by Ann Shorey
Choosing a table near the door, Luellen and Belle joined three women who were finishing their meal. The one in the center, a serious-looking person with hair pinned tightly to the back of her head, smiled at them. “You’d better eat quickly. The bell for class will chime in a few minutes.”
Belle scrutinized her plate. “Quickly is the only way to eat the food here. If you stopped to think about it, you’d die of starvation.”
Chuckling, the three girls stood and headed for the door.
Luellen raked her fork through the gravy, her stomach protesting at the sight. “It’s been a day or two since ham was anywhere near this stuff. Looks like flour paste to me.”
“Probably tastes like it too.”
“Well, we better eat it. Dinner is a long ways off.” Luellen lifted a bowl from the center of the table. “I’m going to put applesauce on mine. Might make it taste better.”
Belle scooped a spoonful of butter onto her plate. “I’ll try this.” She cut a corner from the bread. Around a mouthful she said, “Are you ready for the constitutional history examination this morning?”
Luellen choked on a bite. “I forgot all about it!” Her mind jumped to the instructor’s lectures. Maybe she could dredge enough from her memory to pass the test.
“I thought you stayed in last night to study. How could you forget the examination?”
“I must’ve been distracted.” Luellen kept her eyes on her plate.
Fighting drowsiness, Luellen entered the Ladies Hall after her last class. Her corset pinched her waist. As soon as she reached her room, she’d be able to loosen the strings and breathe.
“Miss McGarvie.” Matron Bledsoe appeared at the doorway of the parlor. “You have a visitor.”
“Who is it?”
“Mr. Price, from the registrar’s office.”
Luellen swallowed. Had she broken one too many rules? She tried to read Mrs. Bledsoe’s features to see whether she’d made good her promise to report her to Dr. Alexander. The matron’s face was expressionless.
She led the way into the parlor, Luellen following. As soon as they appeared, Mr. Price jumped to his feet, knocking a stack of books off the table in the process. “So sorry.” He bent and scooped the books from the floor.
“Please, do sit down,” Mrs. Bledsoe said. “You young people have your conversation. Pay no attention to me.” She settled her bulk into an overstuffed chair and picked up a piece of needlepoint.
Luellen glanced between the matron and Mr. Price and chose a chair across from him. “How is it you are able to call on me? Isn’t it against school policy for male and female students to spend time together outside of class?”
Mr. Price opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, Mrs. Bledsoe cleared her throat. “Absolutely. However, Mr. Price isn’t a student here. He’s an employee of Allenwood, and as such has permission to come to the Ladies Hall as long as it’s on school business.” She pointed her needle at him. “He assured me this is a school matter.”
The young man’s face flushed. “Dr. Alexander sent me to escort you to his office. That is, if this is a convenient time for you, Miss McGarvie.” He ran a finger under the high collar of his shirt.
Luellen’s heart pounded. What did the registrar want? Was she to be expelled? Besides the unchaperoned trips to town, she’d obeyed every rule. Or had she? Was there some infraction she’d committed unknowingly? Her hands dropped to her abdomen. It wasn’t possible for Dr. Alexander to know her secret. No one knew.
“Miss McGarvie?” Mr. Price looked at her. “Would another time be better?”
“No. This is fine. Please give me a moment to put my papers away. I’ll join you directly.”
Mr. Price walked close at Luellen’s side as they paced along the corridor toward the registrar’s office. Overhead, footsteps sounded from the men’s housing on the upper floor. He pointed at the ceiling. “All those students sound like a herd of cattle. Makes it hard to get my work done.” The aroma of peppermint filled the air as he spoke.
She glanced at him. He wore his self-importance like an ill-fitting coat. Luellen wondered how long he’d been in his position as assistant to the registrar.
Dr. Alexander stood when she entered his office. “I appreciate your coming, Miss McGarvie. A matter has come up that I wish to discuss with you.”
“Yes?” Her pulse drummed in her throat.
