She stepped into the parlor and picked up her embroidery. “I’m going to look in on Margaret then go for a walk.”
Felicity grinned. “I can check on Margaret for you.”
“No, thank you. I need to put my sewing away, anyway. And get that smug look off your face, Felicity. We’re just friends.”
“If you say so.”
Helen shook her head and went upstairs. Margaret was busy writing in her diary and didn’t need anything, so Helen went to her room to put her things away. She straightened her dress and patted her hair. Should she change her blouse? No, of course not. The one she was wearing was just fine even though rather plain.
She took a deep breath and changed into a pretty blue blouse with a lace-trimmed collar. She might as well look nice if she was going to stroll down the lane. After all, it was Sunday afternoon. You never knew who would come to visit. Oh, stop it, Helen, she scolded herself. You want to look nice for Patrick.
She lifted her chin and went downstairs.
twelve
The fragrance of magnolia blossoms saturated the air as Helen and Patrick strolled down the lane. The peach trees were just starting to blossom as well. Helen inhaled deeply. One of the things she loved most about Georgia. The fragrance from early spring and throughout the summer was almost enough to offset the heavy, humid heat, which was already making its discomfort known.
They stopped just before the gate and sat on the bench beneath the old live oak tree.
“It’s so beautiful here in the spring.” Helen glanced around. “Sometimes I sit here and imagine the Quincy family and their friends before the War. I can almost see them strolling on the lawns and gardens, the ladies in their wide hoopskirts and the men in their ruffled shirts.”
Patrick grinned. “I’d say those ruffled shirts and hoopskirts weren’t too comfortable in the summer time.”
Helen smiled. “Probably not. The things we put up with for fashion.”
“So you think you’d like to have lived in that period of time?” He pulled a piece of grass and tapped it against his palm.
“Heavens, no! I could never have tolerated slavery. It must have been horrible for the slaves.” A shudder went through her.
Patrick sighed. “Yes, it must have been. I wonder if their owners realized that.”
“Some of them, perhaps. But I imagine, for those who were born and raised in that society, it was just part of life. It was the way things were.”
“Are any of the servants here former slaves?”
Helen bit her lip and sadness washed over her face. She nodded. “Virgie and Albert. But I believe they were quite young when the late Mrs. Quincy set all the family slaves free.”
“Set them free?”
“Yes, well before the War. As I understand it, her husband left everything to her when he passed away.” Admiration for the brave woman washed over her as it did every time she thought about it. “She freed all the slaves and gave them each land and a cabin. The ones who wanted to continue to work for her received salaries. Most of the blacks around here are descendants of those same slaves.”
Patrick shook his head. “You don’t hear too many stories like that. She must have been a fine woman.”
“Yes, but probably not too popular with her neighbors afterward.”
A carriage came around the bend and stopped at the gate. The driver got down and opened it.
“Look. It’s P.J. We weren’t expecting her until tomorrow.” Helen waved as the carriage rolled by them.
Patrick stood and tipped his hat as the director waved back then motioned for them to follow. “That’s good. Perhaps we can get this thing with Margaret settled and I won’t need to stay over.”
Disappointment tugged at Helen, but she managed to keep a pleasant expression on her face.
“Not that I’m eager to go,” Patrick said, “but I have a business to run.”
“Yes, of course.” And there it was again, glaring in Helen’s face and bursting her enjoyment of the afternoon. His life was in Atlanta; hers was here. “I suppose we’d better get back to the house to welcome her back.”
When they entered the house, the foyer was teeming with excited children surrounding P.J., each attempting to tell her hello. Helen grinned. P.J. could be firm in her speech sometimes, but she had a heart of gold and the children knew it.
Felicity and Howard finally managed to round the younger children up and take them to the mudroom to wash up for supper. The older students trailed behind. Enticing aromas drifted out the door from the kitchen area.
P.J. gave a little moan of delight. “I have sorely missed Selma’s cooking.”
