The Dawn of a Dream

by Ann Shorey

  “It seems you’ve been leading a secret life. According to Mrs. Guthrie, you are with child—the result of an unfortunate marriage.” He shook his head. “To say I’m disappointed would be an understatement. You showed more promise than most of the students I see, and now to have you leave—”

  “I have no intention of leaving. I paid for this term and I’m going to finish. Didn’t Mrs. Guthrie tell you the circumstances of my marriage—and divorce?”

  “She did. But Matron Bledsoe made it clear to me that she thinks you’re a bad example to the other girls in the Ladies Hall, and now that you’re . . . in this condition, she can’t condone your presence.”

  “Have you no influence with her?”

  “Kindly watch your tone. Mrs. Bledsoe has my full confidence in her management of the girls’ living arrangements. Thus, if she says you’re to go, I don’t see how you expect to continue your studies.”

  “If I find lodging, do you have any objection to my completing the term?”

  A half-smile cracked the granite. “Once you get your teeth in something, you don’t let go, do you?”

  “No sir, I don’t.” She kept her voice steady. “I plan to attend classes and participate at the Model School, with your permission.”

  Arms folded across his chest, he studied her for a moment, as if trying to decide if she were serious. “Granted.” He growled the word.

  Luellen stood and took a step closer to the desk. She kept her hands out of sight under her jacket to hide their trembling. “Since I’m being forced to leave the Ladies Hall, I believe I’m entitled to a refund of the unused portion of my room and board. According to my calculations, the sum amounts to eighteen dollars and eighty-three cents. In specie, please.”

  The kitchen in the Ladies Hall bustled with post-breakfast activity when Luellen entered. Heat from the oversized range drove an odor of stale grease through the room. The woman who had befriended her the day before tossed her a quick wave and went back to stirring the contents of a steaming pot. Glancing around, Luellen spied the head cook disappearing into the pantry. She hurried after her.

  “May I have a word with you, Mrs. Enlow?”

  The tired-looking woman spun around, her eyes narrowing when she recognized Luellen.

  Her white cap drooped over one ear. “Students aren’t allowed in the kitchen—even girls who are no longer students, such as yourself.”

  “You are misinformed. I’m still a student at Allenwood, and will be until the term ends.” She squared her shoulders. “I came to ask if I might be able to stay in one of the kitchen maids’ rooms out back. I’d work for my keep.”

  Mrs. Enlow’s face pinched. “Sorry.” Nothing about her expression looked regretful. “Juliet Bledsoe has told me about you.”

  Juliet? Luellen fought down a snicker at the image of Mrs. Bledsoe as Shakespeare’s youthful heroine. “What she didn’t tell you is that I have several years’ experience cooking in a hotel. I can be useful here.”

  “No. I don’t need any help, and you need to be out of this building.”

  When Luellen turned to leave, the woman at the stove beckoned to her with a tilt of her head. Up close, her face showed age lines around her mouth and eyes. From under her apron, she produced a napkin-wrapped bundle. “I didn’t see you at breakfast. Here’s a couple biscuits. Remember, you get hungry, come and find me.”

  Luellen took the offering, her eyes prickling with unshed tears. Over her shoulder, she caught sight of Mrs. Enlow approaching. Tucking the food under her sacque, she whispered her thanks and hastened from the kitchen.

  The bell for the first class of the day tolled over the campus while Luellen strode toward the Model School, chewing bites of biscuit while she walked. A few more hours and she’d be forced to leave Ladies Hall. Where could she go? Her thoughts skittered in a dozen directions, but each road ended at a locked gate. Her only hope was to throw herself on Dr. Alexander’s mercy and beg him to intercede with Mrs. Bledsoe. Luellen shook her head. She’d rather swallow arsenic.

  She closed the door of the Model School and hung her jacket near the door. Since Mrs. Guthrie knew of her condition, she no longer needed to hide under layers of wool.

  The instructor smiled when Luellen reached her desk. “Dr. Alexander allowed you to stay?” She spoke in an undertone.

  “He did. Mrs. Bledsoe didn’t.”

