Miss Hanson stepped into the dining room with the corner of her apron snug around the handle of the large tin coffee boiler. She stopped short and gaped at Levi.
Henry hoisted his cup and waved it in her direction. “You gonna pour us some coffee or spend the mornin’ staring at Levi?”
She startled to attention and scurried to Henry’s side, but her gaze soon returned to Levi. “Did I hear you say you have a brother at the asylum?”
Levi nodded but said no more until she’d finished pouring coffee and returned to the kitchen. No doubt Miss Hanson would tell Mrs. Brighton, and soon the word would spread. While some folks didn’t seem to find his brother’s medical condition disturbing, others did. Levi preferred being the one who decided when to tell others, but that didn’t usually happen. A few always seemed to enjoy carrying the news; this time would likely be no different.
Henry downed a gulp of coffee and leaned forward. “How come you’ve been so secretive about your brother? We could have let you know if he was having any problems. What’s his name? What wing is he in?”
“His name is Noah Judson, and he’s in the west wing. He’s in a room that overlooks the courtyard.” Levi ignored the question about why he’d been secretive. “I know a lot of the patients spend their time working in the small vegetable gardens or over in the dairy, but my brother has no interest in that type of activity. He spends a lot of his time pacing back and forth, and I don’t think it’s good for him.”
“You’re probably right about that, but we don’t force the patients to do anything. You think he might want to help with some of the farming? Those small vegetable and flower gardens are mostly for the women and a few of the men we can’t take over to the farm. Maybe we could find something over there. Is he good with horses? We could use some men in the horse barn.”
Levi shook his head. “No. He doesn’t like working outdoors and he has a fear of large animals.”
Miss Hanson reappeared with bowls of scrambled eggs and fried potatoes and a plate of biscuits. After placing the food on the table, she gestured toward the kitchen. “I’ll be back with the sausages and gravy.”
“And more coffee.” One of the other men pointed to his empty cup.
She nodded. “And more coffee.”
Henry picked up the plate of biscuits, helped himself, and then passed them to the man seated beside him. “That kind of limits things, Levi. So what did you have in mind?”
“Last night I had an idea that some of the men might enjoy drawing or painting pictures. Noah once had an interest in art, and I brought some supplies from home. If anyone wants to join Noah, I’d be willing to help.” Levi heaped a spoonful of potatoes onto his plate. “I couldn’t be there during the week, but maybe on Sunday afternoons I could hold a class and someone else could help them during the week.”
“I don’t know about holding a class. Most of the patients don’t sit and listen for long.” He took a bite of biscuit. “You know how to paint pictures?”
“I’ve painted some pictures, mostly landscapes. I know enough to get the men started. If they have an interest in art, maybe I can help with some other projects, too.”
One of the men at the end of the table shook his head. “Never would have thought a fella from the tile works would know how to draw pictures.”
Maybe one day Miss McKay would become interested in his ideas, and then the men at the boardinghouse would see how art could be used in making tiles. But this wasn’t the time to talk about his ambitions. Instead, he needed to try and gain approval to hold a few art classes at the asylum. At a minimum, he wanted permission to take art supplies to his brother.
Levi turned his attention back to Henry. “Who should I talk to about my idea? Do I need to go to the administration building or talk to one of the doctors?”
Henry pushed the last bite of his biscuit through the remaining gravy on his plate. “I’ll ask one of the doctors assigned to that wing who would know your brother. That’s probably the best place to start. If the doc says you’d need to get permission from higher up, I’ll see who you should talk to in administration. Will that help?”
Levi grinned. “You bet. I appreciate it. Otherwise, I’d have to wait until Sunday, and there’s no one in the administration building then.”
One of the men snorted. “Not many doctors around on Sundays, either. They depend on us to run things so they can enjoy time at home.” He nodded toward the clock. “We better get out the door or the driver will be complaining.”
The men who worked at the asylum took the cue, and soon their chairs scraped across the wooden floor. When he rounded the table, Henry gave Levi a light slap on the shoulder. “I’ll do my best to have some answers for you this evening.”
Levi nodded and lifted the napkin from his lap. He’d like to believe talking to Miss McKay about new designs would go as easily as this morning’s discussion with Henry, but he doubted that would happen. Besides, he needed to wait until he’d been at the tile works a while longer. The men hadn’t been particularly welcoming, but they’d become more friendly of late. He didn’t want to do anything that might change their mood. As for Miss McKay, it was difficult to know exactly what she thought about him or the tile works. From what he’d observed thus far, she was excited to gain new orders, but that was the extent of her enthusiasm for the business. She performed her work, but clearly she didn’t feel passionate about it. He prayed that would soon change.
Chapter 10
Levi entered the wrought-iron gate of the asylum and walked down the center footpath leading to the administration building. Created from hand-cut blue sandstone in the Gothic style, the structure possessed a formidable beauty. A fountain was to the left of the walkway near the entrance of the main building, and the long spire above the central clock tower rose so high it appeared to touch the clouds that hung over the valley.