He lifted a paper from his desk. “This is last Saturday’s Harper’s Weekly. Were you aware that banking has been suspended in New York and parts of New England?”
“No.” She felt the blood drain from her face.
“Please sit down.” His eyes widened in alarm. “Are you feeling faint? Would you like a glass of water?”
Without waiting for her answer, he stepped to the door and called into the anteroom. “Mr. Price. Please bring a pitcher of water and two glasses.”
Luellen heard a scrambling sound. Footsteps retreated down the hall. Dr. Alexander turned and studied her face. “I apologize for being so abrupt with such shocking news. When I read the article, my first thought was of your situation. Forgive the personal question, but were you able to contact your father regarding your funds?”
She took a deep breath and held it for a moment. “I heard from him yesterday. He’s been able to secure part of my savings, as well as a portion of his own.”
Mr. Price barged into the room with the requested water. He nodded at Luellen and placed a tray on a table next to the wall. After glancing at the registrar, he poured a glassful, the lip of the pitcher clinking against the rim, and handed it to Luellen.
“Thank you.” She sipped it, realizing her mouth had gone dry.
“My pleasure.”
Dr. Alexander cleared his throat. “That will be all for now, Price.”
Once the clerk left, Dr. Alexander leaned against his desk, arms folded across his chest. “Of course, we don’t know yet whether this incident will affect banks in Illinois. One hopes it will not. Nevertheless, I was concerned about you when the Weekly arrived.”
“You’re extremely kind to take this much interest in my welfare. Forgive my asking, but are you this attentive to the finances of all your students?”
He stuck his thumbs in the pockets of his waistcoat. “Each student is different, Miss McGarvie. You’re excellent teacher material—it’s in the interest of Allenwood’s reputation to assist you in every way I can.”
“I’m very appreciative.” Her heart warmed at his praise. For the moment she pushed the worry about her pregnancy to the back of her mind. She’d think about it later.
“I have a daughter around your age.” His mouth tightened. “She showed the same potential you do, but unfortunately she chose an early marriage and now has two children. She’s been a severe disappointment to me.”
Luellen cringed inside. She knew what a blow her marriage to Brendan must have been to her parents. Somehow she would get through the program at Allenwood without disappointing them or Dr. Alexander.
He walked back around his desk. “The first session of our Model School begins on Monday. Based on your exemplary work thus far, I’m recommending you for practice teaching right away, rather than waiting for the next term.”
She swallowed hard at the thought of additional work added to what she was already doing. “I’ll try to live up to your faith in me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How are you progressing with your botany studies? I understand you’ve completed the primary zoology text.”
“I have. I’m working on botany drawings each evening after my regular classwork.”
“Excellent. I’m sure you’ll sail through the examination next month.”
Luellen wished she were as convinced.
When she emerged from Dr. Alexander’s office, Mr. Price jumped to his feet. “I’ll be happy to escort you across the campus.”
“Thank you, but that won’t be—”
“You’re needed here, Mr. Price,” the registrar’s voi
ce thundered. “Please tend to those reports.”
He flushed bright red and fell back in his chair. “Some other time,” he said, keeping his head down.
Luellen almost felt sorry for him, but at the same time she couldn’t understand his interest. There were plenty of other girls on campus for him to pursue. As for her, she couldn’t be more ineligible than she was now.
On Monday morning, icy rain pecked at the window while Luellen dressed. She laced her corset loosely, wishing she had more than one high-waisted gown in her wardrobe. She tried on the brown gored skirt, but it was uncomfortably tight. If she had time this evening, she’d let out the seams. A shawl would cover the alterations. In the meantime, she’d wear the yellow dress again.
Her nerves fluttered as she swept her hair up and covered it with her green silk net. Was she ready to face a roomful of youngsters? What if she couldn’t hold their attention?
Belle rapped on her door, using their special signal of three taps followed by two quick ones. “Are you ready?” she asked when she stepped into the room.
