Whispers of the Wind

by Frances Devine

  “So I do.” He laughed and stood. “I’d better let you get your rest. Besides, I need to check on Warrior before he thinks I’ve deserted him.” His lips turned up in a slow smile. “When I see you tomorrow, I’ll prove to you that I’ve been practicing.”

  Her heart raced as she watched him round the house toward the barn. How could she have misjudged him so? Why he was kind and gentle, nothing at all like the stern man she’d pictured in her mind. Of course, they’d never really had a chance to talk before. Just a few words here and there and the little bit of conversation they’d had in the infirmary.

  But he’d seemed as excited and happy as a child when he was learning to sign his name. And he hadn’t even seemed tired when he left. A thrill ran through her as she remembered how his eyes had met hers as he said good night. And the slow mysterious smile he’d given her just before he walked down the steps. Something almost like a giggle escaped her throat as she turned and went inside.

  ❧

  Trent’s heart was light as he walked to the barn. He’d intended to discuss improving the condition of the children with Carter, but after listening to Abigail, he wanted to gather his thoughts together before he encountered the director. Questioning Carter about his decisions concerning the curriculum was out of the question until he had a chance to think things through clearly.

  That he’d been affected by Abigail was obvious, but whether by her words or being so near to her physically was the question. He was undoubtedly attracted to her, and it wasn’t merely a physical attraction. Or at least, he didn’t think so. Her gentle administrations to the sick children had touched his heart. But there was no denying when she looked at him with those deep gold-washed brown eyes, he had trouble concentrating on anything but her.

  Perhaps before he approached Carter, he should do some research on the subject of teaching techniques for the deaf, including signs. There must be someone in Mobile who could either help him with answers or direct him to someone who could. But surely Helen and Charles would have said something to him if they felt that Carter was inefficient in some way. Even though he’d always stressed the fact that Carter was in charge. Perhaps they thought that meant they couldn’t approach him about anything that fell under Carter’s duties.

  One thing was certain. He needed to have a talk with his director.

  six

  Sun rays filtered through the thick, leafy branches of sturdy trees, casting shadows on the ground, even at midmorning. Abigail had hesitated when Lily Ann asked if they could have her lesson outside. Did she want to give Mr. Carter something else to disapprove of? But the child’s eager face had decided the matter for her. As they entered the woods behind the house, she was glad she’d acquiesced to Lily’s request.

  All the children had recovered, and classes had resumed a few days ago. Lily Ann’s parents returned her to school as soon as they knew for sure the danger had passed. Abigail hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her until she was back again.

  She carried a book in one hand and held on to Lily Ann with the other, but the little girl tugged away, and with arms stretched out before her, made her way from tree to tree, bush to bush. Abigail watched in amazement as Lily Ann dodged a tree before touching it. Now how had she known it was there? Lily Ann stooped down and, with a trill of laughter, scooped up a small object enveloped in some sort of husk.

  Abigail rushed forward. “What is that, Lily Ann? Not an insect I hope.”

  With a giggle, the child jumped up and offered the object to her. “ ’Course not. It’s a pecan. Too early to drop off the tree though.” She pointed upward. “Can you see them up there?”

  Abigail peered up at the towering tree. Small husked objects, similar to the one in her hand hung from the branches. “Yes, I see them. When are they supposed to fall off?”

  Lily Ann shrugged her tiny shoulders. “Not in July. Some-time in the fall.”

  They walked on, Lily Ann finding different trees and flowers that grew in the woods. Most of the time, Lily Ann had only to run her hand over the bark before she began telling Abigail all about it.

  Amused, Abigail listened closely. Who was teaching whom? Finally they found a level spot underneath a live oak and sat on the thick grass while Abigail read and Lily answered questions. Abigail praised her when she answered correctly, which she usually did, and encouraged her when she missed one. Lily loved the stories, and Abigail could only hope that someday the child could have the pleasure of reading them herself.

