by Ann Shorey
Alma shielded her mouth with her hand and spoke into Luellen’s ear. “Would you tend to Jackie while I calm Miss Clark?”
The boy turned and watched Luellen cross the room, a smirk on his face.
“Where is this snake, Jackie?”
“Under Priscilla’s desk.” He pointed.
A desiccated snakeskin, rattles attached, lay stretched on the floor. Hiding her revulsion, Luellen picked up the dead reptile. “He’s lovely.” She rested it on her open palms. “Girls, resume your seats. See, he’s harmless.” She turned to the boy. “Step up front. You can tell the class all about your snake—where you found him and how you cured the skin.”
A chair scraped as Miss Clark climbed down, trying to keep her hoopskirt under control. She picked up the speller and retreated to one side of the room.
Jackie looked alarmed. “No. I ain’t going up there.”
Luellen placed the snakeskin on the instructor’s desk. “Of course you are. I assume you want him back when you go home this afternoon.” She shot a glance at Alma and saw her nod confirmation.
The boy scuffed to the front of the row, head down. “Well, one day me and my pa was plowing.” The children listened as he continued, boys fascinated, girls grimacing. Once Jackie saw how much attention he received, he warmed to his tale. Luellen allowed him five minutes, then thanked him and took up the arithmetic lesson.
By the time the dinner bell rang, her thoughts had wandered to David, waiting for her with Leah in Mrs. Garmon’s kitchen. If she hurried, she’d have time to stop at the registrar’s office on her way to ask what news the school had from Belle.
Belle had to come back. She promised.
Luellen wrapped her cloak around her and plunged into the noontime chill. She dreaded having to meet with Mr. Price again. She’d hated having him fawn over her when she first arrived in Allenwood, but his supercilious attitude now was even harder to bear.
Mr. Price’s chair was empty.
Luellen let out a sigh of exasperation. She didn’t have time to wait—David would be hungry. She’d try again between classes this afternoon.
“Miss McGarvie. This is a surprise. More special requests?”
She whirled to see Dr. Alexander standing behind her. “No. I just stopped in to ask Mr. Price if your office had heard from my friend Miss Brownlee. I expected her to be at the Model School this morning, but Mrs. Guthrie told me she wasn’t registered yet.”
“Miss Brownlee . . .” His voice trailed off. He stepped over to Mr. Price’s desk and riffled through a pile of papers. “This is all the student correspondence we’ve received so far this term. I don’t find that name here.” He dropped the papers back in a tray. “Not every student possesses your determination. Perhaps your friend decided not to return. In any case, she has until the end of this week to register. After that—” Dr. Alexander shook his head. “It’ll be too late.”
31
Leah turned from the stove where she’d been stirring the contents of a large kettle. “Would you like a taste?”
The fragrance of chicken and curry swirled through the kitchen, making Luellen’s stomach rumble. “Yes, please.” She held David over one shoulder and patted his back. Frannie toddled over to them, tugging at the hem of David’s gown.
Leah placed a filled bowl and spoon on the table, then swept Frannie into her arms. “This soup is for Mrs. Garmon’s supper. She got the recipe on one of her trips out east. I don’t like the flavor of those foreign spices myself.”
After shifting David to her left side, Luellen tried a spoonful. “This is very tasty. Mrs. Hawks has curry powder in her cupboard, but she doesn’t use it much.”
“Mrs. Garmon collects recipes on all her travels. Pretty soon—” Leah cleared her throat. “She’s leaving on another journey.” She rose and paced to the stove and back again. “Once the weather improves, that is.”
Luellen glanced at the curtain of snow obliterating the landscape. Was bad weather all that had prevented Belle from returning? Luellen posted a letter after the first week passed, but so far had received no reply. Without the distraction of her friend’s cheerful outlook, the days blended into one another, each one lonelier than the last.
Leah continued to pace. “Least he could do is come see his baby,” she muttered.
“Who?”
