by Lorin Grace
Samuel paused and looked Tim in the eye. Tim was being measured and hoped he wasn’t found as lacking as he felt.
“If you leave this building and decide to pursue Sarah, I expect you to see it through to the end. You can’t quit if she tries to brush you off, because we both know she will. After four years, mourning is a habit with her. But if you leave here still unsure, I will ask you once again to stay away.”
“There is something else you should know; the black mailer’s game isn’t at an end. Miss Brooks intends to slander Sarah’s reputation in front of the school board tomorrow night. I intend to be there. I know it won’t stop Miss Brooks, but I hope it shows Sarah I intend to stay regardless of the consequence.”
“Then I think we both have our answers. And just in time. I hear someone calling for us to come eat.”
Tim looked at the half-finished carving. Did he really know his answer?
Thirty-six
The fancy hairstyle Sarah had configured would be hidden by her hat and veil, but knowing she was as presentable as possible made her feel brave.
She tucked her resignation letter in her reticule and went downstairs. She hoped Samuel and Louisa would come before Rose woke up, as the black silk showed every little stain. She paced back and forth. If she could speak first, then perhaps she could escape without being revealed by Miss Brooks. She could hardly believe quiet Clara had done such a thing but had spent enough time questioning Tim on the way home last evening she was sure he wasn’t mistaken.
At least she’d solved part of the mystery of how Miss Brooks had come to be in possession of the last letter Sarah had written to Mark. One of Mark’s tent mates had been Joseph Brooks, Clara’s older brother. Joseph had died at Fort Sullivan in the summer of ’14. Somehow the letter had been among his belongings. Sarah had always assumed Mark had received that letter. Had he never known about their child?
Sarah placed her hand on her abdomen. It felt as if she’d swallowed a hummingbird. She could do this. Her talk with Samuel last night had gone much better than she’d hoped. He’d opened the Bible he kept in his shop and read the words of Jesus to the woman who was to be stoned. Then he’d showed her a piece of lumber. “I was going to make a chair out of this, but see this scar? It would make the chair weak. Recently, someone commissioned a chest for a wedding gift.” Samuel turned the board over and traced the grain where a natural heart had formed. “This would not be here if not for the scar. The father has offered to pay me extra if I use this for the top. It is the scar that makes it beautiful, pumpkin. And you were never meant to be a chair.”
Sarah envied the woman who would own the chest. She had not spoken to John, as Samuel had offered to ask his brother if she was still welcome to travel west with him next week.
A knock on the door caused her to jump. It was less than fifteen minutes until the meeting. Samuel was late. She opened the door, ready to censure him for his tardiness, and found Tim there instead.
“Dr. Dawes, what are you doing here?”
“I came to accompany you to the school-board meeting. Dr. Morton has asked me to attend in his stead.”
“But … you … but—”
At that moment, Samuel and Louisa arrived. “I am going to go with Samuel.” She didn’t want Tim there to witness her humiliation. Before she could explain, Samuel and Louisa joined them.
“Aunt Sarah, where is Rose?”
“She is sleeping. Come, and I will show you where her bottle is.” As Sarah took her niece into the kitchen, she noted a few unspoken words pass between Samuel and Tim. The hummingbird flapped harder than it had all day. Even more than when she’d sat in Reverend Palmer’s office and confessed to him. She concentrated on the moment the fluttering had stopped when the reverend told her he doubted she would have to pay any fines or be sent to jail.
Sarah replayed his words in her mind while Louisa filled the bottle. “Some of the purposes of the law are to encourage couples to marry and to provide funds for those children who are abandoned by women who ply their trade in such immorality. Had Mark lived, you would have been wed, and only the old gossips would care about the baby’s birthdate. If every couple who had a child less than seven months after their wedding were fined for breaking the law, there would be no shortage of funds in the city’s coffers and we might need another judge. So the law isn’t enforced. You didn’t bear a child. If you went to the judge, he would tell you the same. He is much too busy with actual offenses. If you feel you should, donate your forty dollars to the church or an orphanage or use it to care for Amity’s child until a home is found for her.”
She’d left the reverend with a light heart and with twenty dollars less in her reticule. The rest she would use for Rose.
Sarah took a deep breath and went to join Samuel and Tim.
Samuel had left without her.
The color drained from Sarah’s face. “Where is Samuel?”
Tim waited for Sarah to tie her bonnet. “He went on ahead.” Tim held out his arm. Sarah’s touch was so light he had to look to assure himself she had taken his offered assistance.
He helped her into the buggy. Sarah’s hand quivered, and Tim gave it a gentle squeeze.
“You shouldn’t be seen with me tonight of all nights.”
He had to strain to hear Sarah above the sound of the turning wheels.
“I am where I want to be.”
Buggies, carriages, and wagons were parked in every available space around the schoolhouse. Tim maneuvered the buggy near the edge, where he could leave if an emergency arose. He had prayed all day that no one would take ill, shoot themselves while cleaning a gun, or trip over a twig between now and nine o’clock.
Tim helped Sarah down, noting that the quaking had stopped.
“Go on in. I’ll be in momentarily. No one need know we came together.”
