Scent of Magnolia

by Frances Devine

  Thursdays were usually the worst day of the week, with the students tired and ready for their weekend to begin. But they’d been model students all day, without even one scuffle or argument.

  She glanced up from her desk and scanned the room in case anyone needed help. Every head was bent over in study except for Trudy’s and Molly’s.

  Helen stood and walked over to Trudy’s desk. Her book was closed and she stared straight ahead. Helen touched her on the shoulder and Trudy glanced up. Fear clouded her eyes.

  “Why aren’t you working, Trudy?” Instead of speaking, the girl signed, “I don’t want to.”

  What? She didn’t want to? Perhaps Helen misunderstood.

  “Are you having trouble with the reading?” She frowned as she questioned Trudy.

  Trudy shook her head and darted a glance at Molly, who sat at the next desk.

  With dread in her heart, Helen stepped over to Molly’s desk and sighed. Molly’s book was also closed.

  Helen touched her hand to get her attention. When Molly looked up, her eyes pooled with tears.

  Helen tried to keep her face composed. “You don’t wish to study, either?”

  Molly shook her head.

  “You realize we have an important test tomorrow?” Helen tapped her foot on the floor.

  Molly nodded.

  Helplessness washed over Helen. How could she handle something she didn’t understand?

  She walked over to Margaret’s desk expecting a repeat of the disobedience. Margaret’s book was open and she perused the page intently. She glanced up and smiled. Anyone would think she was totally innocent. Helen didn’t believe that for a moment. Somehow she was controlling the other girls. But how?

  Instructing Molly and Trudy to remain at their desks at the end of class, she returned to the papers she’d been grading.

  She’d dealt with defiance before, but this was something different. Lord, show me what to do and guide me as I speak to these girls.

  When the class filed out the door, Helen’s glance happened to fall on Margaret just as she looked back at Molly and Trudy and her eyes sent a silent message. Helen clamped her lips together.

  She motioned to the two girls to come up front and stand in front of her desk.

  “All right, girls. This behavior isn’t like you at all. I know something is wrong, and I don’t believe it’s your fault. Is someone bullying you in any way?”

  Alarm sprung into both girls’ eyes, and they both shook their heads vehemently.

  “You can tell me. I won’t let anyone harm you.” She glanced from Molly to Trudy. “I promise. Please tell me what’s going on.”

  Both girls stood silently, their faces pictures of misery.

  Helen sighed. “Very well. I have no choice but to keep you in detention for an hour every day until you explain your conduct.”

  “But, Miss Edwards”—Molly clamped her hands over her mouth and signed—“what about our homework?”

  “What about it? You’ll work on it during detention. If you can’t complete it in that time you will still have an hour before supper.”

  “But, but”—Trudy caught herself and signed— “the cantata?”

  “I suppose you’ll both have to drop out since you can’t get to practice.” At the pain on their faces, Helen wanted to cry.

  “All right, girls. Return to your desk. You have another half hour. I would suggest you study your history.”

  Helen sighed. She had no idea how to handle this situation. Ordinarily, she’d take the matter up with P.J., but the director had gone to New Orleans to meet with a family who was interested in the school for their son. Since she had family of her own there, P.J. had decided to stay and visit, so she wouldn’t be back for at least a week. If Helen couldn’t get the situation under control, she’d have to bring it to Trent Quincy’s attention.

  ❧

  Patrick looked around the dining room table. Although normal conversation went on amidst the teachers and students, the tension in the room was tangible. He glanced at Helen, who ate her breakfast in silence, only looking up when someone spoke directly to her.

  Molly had run to him when she saw him in the foyer and thrown her arms around him. But instead of the bubbling over happiness that usually permeated her greeting, she’d burst into tears. She’d said she was crying because she was happy to see him, but that didn’t ring true or even make sense.

  Helen left the dining room while he was speaking with Howard. When he stepped into the foyer, he found her waiting for him. “Mr. Flannigan, could I have a word with you?”

