by R A Wallace
***
Though the September night was still warm by many standards, Delia donned a dark jacket to match her dark-colored pants. She hoped her outfit would both blend into the night and foil the mosquitos waiting to feast on her. After slipping quietly from the house, she made her way carefully along the path away from Hazel’s house.
She was more familiar with the orchard now and used the knowledge to her advantage to navigate her way through it in the dark. When she emerged from the safety of the trees, she remained beyond the reach of the electric lamp lights as she moved slowly in the direction of the spring house.
She knew there were multiple locations from which food could be stolen. So far, she knew of only one place where it might temporarily be stored after the theft. Her plan was to monitor the activity of the spring house at night in the hope she might encounter the thieves.
Though grateful for the darkness that hid her from view, finding her way around the campus landscaping and other surprises waiting to trip her up was tedious. It took her several times longer to reach her destination than it would have in the light of day.
The faint smell of mint alerted her that she was nearing her goal. She was about to move toward the groundskeeper’s outbuilding when she heard another noise. She thought it came from the direction of the building. She moved deeper into the darkness and waited for several moments. The sound was not repeated.
She slowly skirted around the herb garden and stopped next to the outbuilding to listen for activity. She was about to move on when the sound of footsteps met her ears. She hugged the building and held her breath as someone walked along a nearby path.
She remained where she was and watched as the figure of a man followed the edge of a sidewalk just along the reach of the lamp light. Though she was unable to see his face, she knew the figure wearing the soft, small-brimmed work cap. He moved quickly through the night with purpose as though on some important mission. Within moments, he was gone from sight.
She wondered anew what his involvement might be in the theft of the food. After several more minutes of silence, she continued on toward the spring house. She was forced to rely on her hands to feel her way inside the stone building. The light from the lamp posts didn’t reach the entrance. It was even darker inside. Lamenting her lack of light, she felt her way about the room searching for anything that might have been left there by the thieves. It required using her hands as she crouched close to the ground. Inch by inch, she worked her way about the space.
No matter how careful her search, her hands came up empty. Finally admitting defeat for the moment, she slipped outside and closed the door behind her as quietly as possible. She stood outside in the darkness as she contemplated her next move. Perhaps she should check out Glennon Hall? The thieves could be there even now. She knew that she would spend the rest of the night wondering if they were there if she didn’t at least look.
She began to make her way slowly toward Glennon Hall. Keeping to the edges of darkness, she paused about halfway to her destination to gauge the best route around a hedgerow that blocked her current path. Just as she was about to move again, she heard someone else approach. She used the hedgerow for cover and waited for the person to come into view.
When he did, she knew immediately it was the lone figure from the night before. This time, she was determined not to lose him. After waiting for him to pass, she fell in behind him at a distance. She was aware from the many times she had walked in the area during the day that there was a fork in the path in front of him. She listened carefully to his footsteps trying to determine which direction he took.
She was surprised when he chose the route that led to the Glennon House. Curiosity prodded her on as she followed the figure to a side entrance of the great house. She stood contemplating the significance long after the figure disappeared inside. Eventually, she turned and made her way back to Hazel’s house.
Chapter Thirteen
Delia’s mind was still muddled from sleep as she dressed for work in the morning. After a final smoothing of the Marseilles bedspread on her white enamel iron bed, she went to the kitchen to make a cup of much-needed tea. A quick check of the other bedroom along the way told her that Hazel was gone from the house. Her cousin’s duties in Glennon Hall required an earlier start to the day. Delia hoped the headache from the night before didn’t continue to plague Hazel throughout the day.
She filled the kettle with water before setting it on the gas cabinet range, grateful that Hazel’s advanced knowledge of modern kitchens meant she wouldn’t need to feed coal into a stove first. She took a match from the match box and struck it to light the burner.
While she waited for the water to boil, she crossed over to the kitchen cabinet that held the teacups. She had to shift a large white porcelain coffee mug out of her way to reach the daintily flowered cup and saucer she wanted. She wondered at Hazel’s need for the mismatched, oversized mug.
She set her cup and saucer down to retrieve the loose tea. It was the sight of the tea as she measured it into the tea ball that caused her to pause. She turned back toward the sink wondering if she imagined it. Slowly, she crossed the room and stood in front of the sink.
She was certain the small vase she had moved out of harm’s way the night before was empty at the time. It was now filled with feverfew. Though she knew it was commonly used for headaches, she wondered where and when Hazel had procured it. She knew for a fact that Hazel never left her room before dark last evening. It would have still been dark when Hazel left for work in the morning.
She pictured a man with a soft, small-brimmed work cap in his herb garden as he harvested his mint. She remembered now that there was a nearby bed of feverfew. She had to skirt around it during her late-night travels. The whistling sound of the kettle on the range broke into her thoughts. She crossed over to take the kettle from the burner.
As she poured the hot water into the teapot, she remembered the noises she heard in the early morning hours on more than one occasion. She realized now it was the sound of a door being closed softly in the night followed by a creak of the floorboard in the hallway.