  Mrs. Guthrie’s concern-filled eyes met Luellen’s. “Are you all right? You look flushed.”

  “I’m well. I’m just—I don’t know what to do.” Luellen shook her head. “I hope I’ll be able to focus on the lessons today.”

  Behind her, a boy’s voice called, “Teacher, I’m ready for my arithmetic.”

  “We’ll talk later,” Mrs. Guthrie mouthed. Aloud, she said, “Miss McGarvie will be there in a moment, Joshua. Please sit still.”

  The morning passed in a swirl of spelling words, sums, and story reading. When the noon bell rang, Luellen helped the children with their dinner pails, then joined Mrs. Guthrie in the rear of the classroom. She tried not to look hungry as the other woman lifted a thick sandwich from a square basket.

  Without saying anything, Mrs. Guthrie handed half to Luellen. “So, tell me about Mrs. Bledsoe.”

  She gulped, swallowing a partly chewed bite. “She gave me until this evening to vacate the Hall. Dr. Alexander said I could continue classes until the end of the term, but he didn’t overrule Matron’s edict.” Tears blurred her vision. Luellen placed her food on a chair between them. “I don’t have any place to go—except home, and I just can’t! Not after everything I’ve gone through.”

  Mrs. Guthrie sat silent for a moment. “Can you come back this evening? I may have a solution for you, but I have to check with someone first.”

  “I’ll be here.” She blotted her eyes. “I don’t care where it is, as long as I can stay in Allenwood. Thank you, Mrs. Guthrie.”

  “Please call me Alma.”

  When Luellen arrived at the school that evening, Alma hurried down the steps and took her arm, leading her south on Chestnut Street. Upon reaching the corner, Alma turned right. “It’s just down here a few blocks.”

  “I stayed on this street when I first got to Allenwood—at Mrs. Hawks’s boardinghouse.”

  “That’s where we’re going. Mrs. Hawks is my mother.”

  Luellen stared at her through the gathering twilight. Alma’s face wore a serene expression. “I can’t afford to live in a boardinghouse. My money would be gone in no time.”

  “I talked to Mother this afternoon. She would be willing to provide a room if you could help in the kitchen. Didn’t you mention you’d cooked in a hotel?”

  Swallowing a lump in her throat, Luellen bowed her head in a silent prayer of thanks. “I don’t know how to repay your kindness.”

  “There’s no need.”

  Unable to believe her good fortune, Luellen asked, “Does your mother have room for both of us and her boarders?”

  Alma chuckled. “I live with my grandparents. They watch my son during the day. I stayed with Mother until Frederick was born, but then I went to Grandma’s. Mother couldn’t look after him and take care of roomers too.” She turned off the walkway. Lamplight from the parlor window reflected across the covered porch. “She’s expecting us.”

  Luellen took a deep breath. The transition seemed too easy. She hoped Mrs. Hawks wasn’t taking her in out of pity.

  Once inside, Alma led the way to the kitchen, where they found her mother scrubbing dishes from the evening meal. The scent of fried ham tickled Luellen’s nose. Her stomach gurgled, and she remembered she hadn’t eaten since the half sandwich at noon.

  Mrs. Hawks turned from her chore and embraced Alma with dripping hands. The resemblance between them was plain, although Mrs. Hawks was thinner than her daughter and her sandy hair had been overtaken by gray. She smiled at Luellen. “I’m so glad you’ll be able to help me.” She waved at a stack of pots waiting to be washed. “By the end of the day, it’s all I
can do to get through the dishes and prepare for breakfast.”

  “I’ll do everything I can.” Luellen stepped forward. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to have a place to stay.”

  “Nonsense. I’m the one who’s grateful.” She rubbed perspiration from her forehead. “Let me show you your room. It’s not much, but the kitchen keeps it warm, and once you’re done cleaning up, you can study on the table in here.” Mrs. Hawks walked toward one of two doors. “That there’s the cellar,” she said, pointing. She opened the second door. “This will be yours.”

  Not much bigger than a pantry, the rectangular space held a neatly made single bed. A washstand stood against the opposite wall, flanked by a narrow wardrobe. The small four-paned window at the end of the room was framed by tabbed blue curtains hanging from a wooden rod. Luellen could see why her study area would be in the kitchen. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

  “Alma said you’ll be moving in this evening. Have you got someone to fetch your things?”