  “Yes, of course. I was going to ask you the same thing.” He motioned toward the front porch. “Shall we go outside?”

  “Yes, that’s fine.”

  They’d just seated themselves when Molly charged out the door. “Papa!”

  “He stood and motioned to his daughter. “I’m over here, Molly.”

  “I didn’t know where you were.” She twisted her hands together.

  “Well, as you can see, here I am.” He smiled. “I need a moment with Miss Edwards then we’ll go for a drive, all right?”

  Molly sent Helen an imploring glance then she turned to her father. “Can’t I stay here with you?”

  He gave her a puzzled look then glanced at Helen. “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “I think Molly should answer that.” Helen looked at Molly. “Do you want to tell your father what’s wrong, since you won’t tell me?”

  Molly stood breathing hard. She moistened her lips and darted a glance toward the front door. “Papa, can we go somewhere? Just you and me, so I can tell you?”

  He frowned and sent a questioning glance toward Helen.

  Helen nodded. “I think that’s a good idea, Patrick. You and I can talk later.”

  Molly grabbed his hand. “Hurry, Papa. Let’s go now.”

  ❧

  As the carriage drove away, Helen sank back into the wicker rocker. She sent up a prayer that Molly would open up to Patrick and get her fears out into the open.

  The front door flew open and Margaret stepped out on the porch. She spotted Helen. “Oh, Miss Edwards. You startled me.” She glanced around. “Have you seen Molly?”

  “Yes, you just missed her, dear. She went for a drive with her father.” Helen peered at the girl to see her reaction.

  Margaret’s face paled. “Oh. Well, I’d better go back inside.”

  “Why don’t you sit and visit with me for a while?”

  “Oh, thank you, but I need to go inside. I have things to do.”

  “Nevertheless, I’d like for you to stay. I think we need to have a little talk.”

  “Oh, very well.” She flounced over and sat on the cushioned sofa.

  “How was practice yesterday?” Helen rocked slowly back and forth.

  “Why, it went very well.” She threw an impatient look in Helen’s direction.

  “You have a lovely voice,” Helen said. “Good enough for the lead part.”

  A pleased look washed over Margaret’s face. “Yes. I always had the lead parts at my other school.”

  “Did you now?” She rocked steadily. “I was surprised when Lily Ann withdrew from the cantata. She has a lovely voice as well.”

  “Does she?” Margaret tossed her curls. “But she’s just a little girl. She shouldn’t have the lead anyway.”

  “Hmmm. You think not?” Helen stopped her chair. “Do you have any idea what’s wrong with Molly and Trudy? They’re not acting like themselves lately.”

  “No. They seem okay to me. Where did you say Molly and her father went?”

  “Just for a drive.” Helen paused before going on. “I believe Molly had something she wished to talk to her father about. Something important I believe.”

  Panic crossed the girl’s face.

  “Margaret, perhaps there’s something you’d like to tell me before they get back.”

  “No. Why would you think that?” The panic—if indeed Helen hadn
’t been imagining it—was smoothed over by Margaret’s usual sweet expression.

  ten

  Trent shook his head, looking almost dazed. “It appears the new student, that angelic appearing little girl, has been terrorizing other children.”

  Helen flinched at the word terrorizing. What in the world had Margaret done? When Patrick and Molly had gotten back from their drive, his face had been set like stone. He’d asked Virgie to please send for Trent Quincy, since the director wasn’t there.

  Helen had paced the foyer while Patrick, Trent, Molly, and Trudy had been closeted in the director’s office for fifteen minutes. Finally, Trent had opened the door and asked Helen to step inside.

  She glanced at Molly and Trudy, who sat huddled up together next to Patrick on the small sofa. “Are you girls all right?”

  Molly nodded. “Yes, Miss Edwards.”

  It was the first time Molly had spoken to her in days and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  Trent stepped to the door and motioned to someone. A moment later, Virgie appeared.

  “Virgie, would you please take Molly and Trudy to the kitchen and get them a glass of milk or something? That is”—he turned with a questioning glance at Patrick—“if it’s all right with Mr. Flannigan.”

