Hannah's Dream

by Lenore Butler

  He walked past Hannah to Louise. He was always astonished by her works. She was painting a still life of a vase filled with roses, and the petals that had drifted to the tabletop looked real.

  "Very good, Louise," he said.

  Louise looked up. Since living in Margaret Mason's house, she had been observing Mr. Rousseau at home. She knew he wasn't always truthful.

  "Thanks," she said.

  He continued on to the next student while Louise watched him. She knew he liked Hannah, but Louise never told her. John Liberty had broken Hannah's heart and Louise felt very protective toward her friend. She didn't trust Mr. Rousseau and if he tried to get too close to Hannah, Louise would tell Mrs. Mason.

  Sometimes he would ignore the other students and stand by Hannah. Louise could sense his presence behind her. She wished she was behind Hannah so she could watch him. But then she wouldn't be near Sam Jones, the boy she liked.

  Sam had asked Louise to the senior ball and Louise had said yes. It was the first time she'd been asked to a social event, but with Mrs. Mason's help, her looks had improved and Sam had noticed. His attentions had given her the confidence to accept his invitation. Hannah was so happy for her, but Louise felt guilty that her friend didn't have an escort for the ball. She was still trying to find an escort worthy of Hannah.

  Hannah wasn't thinking about the ball. She was thinking about Colorado. It seemed like a foreign land to her. The rough country and open plains worried her, but she kept her fears to herself. She didn't want her mother to worry. Besides, her uncle had lived there all his life and was building a home just for them. He'd never been assaulted by an Indian, so why was she so concerned?

  Pierre stood by his desk and clapped his hands.

  "Put your tools away. Clean your brushes. Class is over."

  Hannah and Louise took their brushes to the sink and rinsed them clean, then they placed them in a mason jar to dry. They took off their smocks, hung them on a hook next to the sink, and nodded as they passed Pierre.

  "He's an attractive man," Hannah remarked.

  "He's too old for you," Louise said.

  "Oh, Louise, I wasn't thinking about that." Hannah laughed. "I just think he's nice looking."

  "I think Tom Carney is nice," Louise said. "Maybe he'll ask you to the ball."

  "I don't want to go to the ball."

  "But you have to come. I wanted us to be there together."

  "Everyone will look at me. They'll all feel pity because they know John married someone else. I don't want to go."

  "But if Tom asks you, then they can't pity you."

  "I don't know if I'd feel comfortable with Tom. He's too tall for me."

  "That's a silly reason not to go with him."

  "You talk as if he's already asked to escort me."

  "Well, I still say I want you to come."

  Louise had talked to Tom Carney about Hannah. He didn't seem opposed to the idea of asking her, but he hadn't done anything yet. Now Louise was concerned that if he did ask, Hannah would say no.

  "If Tom asks you, will you go?" Louise asked.

  "I don't know. I hadn't planned to go."

  "But wouldn't it be fun if we were there together?"

  "Yes, it would be fun."

  "Then you'll say yes if he asks you?"

  "I might."

  Louise smiled. They had been walking to their next class and were standing in front of the door.

  "I'm going to miss this school," Hannah said.

  "I won't," Louise replied.

  Chapter 19

  Sam Carney did ask Hannah to the ball and she accepted his invitation. He arrived at her home at six o'clock and Marian watched as he escorted her to his father's carriage. Hannah's dress had come from Mrs. Weis's Temple of Fashion and had cost a pretty penny, but it was worth it for she looked like a princess. Her waist was cinched a little too tightly for Marian's comfort, but Hannah hadn't complained.

  "She'll pass out, you mark my words," Becky said.

  "If she does, I'm sure Mr. Carney will catch her," Marian replied.

  The girls were dressed in white and pastels and the gymnasium looked like a grand ballroom. Hannah had been reluctant to go to the ball, but now that she was there, the excitement overtook her and she glowed. Tom felt a swell of pride to have the lovely Hannah on his arm. He silently thanked John Liberty for setting her free.