  “I’m going to tell the story about the princess that had no grabaty to my mama this weekend.”

  Abigail nodded. “But be sure to say ‘grav-i-ty,’ not ‘grab a tea.’ ”

  Lily Ann laughed. “Grav-i-ty. I know it now. What’s the name of the story again? I want to ask Papa to buy it for me.”

  “The Light Princess. By George Macdonald. It’s rather new as fairy tales go.”

  Lily Ann’s stomach growled, and she giggled.

  Abigail smiled and closed the book. “Your tummy speaks for me, too. I think it must be dinnertime. They got up and brushed loose grass off each other’s skirts then started back through the woods, emerging into the clearing behind the school. Abigail lifted her face to the breeze that drifted across her then smiled as she noticed Lily Ann doing the same.

  “The wind is pretty today, isn’t it, Miss James?”

  As Lily Ann’s countenance brightened with radiance from her smile, Abigail caught her breath. “Yes, I’d say it is. What about it do you find so pretty?”

  Scrunching up her forehead, Lily Ann tapped her foot, and then another smile broke out on her face. “It has a pretty smell. And makes my skin feel good. The whispers are very pretty, too.”

  Abigail sniffed then sniffed again harder. This time she caught a faint smell of flowers, grass, and cows, but that was all. And whispers? She stood still and tried to listen, but couldn’t hear so much as a faint rustle. The child’s senses must be very acute. Did God do that to compensate for Lily Ann’s inability to see? She breathed out a sigh of impatience. Well then, if that was the case, why did He allow her to be blinded in the first place?

  Shock zipped through her and her breathing quickened. You didn’t question God. Her parents had drummed that into her head over and over through the years. Beginning with the first time she’d asked them why her brother, Nat, was born deaf. And even more so after the accident that caused his death. Her heart beat loudly in her ears.

  “Are you all right, Miss James?”

  Lily Ann’s small hand on her arm jerked her back into the moment. She dabbed her handkerchief at her moist forehead and took several slow breaths until she was breathing normally.

  “Yes, thank you, Lily Ann. I really shouldn’t have walked so fast.”

  She held out her hand to the little girl. They walked, swinging their hands, across the vast lawn to the back door.

  “Mmm. I smell dinner.” Lily Ann sped up her pace, pulling Abigail along.

  They entered through the back door, into a large mudroom, and Lily Ann joined the other children who took turns washing their hands over the wash pan with a small bar of soap while Helen poured water from the pitcher.

  Abigail was surprised when Mr. Carter joined them. He’d had supper with them a few times since the measles epidemic, but never the midday meal. Abigail had assumed he didn’t want to eat with the children. She bit her lip. Obviously another misconception on her part.

  ❧

  The sun was low in the sky when Trent dismounted in front of the school and tied Warrior to the hitching post. He’d hoped to arrive in time to join the staff for supper, but Clyde Ramsey, a farmer a few miles away, had broken a wrist.

  The foyer was empty, but he could hear faint voices coming from the parlor, so he walked down the hallway and went in. Waverly leaned against the mantel of the huge empty fireplace, a cup in his hand. The smell of coffee tantalized Trent’s senses.

  Helen and Abigail glanced up from their seats on the sofa as he w
alked in.

  Virgie jumped up from her chair in the corner. “Dr. Trent. You sit down, and I’ll fetch you some supper.” She smiled. “You have that hungry look all over your face.”

  “You know, I think I’ll take you up on that, Virgie. Thank you.” He sat across from the ladies, nodded at Waverly, and greeted the ladies.

  “How are the children? Any sickness I need to attend?”

  After being assured all was well, he leaned back and relaxed. The measles epidemic had been trying for all of them.

  In a short time, Virgie returned followed by Sissy, who carried a tray that she set on the table by Trent.

  The plate was piled high with fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, greens, and corn, with a little dish of assorted pickles to the side. Two hot dinner rolls and a chunk of corn bread accompanied the overabundant supper plate and a slice of sweet potato pie for dessert.