The four-story asylum was touted as one of the finest available for patients suffering from mental disorders, but Levi soon learned the patients had been placed in the asylum by their family members for a variety of reasons. The men at the boardinghouse who worked at the asylum claimed there were patients who’d been diagnosed with everything from laziness and grief to cerebral softening and snake bites. With so many patients still capable of performing daily tasks, Levi hoped a few of them would be interested in an art class.
Though it had taken longer to arrange a meeting than he would have preferred, Levi had finally met with a committee that consisted of several doctors and an assistant administrator. After a brief discussion, Levi was granted permission to oversee art lessons for male patients on Sunday afternoons. There were fewer employees at the asylum on Sundays, so the committee likely would have approved any conventional activity that didn’t require assistance from the asylum aides. Levi didn’t care why he’d received their approval; he was simply thankful for the opportunity to see if the idea might help Noah and possibly some of the other men.
At the fountain, he took the pathway that veered left and led to the west wing. His excitement mounted when he entered the room designated for activities and spotted Noah and four other men awaiting his arrival. The administrator had explained that all those enrolled in the class had been approved by their doctors as being calm and willing to follow instructions. Even so, Levi had hoped a staff member might be present for at least a portion of the first lesson, but there was no one in sight.
He greeted his brother and then introduced himself to the other men. They all appeared eager and gathered close while he withdrew watercolors, brushes, charcoals, and thick sheets of paper from a canvas case.
“Why don’t we move the table and chairs a little closer to the windows so there will be more light?” The men did as Levi asked and then sat down. “Does anyone want to draw rather than paint?”
One of the men nodded and another raised his hand into the air. A third shrugged his shoulders and met Levi’s gaze. “I ain’t never drawed or painted no pictures, so I don’t know what
I should use.”
Levi suggested he begin with pencils. Noah and one other man selected watercolors. During their time together, Levi assisted and made suggestions when asked, but he wanted to see what each of the men would draw without his prompting. By the end of the two-hour class time, none of the men had a desire to return to their rooms, but Levi didn’t want to break any rules that might cause the classes to be cancelled. He’d praised their work before placing the drawings in a small cabinet that had been allocated for their use. Except for Noah’s painting, only one of the other patients had revealed any artistic talent. But who could say after only two hours? With instruction and time, the abilities of the other men could advance, but that wasn’t his primary goal. His brother had appeared calm and happy during their time together, and that brought Levi the satisfaction he desired.
A surge of happiness swelled in Levi’s chest as he walked down the long walkway leading out of the asylum. Once outside the wrought-iron gate, he turned and lifted the hasp to settle it back into place.
“Mr. Judson?”
Levi swung around and was met by Miss McKay’s inquiring blue eyes. Her gaze shifted to the asylum and then back. “I didn’t know the asylum grounds were open to the public.” The brim of her hat shaded her face when she took a step toward the gate. “If it weren’t for the asylum, I would think I’d arrived at a lovely park.”
“If it weren’t for the asylum, those lovely grounds would still be a rolling hillside of uncultivated land.”
“I suppose you’re right. Do you come here often?”
Had someone told her about Noah, or was this simply coincidence? “I do. Every Sunday afternoon and occasionally in the evening.”
“Truly? Have you ever been inside the building? I find it strangely beautiful, yet I wonder about the misery contained inside those walls.”
“I’ve been inside and it isn’t as miserable as you seem to believe.” He tipped his cap. “Nice to see you, Miss McKay. I won’t disturb your walk. I’m returning to the boardinghouse.”
She hurried to match his stride. “I was returning home as well. It’s such a lovely day, I walked farther than I’d planned.”
He shifted the canvas bag to his other hand. “You walked all the way here from the boardinghouse?”
“No. Some of the ladies arranged for a carriage to take them for a ride. I joined them but left the carriage and decided to walk once we were close to town. I had hoped they would pass on their way back to the boardinghouse, but so far there’s been no sign of them.”
“Unless you walk at a faster pace, you may miss your supper, Miss McKay.”
“I could say the same about you, unless there’s food in that bag you’re carrying.”
He shook his head. “There’s no food in my bag, but I won’t be going without supper. I’m walking only as far as the livery, where I’ve already arranged for a hack to take me home.”
“Excellent. I’ll join you and pay half the cost.” She grinned, obviously pleased her problem had been solved. “If that isn’t food in your bag, what is it?” When he didn’t immediately answer, she realized her mistake. “I’m sorry—that was rude of me.”
“Art supplies.”
“Art supplies? For drawing and such? Do you go to the asylum grounds to gather ideas for your drawings?”
He sighed. Never before had he heard Miss McKay talk so much. And why did her conversation have to be filled with questions?
“Yes, I have supplies for drawing and painting in the bag, but I don’t go to the asylum for ideas. I go there to visit my brother, who is a patient.” He stared straight ahead but heard her gasp. “Noah, my brother, is a talented artist. The asylum has given me permission to take charge of art classes on Sunday afternoons.”
Her eyes opened so wide they resembled Mrs. Brighton’s dinner plates. “With the patients? You go in and spend time with patients you don’t know? Have any of them ever attempted to harm you?”
