by Ann Shorey
Luellen tensed. She could keep Brendan from her thoughts most of the time, but the mention of Chicago unlocked a door to memories. Would she ever forgive herself for her impulsive leap into marriage? The worries she faced today wouldn’t exist if only she’d waited.
Belle’s sharp voice penetrated Luellen’s self-reproach. “I’ve explained this several times. Aren’t you paying attention?”
The object of her scolding, a girl near the rear of the classroom, sat with a flushed face, eyes shiny with tears.
Luellen stared at her friend. It wasn’t like Belle to be unkind, particularly to a child. Alma hustled toward them, settling her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Martha, why don’t you work on your penmanship for now? You can study arithmetic tonight at home.” Sniffling, Martha reached for her slate pencil and complied.
Alma turned to Belle. “May I have a word?” She pointed toward the cloakroom. To Luellen she said, “Please keep the children occupied for a few minutes.”
Luellen nodded, wishing she could accompany Belle for moral support. Instead, she strode to the front of the classroom, nerves jumping. First day of the term, and Alma left her in charge. What if she couldn’t occupy the students’ interest? A copy of Robert Merry’s Museum lay on one corner of the desk. She riffled through the pages of the children’s magazine until she found a story she thought they’d all enjoy. “Have you heard ‘A Very Odd Grandfather’?”
The children shook their heads, some of them grinning with anticipation. She threw a glance toward the cloakroom door, then folded the magazine open and began to read. She’d reached the conclusion of the little piece by the time Alma returned—without Belle.
The instructor joined her at the front of the room. “You start with the new students, as we discussed. I’ll handle Miss Brownlee’s assignment.”
What happened to Belle? Much as she’d like to ask, there wasn’t time. Luellen selected a first reader from the shelf and crossed to the youngest pupils. “Today we’ll start with our letters. Who knows the alphabet?”
Of the half-dozen children, four raised their hands.
“Excellent. Let me hear you recite.” While she listened, Luellen peeked out a window hoping to glimpse Belle across the street, but couldn’t see her. Had she returned to the Ladies Hall? Or been sent to the registrar’s office?
When time came to dismiss classes, Luellen handed in her notes and hurried out the door. She wished she could find Belle to ask what happened in the cloakroom, but didn’t dare return to the boardinghouse too late to cook supper.
She never expected to miss living in the Ladies Hall. Right now she did. Belle needed her friendship, and she wasn’t there to provide a listening ear.
Luellen turned in front of Mrs. Garmon’s house and trotted up the graveled drive to the kitchen entrance. The door opened in midknock, Leah’s floury hand clasping the knob. A mound of dough rested on the worktable under the window. “After this, just come on in,” she said, her voice curt. “I can’t be stopping what I’m doing all the time to open the door.”
Luellen recoiled. What happened to the armistice they’d reached earlier in the day? She forced a smile. “All right. Thank you.”
Leah returned to her task while Luellen stood in the kitchen wondering how best to ask about David without drawing another sharp remark. Since she didn’t see either baby, and didn’t hear crying, she assumed they were asleep. A long moment passed. Muscles in Leah’s forearms knotted and released as she worked the dough.
“I’ll go get David now,” Luellen said, taking a tentative step toward the bedroom.
“Try not to wake Frannie. I just got ’em both to sleep a few minutes ago.” Leah slapped the pile of dough into a flat rectangle, the sound popping across the room. “Can’t get nothing done when the babies cry. One gets the other started.”
“I’ll be careful.”
Once in the bedroom, she paused a moment at the sight of the two infants in the crib, both with dark curls plastered to sweaty heads. Slipping her hands under David’s body, she lifted him to her, inhaling his sweet baby smell. He nestled close.
Frannie’s eyes opened when the crib jiggled. Seeing Luellen, she scrunched up her face and howled.
“Shh.” Luellen stroked the child’s head.
Frannie wailed louder.
Footsteps pounded from the kitchen and Leah appeared in the doorway, a scowl across her brow. “This isn’t going to work.”