  Trent grinned. Virgie was always trying to outdo her daughter in feeding him up as she called it.

  “Thank you, Sissy. And thank you, Virgie, but I can’t eat all this.”

  “Yes, you can. I’ll bet you haven’t had a bite all day.” She gave him a disapproving shake of her head.

  Trent proceeded to prove her right, enjoying the meal while the teachers conversed about the day’s classes.

  When he’d eaten the last crumb of sweet potato pie, he threw a sheepish grin to Virgie.

  “I was hungry, but just so you won’t think evil thoughts about your daughter, she insisted on cooking me a huge breakfast this morning and practically stood over me while I ate it.”

  “Carrie’s a good girl. She knows how to feed a man.”

  Shortly afterward, Charles excused himself and left the room.

  “Oh my, look at the time.” Helen scrambled to her feet. “And I still have history papers to grade.”

  Abigail rose, too, and Trent quickly stood. “Miss James, we never did have time for that second sign language lesson. I wonder, if you aren’t too busy, if you’d mind catering to my whim.”

  “I’d be happy to.” She flashed him a bright smile. “I don’t consider a desire to learn a whim, Doctor.”

  “In that case, shall we have my lesson here? Or adjourn to the site of the last one.”

  She laughed. “If you think we have enough light to see, I’d rather go outside.”

  Soon they were seated in the wicker chairs on the porch.

  “Well, Dr. Quincy, I think the first order of business is a review.” She gave him a teasing smile. “Can you still spell your first name?”

  “Ah ha. I knew you’d ask.” With a flourish, he raised his hand and made every letter in his name without pausing. “How’s that, Teacher?”

  “I’m very impressed. Someone has been practicing. Shall we go on to your last name?”

  “Absolutely.”

  When she made the Q he groaned. “My fingers will never do that.”

  “Sure they will. It’s easy. Go ahead and try.”

  He peered at the position of her fingers then tried to make the letter. After the fourth try, he growled in disgust. “Told you.”

  She shook her head. “Here, let me help you. May I?” She reached for his hand.

  He sat perfectly still while her soft fingers positioned his. “There. See?”

  Trent looked at his hand still clasped in her small one then glanced up into her eyes.

  Suddenly she blushed and dropped his hand. “Well, that’s how you make the Q. Now you try it.”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am, Teacher.”

  He made the letter perfectly. “Is that right?”

  “Yes, now make it again.”

  After perfecting the Q, they went on to the other letters.

  “I think you have a right to know I plan to speak with Mr. Carter about adding signs to the curriculum. I will, of course, give him an opportunity to present me with any reasons he believes we shouldn’t.”

  She closed her eyes and breathed a sigh then opened them and smiled. “Thank you so much, Doctor. Whatever you should decide, I want you to know I appreciate your considering my suggestions.”

  “And I appreciate your passion for wanting what’s best for the children.” He leaned back in the chair. “If you don’t mind my asking, what made you go into this field of teaching?”

  Moonlight had fallen across the porch, casting strange lights and shadows over them both. So perhaps that was what caused the sudden ghostlike paleness of her face. But what caused her sudden silence?

  “Forgive me for intruding. It’s really none of my business.”

  “It’s quite all right. There’s no reason you shouldn’t know.” She drew in a quick breath. “My brother, Nat, was born deaf.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that.” Why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut? “Is he doing well?”

  “He passed away when we were twelve.” She stood and her sad smile twisted his heart. “I really should go in now.”

  He stood. “Of course. Forgive me for asking questions that cause you grief.”

  “As I said, it was many years ago.” She nodded. “Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  He stood, mentally kicking himself for bringing up a subject that caused her pain. Even if he hadn’t known. Still, he’d intruded into her personal business. She’d said her brother died when they were twelve, so they’d been twins. How terrible it must have been. He offered up a quick prayer of comfort for her before going to retrieve his horse.

  seven

  Trent would be the first to admit he hated confrontation. He avoided it when at all possible. Peace in his life was more important than arguing or accusing. Or even questioning. But his sense of concern and duty for the students of Quincy School far outweighed his reluctance to speak to Joshua Carter about his refusal to even consider adding sign language to the curriculum.

