by Ann Shorey
With each letter she wrote, she told him the sound and had him repeat it back to her. When they reached G, she underlined the letter in the word GRUFF so he’d see the connection to the sound of his name. As the morning went on, she forgot she was teaching an adult, and simply enjoyed watching Daniel as he grasped the concept of sounding out letters to form words. How was it he’d completed school and failed to learn?
Belle’s comment about her brother came to Luellen’s mind. He’d been disciplined in school so severely as a young boy that he refused to try. She suspected that had been the case with Daniel.
Belle. As quickly as the name came to her mind, she turned it away. They’d be back at Allenwood next month. How could she make up to her friend for her unkind behavior? Did she dare trust the depth of their affection? She tucked the questions aside for later consideration.
“I think this is enough for one day,” she said after two hours had passed. “Take this reader home with you and practice on the first story. Don’t worry if you can’t do it all—just read the words you can and copy out the ones you have trouble with. We’ll go over them the next time you come.”
Daniel’s broad hand dwarfed the child-sized volume. He opened the book to “The Pancake.” His eyes widened. “I don’t know, Miss Luellen. There’s a lot here.”
“Take it one word at a time. You’ll surprise yourself.”
He stood and mopped his forehead with a kerchief. “You’re a caution. Little girl like you and here you are a teacher.”
“Not officially. Not yet.” Her future held more questions than answers.
On Monday, Luellen woke at dawn with cramps stabbing at her abdomen. Alarmed, she felt for movement from the baby. Nothing. She rolled onto her side, swinging her legs to the floor.
She grabbed her wrapper from the foot of the bed. Gray light revealed dark stains on the sheet. Please, no! She tore down the stairs. “Papa!”
He emerged from the kitchen, holding a mug in his hand. “What’s wrong?”
Mama followed him into the dining room. She took one look at Luellen’s face and ran to her side. “Are you ill?”
“It’s the baby.”
Papa slammed the mug onto the table, splattering coffee. In a flash, he had his arm around Luellen, steering her to a chair. He sat facing her. “Tell me what you’re experiencing.”
She dropped her gaze, embarrassed to be sharing such a personal subject with her father. “I . . . I’m bleeding.”
His hand rested on her forehead. “No fever. Any pains?”
“Some cramping.” She rubbed her abdomen. “Right here.”
“Do you hurt now?”
Luellen took a deep breath. “No.” She swallowed. “They stopped.”
Mama stood behind the chair, hands on Luellen’s shoulders. Luellen felt her trembling.
“Karl, is the baby safe?”
“It’s too soon to know.” He stood. “I’m ordering bed rest for you. Stay down except to use the chamber pot. Your mother will bring your meals.”
He turned to Mama. “We’ll put her on the divan. It’s frigid upstairs.”
Too frightened to argue, Luellen asked, “How long will I have to stay in bed?”
“I don’t know. Depends on what happens.”
Mama took her hand. “Let’s get you into a fresh gown, then you can settle down for the day.”
Reclining against a stack of pillows, her Rose of Sharon quilt tucked around her, Luellen watched snow flurries dance over the street. The tedium of inactivity gnawed at her. A stack of flannel nightdresses she’d embroidered for the baby lay on the quilt, next to a half-finished lesson plan. Mama sat near the fire, stitching trim onto a tiny cambric shirt.
“I’ve been fine for days, Mama. Don’t you think I can get up long enough to help Daniel tomorrow?”
“What’s the urgency? He can come back when Papa says it’s safe for you to be up and around.”
“In three weeks I return to Allenwood. I want to be sure Daniel’s learning on his own before I go—plus I need the money he’s paying me.”
“How can you even consider getting on a train and traveling all that distance after what’s happened?”
Luellen laid a hand on her abdomen. As though responding to her touch, the baby bumped against her palm. “Papa said cramping is normal.”
“Bleeding isn’t,” Mama shot back. “You’re risking my grandchild’s life.”