“It has to. Please. Give us a few more days. They’ll get used to each other.”
Leah sniffed. “I’ll try it through Friday.” She hoisted Frannie to her shoulder. “That way you can pay me for a full week.”
After the supper dishes had been stored away, Luellen bent over her Science of Education textbook, but her thoughts tugged her back to the scene with Leah. Even if she could hire another nurse, how likely was it she’d find one close to the school? Today’s ten-minute walk each way demonstrated how little time she’d have with David during the noon recess. Any farther away and she wouldn’t be able to see him from morning until late afternoon.
She stood and paced the kitchen. Somehow, she’d just have to make it work.
Tap, tap, tap. Tap tap.
Luellen flung open the door. Lantern glow gilded Belle’s face.
“I’m so glad to see you!”
“Me too.” Belle stepped into the room. “I miss having you next door.”
Luellen peered into the dusk before closing the door. “I hope you didn’t walk here. It’s getting dark.”
“I rode the omnibus. I’ll stay until he comes round again.” She looked at the books and papers on the tabletop. “Science of Education. I tried studying tonight, but . . .” Slumping into a chair, Belle rested her face in her hands. “I feel like such a failure.”
“One afternoon doesn’t make you a failure.” Luellen slipped an arm around Belle’s shoulders. “What happened when you left the class?”
“Mrs. Guthrie said I needed to go to the Ladies Hall and rest. She thought I was just tired.”
“You weren’t?”
Belle fixed round blue eyes on Luellen. A shimmer of tears reflected on their surface. “If teaching means I can’t marry, I’m not sure I want to be a teacher anymore.”
“Marriage is off in the future somewhere.”
“No, it isn’t. Franklin and I have been corresponding since I went home with you in May.” Belle drew a folded piece of paper from her pocket, her cheeks pink. “This letter was in my postbox today. He’s planning to come to Springfield after the first of the year to meet my parents. He’s going to ask my father for my hand.” Her face brightened.
Luellen stared, trying to make sense of the words. Franklin married? Whenever she pictured her brother, he was riding a horse across open grassland, wearing buckskins and moccasins. What would he do with a wife?
As the silence between them lengthened, Belle’s smile faded. “I was afraid of this. You don’t want him to marry me.”
“Oh Belle, I can’t imagine anything better than having you as part of my family.” She drew her friend into a tight embrace. “I’m just having trouble imagining Franklin settling down. He’s been scouting for the Army so long, I guess I thought he’d always be out there on the prairie.”
Belle’s dimples reappeared. “He’s going to look into finding work in Springfield during his stay. I’m sure my father will help him.” She drew a deep breath. “Now do you see why I don’t care if I become a teacher or not?”
“If you got that letter today, I know why you were distracted at the Model School.” She faced her friend. “You can’t quit. God forbid, what if something happens to your plans? Education is too important. Even if you don’t use what we’re learning here to teach in classrooms, think how well you’ll be able to train your own children.” She seized Belle’s hands. “You’ll regret your decision if you don’t use this opportunity.”
“You’re making a speech.”
“I’m sorry. I think you’d be
the best wife in the world for Franklin, but . . . things happen that we don’t anticipate. Education is never wasted.” Her pulse drummed in her throat. She had to make Belle understand.
“I hoped you’d be happy for us.” Her friend moved toward the door.
“I’m overjoyed. Truly.” She placed her hands on Belle’s shoulders. “The thought of having you for a sister-in-law is a dream come true. I just don’t want to see you leave in the middle of our training.”
Belle ducked around her. “The omnibus will be here any moment.” She stood on the porch framed in blackness, lamplight illuminating her over-bright eyes. “Good night.”
When Luellen awoke the next morning, her eyes felt sanded. She’d tossed for hours worrying that Belle might make the same impulsive decision she’d made. Allenwood Normal School was one of the few institutions to admit women. Her friend couldn’t toss away her golden opportunity for something as uncertain as marriage.