“Frannie’s no-good father. I sent and told him, ‘We’re not staying here forever. You’d best come while you have the chance.’ ” She stopped and faced Luellen. “D’you think that moved him? Not a whit. I should’a known.” Leah resumed her trek back and forth across the kitchen.
“Did you meet him here in Allenwood?” Luellen held her breath. Would Leah answer?
Leah laughed, a harsh, scoffing sound. “Not hardly. How would I meet anyone in this place?” She shook her head. “We met in Middletown, when Dr. Alexander was president of Middletown Academy. I worked for his daughter, taking care of her babies. When the families moved here, she wanted me with her.”
Luellen’s mouth dropped open. “Dr. Alexander?” Stunned, she stared at the other woman.
“Oh, gracious no. Not him. I never hardly saw him at all—until he fired me for being in the family way. I came here because Frannie’s father did. He said pretty soon we’d go to Pennsylvania. He said we could get married there, all legal like. He said he’d take care of me.” Tears clouded her eyes. “He never meant any of it.” She slumped in a chair next to Luellen’s. “I feel like the dumbest person on earth. Why’d I believe him? Soon’s I told him about the baby, he gave me Mrs. Hawks’s address. Now he pretends we’re nothing to him.”
“Who is he?”
“Doesn’t matter now, does it? Besides, it’s my word against his.” Leah held out her hands, palms down. “See this dark skin? Think anyone would take my word against a white man’s?”
Luellen stood David on the floor. He teetered on his feet for a moment, then plopped on his bottom. She turned and took one of Leah’s hands. “I’ll pray for you.” The words sounded weak. Surely there was more she could do.
Leah bowed her head. “Thank you. No one’s said that for a long time—not since my mama and papa left.” They sat in silence for a moment. Leah gathered her normal reserve around her and stepped to the window. “Good thing you don’t have far to walk. Snow’s piling up.”
Recognizing dismissal, Luellen dropped her cloak over her shoulders, tucking David underneath its folds. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
She picked her way to the board sidewalk and waited while an omnibus and two carriages rolled past. Their lanterns illuminated whirling flakes. Once across the street, she climbed the steps of the boardinghouse and stamped her feet to dislodge packed snow.
The door flew open. “I hoped that was you,” Mrs. Hawks said. “I’ve been worried.”
David wiggled out from under Luellen’s cloak and reached for the landlady. She took him in her arms, kissing his reddened cheeks.
Luellen wiped moisture from her glasses. “I’m sorry you worried. I spent more time with Leah than I’d planned. She was upset over Frannie’s father.”
“Poor girl. I’m glad she has you to talk to. That man has treated her shamefully. He should be horsewhipped.” She shook her head. “I’ll be happy when she’s able to join her parents in Canada.”
They walked through the deserted dining room and into the kitchen. A chunk of salt pork, onions, and half a dozen potatoes waited on the worktable. “Potato soup tonight?” Luellen asked.
“I only have three guests right now—no sense cooking a big meal.” Mrs. Hawks sucked in her lower lip. “Soon as the weather clears, I expect I’ll have a full house. Hope so, anyway. I did last year.” Tired lines fanned around her mouth. She settled in a chair and bounced David on her knee. “I’m grateful for your help.”
“I’m grateful for my room and board.” Luellen sliced strips of salt pork.
“Did you look through those potatoes to be sure there are no bad spots?”
Surpr
ised, Luellen glanced at Mrs. Hawks. Why would she set out the potatoes without checking them first? Luellen slid the cutting board out of the way and grabbed a potato. Something white showed underneath. Pushing the rest of the vegetables aside, she saw an envelope addressed to her in Belle’s familiar handwriting.
Mrs. Hawks’s eyes twinkled. “I went to the post office today before the snow got bad. I know you’ve been waiting to hear from your friend.”
“Thank you.” She tore open the envelope and extracted several thin sheets of paper. “My word, she’s written a book.” Her eyes ran down the first page. Heart pounding, she turned to the second sheet.
“What’s kept her from returning? Is she ill?”