“Miz Wellington, Selma is one right good cook.” Virgie believed in giving credit where credit was due and never mentioned that she’d taught Cook everything she knew.
“Now, let me go freshen up. Miss Edwards, Miss Wilson, and Mr. Waverly, I’d like to see the three of you in my office after supper, if you please.” She grew suddenly serious. “I need you to explain to me about the incident with our new student.”
“How in the world did you find out about it?” Charles asked her.
“I received a telegram from Dr. Quincy, but he told me very little. So I finished my business affairs and took the first train I could get.”
“Actually, Helen is the one who knows the details.” Charles glanced hopefully from P.J. to Helen. “The rest of us have heard very little of the matter. Perhaps she’s the one you need to speak with.”
“Very well. Now let me go. I’m hot from the sun, dusty from the train, and famished.”
“Wait, Miss Wellington,” Helen called after her. “I believe Mr. Flannigan should be included in our conversation. His daughter is involved in this, and he must return to Atlanta tomorrow.”
“All right. Mr. Flannigan, too.” P.J. fluttered the fingers of one hand over her shoulder without turning around.
Charles and Hannah headed toward the dining room.
Patrick glanced down at Helen. “Thank you for suggesting my presence at your meeting with the director.
“Of course, you should be there.” She nodded. “I need to take a tray up to Margaret. I’ll see you in a few minutes in the dining room.”
Since the children were eating their supper upstairs, the teachers and director and Patrick had the dining room to themselves. As much as Helen loved the students, the supper meal was her favorite of the day. The relaxing, casual conversation of adult friends and colleagues melted away the cares of the day.
She was pleased, if not a little embarrassed, when Patrick seated himself beside her.
Sissy served alone tonight since there were only a few dining. She dished up the soup and filled their glasses with either water or sweet tea then left the room with a soft swish of her skirts.
The main course was a cold chicken dish with vegetables on the side, followed by a rice pudding.
When the meal was over, Helen and Patrick followed P.J. to her office. After Patrick told her what Molly had revealed to him, Helen took over and talked about the meeting with Dr. Trent and Margaret’s subsequent confession.
“Dr. Trent confined Margaret to her room until your return.” Helen went on to tell her about Margaret’s sorrow over what she’d done and her repentance to God. “She desires to apologize to Molly, Trudy, and Lily Ann, but of course, I couldn’t give her permission to approach them. I’ll leave that up to you.”
P.J. stood. “Thank you both. Helen, I’ll speak with Margaret tomorrow. I’ll also need to talk to the other three girls. And of course, I’ll send a wire to Margaret’s parents asking them to come. They need to know what’s going on. Perhaps they’ll have an idea of the root cause of her behavior.” She frowned. “They may choose to remove her from the school.”
❧
He should have taken the train last night for Atlanta, but until this situation with the girls was cleared up, he simply couldn’t leave his daughter here without being nearby. Patrick left the hotel and walked towa
rd the livery. To be honest, he hated the thought of leaving Helen as well.
As he passed the vacant hardware store, he paused and peered through the window. Plenty of space and it appeared to be clean. The niggling of an idea began to form. He did like the rural area. But could he make a living here? He walked on, a wrinkle creasing his forehead as he thought. The thought of moving his business here hadn’t even crossed his mind until Molly had suggested it.
He arrived at the livery and the owner called out from behind the counter. “Good morning, Mr. Flannigan. Will you need the carriage today?”
“No, just a horse.” He would be making a quick trip to the school to speak to the director and say farewell to Molly and Helen. A horse would be faster.
He took notice of his surroundings as he rode the two miles to the school. Pink, red, white, and violet wild flowers dotted the green grass and many of the magnolias already had velvety white blossoms. It truly was beautiful and peaceful here.
He rode around the building to the barn. Albert glanced up and grinned, “Morning, Mist’ Flannigan. A might fine day, wouldn’t you say?”
“I sure would, Albert. Love the sunshine.”