  Pierre was chaperoning the affair and stood on the sidelines with the teachers. When he saw Hannah enter the room, his heart stopped. She was breathtaking. Her tight pink bodice and full organza skirt hugged her tiny frame and stirred illicit feelings in him. She floated on the arm of that lout Tom Carney and Pierre's jealousy flared. He would ask her to dance. It would be perfectly acceptable for a teacher to dance with a student in front of everyone. He could feel his arm around her waist. He would be close to her.

  Hannah saw Louise enter with Sam Jones. Mrs. Mason had bought her a gown in New York and even with her thick waist, Louise looked lovely. Sam seemed particularly attentive to her. Hannah ran through the crowd of students and greeted her friend.

  "You look beautiful," she said as she held Louise's hands.

  "And you look like a princess," Louise said.

  The orchestra, a small quartet of local musicians, began to play a waltz. The girls took their beaus' arms and went to the dance floor. Pierre watched as Tom whirled Hannah around the floor. The entire class had been given dance lessons in the weeks prior to the ball. Tom was proving to be a more than adequate partner. Pierre clenched his fists.

  After three dances, Pierre felt it was time to ask Hannah for a dance. He approached her cautiously as he didn't want to appear too eager. He was a teacher. He had to keep up the pretense for a little while longer. Once Hannah was graduated and turned eighteen, there would be nothing standing in his way. He could ask her mother if he could court her. Then he could ask her to marry him. He would have to work quickly, though, as she was leaving for Colorado soon. He didn't care. It would take more than that to keep him from Hannah. He would follow her to Colorado if he had to.

  She was out of breath when Pierre approached her. She smiled at her teacher.

  "Isn't it a lovely ball?" she said to him.

  "It is indeed," he replied. "May I have the next dance, Hannah?"

  Hannah looked at Tom. He nodded.

  "Yes, you may."

  He took her hand and led her to the floor. It was a slow waltz and Pierre put his hand around Hannah's waist. He pulled her close and for a moment, Hannah felt uncomfortable. She could smell his cologne. It wasn't too strong. He hadn't shaved his face since the morning and his face bore a hint of a stubble. She had never been this close to him. She did find him attractive, but despite that, she felt he was too old for her. Still, something stirred in her.

  His hand was large and strong. He held hers gently but firmly. He moved around the floor with grace and skill. Hannah kept her eyes on his collar. She could sense his eyes on her face. She began to blush.

  "Are you enjoying the evening?" he asked.

  His question forced her to look up.

  "Yes, I'm having a wonderful time. Tom is a good dancer."

  "Is Mr. Carney courting you?"

  It was a bold question. She was taken aback.

  "I...he's just escorting me tonight."

  "He is a lucky man," Pierre said.

  She looked into his eyes. They were gray, but there was something cold about them. She averted her eyes again and looked for Louise. She saw her friend standing by the wall with Sam. They were sipping punch. The dance seemed to go on forever.

  When the music finally stopped, Hannah was relieved when Pierre took his hand off her waist.

  "Thank you," he said.

  "You're welcome, Mr. Rousseau."

  She quickly joined Tom by the wall, where he held a glass of punch for her.

  "What's it like dancing with Frenchy?" he said.

  "Oh, Tom, what a thing to say."

  Tom smiled.
"Well?"

  "It was the same as dancing with anyone else," she said.

  Louise overheard her. She had been watching Pierre. She could see Hannah's discomfort. She wanted to tell someone about Mr. Rousseau's inappropriate behavior, but she didn't want to spoil Hannah's evening. As long as the teacher kept his distance for the rest of the night, she would hold her tongue.

  Chapter 20

  Sun streamed through the lace curtains as Pierre sat at the breakfast table sipping his tea and reading the Red Bank Register. In February, he had read an advertisement published by Mrs. Kay Porter asking if anyone knew the whereabouts of Agnes Welsh. He had read the paper every week since, but found no mention of Agnes Welsh or Mrs. Porter again.