  “Yes, but please keep them away from the other children for now, Virgie.” Patrick brushed the hair back from Molly’s face. “You don’t mind going with Miz Virgie, do you?”

  Molly shook her head, and the girls stood and followed Virgie from the room. As soon as the door shut behind them, Helen jumped up. “Will someone please tell me what is going on? What has Margaret done?”

  Patrick rose, too, and stood by the empty fireplace. “It seems, since the day she arrived, the young lady has been controlling both Molly and Trudy.”

  “Yes, I was afraid it was something like that. But how did she manage? Trudy is rather timid, but Molly is not a weak-willed girl.”

  “It seems she threatened if they didn’t do everything she told them, she’d hurt Lily Ann.”

  Helen’s stomach knotted. “But surely they wouldn’t believe her? Why in the world didn’t they tell someone?”

  “Apparently she’s a very persuasive young lady. She told them poppycock stories of atrocities she’d performed at her former school.” Trent’s lips clamped together and his face blazed with anger. “Of course, the stories were totally untrue. I spoke to the director of her former school before I approved her enrollment here. According to him, she’d been a model student.”

  “I wonder. . . .” Helen frowned. “Oh, not about the atrocities. I’m sure the director would have known if that were true. But she may not have been the model student he thought.”

  “What do you mean?” Patrick asked.

  “I mean, bullies aren’t always found out, because their victims don’t usually tell.” She bit her lip. “Molly and her father are close. She knew he’d believe her and she trusted him to make things right. But that’s not always the case.”

  Trent nodded. “I see what you mean. Well, I suppose I need to contact her parents. We can’t have a child here that terrorizes the other students.”

  That word again. “I wouldn’t exactly call it terrorizing. More like bullying. But she must be troubled to do such a thing.”

  Patrick took a deep breath. “Are you suggesting she be allowed to stay?”

  “No. It’s not my place to do that. But I think she should have a chance to defend herself.”

  “Molly wouldn’t lie about it!” Patrick protested. “I thought you knew her better than that.”

  “Of course I do.” She laid her hand on his arm and then quickly dropped it. What had possessed her to do something so intimate? “But Margaret needs to speak for herself.”

  “Helen’s right.” Trent strode to the door and pulled a bell cord. When Sissy appeared, he instructed her to escort Margaret to the office.

  The fear in Margaret’s eyes and the ghastly paleness of her face as she walked into the room struck a chord of sympathy in Helen.

  “Hello, Margaret.” Trent motioned to a chair he’d placed in the middle of the room facing him, Patrick, and Helen. She sat on the edge of the seat and swallowed audibly.

  “Margaret, it has come to our attention that you’ve been bullying some of the other students.” Trent tapped his fingers on his knee.

  “No, I haven’t,” the child’s voice shrilled.

  “Young lady, it would be better to tell the truth. Lies always get found out in the end.” After he’d spoken, Patrick sent Trent an apologetic glance.

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and a frown creased her forehead as her eyes filled with tears.

  Helen’s heart hurt for the child. What could have caused her to behave in such a way?

  “I’m sorry.” Margaret’s whisper was almost inaudible.

  Trent’s expression softened. “Margaret, everyone does things at times they regret. I sincerely hope that’s what you mean and that you aren’t merely sorry you got caught.”

  A crimson blush rushed across her face, and she licked her lips. “I. . .I don’t know. I’m just sorry. What are you going to do to me?”

  Trent looked at the girl for a moment. “Why did you threaten Molly and Trudy and tell them untrue stories about your actions at your last school?”

  “I don’t know.” She pressed her lips together and her breathing quickened.

  Trent threw a helpless glance toward Helen. Apparently he’d never dealt with a serious disciplinary problem before. He turned his attention back to the girl. “I’m sorry. I can’t accept that as an answer. Until we get to the bottom of this, you’re confined to your room. I will, of course, notify your parents of your behavior.”