All through her classes that morning, Delia’s thoughts returned to the feverfew. Though she kept up her part of the conversation with her colleagues at lunch, it was the groundskeeper she pictured in her mind. The afternoon classes seemed to go on forever. Finally, she stepped out of her classroom for the last time that day grateful that she didn’t have a committee meeting scheduled immediately after.
It was much cooler outside than it had been when she left for work in the morning. She was happy for the heavy wool cardigan over her serge suit as she crossed the campus looking for the groundskeeper.
She finally found him working near one of his herb gardens. He stopped his work and watched her approach with the same cautious look in his eyes that he always gave her. She thought that now she might better understand it.
“Mr. Keaton. If I may have a word?” She stopped next to him but took the opportunity to look around. It wouldn’t do for anyone else to hear their conversation.
He sank the blade of a shovel into the ground and leaned against the handle. “About what?”
“Your nighttime activities.” She watched his eyes widen momentarily just before a flush crept into his face.
“Now, missy.”
Delia held up one hand. “Your relationship with Hazel is none of my business.”
“On that we agree,” he said with feeling. “Which means we have nothing to discuss.”
“I do not concur,” Delia said calmly. “I would like to know about the recent nights when you visited Hazel.”
Arch looked ready to begin another argument.
Delia ignored him and continued. “Tuesday night, for example. You were walking through the orchard, were you not?”
He stared at her.
“And last night. Did you stop first at one of your many herb gardens for the feverfew?”
“How the devil would you
know about the feverfew?” His voice was filled with exasperation.
“I need to know if you were in one of your outbuildings last night.” She still wasn’t certain that the noise she heard was made by a person. And since she saw Arch walk toward the outbuilding a few minutes later, she didn’t think he could have been the one to make the noise.
“No, I was not. I picked the feverfew for Hazel late in the afternoon when I realized she was working herself into one of her headaches. Then I had to wait until nighttime to get it to her.”
His scowl told her he considered the time lapse to be partly her fault. She offered an apologetic smile. Suddenly, Hazel’s concern about the new age requirements for the draft made sense. It was this man she was worried about. Though Delia guessed Arch to be somewhere around forty, that was still within the new range. The fact that he was unmarried probably put him into one of the more likely classes to be called for duty.
“I need a favor,” Delia said.
His eyes narrowed at her.
“But before we get to that, we need to come to an understanding about your visits with Hazel.” Delia softened her voice. “I would not wish to come between you. If my staying with Hazel is an inconvenience...”
He began shaking his head as soon as she spoke and interrupted her before she finished. “She wants you there.”
Delia let out a breath. “Well, then. It seems you and I will be given the chance to know each other better. I see no reason for you to limit your visitations because of my presence.” She thought of the oversized coffee mug. “It’s obvious that you are accustomed to spending time there.”
His face seemed to relax but there was still caution in his eyes. “And the favor?”
Delia smiled.
***
“You look pleased.” Otis filled a glass with Pennsylvania rye and handed it to Wes.
“I am pleased. It appears that our background is well suited to a new chapter in the history of Glennon Normal School.”
Otis filled his own glass before taking a seat across from Wes. “Indeed? The school is in need of two wounded soldiers?”
“Jest if you will, but that’s exactly what they need.” Wes took a sip of the whiskey.
Otis lifted his brows. “You’ve heard then. About the training program?”
Wes smiled. “Glennon Normal School has been chosen for one of the locations. Our unit will prepare young men to be officers.”
“Congratulations.” Otis toasted Wes with his glass. “That is very good news.”
“I hope to have several of my evenings occupied giving recruitment talks,” Wes said, his voice gaining enthusiasm as he continued. “I’ll use the auditorium. It’s conveniently located and built to accommodate large numbers of people.”
“The age group,” Otis said. “We’re talking, what? Eighteen to twenty-one?”
“Indeed.” Wes set his empty glass down. “We’ll need to post advertisements in the paper. Get the word out.”
“Young Bennie can see to it,” Otis suggested.
A smile curved Wes’s lips as he pushed himself from the chair. “I’ll have him start on it right away.”
Chapter Fourteen
After leaving the groundskeeper, Delia was nearing the side entrance of Glennon Hall when she saw another familiar figure. The young boy was struggling with the door. Although not tall for his age, his solid frame hinted that he was well fed. Closely cropped dark blond hair could be seen where his cap didn’t cover his head. It reminded her of the cap the groundskeeper wore.
“Sam! I’ll hold the door for you.” Delia moved quickly to catch the door freeing Sam to lift a pail and pass through.
“Thanks, miss.” Sam set his pail down and returned to the door. “There’s one more.”
Delia held the door to make it easier for Sam to step inside. She checked the contents of the pail as he passed by her. It was filled with scraps from the kitchen. “For the chickens?”
“Yes, miss.” Sam lifted the first pail and now held one in each hand. His eyes met hers briefly just before his face began to fill with color. “Thanks.”