  Hot sun beat down on him as he rode to the school. He reined Warrior in at the hitching post. Albert came around the corner of the house. “Dr. Trent, want me to take Warrior to the barn? It mighty hot out here in the sun.”

  Trent removed his pocket watch and glanced at the time. Almost noon. It would be at least an hour before he could talk to Carter, and he had no idea how long the meeting might take.

  “Yes, please, Albert.” Trent dismounted. “I’ve been riding him hard this morning, and he’s hot. Rub him down and give him water.”

  “Yes, sir. Be glad to.” He took the reins and led Warrior to the barn, talking to him as they went.

  Trent grinned. From the time Albert was a young man, he’d worked as a handyman and stableboy for the school. After the war, since the Quincy slaves had already been given their freedom, many stayed to continue working the land that Trent’s grandmother deeded to them. Albert’s parents were paid house servants with a cabin and land for their personal use. When his parents passed on, Albert stayed in the cabin and continued to work for Quincy School. He was part of Trent’s earliest memories, as was Virgie.

  As Trent stepped into the house, the aroma of seasoned pot roast wafted into the foyer, teasing his senses. The children were filing into the dining room. Mrs. Cole gave him a nod and smile as she followed them in. Knowing there would be plenty of food and that Virgie always made sure there was a place for him, just in case he showed up, he stepped through the door and took his place at the head of the table.

  After he prayed a blessing over the food, he lifted his head, and his eyes met Abigail’s. She smiled then blushed and turned to the server who was ladling soup into her bowl.

  After the meal, the children and their teachers returned to the classrooms.

  Carter rose and gave a nod as though he would leave.

  Trent stood as well. “Mr. Carter, I’d like to meet with you if you have no pressing duties at the moment.”

  Carter shot him a surprised and not-too-happy look. “I suppose I could spare a half hour or so.”

  “I don’t anticipate my business to last longer than that. W
ould you prefer your office or mine?” Trent’s office, a small room off the infirmary, usually smelled strongly of disinfectant and medicine, so he wasn’t surprised when his director chose his own.

  When he followed Carter into the stuffy room, the stale tobacco smell was so strong he wished he hadn’t given him a choice.

  “Please have a seat, Dr. Quincy. How may I help you?”

  Trent shot him a quick glance. Had he always spoken in such a haughty tone of voice? Funny, he’d never really noticed it before. He hoped he hadn’t used that tone with Abigail.

  Trent sat across from the man and eyed him for a moment.

  “I’d like to discuss the possibility of adding sign language to the curriculum.”

  Carter’s face reddened, and he pressed his lips together. He sucked in a breath then gave Trent a tight smile. “I believe we discussed this two years ago and decided against it.”

  “Yes, we did. But I was unfamiliar with the possibilities at the time and simply left the decision to you.”

  “Which I believe is proper, considering I’m the director.”

  “Perhaps. I’ve always had utmost faith in your decisions. But in this case, I believe you may have been mistaken. Would you be so kind as to give me your reasons for not wishing to at least give it a try?”

  The redness in Carter’s face heightened, and he sprang up from his chair. “Doctor, I hardly think it’s proper for you to question my decisions.”

  Trent stood and faced him. “I think it is very proper to ask for your reasons.”

  “Very well! Verbal instruction has worked well in this school from long before I came here, and I see no reason to change what works.”

  “And that is your only reason?”

  “I believe it is enough.” He gazed stony-faced at Trent, and perspiration beaded his brow.

  Trent studied him for a moment.

  “I disagree. You are to inform the teaching staff that sign language will begin on a trial basis, starting next week, with Miss James as the teacher. If it works well, the rest of the staff will be expected to learn to sign in order to communicate with the students with signs as well as verbally.”