David rustled in his crib. Luellen tiptoed over and gathered him into her arms, covering his blanket-warmed face with kisses. Every moment of her struggle to care for him would be worth it when she received her certificate and could support the two of them on her own. If Alma could do it, so could she.
Once she cleaned up after the boarders’ breakfast, she bundled David into his hooded cape and carried him across the street to Leah’s. While she walked, she rehearsed what she’d say to calm yesterday afternoon’s turbulent waters.
I’m sorry I made Frannie cry. No, that wouldn’t do. Could David maybe sleep somewhere else? That was just silly. Still pondering, she opened the back door of Mrs. Garmon’s house and entered the kitchen.
Leah turned toward her, smiling. “Glad you came back. I was afraid I ran you off with my bad temper.” She took David from Luellen’s arms. “It’s just my way—I get upset and spread the gloom around. You’d best learn to ignore me when I get like that.”
Luellen blinked. What could have upset her, stuck away as she was in the house all day?
Leah propelled her toward the door. “You run along. We’ll see you at dinner, won’t we, David?”
28
Luellen hastened toward the campus. She had enough time to stop at the Ladies Hall and see Belle before classes at the Model School. Last night she’d worried Belle would leave school without graduating—now she worried she’d been so forceful she’d alienated her.
A long shadow spread before her on the walkway. She looked up, surprised. “Good morning, Mr. Price. You’re out early. Are you going to town?”
He halted, eyes wide. “Miss . . . Mrs. . . . I had no idea you lived in this direction.”
She let the remark pass.
“Town?” He ran his finger around his collar. “Yes. I must be on my way.” He tipped his hat and dashed past her, his boots thudding on the boardwalk.
Luellen watched him for a moment, her curiosity piqued. What was so important that he couldn’t wait for the omnibus? She shook her head. Thankfully, it had nothing to do with her.
When she arrived at the Ladies Hall, she straightened her shoulders and sailed through the front door as though she had every right to be there. Sounds of cutlery clinking on dishes, along with the bland odor of boiled oats told her she’d arrived in time for the students’ breakfast. The trick would be to catch Belle in the dining hall without encountering Mrs. Bledsoe. She balled her hands into fists, nails pressing into her moist palms, and stepped across the threshold.
A quick survey showed Belle sitting near the center of the room. Mrs. Bledsoe was nowhere to be seen. Luellen moved around crowded tables and slipped into a chair beside her friend. “I came to tell you again how happy I am about you and Franklin.” She kept her voice low.
Belle studied her for a moment with red-rimmed eyes. She blinked, a smile glimmering at the corners of her mouth. “Really?”
Luellen slipped an arm around Belle’s shoulders. “Really. I’m afraid I was much too forceful last evening.”
“And I was too quick to take offense.” She pushed her half-eaten bowl of oatmeal toward the center of the table. “I thought about what you said most of the night.”
“What did you decide?”
“I’m going to write Franklin and see what he thinks.”
Deflated, Luellen drew her arm away and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Franklin had paid little attention in school. She imagined he’d be no help in urging Belle to stay in Allenwood long enough to obtain her certificate.
“You may not receive a reply for a month or more. What will you do in the meantime?”
Belle’s dimples showed. “ ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do.’ As long as I’m here, I’ll attend classes and Model School training.”
Luellen did a quick mental calculation. By the time Belle received Franklin’s letter, they’d be only a few weeks away from winter vacation. Maybe she could coax Belle to finish this semester.
Her neck prickled. She looked up to see Mrs. Bledsoe standing behind them, arms folded under her bosom.
“Miss McGarvie? I don’t recall seeing your name on the list of students residing here. Visits are to be accomplished in the parlor, not during meals.”
Luellen stood, her height placing her several inches above the matron’s head. She looked down at the line of white scalp that parted the woman’s graying hair. “That rule applies to male visitors.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Belle conceal a smile with her napkin.
Mrs. Bledsoe’s face reddened. “It applies where I say it applies. I will not have you upsetting my girls again this year.”
The room grew silent.