Tim offered his arm. “I know we came together, and I am not going in without you.”
Sarah gave him a hesitant smile before laying her hand on his arm. “Thank you for helping me be brave.”
At least that was what he thought she’d said.
Several fathers of students stood, leaving the open seats for the few women in attendance, other than the teachers, to sit for the proceedings.
Mr. Colburn met Tim at the door. “Dr. Dawes, we received Dr. Morton’s note saying you would be taking his place tonight. If you would sit up front. Miss Marden, you can sit over with Miss Page and our new teacher, Miss Brooks.”
Miss Page had separated herself from Miss Brooks by sitting on the far side of the male teachers. She had an open seat next to her and gave Sarah a weak smile. Miss Brook’s venomous glare caused a shiver to run down Tim’s spine.
Sarah didn’t move to her seat but instead pulled a paper from her reticule. “Preceptor Colburn, I have a matter for the board.”
“You and every other teacher.”
“This is my letter of resignation.”
Mr. Colburn narrowed his eyes. “Surely you are not getting married.”
Tim found the rotund man just as odious as he had upon their first meeting in this very room last spring. Did he think all women deserved his disdain? Or just Sarah?
Sarah shook her head. “No. I am not.”
“I’ll add it to the list of items. But they may vote not to let you go until a replacement can be found. Fall term is close at hand.”
Sarah nodded at Miss Page but sat on the bench next to Samuel.
Tim followed the preceptor to the front of the room.
Reverend Palmer led them in a prayer to start the meeting. The reverend’s plea echoed in Tim’s ears with the amens: “And remind us, O Lord, to love our neighbors as Thou hast loved us.”
When Tim raised his eyes and found Sarah’s, he had no doubt Sarah had told the reverend everyt
hing.
One of the superintendents stood. “Our first order of business pertains to the start of the term . . .”
Samuel leaned over and whispered in Sarah’s ear. “John is willing to let you come with them. And we gave permission for Lettie to go with him as well.”
“But she is going to Bradford.”
Samuel shook his head. “School has always been difficult for her, and she loves her niece and nephew so. She feels this is what she should do.”
Sarah mulled over her niece’s choice. Lettie had turned sixteen weeks ago. And no young man she knew of had shown her a bit of interest. Lettie would provide a nice buffer between her and John, who would eventually say something about her disgrace.
“ … all those who vote aye?”
Next to her, Samuel joined with the ayes.
Sarah wondered what they had voted on. She looked at Samuel. He had held off telling her about Lettie’s decision just to distract her! And it had worked.
“Ayes have it. School will start two weeks later to give time for our farmers to bring in a late harvest. Next, Preceptor Colburn has several matters.”
The man stood and shuffled some papers. “There are several letters and items of import, but I am not sure which one to share first. It has been brought to my attention that one of our teachers has not maintained the high morals our school requires. However, this very teacher has also resigned this evening. So I hesitate to read this letter, although I am afraid for the protection of all her students, her deeds must be known.”
Several of the women craned their necks to look at the female teachers. Sarah took a deep breath and held her head up. She didn’t dare look at Tim. Be brave.
Reverend Palmer stood. “Preceptor, may I see the letter?” Sarah held her breath as the reverend looked over the letter she had written to Mark so long ago. “Mr. Colburn, how did you come to have this letter in your possession?”
“I cannot say. It was given to me in confidence.”
“This letter is from a young woman to her fiancé, who served in the last war. It contains sentiments never meant for other eyes. Since neither the soldier who has passed or the woman in question would voluntarily give this letter to you or anyone else, I believe the letter may be stolen or possibly forged. I say it is not evidence of any wrongdoing.” The reverend folded the paper and put it in his pocket.
Disappointed looks passed among some of the audience. Miss Brooks adjusted her hat. Parmelia shifted in her seat.
Mr. Colburn looked around uncomfortably.
Tim stood. “If the reverend feels the evidence should not be submitted, I suggest we move on to the other business.”
“Yes, well … I, um, received three letters of resignation. First, from Mr. Stanworth, who has been offered a position in New Hampshire. The others are from Miss Page and Miss Marden. Both of their reasons for leaving are rather vague.”
Again, heads turned. Sarah was glad her face was obscured by the veil. Poor Parmelia! People might think the girl was the one, although to the best of her knowledge, Parmelia had no prior fiancé.
“That will leave us without three teachers.” Several people repeated the obvious.
Mr. Colburn cleared his throat. “Several applications from male teachers I feel should be considered are on my desk. I was going to propose Miss Brooks be offered a permanent position, but I am removing my support of her employment.”
The superintendent stood. “Other than your well-known disdain for lady teachers, do you have any reason to not promote Miss Brooks?”
The preceptor tugged at his collar. “Miss Brooks has been unreliable in that I have had occasion to question her integrity.”
“I see. Miss Brooks, have you anything to say?”
Reverend Palmer tapped his pocket. Miss Brooks stood and opened her mouth, then closed it, her gaze on the minister. Finally, she shook her head and sat down.