“Much as I’ll ever be.” Luellen gathered the primer and first reader that the classroom instructor had given her for review. “I remember the teacher I had when I was six. He was so harsh to us little ones. My prayer is that I can guide these children without crushing their spirits.”
Belle pretended to applaud. “That sounds like a commencement speech.”
“That’ll be next year.” Luellen chuckled. “I know I sound high blown, but truly that’s been my motive all along.”
“I know. I feel the same way. My younger brother was so taxed by one of his teachers that he just quit learning. He’s eighteen now, and can hardly read or write, much to my parents’ dismay.”
“I’ve seen that too. Especially with lively young boys. How anyone can whip a small child . . .” Luellen shook her head. “Anyway, I hope to change that—in my classroom at least.”
After breakfast they left together, wrapped in cloaks against the blowing rain. When they reached the gravel walkway, Luellen turned east toward the Model School, situated across from the chapel on Chestnut Street.
Belle waved as she walked to the Lecture Hall. “Best of luck. I know you’ll be successful.”
Fourteen curious faces turned in Luellen’s direction when she entered the schoolroom. Pausing to hang her cloak on a peg, she was engulfed by the aroma of damp wool and oiled floors. Between the windows on one side, a stove glowed with heat.
A stocky woman turned from the blackboard where she’d written practice words for the day’s lesson. “Children, this is Miss McGarvie. She will be your teacher this morning.” She left the board and held out her hand. “I’m Mrs. Guthrie. I graduated from Allenwood’s program two years ago.”
Luellen clasped Mrs. Guthrie’s hand. The teacher’s glasses, perched at the end of a round nose, magnified her pale blue eyes.
“I’m happy to meet you,” Luellen said. “Please tell me what you’d like me to cover today.”
The children whispered and fidgeted in their seats while Mrs. Guthrie showed her the place in the first reader that she’d been using when she wrote on the blackboard. The whispering grew louder. Smiling, Mrs. Guthrie bent her head near Luellen’s ear. “They’re all yours. I will be in the back of the room, but only as an observer.” She whisked away.
Luellen stepped to the front of the room, her nerves jumping. Folding her arms across her middle, she arranged her face in a pleasant expression and waited, her eyes moving around the room. Each desk held two children, and had been arranged so the smallest ones sat in front. Gradually the whispers stopped.
“I see you have new words this morning,” she said. “Can anyone read these for me?” She fought to keep her voice from shaking.
Hands waved in the air.
A round-cheeked boy bounced in his seat. He looked as though he’d burst if he didn’t get to recite what was written on the blackboard.
Luellen pointed at him. “What is your name?”
“Joshua.”
“All right, Joshua. Please read the first two words.”
He stood. Luellen noticed he seemed small for a six- or seven-year-old. His dark hair had obviously been cut by using a bowl for shape, and his shirt was patched. “Good. Rolled. Every.” Joshua sat down, looking pleased with himself.
She shot a glance at the back of the room. How would Mrs. Guthrie handle this? Taking a deep breath, she forged ahead. “Very good. But that was three words, wasn’t it?”
“Joshua always does that, Teacher,” a blonde girl said. “He thinks he’s so smart.”
“Do not.”
Luellen cocked her head, folded her arms again, and waited. The children glanced at one another, then focused their attention on her.
“There will be enough time for each of you to read to me today. But you must wait until I call on you.” She turned to the blonde girl. “What is your name?”
“Cassie.”
“Would you read me the next two words, please, Cassie?”
“Af-ter. Be-gan.” She smoothed the skirt of her long-sleeved brown dress.
“Thank you.” Luellen called on children until all the words on the board had been pronounced, then sat behind the teacher’s desk and lifted the reader. “Open your books to the pancake story, please.”
The rustle of pages filled the room as books were opened, one to a desk. Heads bent together over the readers.
“Who’d like to read first?”
Joshua’s hand sprang into the air.
