A Distant Music

by BJ Hoff

  “Promise you won’t tell?” Kenny asked, now sounding exceedingly tired.

  Maggie couldn’t seem to get a deep breath. “I promise…I won’t tell for now,” she finally said. “But I won’t promise for good, because I think you’re wrong. They’ll do this again if they think they can get away with it. They might even do worse.”

  Only then did she note the thin trickle of blood at his temple. She reached a hand toward him, but he jerked away.

  “Kenny, you’re bleeding! They hurt you bad!”

  He touched his face, brought his hand away, and looked at the blood on his finger. “I’m all right,” he said shortly. “It’s just a scratch.”

  “This is my fault,” Maggie said, her voice low, suddenly consumed with guilt. It was her fault. They were punishing Kenny because of her.

  “No, it’s not!” he countered. “It’s not your fault they’re ignorant. They’re dumb bullies, that’s all. Besides, they didn’t hurt me all that much. I told you, I’m all right.”

  “It’s not fair,” Maggie said woodenly. “They hurt you because you took up for me the other night. It’s me they should be attacking, not you.”

  At last he met her gaze straight on. “No, Maggie,” he said, sounding more like himself now. “It would have only hurt me worse if they’d done this to you.”

  Maggie stared at him, not knowing how to answer. She bit her lip, hard. Hard enough to make her eyes burn with unshed tears.

  She felt as if she was going to be sick. She tried not to give in to it, not to think about it. “You can’t go home like that,” she said lamely. “Not if you don’t want your daddy to find out.”

  He looked at her, and then he lifted a hand to his face as if he’d forgotten. “I’ll go down to the creek and clean up,” he said.

  “That creek water will be freezing,” she said. A meaningless remark, but she could think of nothing else to offer.

  “It won’t be that bad.” He began to brush off his coat. “We’d better go now. I don’t want to be here when Mr. Stuart comes out.”

  Maggie was reluctant to leave, but he stood looking at her as if he were waiting for her to make the first move.

  “You’re sure you’ll be okay?” she asked him.

  He nodded. “I’m sure.”

  Maggie nodded too and gave a weak little wave. Then, out of habit, she said, “See you.”

  And just as if nothing had happened, he replied, “See you.”

  When Maggie got partway up the road from the school, she turned to look back, but he had already gone beyond the bend, on his way to the creek.

  She stopped by the side of the road, darted in behind some bushes, and finally allowed herself to be sick.

  Nineteen

  Kenny’s Quandary

  Faint not nor fear, His arms are near,

  He changeth not and thou art dear.

  John S.B. Monsell

  On Monday Kenny came to school with a cold. Maggie figured it was because he’d washed up in the ice-cold creek water. Fearing another episode like Friday’s, she hung around the outside of the building after school until he emptied the ashes. Billy and Orrin were nowhere to be seen, however, and Kenny let her know in no uncertain terms that he could take care of himself, that she wasn’t to “follow him around.”

  Maggie just glared at him. Then she turned and flounced down the path from the schoolhouse without looking back.

  At least she hoped she was flouncing. She had read a book not long ago in which the heroine flounced, and she liked the image the word conjured up.

  She hoped she didn’t just look knock-kneed.

  On Tuesday, Kenny didn’t come to school, and Maggie figured his cold had turned worse, so she didn’t worry. But when he wasn’t at his desk on Wednesday morning either, she grew uneasy.

  At lunchtime, she decided to ask about him and went inside before the bell rang. “Is Kenny still sick, Mr. Stuart?”

  He was writing the spelling words on the blackboard but stopped to answer her. “I expect so, Maggie,” he said. “He seemed to have quite a bad cold Monday. I imagine his father is keeping him in an extra day or two before sending him back.”

  Maggie nodded but wondered. Somehow the idea of Mr. Tallman being extra careful of Kenny’s health didn’t fit with what Kenny had told her.