Luellen had come to talk to her friend, not antagonize the matron. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment. “It won’t happen again. My apologies.”
Belle stood, taking her arm. “We must get to our class, Matron. Please excuse us.”
Once they were out the door, Belle snickered. “She didn’t know what to say when you apologized.”
“I could hardly believe it myself. I wanted to yell at her.” Adapting a casual tone, she said, “So, are you coming to the Model School with me?”
“For now.”
The kitchen door at Mrs. Garmon’s house stood open to the warm fall afternoon. Luellen stepped inside, stopping at the sight of Leah slumped in a chair, weeping. Her hands covered her face.
Luellen hastened to the woman’s side and laid a hand on her shoulder. “What’s happened?”
Leah jumped at Luellen’s touch, shrugging her hand away. “Land sakes. You scared me. Past noon already?” She swiped at her eyes with the corner of her apron. “I best finish Mrs. Garmon’s meal or she’ll be having a fit.” From her swollen face it appeared she’d been crying for some time.
David and Frannie played on a blanket spread between the stove and worktable—David trying to catch his waving toes and Frannie gnawing on a wooden spoon. “The children are all right?”
Leah bristled. “Of course. I wouldn’t let anything touch the babies.” She stalked to the cookstove, poking at the contents of a steaming pot with a fork.
“Let me help. I’ll feed David in a couple minutes.”
“It’s not your job to work in this kitchen.”
“Maybe not, but you’re upset. Together we can get this meal ready quicker than you can do it alone.”
Tears filled Leah’s eyes again. “Thank you. You’re nicer than you seemed at first.”
Embarrassed, Luellen eyed a simmering brisket surrounded by potatoes and carrots. “I can slice the meat if you want.”
Leah nodded, stepping around the children’s blanket and placing a gold-rimmed china plate on the worktable. “Put the lean pieces here. Mrs. Garmon won’t eat fat. I’ll get a tray ready.”
Once the meal was served, Luellen took David into the bedroom and changed his diaper. She had seated herself at the table, her son at her breast, when Leah returned to the kitchen.
After fetching Frannie, she slid into a chair next to Luellen. “Hope you don’t think
I’m flighty. Most times I’m not a crier, but this morning—” She shook her head, her earrings swaying.
“I’m happy to listen if you want to tell me.”
“You know about me going to Canada soon as I save the money.”
Luellen nodded.
“A person was going to help me.” Leah’s expression hardened. “Well, now he’s not. I should’ve known better. If I hadn’t believed him in the first place, I’d never be stuck here in Allenwood.” Her eyes flashed. “Twice I fell for his promises. Never again.”
Luellen thought of her own limited funds. “If I can find a tutoring job, I’ll increase what I pay you for David’s care. It wouldn’t be much but—”
Leah held up her hand. “You said you’d listen. I’m not asking for money. I just want to talk. It’s so hard living away from my people. No one understands.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I can’t understand.” She shifted David to her shoulder, patting his back. “But I do know how difficult it is to care for a child without a father’s help.”
“Frannie has a father.” Leah stalked across the room, her daughter under one arm, and flung cooking utensils into the washbasin. “Trouble is he’s a lying, sneaking, good-for-nothing milksop.”
While she walked back to school, Luellen couldn’t help but smile at Leah’s description of Frannie’s father. Except for the milksop phrase, the woman had echoed her sentiments about Brendan. She kicked at a pile of fallen leaves. What made women so eager to believe a man’s words?
Ward Calder walked across the parade ground toward the enlisted men’s quarters, the cape on his overcoat billowing in the brisk November wind. A few red leaves clinging to oak trees fought a battle against approaching winter. When he entered the stone building, he found Franklin tipped back in a chair near the door.
“You took your time,” he said, rising to his feet and stretching.
“Had a class to teach. I don’t spend my days lolling around the post.”
Franklin grinned. “I’m leaving in the morning. Captain Block’s sending me to scout the Smoky Hill Trail one last time before you travel to Fort Hook. He wants to know about any new Indian camps.”