  Luellen closed her eyes. She hadn’t considered that. The thought of facing Mrs. Bledsoe again was more than she could bear. She sank into a chair and pressed her fingertips against her temples.

  Mrs. Hawks rested a hand on her shoulder. “The omnibus will be along in thirty minutes or so. Do you want me to have the driver stop at the school and bring your trunk on his way back to town?”

  “Please.”

  Later, once her belongings had been delivered, Luellen excused herself and closed the door to her tiny room. She unfastened the clasps on the trunk and drew her quilt into her arms. The downward spiral of her status at Allenwood over the past three days left her stunned. Sinking onto the bed, quilt hugged against her, she stared at the wall. The ceiling creaked as lodgers moved about overhead.

  She’d need to arise at least two hours earlier to allow time to help with breakfast chores and walk the half mile to school. Tonight she had studies to think about, but weariness weighted her in place.

  Was Papa right? Should she have stayed in Beldon Grove?

  Several weeks later, Luellen shivered on a bench outside the Lecture Hall. Yesterday had been so warm she’d chosen to wear her yellow calico with a shawl this morning, but now she regretted the decision. The pages of the textbook she held fluttered under her fingers in the crisp wind.

  Mr. Price walked by, eyes fixed on something in the distance.

  “Good afternoon,” Luellen said. She knew he was ignoring her, but couldn’t resist jabbing at him.

  He feigned surprise. “Miss . . . er . . . good afternoon.” He picked up his pace.

  “Indeed it is,” she said to his retreating back. If anything positive could be said about her treatment on campus since the news of her condition spread, it was that Mr. Price had stopped fawning over her.

  Belle dashed up, waving an envelope. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Luellen marked her place and closed the book. “Is that a letter? From Franklin?”

  “It is. I snatched it from Mrs. Bledsoe’s grip—she was ready to send it back.” Belle thrust the envelope at Luellen.

  Horrified, she read “No Longer A Resident. Return To Point Of Origin” scrawled over the address. “Oh my word. Maybe that’s why we haven’t heard anything for weeks. Do you suppose she returned his other letters?” She broke the seal on the envelope, drawing out the contents.

  Belle frowned. “Then why would he have sent another one?”

  Luellen shook her head. She’d notified her parents of her move without telling them why, and had assumed they’d pass the word to Franklin. Each day she’d checked the post. The more time that elapsed, the greater her fears that Ward’s wounds were so severe he’d been sent home—or worse. She didn’t know why the thought of not seeing him again bothered her. After all, he was simply her brother’s friend.

  She patted the bench. “Sit. Maybe if we huddle together we’ll be warmer.”

  “The bell for afternoon sessions will ring soon. Hurry and tell me what Franklin says.”

  Luellen unfolded the pages, scanning through her brother’s careless penmanship. “He says he’s sorry he hasn’t written sooner. He was waiting until he had definite news for us.” She stopped talking and read ahead. “Oh dear. The poor man.”

  “Who? What?” Belle crowded closer and peered over her shoulder.

  “Ward—Lieutenant Calder—was wounded in the shoulder. The injury became corrupted and he spent more than two weeks in the post hospital. He was released on the thirtieth of March, with a crippled left arm.” She glanced at the top of the page. “Franklin wrote this two weeks ago, on April 1. He says Ward’s on restricted duty until he’s completely healed. The doctors hope he’ll be able to use his arm again, but they’re not sure.”

  Belle covered her mouth with her fingers. “Do you suppose he’ll have to leave the Army?”

  “I don’t know.” Sorrow clenched Luellen’s heart when she pictured his left arm hanging useless at his side. A person like Ward didn’t deserve such a fate.

  She lifted the letter and read aloud.

  Lt. Campion, the yellow dog who shot him, has been dishonorably discharged. He was caught passing Ward’s work off as his own. That’s why the duel. Guess he thought if he killed Ward no one could testify against him. Didn’t happen that way. Ward fired to one side, but Campion shot to kill. Couple inches closer and he’d of succeeded.