  “Don’t worry,” Mr. Stuart said, smiling at her. “I’m sure Kenny is fine. He’ll probably be back in school tomorrow.”

  Maggie brooded the rest of the afternoon. Every time she happened to glance at the vacant desks that belonged to Summer and Kenny, a painful gnawing in her stomach started up. The absence of her two best friends was like a raw sore deep inside her, and the more she worried about them, the more the sore seemed to lay itself open. Then she would look up and see Mr. Stuart, how pale and thin he looked, and the sore would open still more.

  Sometimes lately Maggie would get a sudden, overwhelming urge to leave school and never come back. There was so much hurt now where once there had seemed to be nothing but good. The three people she loved best in all the world—in addition to her own family, of course—were hurting, and in terrible ways. Kenny, living with a father who thought he was a coward. Summer, so ill and so weak she could no longer leave her bed. And Mr. Stuart, the best man—the most kindhearted man—in the whole town, was fading even as she watched.

  Nell Frances had once accused her of being in love with Mr. Stuart. It had made Maggie angry and set off a quarrel between them, not that that was anything new.

  “I’m twelve, Nell Frances,” she’d shot back with as much sarcasm as she could muster in an effort to hide her real feelings. “Twelve-year-old girls don’t fall in love with their teacher. Only silly, cow-eyed, thirteen-year-olds like you.”

  In truth, most of the girls at school were probably in love with Mr. Stuart, at least a little bit. How could they not be, when the love just poured out of him to all his students? The older girls were the very worst, of course. They sometimes acted just plain stupid around him, but in her heart of hearts Maggie knew that if she were older, she might be no better than the others.

  As it was, she did love Mr. Stuart in a special way, but it was a love shaped by respect and admiration and gratitude. In fact, when she said her prayers, she never failed to say thanks for Mr. Stuart. She might not often stop and think what their school would be like without him—what life would be like without him, for that matter—but when she did think about it, she was aware that the children of Skingle Creek had every reason to be grateful.

  Indeed, more than any Sunday school lesson she had sat through and more than any sermon she had ever heard, Mr. Stuart had taught her what it meant to be blessed.

  He had blessed an entire schoolroom of young people like herself. They were blessed because of his teaching and his life and his love for his students.

  That’s why it hurt beyond all endurance to think of life without him.

  On Monday night, Billy Macken and Orrin Gaffney had cornered Kenny again, this time at the railroad tracks. They’d given him a beating and another warning about keeping his mouth shut before letting him go.

  Kenny had been able to avoid his father that night by going to bed before Mr. Tallman came home from the mines, and he didn’t go to school the next day, supposedly because of his cold. In truth, yesterday morning he’d been hurting all over with a black eye, a sore arm, and a wrenched back. When Kenny’s father cracked the bedroom door open early in the morning, Kenny asked if he could stay home. For once there hadn’t been a tongue-lashing for being a “baby,” and with great relief he’d hunkered down under the covers, actually managing to sleep a few more hours.

  The two of them hadn’t crossed paths since then. Kenny had gone to bed early last night, leaving a note that he was going to stay in again today.

  Now he sat at the kitchen table with part of a jelly sandwich, his stomach threatening to reject the little he’d eaten as he continued to worry over what would happen if his father found out about the bea
ting. He couldn’t hide the black eye or the broken glasses much longer.

  If his father were to learn about Monday night, he might do something really awful. Kenny had thought his threat to the two boys about getting their fathers fired from the mines to be just that: a threat. But what if they were to lose their jobs? Or what if his father showed up at school and made a scene in front of Mr. Stuart and the entire class?

  Judson Tallman was more than capable of being downright mean if someone went against him. He might not take any notice of his son except for the rare occasion when he remembered that he actually had a son, Kenny told himself bitterly. But his father’s pride would never stand for someone else laying a hand on what was his.

  Kenny’s stomach clenched. Suddenly, he thought of Maggie. She could easily be as much of a problem as his father! Once she found out about this second incident, he would never convince her to keep it to herself.

