst into the room. “Children, come and greet your uncle.”
Wesley watched the two little ones approach and tried to remember their ages. He knew Thomas was the oldest of the two by a couple of years, yet Thomas was the one who held back.
It was the girl that reached him first. He believed she was around four. She dropped into a curtsey when she reached him. Behind her, Thomas tried bowing but miscalculated the space he would need to accomplish the task. He bumped his sister from behind. She was propelled forward into her uncle.
Wes tried to catch her to stop her fall. The movement combined with her unexpected weight caused a fire to erupt in his wound. Both children looked at him in fear when a moan of pain escaped.
“Children! Wesley.” Virginia moved toward Wes but was uncertain what to do.
Wesley straightened but couldn’t entirely manage a smile. “No, no. Just an accident. It is nothing.”
Otis appeared in the doorway. “Perhaps some rest before dinner?”
“Yes.” Virginia corralled her children and turned to watch Wes walk slowly from the room and not without difficulty. “The children will join us after dinner for a special dessert to celebrate your homecoming.”
“I shall look forward to it,” Wes assured them before following Otis. This time, his attempt at a smile was somewhat more successful.
Otis skirted the staircase.
“Where the devil are you taking me?” Wes muttered behind him.
“I discovered that your uncle had an elevator put in.” Otis waited until Wes followed him inside before working the controls. “I thought it would be easier.”
“Brilliant,” Wes agreed as he closed his eyes.
The pain caused by the children’s jostling on top of the trip to Glennon had taken its toll. He followed Otis out of the elevator a few moments later without speaking. The thought of a comfortable bed was the impetus he needed to put one foot in front of the other down the long hallway. He entered his uncle’s suite of rooms with a sigh of relief then froze. It was obvious the room had not escaped his sister’s remodeling.
“Everything okay, old man?” Otis asked.
Wes stared at a burgundy and white chair near the fireplace. After several moments, he found his voice. “I want this removed. Immediately.”
Chapter Four
Monday morning brought with it an unusual feeling of panic. Much of it was a result of awakening very early in the morning. Though Delia had grown accustomed to keeping early hours in the service, Hazel’s schedule put hers to shame.
Delia awoke with the sound of someone leaving the house at an impossibly early hour. She managed to regain slumber only to suffer from fitful dreams. When she finally forced herself from bed, every task she attempted was with fumbling fingers causing her to feel as though she might be late to her duties.
She knew that much of her discomfort was due to the unknown of her new position. It was the first day of classes for the new term. Technically, she would not be teaching that day or the next. The students would arrive from all over to register for their classes. Delia was expected to speak with the commercial students and help to place them in their classes.
She stood in the middle of her room and debated what she should wear. It was the first time she would meet the students and more of the faculty and staff of the school. She very much wanted to make a good impression. With a wry smile, she acknowledged to herself that she almost missed the uniform the female yeomen were required to wear. It certainly took the stress out of dressing each morning. One always knew exactly what to put on.
Her smile slipped when thoughts of her many friends from the service filled her mind. She missed Georgia, one of her very best friends. When Delia was no longer able to serve the admiral, it was Georgia she suggested as her own replacement. Perhaps they seemed to have so much in common because they were both similar in age. At thirty-one, they were at the far end of the range allowed for service.
The call from the Navy to free the men for fighting asked for women with clerical skills from eighteen to thirty-five to enlist. Having just lost her father of Bright’s disease barely two years after her mother died of consumption, Delia approached the opportunity without hesitation.
Unlike many of her female yeomen friends, Delia was not left to her own devices to find housing. Her advanced skills in typewriting attracted the attention of the admiral’s staff. She found herself living with Admiral Hobart Jennings and his wife Euphemia. It was Euphemia she missed the most. The loss of Euphemia’s wit, kindness, and incomparable intelligence left a gaping hole in Delia’s heart.
It was Euphemia that solved the matter of what to wear now. Delia could hear the woman’s voice in her head. When in doubt, dress in layers.
She knew that the temperature was only in the lower sixties at the moment but was predicted to climb much higher by mid-afternoon according to the newspaper. She opted for a white voile blouse with a white gabardine skirt. She added a navy blue sailor-knot tie that reminded her of the neckerchief from her uniform and a matching navy blue jacket borrowed from a walking suit.
It wasn’t the uniform she’d worn in the service, but it was close enough to offer some small measure of comfort for the loss of a life she had loved. She patted the chignon at the nape of her neck to check for loose hair pins and added a modest sailor-style hat trimmed with velvet to complete her ensemble before leaving Hazel’s comfortable house.
The walk to the school campus was not far. Hazel’s house was adjacent to the front of the campus. There was a walking path that led from her rear garden through the school’s orchard and ultimately to the Glennon kitchen gardens. Delia took a different turn when she emerged from the orchard and worked her way to the gymnasium.
She began to see students long before she reached the building. Everyone seemed to know someone. The students were all laughing and talking over each other as they caught up on their summer events. Delia
stopped at the entrance and wondered where to go next.
“Delia.”
She turned when she heard Mena’s voice.
“Don’t you look smart.” Mena nodded toward the entrance to the gymnasium. “I thought you might need some introductions.”
Delia’s smile of gratitude was genuine. “That was very thoughtful of you. I don’t know why but I didn’t imagine the number of people that would be gathered here.” She knew that the number of full-time students living at the campus totaled nearly a thousand. There were also day students who lived in town as well as students who took classes in the evening.
Mena pointed about midway down one of the long rows of tables and Delia followed her direction weaving around others as she went. She heard smatterings of conversations from the students waiting their turn to approach a table and schedule their classes. More than once, she heard reference to the newly instituted victory draft that would require even more men to register.
When they reached the table, Mena handled the introductions.
“Miss Faye King, meet Miss Delia Markham. Miss King teaches stenography.” Mena nodded toward the next table over and leaned in closer to Delia. “Have you met the head of the commercial department yet?”
Delia stole a quick glance. Earl Gordon was focused on a discussion with another gentleman next to him. “I have not yet had the pleasure.”
“There will be ample time,” Faye said as she motioned to the next student in line. “This is one of your students, Miss Markham. Claude is a junior this year.”
Delia nodded a greeting as Faye continued to speak.
“The upper classmen register for their classes first. We’ll be dealing with the first and second year students tomorrow.”
Mena motioned to the entrance. “Many of the students you saw standing outside are lower classmen. They’re here to catch up with the gossip of their friends.” She placed her hand on Delia’s arm. “I should let you two get to work.”
Delia smiled her thanks then her attention was drawn back to the student in front of them. Faye showed Delia several charts and walked her through the process of adding a student to a typewriting class.