  Pierre had kept up the pretense of seeking Agnes a week after Christmas, while Mrs. Mason was still away, and Mrs. Porter had told him Agnes was missing. He played the angry suitor well, stating that he didn't understand the girl, that he thought she loved him, and how rude and thoughtless she was for leaving him this way. He hadn't gone back to Mrs. Porter's after that. He didn't want to overplay his hand.

  The more time that passed, the safer Pierre felt. He blamed the stupid girl for her fate. She should have stayed on the beach. She had no business climbing the rocks in her condition. It was just as well. Pierre had no need of a child. Not Agnes's child anyway. There was only one woman he loved and she alone would bear his children.

  The graduation had taken place two nights before and Hannah had received her diploma. She was no longer a student and Pierre was waiting until she turned eighteen the following week before approaching her mother. He knew they were leaving for Colorado in July and he was prepared to ask for her hand.

  Mrs. Mason came into the dining room and took her place at the head of the table.

  "Good morning," she said. "It's quite warm this morning. I thought if I got up early I'd catch a cool breeze, but it's already stifling."

  She was perspiring. Her cheeks were flushed and she'd brought her Japanese fan with her. With one flick of her wrist she opened the fan and began waving it over her face.

  "Your cheeks are red," Pierre remarked.

  "I imagine they are. I've never felt so hot."

  "Why don't you stay in today and take off that gown? It looks too heavy for this weather."

  "It's not your place to discuss my wardrobe, Pierre."

  "You'd be more comfortable."

  "I'm aware of that."

  She rang the bell by her plate and Ginny appeared through the door.

  "I need my tea," Margaret said.

  "You look flushed, ma'am."

  "So I've been told. Please just get my tea."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Ginny went back to the kitchen while Margaret fanned herself furiously. When Ginny returned with the tea, Margaret dismissed her with a wave.

  "I have no appetite this morning," she said.

  "It's better not to eat when it's so hot," Pierre said.

  "So, what will you do with your summer?"

  "I was thinking of going to California," he lied.

  "California? Perhaps I'll go with you," she said.

  He bristled at the thought of Margaret accompanying him to California. He was really planning a trip to Colorado if Hannah wasn't ready to accept his proposal, but he dared not mention that to Margaret.

  "I would like that," he said.

  Margaret smile. "No, you wouldn't. But I would pay so you would tolerate me."

  "Why do you say that? I have never given you one reason to feel that way. I enjoy your company, Margaret."

  Margaret pursed her lips. She knew Pierre was preoccupied with something, but she hadn't discerned what it was and it was vexing her. This sudden mention of California was also strange. It was the first time he had said anything about traveling across the country. He had no expenses so his salary would pay for it, but still, it was unexpected.

  She studied his face. Pierre had grown accustomed to the life she provided for him, and he had begun to take her for granted. He would sit with her at breakfast but would spend his days away from the house. She had given him a horse to use and he left New Beach frequently, arriving home long after she was abed. She knew she could end his expeditions by revoking his riding privileges, but she wasn't a vindictive woman. She merely missed his company.

  Louise was good company sometimes, but the girl's conversation was limited to school and art, and her life experiences dull. Pierre was her source of gossip and lively anecdotes, and she longed for the good old days when he would accompany her to New York or Philadelphia.

  "Where are you off to today?" she asked. She was trying to sound casual, but Pierre sensed a hint of desperation in her voice. He didn't want her suspicions aroused concerning Hannah, so he decided to give her something to keep her happy.

  "Why don't we go to Red Bank?" he said. "We could have lunch and sit by the river."

  Margaret's face lit up. "That sounds marvelous. I'll tell Jenny. She can come with us."

  "Do we really need your lady's maid?"

  "I've been feeling a bit off lately. It will comfort me to have her along."

  "Of course," he said. He smiled.

  Margaret rang for Ginny and she appeared.

  "Go tell Jenny to dress. She'll be traveling with me today."

  Ginny curtsied and left to find Jenny. Margaret drank her tea and smiled at Pierre.