  And she would find out. He might be able to fool his father somehow, but he would never be able to keep the truth from Maggie.

  She would spot the black eye the minute he walked into the classroom—and the cracked lens in his glasses as well. That’s all it would take before she flew at him with a dozen or more questions.

  Maggie already knew too much to put her off with anything less than the truth. Not to mention the fact that she seemed to have made it her mission to protect him.

  He pushed the rest of his sandwich away. He would have to worry about Maggie later. Right now he needed to figure out a convincing story for his father.

  Kenny hated to lie—it was a sin, and he knew it—but he didn’t see that he any other choice. He didn’t dare tell his father the truth.

  If only he had the kind of father he could confide in. A father to whom he could admit just how afraid he’d been Monday night, how afraid he still was. Try as he would, he couldn’t forget the terror that had gripped him when he realized what was about to happen.

  At first they had only shoved and punched him. But then they threatened him, warning him that if he told anyone, it would be Maggie they went after next time.

  And then Billy had said some things he would do to her—awful things—that sent Kenny into a rage. That’s when Orrin grabbed his arm and yanked it behind him while Billy tossed his glasses on the ground and punched him in the eye, punched him so hard Kenny thought he would pass out.

  He jumped at the unexpected sound of his father’s footsteps on the porch. Just his luck. Daddy never came home early.

  He quickly took his glasses off and covered them with his hand. He realized too late that without them the black eye would only be that much more obvious.

  Of course, his father scarcely looked his way when he walked into the kitchen, but after he fixed himself a cup of coffee he sat down at the table across from Kenny. His heavy dark eyebrows met in a frown when he noticed the eye.

  Kenny felt his face grow hot under his father’s scrutiny. His hand trembled as he clutched his glasses.

  His father was ominously quiet, but Kenny wasn’t fooled. He was primed for an explosion.

  “What is that?”

  Kenny lifted his fingers to his eye, unable to keep from wincing when he touched it.

  His father’s voice was altogether too quiet as he set his coffee cup to the table. “Who did that, boy?”

  “Nobody, Daddy. I mean, I did it.”

  Even though Kenny had thought he had his story ready, with those hard, dark eyes turned upon him, he found himself stammering as he fumbled for words. “I…felt better today and went out, just for a little while, to look for wood. I tripped on one of those old logs on the ground and came down on top of it.”

  His father’s eyes narrowed. “You fell.”

  Kenny nodded.

  It was all he could do to meet his father’s eyes, but he knew he had to if he was going to get away with his story. “It hurt too,” he added. “A lot. It’s still sore.” He paused. “And…Daddy?”

  His father picked up his coffee cup, watching him.

  “I-I broke my glasses when I fell.”

  His father’s face turned to a thundercloud, and for a moment Kenny thought he would smash his coffee cup in the white-knuckle grip of his hand.

  “Just one lens,” Kenny hurried to say, holding up the glasses for his father to see. “I can still wear them. At least for now. I glued both pieces of the lens together, see. They’ll probably hold for a while.”

  Still scowling, his father let out an impatient breath. “As if I don’t have anything else to do but take you to Lexington for new glasses. And we’re not rich, boy, do you know that?”

  Kenny put the glasses back on the table, keeping his gaze locked on them. “I know, Daddy,” he said softly.

  Again his father set the cup to the table. “Well, you’ll just have to make do for now. Maybe it will teach you to be more careful.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  His father studied him for another long moment. Then he gave a shake of his head and went back to his coffee. He might just as well have accused Kenny of being stupid and clumsy. His look of contempt could not have been any clearer.

  “That’s what you get for stumbling around in the woods,” he muttered. “Foolishness.”

  Kenny said nothing, but simply continued to shrink inside himself.

  “If you went out, then your cold is better. You’ll go back to school tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  Kenny let out the breath he’d been holding, for once not minding so much that his father thought him clumsy and useless. At least he had believed his story.