“Thank you for working here this summer. We wish you the best. Mr. Stanworth, Miss Page, Miss Marden, you shall be missed. Mr. Colburn, if you would please give the applications to the board, we will set up interviews for next week. That will give us time to gather a few more applicants, including women.”
Mr. Colburn’s face reddened, but he handed the papers to the superintendent and sat down.
“I believe that concludes our meeting. We will publish the times of the interviews in case any parent wishes to be in attendance. Good evening.”
Samuel patted Sarah’s hand. “Just one more gauntlet to go. Keep your head up.”
“I need to talk to Miss Page.” Sarah motioned for Parmelia to meet her in the next classroom.
As soon as they were alone, Sarah lifted the veil, glad for the fresh air. “When did you decide to resign?”
“Oh, last night. I couldn’t be anywhere near Miss Brooks.”
“But now that she isn’t teaching, you could stay.”
Parmelia looked around the classroom she’d taught in. “I never enjoyed teaching like you or Miriam did. I prefer less noise. My aunt has written me several times of a family in Boston who wants a governess for their three daughters. I think I shall apply.”
“Do you have any other ideas?”
“Oh, I am not suited to mission work like Harriet Atwood Newell. Plus, I would need a husband. There is always Alphonso in Baltimore, and I think I possess most of the qualities he desires. Perhaps if I am very lucky, I could make him his coffee each day before I ride off in my coach and four.” Her smile filled her whole face.
“Please tell me you wouldn’t be that desperate!”
Parmelia shook her head. “Oh, never. But I might suggest it to Clara. She deserves such a man.”
Sarah laid her hand on Parmelia’s arm. “That is terribly unkind.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose other than writing a horrible advertisement, he has done nothing to deserve her.”
“Gossiping, ladies?” Miss Brooks stopped at the door to the classroom. “Or are you congratulating Miss Marden on saving the shreds of her reputation? At least the reverend knows now.”
“Reverend Palmer was aware of my past before he read the letter.” Sarah lowered her veil. “Now, if you will excuse me, I hate to keep anyone waiting.”
Thirty-seven
A young boy ran up as Tim led Sarah to his buggy. “Dr. Dawes, Mrs. Morton says you gotta come quick.”
Sarah patted his arm. “Samuel is still here. Go.”
Unasked, the boy climbed up in the buggy with Tim. “So where are we going?”
“Dr. Morton’s.”
Tim prayed his hunch was wrong.
“You keep doing that, Rose, and I will need to lay aside black for the rest of my mourning.” Sarah wiped at the sour milk Rose had spit on the shoulder of her gray dress. “How do you always manage to miss the cloth?”
Someone knocked on the door. Who could it be this late?
Sarah glanced out the window before opening the door. “Parmelia, what is wrong?”
Parmelia blew her nose loudly. “Oh, we had a terrible row, and Widow Webb told me I need to leave. She gave me until the morning, but I can’t stay there with Clara in the house. May I stay here?”
“You are more than welcome providing you don’t find Rose an unsuitable hostess.” Sarah eyed the small bag Parmelia carried. “Where are the rest of your things?”
“Oh, I only own one small trunk. I can get it in the morning. It is too late to ask for help. Besides, I didn’t know if you would let me stay. I can’t pay much as my funds are rather tight.”
“You can stay for free if you will cook. You have no idea how tired I am of eating of boiled eggs and porridge. I am such a terrible cook.”
“Oh, I was too until I got a copy of Amelia Simmons’s American Cookery. It is ever so much better than Th
e Universal Cook. Maybe because it’s written by an orphan like me, but I just understand it better.”
Sarah led Parmelia upstairs. “I haven’t cleaned the room since Mrs. Duncan left. I have been sleeping in the downstairs room since Rose was born. Mrs. Larkin and Mrs. Palmer re-stuffed the tick for me after Amity passed. My room is a disaster, my dresses all over . . .”
Parmelia held up her hand. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I can only imagine how difficult it has been to be alone with a baby.”
He shouldn’t stop, but he could see two people in the parlor, so Sarah wasn’t alone, although it was past ten. Perhaps Louisa had stayed. She wouldn’t be the best chaperone but enough for propriety.
Tim tapped lightly at the door.
Sarah opened it, holding Rose to her shoulder. “Dr. Dawes, whatever is wrong?” She opened the door for him.
“Can we talk?” He choked out the words.
“Oh, I’ll take Rose.”
Not until she spoke did Tim realize who sat in the room. “Miss Page, I am sorry. Am I interrupting?”
Parmelia lifted the baby from Sarah’s shoulder. “Oh no, Miss Marden and I were just discussing cooking.”
“Miss Page is going to live here for a few days. Come, sit. Do you need tea? What happened?” Sarah bit her lip.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have come. But I need to talk . . .”
Sarah took his hand and led him to a chair. “Tim, whatever is wrong?”
What had possessed him to come? Looking at the worry on Sarah’s face, he was sure he had made a mistake. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ––”
Sarah put her hands on her hips. “Timison George Dawes, you’ve heard the very darkest secrets of my soul. I don’t care what you need to say, you just say it.” She pulled over the ottoman and perched herself on it.