Numb, Luellen shook her head and continued reading. When she reached the end, she stared unbelieving at Mrs. Hawks. “She and Franklin were married on the fifth of February. Almost a month ago—before school ever started. No notice, no invitation, no nothing.” Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes. “My best friend and my brother. I knew they had plans to marry, but I believed they’d wait until after graduation. And I assumed I’d be asked to stand up with them.” She wiped her eyes.
Mrs. Hawks looked surprised. “This must have come as a blow to your parents.”
“My parents. Do they even know?” Fear squeezed her throat. “Papa’s health is poor. No telling how he’ll handle a shock like this.” She sank into a chair and ran her fingers through the hair at her temples. Now she knew how Mama and Papa felt when she and Brendan eloped. Cheated. And to have it happen again with Franklin . . .
Luellen’s tiny room felt like a prison holding her in Allenwood. Three months before she’d be free to go see her parents. How were they taking the news? She ached to have someone in whom she could confide. If Belle’s tardy missive was any indication, she and Franklin were far more occupied with each other than with thoughts of her. Would it do any good to write to Ward? So far he hadn’t replied to any of her letters.
Rolling onto her side, she stared through the blackness in the direction of David’s crib. His soft baby snores quieted her whirling thoughts. The image of Ward carrying her son up the stairs in her parents’ house slipped into her mind—David’s head resting on Ward’s broad shoulder, his baby eyelashes brushing his chubby cheeks as he slept. Had she ever told Ward how much she appreciated his help?
Luellen swung her legs to the floor. It wouldn’t hurt to write him again. Even if he didn’t answer, at least he’d know she was thinking of him.
She hugged her quilt around her shoulders as she tiptoed into the kitchen. The door to the firebox on the stove screeched when she opened it to throw a stick of wood on top of the banked coals. Sparks shivered over the split pine, rippling along the splinters at the edges. After lighting the lamp, she gathered pen and paper from the cupboard.
Luellen addressed the envelope to Jefferson Barracks, as Ward had instructed. He’d assured her that couriers carried messages to the outposts whenever enough mail accumulated.
She stared at the blank sheet of paper in front of her. Should she tell him she missed his letters? No—that would sound like a reproach.
I never thanked you for helping me with David at Christmas. I think he misses you now.
She stopped herself from adding, “. . . and so do I.” Tapping the pen holder against her teeth, she visualized herself talking to Ward face-to-face.
I had a shock today—I learned that Franklin and Belle were married the first part of last month. Did you know they had such plans? I must confess I was distressed to receive the news. Selfishly, I wanted to be part of their wedding day. And to have Belle quit her studies when she was so close to finishing is a terrible disappointment. I fear she’ll be sorry later.
Luellen told him about her classes, her progress in practice teaching, and her loneliness without Belle. She concluded:
Only three months to go. Commencement exercises are scheduled for the twentieth of May. I’m hoping to hear of a teaching assignment nearby so I can continue to have Leah care for David. She’s very good to him. After an uncomfortable beginning, which I told you about at Christmas, we are becoming friends.
I pray your command at Fort Hook is all you hoped it would be.
Most sincerely,
Luellen
Enough people had traveled along the walkways the next morning that the snow had been trampled down. Broken clouds hung overhead. Luellen stepped into the classroom at the Model School, grateful she’d arrived ahead of the children. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep.
Alma sat at her desk, making notes in her grade book. “Are you ready to give the arithmetic test today?”
“I am.” Luellen opened her portfolio and removed the textbook. “I’ll have the problems copied onto the blackboard before the children arrive.”
“I should have known better than to ask. You’re always well prepared.”
Luellen sighed, remembering how hard it had been to focus on the lesson plan when her mind was filled with thoughts of Franklin and Belle. “Some days are better than others.”
“That’s true of all of us, but you never let outside distractions take precedence over the children.”