“Today was the first lesson, but I’ve been in the asylum many times before, and no one has ever done anything that caused me fear. I believe the more violent patients are in another part of the asylum. The men I’m with are more like my brother, sad and depressed, unable to feel happiness in their lives. I hope they’ll find pleasure in painting. I’d like to think art will do more for them, but I don’t know what heals a person who is plagued by problems that affect the mind. Even the doctors seem uncertain.”
“I admire you for trying to help. It’s easy to slip into depression when you feel as though you’ve lost control of your circumstances.” Ainslee touched her fingers to her waist. “You feel a hollow place of despair deep inside.”
Miss McKay was a puzzle. At work she exhibited an assured presence, yet he’d heard the dejection and sadness in her voice. She’d pulled at his heartstrings, and he wanted to help her—to somehow fit the pieces of her puzzle together and see a glimmer of happiness in her eyes.
“You sound like someone who has fought that battle of despair, yet I’m sure that can’t be true. I see a young woman who is in charge of her future—a young lady moving through life without fear. There are few women who would ever consider taking charge of a tile works.” He grinned. “Perhaps a millinery or dress shop, but not a tile works.”
“I never had a desire to be in charge of anything other than a classroom of children. Owning the tile works was never my dream.”
She accepted his arm as they crossed the street and waited outside the livery while he went inside to see about the carriage. He returned quickly. “There will be a short wait. The carriage driver didn’t think I’d be here this early, and he took another fare.” He gestured to a wooden bench. “I think this is the best I can offer.”
“The bench is fine.” A light breeze tugged at her bonnet as she pulled her skirts aside and sat down. She patted the space beside her. “There’s plenty of room for both of us. No need to stand.”
He was careful to sit as far from her as the short bench would permit. Even though she’d invited him to sit beside her, he didn’t want to appear forward. “Tell me more about the dream of owning the tile works. If you didn’t want to own it, who did? Your brother?”
Several of the men at the tile works had mentioned meeting Ewan McKay. Most had hoped he would be the one to take charge and manage the business.
“No. It was my twin sister Adaira’s dream.”
Levi remained silent and attentive as he listened to Ainslee tell of Adaira’s desire to use her artistic talents at the tile works, but how she’d eloped and was likely now in Paris.
“I can see how frightening it must have been for you to keep your commitment and come here by yourself.” He wanted to encourage her, for she seemed to be doing a good job managing the company. “Even though you were plunged into deep water, you didn’t sink. You should be happy. I’m sure your family is proud of you.”
She sighed heavily. “What would make my brother truly proud is if I would agree to make the business my life’s work, but this isn’t what I want.”
“So you want to leave? What about the tile works?”
She gasped and placed her hand over her lips. “I’m talking too much. Please disregard what you’ve heard.”
He nodded his agreement, but he couldn’t forget what she’d said. And oddly, he found himself caring about helping to ensure Miss McKay’s happiness.
Ainslee leaned forward and glanced down the street. Where was the carriage? Her thoughts raced. She needed to say something that would remove her earlier comments from Mr. Judson’s mind. Why had she said so much to him? Never before had she so willingly confided in a stranger. Yet he hadn’t felt like a stranger. Talking with him seemed more like visiting with an old friend—like chatting with Adaira. She silently scolded herself. He wasn’t Adaira, and there was no way to know if he’d keep his word.
He followed her gaze down the street before turning back toward her. “I don’t think the carriage will be here for a while longer. I can see the concern
in your eyes, but there’s no need for you to worry. I give you my word that anything you say to me will remain between us. I hope you will do the same.”
“Yes, of course. I won’t repeat a word you’ve told me.” She had much more to lose if he betrayed her. If he told the men at the tile works she was unhappy and wanted to leave Weston, any number of problems could arise.
He leaned back and rested his shoulders against the rough gray planks of the livery. “I understand feeling obligated to leave your home when you want to stay put, but I’m not going to let it keep me from my dreams, and you shouldn’t either.”
She weighed his words. So he hadn’t wanted to leave Philadelphia. When he’d come looking for work, she’d asked him why he left his job in Philadelphia. Now she understood. He’d come here because of his brother. He hadn’t been forced, but a sense of duty and love caused him to move here. Her respect for him grew tenfold.
“And how would you suggest I keep my dream alive when I’m here and the school where I taught is in Grafton?”
“If it’s teaching you love, why not do something that brings you that same satisfaction right here in Weston?”
What was he thinking? “How could I ever teach when I need to be at the tile works every day?”
He rubbed his forehead. “Maybe you could teach some sort of classes to women in the asylum. I could go with you and meet with the doctors. Maybe they could suggest some way your teaching skills could help. What do you think?”
She swallowed hard. “I-I-I’m not sure I could teach adults. I’ve taught only children. Some of the boys were older, but they hadn’t had much schooling. I don’t imagine ladies in the asylum want to take classes in arithmetic or spelling.”
“Maybe not, but they might be interested in geography and learning more about places they’ve never been, or reading books they’ve never had an opportunity to enjoy.” He pushed his cap back on his head. “It was just an idea, not something you have to do. I hope I’ll be able to help not only my brother, but also some of the other men who take the classes.”
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