Luellen smiled at him. “Let’s give someone else a chance.” Her eyes found one of the girls toward the back. Curly hair fought with the braids she wore—the curls winning. She reminded Luellen of herself as a child. “What is your name, dear?”
“Elizabeth Goins. Can I read?”
“May I read. Yes, please do.”
Elizabeth bent over the book, her finger following the text. “A big fat cook made a big fat pan . . . cake. Near the cook were seven hun . . . hun . . .”
“Hungry!” Joshua shouted.
Luellen held up her index finger. “Manners, Joshua. It’s Elizabeth’s turn. Please apologize.”
Joshua blushed and lowered his head. “Sorry.”
Elizabeth resumed the story. When she finished the page, her seatmate had a turn. Once the children had read to the end of the tale, it was time for sums, geography, and finally, dinner. The room filled with the sound of pails being opened and food being unwrapped.
Luellen’s stomach growled. She’d been too nervous to eat much breakfast, and now she felt ready to collapse. The noon bell rang from the chapel tower. If she hurried, she could arrive in the dining hall in time for the meal. But first, she needed to hear the teacher’s assessment of her performance. Her hands shook as she waited.
“You were wonderful,” Mrs. Guthrie said in a voice meant for Luellen’s ears alone. “The children responded to you very well. I’m going to enjoy working with you this term.” She patted Luellen’s shoulder. “Now, I imagine you’re ready for some food. Go on with you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Luellen blew out a breath. “Thank you. I’ll be here.”
When she stepped outside, the wind caught at her hood and blew it off her head. Rain splattered her face. She pulled the hood up, holding it with one hand while she darted across the street and into the Ladies Hall.
She inhaled. Pea soup. She hoped they had cornbread with it. Luellen shook the rain from her cloak and hung it near the door. If she hurried, she could have dinner and still arrive at the afternoon elocution class on time.
As she walked toward the dining room, part of her mind remained on the children in the Model School. Joshua was such a darling boy, so precocious. And Elizabeth—she’d love to take her under her wing and help her become an avid reader. For the first time, the child she carried in her womb became real to her. Would it be a boy or a girl? What would he or she look like?
When she passed the parlor, Mrs. Bledsoe int
ercepted her.
“You have a visitor, Miss McGarvie. Your cousin, from Chicago.”
10
Luellen reached out and steadied herself against the wall. She had no cousin in Chicago. Her visitor could only be one person. Heart pounding, she followed the matron into the parlor and found herself face-to-face with Brendan O’Connell.
He stepped forward and took her hand. “Darlin’ Luellen. It’s been a long time.”
She stared at him, speechless.
“You’re surprised. I should’ve written first, but I hardly had time, what with one thing and another.” His grip on her hand tightened.
Mrs. Bledsoe bustled over, obviously taken in by his handsome face and broad-shouldered build. “Do sit down, Mr. O’Connell. How kind of you to pay a visit to your cousin.” A puzzled expression crossed her face. “With that Irish accent, how is it you and Miss McGarvie are cousins?”
“By marriage, ma’am.”
Luellen found her voice. “Actually, a former marriage, Mrs. Bledsoe. Technically, we are no longer related.” She jerked her hand free.
The matron stared from one to the other. “This is all too confusing for me.” She turned to Brendan and pointed at a chair next to the fire. “Won’t you have a seat? I’m sure you and Miss McGarvie have much to talk about.”
“Indeed we do, but I’d rather escort my cousin on a walk around the grounds.” He gripped Luellen’s elbow. “Wouldn’t you like to show me your school?”
“But it’s raining,” Mrs. Bledsoe said. “Surely you’d be more comfortable in here.”
“Ah, we Irish are used to rain. Reminds us of home.” He propelled Luellen toward the door. “Let’s get our wraps and step out into the lovely afternoon.”
Once in the entryway, he released her arm and dropped an oilcloth poncho over his head. Fuming, she threw her cloak over her shoulders and stalked to the door.