A smile touched her lips as she watched him duck his head and move off in the direction of the chickens. She entered the building and wound her way through the halls toward the grand staircase. Her committee meeting wasn’t scheduled to begin for several more minutes, but there wasn’t enough time to go anywhere else in the interim. She thought it made more sense to wait in Glennon Hall for the meeting to begin. Though other faculty and staff could be seen moving about periodically, the full-time students had left the building for the day. The night students wouldn’t arrive until later. As a result, the hallway was nearly empty.
“Miss Markham?”
Delia turned toward the unfamiliar voice. “Yes?”
The young man that approached her was around the same age as the students but something about him led her to believe that he wasn’t one of them. It wasn’t his clothing. It was common for the male students to wear suit pants and jackets to class just as this man was. Perhaps it was his business-like movements. He stopped in front of her with a package in his hands.
“I’m Bennie Burke, private secretary to Principal Glennon. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of your acquaintance yet.” Bennie offered a friendly smile.
Delia felt herself smiling back. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Burke. I remember seeing you now. You were on a tour. I imagine your office has been quite busy with the start of a new term and a new principal to oversee it.”
“Mr. Glennon is settling in nicely,” Bennie said. “A Glennon has been principal at the school since it first began. I’m sure it’s in their blood.”
Delia didn’t doubt it. Her eyes dropped to the parcel in his hands.
He seemed to remember he was holding it. “Oh, this is for you.” He held it out.
Delia reached for it eagerly. It had been too long since she heard from Euphemia. “Thank you.”
“I couldn’t help but notice it was from Admiral Hobart Jennings. I’ve seen his name in the newspaper many times.”
Delia wrapped her hands around the parcel. “I have the pleasure of being on friendly terms with the admiral’s wife.”
Bennie didn’t look surprised. “The principal’s office deals with hiring, as you know. I saw on your letter of application that you served with the admiral. Most impressive.” He motioned toward his neck. “I tried to volunteer.”
“There are many roles necessary to support the war effort. Perhaps yours was meant to be here at Glennon to assist the captain during his transition to civilian life,” Delia said.
His smile seemed wistful. “I shall endeavor to remember that as more of my friends are called upon to take an active role with the new age limits.”
She held the parcel up. “Thank you for the delivery.”
She watched as the young man walked away then crossed over to the fireplace. There was a grouping of chairs nearby. One in particular called to her. She settled in the burgundy and white chair and opened the package.
It contained two objects. The first one made her laugh out loud with pleasure. She looked guiltily down the hall in both directions but didn’t see anyone about. The second object was a letter from Euphemia. She opened it and began reading.
It was as though Euphemia sat next to her at the fireplace. She could hear her friend’s voice in her head as she read Euphemia’s words about people they both knew including a mention of how Georgia was settling into her job as the admiral’s new amanuensis. After offering tidbits about several others to catch Delia up on the gossip, Euphemia began writing of more serious matters.
“When I first saw the flashlight, I knew I had to send it to you. With the many challenges you undertook in the name of the admiral, I am certain that you often found yourself in need of one in the past. I hope the small gift might assist you now if some current problem requires illumination.”
Delia’s fingers wrapped around the flashlight. Dear,
understanding Euphemia. How like her to know that Delia would be unable to resist any chance at righting a wrong, no matter how small her involvement, and that it might entail late-night activities.
The sound of a muffled curse startled her. Delia used the letter to shield the flashlight in her hand as she stood to face the speaker. Her eyes widened when she recognized the new principal. She pressed her lips together just in time, effectively stopping the reprimand on her tongue for the language he used. She wondered at the lack of color in his face as he stood glaring at her.
After several moments, Delia opted to end the tense silence. “Mr. Glennon. Do you require assistance?”
His lips moved but nothing came out. When he finally found his voice, it sounded harsh. “You have me at a disadvantage. You look familiar but at the moment I cannot recall a name to match.”
“Miss Delia Markham.” She watched his eyes return briefly to the chair behind her. “I’m the new typewriting teacher.”
“Ah, yes. The yeomanette.” He turned his head to look away.
Delia felt her chin go up and reminded herself that he was her new boss. “Female yeoman, Captain.”
He nodded his head once as though acknowledging the correction. When his eyes returned to hers, they held a small flicker of humor though the lines bracketing his mouth appeared more pronounced. “My apologies, Miss Markham.”
She watched him look around as though searching for a way out.
He turned his focus back to her and offered a wry smile. “It seems I’ve managed to temporarily misplace my private secretary.”
“He was here not lot ago.” Delia motioned toward the main entrance. “I believe he left the building.” She stood staring at the entrance long after the new principal left in search of Bennie.
Chapter Fifteen
After finishing his work with Bennie, Wes returned to his private suite to have a drink before dinner. He had just poured himself a healthy portion of Pennsylvania rye from the decanter when Otis appeared beside him and snatched the glass from his hands.