  Twenty

  A Reluctant Lie

  I must be measured by my soul.

  Isaac Watts

  Jonathan Stuart took one look at Kenny Tallman Thursday morning and felt an alarm go off inside him.

  Every rumor he’d ever heard about Judson Tallman mistreating his wife rushed in on him. Was it possible the man had done this to his own son? The very thought made Jonathan feel ill.

  He watched the boy closely the rest of the morning. By the noon hour, he was convinced that, in addition to the black eye, Kenny was favoring his left arm and seemed to have some difficulty leaning over his desk.

  As soon as he sent the class outside for a brief recess, Jonathan took the boy aside. “Kenny, when I dismiss the class this afternoon, I’d like you to stay, please.”

  The boy’s startled expression instantly changed to a guarded stare.

  Up close, the black eye appeared even uglier, and Jonathan saw now that one of the lens in the youth’s eyeglasses had been cracked.

  “It’s all right, Kenny,” he said, hoping to reassure the boy. “I just want to talk with you for a few minutes. I’ll not keep you long.”

  The boy’s only response was an evasive nod.

  Later, during the same recess, Jonathan looked out and saw that Maggie MacAuley had Kenny cornered by the gnarled old maple tree at the south end of the school yard. Watching them, he decided that having to stay after school might be the least of Kenny’s problems.

  He had seen the shocked expression on Maggie’s face once she got a good look at the black eye earlier that morning. It was obvious that she hadn’t known about it until today.

  Now, with her hands on her hips and her face flushed, she appeared to be in the process of giving her friend a thorough scolding.

  Or could it be that she was demanding an explanation for his appearance?

  If he hadn’t been so troubled about the boy, Jonathan might have found the scene almost amusing.

  As it was, however, there was nothing even remotely amusing about the situation.

  Kenny couldn’t help himself. If Maggie speared him with one more quarrelsome word, the tears that had been threatening to break free all morning would spill over and embarrass him to death.

  She had already caught him weeping like a girl once. He had no intention of letting it happen again.

  It didn’t help that he felt purely miserable. His
eye throbbed, his shoulder ached, and he was as sore all over as he imagined he would be if he’d been keelhauled. Billy and Orrin had been sneering at him all morning, every time the teacher’s back was turned. Lester Monk had embarrassed him to death by slapping a hand over his mouth and running up to Kenny to see if he could “do anything to help.” And Lily—did she have to stare at him all boggle-eyed like she’d seen something crawling out of his forehead? Not to mention that the world looked like a broken egg, thanks to his cracked lens.

  Now Mr. Stuart had asked him to stay after school.

  And it was only noon.

  He didn’t need Maggie pestering him on top of everything else. If she was going to carry on like a harpy over something like this, something he couldn’t help, he wasn’t so sure he would marry her after all.

  “I told you, they didn’t hurt me that bad. And it’ll only make things worse if I tell Mr. Stuart.”

  “They didn’t hurt you that bad? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror, Kenny Tallman? And don’t think I haven’t seen the way you’re walking around like a stoved-up old man! Don’t you tell me you’re not hurt that bad!”

  “Let it go, Maggie,” Kenny muttered. “Just…let it go. I’ll handle it.”

  “But you can’t handle it, Kenny. Don’t you see that?”

  All of a sudden, she didn’t look angry anymore. She looked scared. Her voice trembled as she went on, and she kept glancing around as if to make sure no one was within earshot. “What if they don’t stop, Kenny? What if they just keep beating on you and hurting you worse every time? Aren’t you afraid?”

  Kenny opened his mouth to say yes, he was afraid. He was more afraid than he was willing to admit, even to himself, much less to Maggie.

  He changed his mind, though, and merely gave a shrug. Only then did he remember that the slightest movement hurt.

  He took off his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t tell her what else Billy had threatened—what he’d threatened to do to her. He would never tell her, especially now that he knew she was really frightened.