“Yes, suh. Not a cloud in the sky.” He reached for the reins. “You be stayin’ long?”
“I’m not sure. It depends on. . .” He stopped. He supposed he shouldn’t be discussing the matter with Albert. Even if he had been with the school forever.
“Depends on what Miz P.J. gonna do ’bout that chile?” He lifted his wrinkled brown hand and pulled a glossy five-pointed leaf off a sweet gum tree and stuck it between his teeth.
Patrick chuckled. “Is there anything that gets past you?” He patted the horse on the rump and turned to go.
“Not much, suh. Not much.” Albert’s cackle followed Patrick as he walked toward the house.
The foyer was empty except for one of the maids, who knelt beside a small table, polishing the surface with cedar oil. Patrick’s nose twitched at the strong aroma.
“Mornin’, Mistuh Flannigan.” She nodded then turned back to her chore.
Miss Wellington came down the stairs, followed by Margaret. “Ah, Mister Flannigan. I’m glad you’re here. She stepped onto the foyer floor and pulled Margaret beside her. “Well, child, here is the first one I believe you need to speak to.”
Margaret’s face was pale and tear-streaked. She lifted her eyes and looked at Patrick. Her lips quivered. “Mr. Flannigan, I am so sorry for what I did. Truly I am.”
Patrick couldn’t help but notice that Margaret’s demeanor was much different from when he’d seen her last. Somehow she appeared older than her twelve years, as though she’d left childishness behind. Whereas her sorrow two days before was obviously more from getting caught, her countenance now held true repentance, just as Helen had said.
He reached out and took her hand. “I accept your apology, Margaret. I don’t think you’ll ever do anything like that again and I forgive you.”
Her indrawn sob was followed by a torrent of tears. “Thank you, sir.”
Patrick squeezed her hand before gently letting go. He glanced at Miss Wellington, who had a tender but firm look on her face.
The maid stood and with a little curtsy, retreated into the kitchen area. Miss Wellington stepped over to the bell cord and gave a tug.
A moment later, one of the older maids appeared. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Sally May, please fetch Molly and Trudy from Miss Wilson’s class and Lily Ann from Miss Edwards’s and ask them to come to my office. And tell both teachers I won’t keep them long.”
Sally May headed up the stairs and Miss Wellington turned to Patrick. “Mr. Flannigan, I’m having a meeting later today with the teachers. You are welcome to stay and join us if you can. If you need to get back to Atlanta, I assure you there will not be a repeat of this unfortunate incident.”
Patrick glanced at Margaret, who said, “I promise, sir. I only hope Molly and Trudy will still want to be my friends. But I won’t blame them if they don’t.”
“I believe you, Margaret.” He turned to the director. “If you don’t mind, I’ll stay for the midday meal so I can say farewell to the teachers.”
A hint of a smile graced Miss Wellington’s lips and her eyes danced. “Absolutely you should stay. I’m sure the teachers will want to say good-bye to you as well.”
At the emphasis on teachers, a hint of suspicion bit at Patrick and he peered at the director. However, her face was composed and her eyes as well. Perhaps he’d imagined the teasing tone in her voice.”
❧
Helen stood on the porch watching Patrick ride away on the chestnut mare. His back was straight and the muscles in his shirt sleeves tightened over his biceps. A shiver ran across her shoulders as she imagined a knight of old on his trusted steed. A laugh escaped her lips. Really, Helen Edwards. Get a grip on yourself and stop acting like a love-struck girl.
She turned and went inside.
Virgie had just come out of the dining room, presumably inspecting it to make sure it was in perfect shape after the midday meal. She smiled at Helen. “You like that redheaded Irishman, now, don’t you?”
Helen felt her face flame. Apparently Felicity wasn’t the only one who’d uncovered her secret. “He’s a very nice man. Of course I like him.”
“Umm. Hmm. I think it’s more than his nice ways you like.”
Helen laughed. “All right, Virgie. I do like Patrick. But there’s no sense in even thinking about it.”