  Doctor thinks Ward shouldn’t move his arm, but I’m making him use it. Otherwise he’ll turn into a tin soldier. He’s going to get furlough, so I want him to see Papa—I don’t trust the sawbones here.

  Belle’s eyes pooled with sympathetic tears. “Your father can help, I just know it. When is Lieutenant Calder going to Beldon Grove?”

  Luellen turned back to the letter. “He doesn’t say. Soon, I imagine.” She pointed at the last paragraph and smiled at Belle. “Franklin asks to be remembered to you, and hopes to get reacquainted one day.”

  “I hope you don’t mind if we’re friends.” A worried expression crossed Belle’s blushing face.

  Embarrassed over her earlier jealousy, Luellen fumbled with the textbook before tucking it under her arm. “Not at all. I’d be pleased.”

  The summons for their afternoon sessions resonated from the walls of the stone building. As they walked to class, her mind remained on Ward. Would he be at her parents’ house when she arrived at the end of the term?

  21

  Luellen coughed into her handkerchief before entering the dining room to clear the dishes. A new boarder leaned against the archway separating the parlor from the dining area. “Looks like Ida Hawks got herself another charity case.”

  She froze. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I come through Allenwood every six months or so, and she’s always got someone . . . in your condition . . . staying here. When’d she take you in?” His narrow face and pointed nose made him look like an inquisitive ferret.

  Luellen stared him down. “I’ve been here six weeks. Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m a student at the Normal School and will be going home after exams.”

  “You’ve got a home to go to? That puts you ahead of most of ’em.” He straightened and took a step in her direction. “You ever get lonely, come upstairs. I’m in the second room past the landing.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Can’t get in any worse fix than you’re in now, eh?”

  “Get out of my sight.” Her breath wheezed in her throat, and she fought down a cough. “If you come near me, I’ll call Mrs. Hawks.”

  He sneered. “And what will she do? Throw me out? Not likely. She needs the money, or she wouldn’t be running a boardinghouse, now would she?” He sauntered through the parlor and headed for the stairs. “See you at breakfast.”

  Hands shaking, Luellen stacked dirty plates. How dare he speak to her that way? With longing, she thought of her parents and home. Another few days and she could leave Allenwood. She prayed she wouldn’t see Ferret Man again. From now o
n, she’d make sure to stay out of sight until all the boarders left the room.

  Back in the kitchen, she sank down at the table, overcome by a spasm of coughing. She was struggling to catch her breath when Mrs. Hawks descended the back stairs.

  “You sound dreadful. Why don’t you go to bed and let me clean up?”

  “It’s just a spring cold. The May weather’s been so changeable lately—I’m either chilled or too warm.” Luellen stood, fighting fatigue. “I have to study for final exams. Bedtime is a ways off.” She forced a smile.

  Mrs. Hawks cocked her head. “Your cough sounds worse to me. Shouldn’t you see a doctor?”

  “My father is a doctor. I’ll be home by Friday.” She took a deep breath, hoping the landlady couldn’t hear the rattle in her chest.

  After a restless night, Luellen awakened and willed herself out of bed. Shivering, she hurried into her brown dress—the only one that still hung straight over her belly. Through the door she heard Mrs. Hawks moving about the kitchen. Had she overslept?

  When Luellen walked into the next room, she felt as though she were wading through waist-deep water. Every step was an effort.

  “There you are.” Mrs. Hawks beamed at her. “I let you sleep. That’s the best way to get over a cold.”

  Prickles of alarm tingled along her body. “How late is it?”

  “Not quite eight. Your breakfast is waiting in the warming oven.”

  “Eight! I have to leave. Now. Examinations begin at eight thirty. If I’m late, they won’t let me in.” Luellen fought dizziness. She had to get through this day. She lifted her jacket from a peg and reached for the door handle.

  Mrs. Hawks hastened to her side. “Are you sure you’re up to the walk? Why don’t you wait for the omnibus?”

  Through the strangling in her throat, she said, “No time. I’ll ride back, I promise.” Her voice sounded more like a wheeze than speech.