“I’m not. I’ll lie here as long as necessary to protect my baby, but not one second longer. If there are no more symptoms between now and next month, I’m going.”
Mama pursed her lips. “We’ll see what your father says.” She rose and moved toward the entryway.
Remembering Papa’s asthma attack the last time they’d argued, Luellen held out a hand to stop her. “I’d prefer to talk to him myself. It can wait until suppertime.” Between now and then she’d decide the best way to wheedle him around to her way of thinking.
That evening, she smiled at her father across the table. “Thank you for letting me get up for dinner. Lying down for so long hurts my back.”
“Being on your feet for short times shouldn’t be harmful.” He buttered a wedge of cornbread. “But you need to return to the divan as soon as we’ve finished.”
Mama raised an eyebrow in Luellen’s direction. “I believe Lulie has something to ask you.”
Luellen frowned. She’d rather have waited until after dessert. “I’d like your permission to follow through on my appointment with Daniel tomorrow. He’ll be here at ten.”
“There’s no reason he can’t come back in a few weeks, when you’re better.”
Mama laid her fork on her plate, her gaze switching between Luellen and Papa. She looked ready to spring to her feet if Papa showed any sign of distress.
“We’ll only be a couple of hours.” Luellen prayed for the right words. “I’ve been up nearly that long now, without ill effects. Besides, students learn best when education is continuous. If we miss sessions, I may have to start over. It would be a shame to discourage him—he was so excited last week.” She realized she was rattling and put her fingers over her lips to stop herself.
“I don’t know—I’m not convinced the danger is passed.”
“How about if I promise to stop the lesson if I feel any discomfort?”
“How about if I sit in and keep my eye on you?”
Luellen looked down so he wouldn’t see her roll her eyes. When she lifted her head, she sent her father a sweet smile. “That would be fine. I do hope Daniel won’t feel self-conscious.”
Mama looked at her with a questioning expression. Luellen shook her head. The rest of their discussion would have to wait. Papa needed to agree that she was perfectly healthy before she brought up the subject of Allenwood.
On Saturday morning, Papa watched from his post near the kitchen door, newspaper in hand, while Luellen gathered her lesson papers and stacked them at one end of the dining table. He folded the Illinois Monitor and set it aside. “How are you feeling?”
“Quite well.” She’d never admit it, but she did feel a bit weak.
“As soon as Daniel leaves, I want you to lie down.”
“I know. You already said so.” Arms folded, she flounced into a chair to wait for Daniel’s knock.
Papa sent her a sharp look and returned to perusing the Monitor.
Daniel stopped at the entrance to the dining room. “Doc. What are you doing here?” He looked at Luellen. “Aren’t we having a lesson today?”
“We are. Papa just wanted to keep an eye on me. I . . . haven’t been feeling well.”
The big man’s face reddened. “I’m happy to see you and all, Doc, but these here lessons are between me and Miss Luellen. I can’t stand in front of another man and read baby stories.” He drew the reader from inside his jacket and laid it on the table. “I’m sorry.” He backed away and headed for the front door.
Luellen shot an agonized glance at her father, then dashed after Daniel.
“Wait. I’m sure Papa can sit in another room.” She turned. “Can’t you? If I collapse, you’ll hear the crash.”
Daniel snickered. “You always did have a quick tongue,” he said under his breath.
Papa’s chair scraped against the floor as he rose. Anger chased worry from his face. “I’ll be in my office.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re to rest as soon as you’re finished, do you understand?”
She nodded, embarrassed at his tone but knowing she deserved the rebuke. Her face hot, Luellen pointed at a chair. “Let’s get started.” She noticed Daniel had taken pains with his appearance again. He wore a fresh white shirt and a waistcoat under his jacket. His hair had been cut into a neat trim just below his ears.
As they reviewed last week’s words, Luellen’s admiration for his efforts grew. She opened the reader to “The Pancake,” smiling approval as he made his way through the story. They both chuckled at the ending.