“And why’s that? Can’t you see the way that man look at you, honey?”
Helen sighed. She couldn’t deny that. “But it’s hopeless. His business is in Atlanta and I can’t leave the school.”
Surprise crossed the soft brown face. “Why you think that?”
“Why, because I’m needed here. Especially now that the school is growing. More students will be enrolling next year.” What was Virgie thinking?
“Land sake, child.” Virgie touched her cheek. “You ain’t the only one who can teach these young’uns. I expect there be a line of young gals just waiting for the chance.”
Shock ran through Helen. How could Virgie say she wasn’t needed? She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. “I need to grade some papers, Virgie. I’ll see you at supper.”
She rushed upstairs and into her empty classroom, happy that the children were in other classes this hour. It would be different next year. There would be so many they’d have to divide up the classes into groups.
She sat and placed her face in her hands. Could Virgie be right? Was she really not needed here? She knew there were other teachers who were just as qualified as she to teach deaf children, but she’d been working hard to learn braille so she could help Lily Ann. Now that Abigail was expecting a baby, it would be out of the question for her to do it as she’d planned.
Mixed emotions ran through her. She could marry Patrick, if he asked. But how could she bear to be away from these children? She’d taught some of them for years.
Well, he likely wasn’t going to ask anyway. So why get herself all stirred up over nothing. But what if he did? Could she bring herself to go away? Even if there were other qualified teachers would they love these precious children the way she did?
Helen sighed. The idea was too fresh in her mind. She wouldn’t think about it right now. Besides, she had work to do.
thirteen
P.J. looked exhausted. Helen sympathized. The director had been gone for nearly a week and then returned to a problem that required a great deal of wisdom to resolve. Both windows in the office were open, but no air circulated and the late afternoon heat was oppressive. Helen’s arms, in elbow length sleeves, were too warm and her forearm clung to the leather chair’s arm. The other teachers looked just as uncomfortable.
“I won’t keep you long. I know you have things to do before supper.” P.J. picked up a cardboard fan from her desk and moved it rapidly back and forth then returned it to its resting place. “I’m sure
you’re all aware of the incident with Margaret.”
Charles cleared his throat. “Miss Wilson and I only know there was a problem concerning Margaret and some of the other children.”
Hannah nodded. “All I really know is that Margaret is confined to her room.”
P.J. nodded. “Margaret has been bullying three of the other girls. Not physically, but rather psychologically. I believe the girl is truly sorry for what she’s done. She has even repented to God and apologized to the girls and to one of the parents.”
“Well, that’s good.” Charles seemed a little confused. “Will she be returning to class soon?”
P.J. sighed and picked up the fan. She tapped it against the desk then laid it back down. “I’ll go into Mimosa Junction in the morning and send a telegram to her parents. They need to know about this. Perhaps they’ll have an idea of the root cause of her behavior.
“In the meantime, I would like to allow Margaret to return to her regular class schedule and take her meals in the dining room. As I said, she’s repented of her actions and I don’t believe we’ll have any more trouble on that line. The other three girls have assured me they haven’t discussed this with the other children so there shouldn’t be any problem. I did, however, want you to be aware of the situation. Some disciplinary action is needed, so she will not be allowed to go outside during recess or after school until I hear from her parents. I would appreciate it if one or more of you would volunteer to take her outside for an hour of exercise and fresh air once a day.”
Helen was about to offer to do it when Hannah spoke up. “I’d be happy to do that, Miss Wellington.”
“Thank you, Miss Wilson. I was hoping you would volunteer.” She smiled. “I know you have a younger sister near Margaret’s age. And you’re not that much older yourself.” She chuckled.
Hannah blushed. “Yes, ma’am. I’m happy to do it.”
Helen flinched. But P.J. was right. Margaret probably needed someone young to help her through this time. Hannah Wilson was all of twenty-one. At thirty-two, Helen sometimes felt ancient. Most of the girls she’d gone to school with had been married for years and had children. My, how time passed.
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