  "I'd like to go to that restaurant by the river. We haven't been there in a long time."

  "As you wish," he replied.

  Margaret finished her tea and rose from the table. She felt a pain in her jaw and put her hand to her face.

  "My," she said.

  "What is it?" Pierre said. She was in distress and he stood and went to her side.

  "I don't know," she said.

  She fell into her chair and her breathing was labored.

  "Call Dr. Lawrence," she said.

  "Ginny, send for Dr. Lawrence," Pierre shouted.

  Ginny returned to the dining room and saw Margaret.

  "Right away," she said and hurried into the kitchen. The telephone was on the wall of the kitchen and she rang for Dr. Lawrence. When she returned to the dining room, Margaret was pale.

  "He's on his way," Ginny said.

  Margaret tried to stand, but Pierre put his hand on her shoulder.

  "Stay here until he comes," he said.

  Margaret thought of defying him, but she saw the wisdom in staying put. She sat back and tried to breathe.

  "Relax," Pierre said.

  He began breathing slowly.

  "Like me."

  Margaret tried to slow her breathing. She watched him breathe in and out and soon she felt better. Dr. Lawrence arrived shortly after Ginny called him and ran into the dining room. He took Margaret's pulse and listened to her heart.

  "We must get her to my clinic," he said.

  Dr. Lawrence's clinic was the closest thing to a hospital they had. Margaret had supplied him with two hospital beds and other equipment found in larger facilities.

  His carriage was in her driveway by the front door. He and Pierre carried her to the carriage and placed her inside. The doctor then climbed in next to her and drove her to his clinic. He suspected Margaret had had a heart attack and he wanted her under supervision where he could monitor her. In truth, he didn't believe she had suffered a major episode. She had paid for his clinic, however, and by God, he would treat her there if it killed her.

  By the time Louise came down for breakfast, Margaret had been placed in Dr. Lawrence's clinic. The doctor had been correct in his diagnosis and Margaret was resting comfortably. She would have to take it easy for a while, but the doctor predicted she would recover.

  Pierre had followed the doctor's carriage and was glad to hear that Margaret would be fine. When he arrived home, Louise was eating a late breakfast. She eyed him suspiciously. Ginny had told her Margaret had gotten sick while eating with Pierre. Louise often thought he would kill Margaret one day. S
he had a healthy imagination and frequently read dime novels. Pierre reminded her of one of the villains in the books.

  "Well?" she said when he walked into the dining room.

  "She will recover," he said.

  "What happened to her?"

  Pierre noted the tone of her voice. He didn't like Louise, but he admired her talent. It was obvious she didn't like him, but he couldn't really understand why. Women usually found him charming. After graduation, Louise had become less respectful when addressing him and he found it irritating. Now her tone was accusatory.

  "She had a mild heart attack. The doctor wanted her to stay at the clinic so he could watch her. She'll return in a couple of days."

  She glared at him as she bit into her toast.

  "Good," she said as she chewed. "Will you be going away?"

  "I had no plans to go away," he said. "And if I did, it would be none of your business."

  He turned and left her alone. Ginny brought her a cup of tea and put her hand on Louise's shoulder.

  "I don't like that one either," she said.

  Louise was still watching the doorway.

  Chapter 21

  The trunks and boxes were stacked on the porch when Hannah passed by and knocked one over, spilling its contents on the floor.

  "Oh, my," she said.

  She knelt down to pick up the items and saw a picture of a man dressed in a military uniform. He was attractive and bore a serious expression. Hannah turned the photograph over and saw the inscription "Yours, Evan Morgan." Hannah had never heard of Mr. Morgan and she wondered why her mother had kept his picture.

  Marian was in her bedroom sorting through her bureau drawers when Hannah came in. She looked up and smiled. Even in her work apron, Hannah looked lovely. It was a gift to be young.

  "Yes, dear?" Marian said.

  "Mama, I found this picture and I wondered who it was?"

  Hannah handed Marian the picture of Evan, and Marian blushed.