“I’ve heard that one before,” Daniel said. “Only it was a ’gator and a duck.” He grinned. “Got to be careful who you trust.”
“That’s true.” She turned to the next story and printed the practice words on the slate. Together they worked through pronunciation. By the time he left, Luellen felt drained but satisfied. Daniel was making progress—she’d been right to insist that they not interrupt the lessons. But why did he wait until now to decide to learn to read?
She climbed the stairs to her room to slip into her nightgown, pulling herself along by using the handrail. Each step was an effort. She’d rest, as Papa ordered, but wouldn’t tell him how tired she was. As long as she had no further symptoms, nothing would stop her from returning to school.
Luellen folded her quilt over the top of clothing and books in her trunk. Tomorrow morning she’d add her night things and be ready to leave. Three weeks had passed and all seemed normal with her baby. New dresses hid her changing figure. Swallowing a flutter of tension, she dared to hope that she’d be able to complete the term.
Papa tapped on the door frame. “Daniel stopped by to see you. He’s downstairs in the sitting room.”
“We finished with our lessons on Saturday.”
“He said he has something for you.”
“Oh, Papa, I pray he hasn’t come courting.”
He smiled at her. “Instead of jumping to conclusions, why don’t you go see what he wants?”
She followed him down the stairs. Daniel turned from his spot in front of the fire, his face breaking into a grin when he saw her. “Miss Luellen. I couldn’t let you leave without thanking you again for helping me.” He dug in his pocket and handed her a gold coin.
“Five dollars! You already paid me for tutoring. I can’t accept this.”
He closed her fingers around the gold piece. “I want you should have it. Because of you I have big plans for my future. When you come back in the spring, I’ll have a surprise for you.”
“But—”
“I got to get back to work. Good luck with school and all.”
After he left, she peeked out the window and saw him drive away, his wagon loaded with wooden crates. What surprise did he have planned for her in the spring?
Shaking her head in wonder, Luellen looked down at the Liberty Head half eagle in her palm. Indeed, the Lord sent help in unexpected ways.
Steam poured from the pistons of the locomotive, hiding the wheels in a storm cloud of white. Papa helped Luellen from the carriage onto the train platform, his face set in resignation. “I hoped you’d change your mind at the last minute. I won’t stop you, but you must know how worried I am about letting you go.”
Luellen pressed her fingers against her lips. So much had changed since she first left for Allenwood. Was she doing the right thing? How many times could she stand up to her parents, knowing the pain she caused them? She drew a shuddering breath. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”
He held out his arms and she burrowed into them, tears stinging her eyes. “Thank you for understanding. No one ever had a better father.”
“Bo-oard!” the conductor called. “All aboard!”
Papa walked her to the steps of the passenger car. She turned and kissed his cheek, grateful that Mama had stayed home. Two heartrending good-byes at the station would have been too many.
The train jolted forward. Through the glass, Luellen saw Papa watching. Were those tears on his cheeks?
16
When the locomotive rolled into the Allenwood station, Luellen peered out the window at the crowd of people on the platform, wondering if Belle might be among them.
She pressed her hand against her abdomen, concealed beneath layers of fabric. By dressing carefully, she felt sure she could keep her condition a secret. Her mind balked when she tried to think beyond her child’s birth. Next year would take care of itself. For now she’d concentrate on her studies and passing the final examination.
“This your stop, miss?” the conductor asked.
“Yes. Thank you.” She winced when a cramp angled across her back.
“You all right?”
She rubbed at the pain. “I’m fine. Just been sitting for too long.” She prayed that was the case.
As she descended the steps, she glanced around. Snow-laden clouds crowded the sky, submerging Allenwood in gloom. She thought of the months since she first arrived, and all that had happened. Everything had been new and unfamiliar. Now she felt like an experienced traveler. Luellen tucked gloved hands inside her cloak for warmth while she waited for her trunk.
An omnibus driver tipped his cap as he approached. “Where are you headed, miss?”