  Panic crossed Margaret’s face and her hands tightened into a fist.

  “That will be all for now. You’re dismissed to your room.”

  “Please don’t. . .” Margaret heaved a sigh. “Yes, sir.”

  After the door closed behind her, Helen immediately turned to Trent. “Would you mind if I talk to Margaret and try to get to the bottom of this?”

  “By all means.” Trent took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his forehead. “Let me know if you have any success.”

  Helen nodded and glanced at Patrick. “I know you’re angry because of what she did to Molly, but try not to judge her too harshly until we find out more.”

  He nodded. “I’ll try. After all, she’s only a child. I wish you success.”

  ❧

  Helen set the dinner tray on a small table outside Margaret’s room, tapped lightly before opening the door, and walked in.

  Margaret looked up from the window seat. “Miss Edwards. You brought my supper?”

  Helen smiled. “You didn’t think we’d let you go hungry, did you?” She glanced around and spotted a table in the corner. “Why don’t you move that table over here for your tray and I’ll visit with you while you eat.”

  Margaret jumped up and hurried to do as instructed. When she was seated again, she laid the snowy white napkin across her lap and lifted the dome lid from her plate. “Oh, ham and sweet potatoes. My favorite.”

  “Yes, and that little covered dish contains peach cobbler.” She moved a glass of milk closer to Margaret. “Cook thought you’d like the cobbler.”

  Margaret put down her knife and fork and turned wide eyes upon Helen. “Why is everyone being so nice to me after what I’ve done?”

  “Well, first of all, very few people know the details, and besides, we care about you, Margaret. And I, for one, would like to help, if you’ll let me.” She motioned to the tray. “Why don’t you eat before your food gets cold? We can talk afterward.”

  Margaret ate slowly, finally pushing the tray away. She turned to Helen. “What do you want me to say?”

  Surprised, Helen said, “The truth, of course. I’d like to know why you threatened to hurt Lily. Why you ordered the girls not to talk to me, and what this all has to do with Lily Ann. Beca
use it does have something to do with her, doesn’t it?”

  Margaret’s eyes widened and she ducked her head. “I always have the lead.”

  A knot formed in Helen’s stomach. “What do you mean?”

  “You see, my mother is very proud of my voice and she expects me to have the lead. Always.” She bit her lip.

  “But, sweetheart, I’m sure your mother understands that sometimes that’s not going to happen. Lily Ann has a lovely voice, too. And she already had the part before you arrived.”

  “But I want my mother to be proud of me.” Tears swam in her blue eyes and began to run down her cheeks. “She’s so good at everything and all I can do is sing.”

  Helen closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “How did you get Lily Ann to withdraw from the cantata, Margaret?”

  Shame washed over the child’s face. “I—I. . .”

  “Please tell me.”

  “I told her if she didn’t, I would trip Mrs. Quincy and make her lose the baby.”

  Waves of nausea and shock washed over Helen. “You would have done that?”

  “No, no,”—sobs broke out from Margaret—“no, I wouldn’t have. Not really.”

  “But Lily Ann thought you would, so she did what you wanted.”

  “Yes.” Margaret’s voice broke as sob after sob racked her body.

  “There’s more, isn’t there?” Helen laid her hand on Margaret’s shoulder. “You might as well tell me all of it.”

  “I made Lily Ann promise not to tell anyone. But Trudy saw me talking to her, saw her crying. She told Molly, and they came and told me to leave Lily Ann alone.”

  “And that’s when you threatened them?”

  “Uh-huh. I was afraid they’d tell. So I told them they had to stay away from Lily Ann and if they told anyone about any of it, I’d hurt her.” By now she seemed bent on telling all. “I made some stories up so they’d believe that I’d really do mean things.

  “But why wouldn’t they speak to me?”

  “I was mad because you liked Molly so much.” She gulped. “I guess that was just being mean. I told them they couldn’t talk to you.”

  The memory of the episode in the classroom with Trudy and Molly ran through Helen’s mind. “But you forgot to tell them not to sign.”