“Children are the reason I want to teach. So much potential is wasted by poor educators. If my mother hadn’t helped us, I don’t think we’d have learned a thing.” Chalk powdered Luellen’s fingers as she wrote the addition problems out. “Our teacher knew nothing but rote and the rod.”
“That’s changing. Enrollment here at Allenwood grows each year.” Alma stood, arms folded over her middle. “There’s talk of another class being added to the Model School curriculum next year. They’ll be looking to hire an instructor.” She tilted her head. “I plan to recommend you.”
When the morning session ended, Luellen floated back to Mrs. Garmon’s, buoyed by the hope of a position with the Normal School. She could maintain her current living arrangements with no disruption to David or herself. She looked up and breathed, “Thank you, Lord,” aiming her voice at a break in the clouds.
When she turned in front of the woman’s house, she caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure disappearing down the alley. Was it Frannie’s father? She hurried toward the rear of the property, but by the time she got there the person had vanished. Perhaps he’d been a nearby resident, taking a shortcut to his home. She shrugged. Whoever it was, he couldn’t dim her excitement about the future.
Luellen flung open the kitchen door. “I have the most exciting news.” Her voice trailed off. Leah and the children weren’t there. She peered into the small room off the kitchen and saw Leah sitting on the rug, resting her back against the side of the bed. David and Frannie were nestled on her lap while she hummed a lullaby. She turned her head when Luellen appeared on the threshold.
Her eyes held a faraway look. “Some days all I want to do is hunker down with my baby. I’m so tired of being in a place where no one cares what happens to me.”
All at once Luellen’s news didn’t seem so important. She knelt beside Leah and lifted David from her lap. The woman’s despair filled the room, thick enough to be touched. “I care, Leah,” she said in a gentle voice. “So do Mrs. Garmon and Mrs. Hawks.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “I know how it feels to be lonely.”
“You’re trying to be nice.” Leah rose, holding Frannie, and looked down at Luellen. “There’s lonely, and then there’s lonely. All you got to do is hop on a train and you’re home in a day, your mama and papa waiting for you.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Me, I can’t even get to Canada without looking over my shoulder every second. Why I didn’t leave with my parents—” Leah walked out of the room, still talking. “When I make a mistake, it’s a big one.”
Luellen watched her retreating back. She needed Leah in Allenwood so she could accept the teaching position. What would she do without her?
She flushed. Had she grown so self-centered that her needs were the only ones that mattered?
Grateful she had only one class that aft
ernoon, Luellen slipped into a vacant seat in the lecture hall. When she returned to the boardinghouse, she’d ask Mrs. Hawks about continuing her room and board if she were hired by the Model School next year.
Glowing lamps hung at spaced intervals from the ceiling. She placed her Science of Education text in a pool of light and waited for the professor to take the lectern. Murmurs and giggles drifted from one of the tables near the back. She recognized Miss Clark’s voice from the Model School.
“To see them together, you’d think they were sisters.”
“Well, they certainly have a lot in common.” The second girl snickered. “Did you hear what Mrs. Bledsoe said about her?”
“No. What?”
Their voices dropped to whispers. Luellen cocked one ear, wondering who they were gossiping about. She hadn’t seen Matron Bledsoe at all this term, but from the sound of things the woman hadn’t muted her sanctimonious personality.
“Matron needs to tell Mrs. Guthrie what she knows.” Miss Clark’s voice gained volume. “Someone like that shouldn’t be teaching innocent children.”
Hot pinpricks swept over her body. Were they talking about her? No telling what embellishments Mrs. Bledsoe had spun since Luellen left the Ladies Hall.
She swiveled in her seat, made sure the girls saw her, then rose and walked toward them.
32
Ward walked to the window in his office. Beyond the fort, the undulating hills wore a cloak of emerald. Early spring brought unexpected beauty to what he’d termed a bleak and desolate landscape when he first arrived.
He paced back to his desk. Dr. Marshall’s request for an addition to the hospital stared up at him. Ever since the need for a quarantine during the typhus scare, the doctor had appeared weekly with requests for more space and increased supplies.