“The Normal School.” She pointed at the baggage cart. “Could you please fetch my trunk for me?”
“Right away.”
When she climbed into the omnibus, she glanced at the empty rear seat where Belle had been sitting when they first met. Lord, give me the courage to be honest with her. The thought of living next door to each other for the next three months with a barrier between them was too much to bear. She’d swallow her pride and apologize as soon as she saw her friend.
As the conveyance traveled along College Avenue, Luellen noticed Mrs. Hawks bundled in a shawl, sweeping snow from the front porch of her boardinghouse. Inside, a lamp glowed in the front window. The hours she’d spent with the landlady were pleasant memories. As soon as she was settled in the Ladies Hall, she’d pay a visit. Maybe Belle would join her.
Luellen followed Matron Bledsoe to the foot of the stairs. “Your trunk’s been delivered to your room,” Mrs. Bledsoe said. “Everything’s clean and ready. I checked it myself.”
Luellen doubted it, considering Matron’s aversion to climbing steps, but she thanked her nonetheless.
“Your friend Miss Brownlee returned yesterday. She’s out right now, but I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you again.”
“I’ve missed her.”
Mrs. Bledsoe gathered Luellen’s hands in hers. “I’ve missed both of you.” She stepped back. “You’ve gotten a bit heavier over the winter. It suits you. Lean-fleshed girls are so unappealing, don’t you think?”
Suppressing a smile, Luellen gazed at the stout woman. “I’ve never thought about it before, but you may be right.” Excusing herself, she mounted the stairs, wishing she could share the exchange with Belle.
Once in her room she hung her dresses in the wardrobe and spread the quilt over the bed. She’d finish unpacking later. Right now she wanted to meet with Dr. Alexander and register for the term.
Luellen’s boots crunched on the gravel path as she strode toward Allenwood Hall. She kept a tight grip on her reticule. Through the satin lining, the gold coins felt smooth beneath her fingers. She hurried down the hallway to Dr. Alexander’s office.
Mr. Price stood, his face alight. “Miss McGarvie. Welcome back. I trust your holiday was a pleasant respite.” His wispy moustache had filled in somewhat, and joined a new fringe of whiskers surrounding his chin.
“Yes. I enjoyed spending time with my family.” She tu
rned toward the registrar’s door. “Is Dr. Alexander in?”
“He is. I’ll announce you.” Mr. Price smoothed his jacket and preceded her through the anteroom. He rapped on the door. “Miss McGarvie is here to see you, sir.”
“Tell her to come in.”
When Luellen entered his office, he came around the desk and pulled out a chair for her. “So glad to see you back. You’re looking well rested—blooming in fact, if I may say so.”
“Thank you.” A flush traveled over her face. Blooming was the right word. “I want to register for this term.” She patted her reticule. “I assume the cost is the same as last fall’s.”
“It is.” He turned a page in the ledger.
Opening the drawstring on her bag, she removed the gold pieces and placed them in front of him, her fingers trembling. The money on his desk represented the majority of her savings. She’d have to watch every cent to get through to the end of the term. She squeezed her hands together in her lap and watched while he entered the amount on a half-filled page of numbers.
Dr. Alexander leaned back in his chair. “Model School resumes next week. With your permission, we’ll schedule you for Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Mrs. Guthrie is most eager to work with you again.”
“And I with her.” Luellen smiled at the prospect of renewing her acquaintance with the children as well. She loved seeing the expressions on their faces when they learned and understood something new. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“You’re most welcome. Feel free to call on me with any problems you may encounter this term.”
Luellen stepped outside as the bell announcing supper tolled, its resonant tone echoing across the shadowed campus. She was near enough to the steeple to feel the vibration in her bones. She picked up her pace. Even the prospect of an unappetizing meal excited her—it was good to be back.
A familiar voice greeted her when she entered Ladies Hall. “Luellen?” She whirled to see Belle smiling tentatively in her direction. “When did you arrive?”
