The Fragrance of Geraniums (A Time of Grace Book 1)

by Ruggieri, Alicia G.

  Grace turned pale, her eyes two blue holes in a white-clouded sky. “Whatcha mean, Mama?” she nearly whispered.

  A painful pleasure throbbed through Sarah as she knew that she’d hurt Grace. Sarah thrust the brush deep into the bucket, splashing soapy water over the edge. “Just what I said. I guess you know about the baby coming in February.”

  Grace stared, but Sarah thought she saw her head bob a tad in acknowledgment.

  “Well,” Sarah continued, scrubbing the wood as if her life depended on it, “I’ll be needing you here once February rolls around.”

  “But…” Grace looked like a sunfish some cruel boys had left to flop on a summer riverbank. “But I have to finish school, Mama.”

  A fifteen-year-old daughter telling her mama what she had to do! Sarah sat back on her haunches, looking at Grace, scrawny and threadbare, and her heart softened just a bit. Then she heard Charlie’s car pulling up the long drive, grinding through the stones in the dirt. A bang of one car door, then another. Laughter followed, high and nervous and quickly hushed. Sarah’s mouth hardened into a thin line. “I need you here, Grace. There’ll be no arguing about it, is that clear?”

  Grace began nodding, tears pooling in her eyes. Sarah didn’t feel the kind of satisfaction that she had thought she’d feel, but she went back to scrubbing. Without looking at Grace again, she said, “Go on now and change your clothes. I need your help with supper.”

  “No.”

  Sarah whipped her head up, sure she’d heard wrong, though the word had been said in such a strong, unmistakable voice.

  Grace stepped forward, coloring rising in her cheeks, dashing away tears with the back of her hand. “No, Mama. I’m not gonna quit school, no matter what you say, and I’ve got homework tonight!” With a glare that seared her mama, Grace dashed from the kitchen.

  Sarah heard her daughter’s feet thud up the stairs and then the bedroom door shut with a loud bang. The kitchen stayed silent for a long while, the only sound being the weeping that shook Sarah’s shoulders.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  None too patiently, Geoff waited for the nurse to bring Doctor Philips to the telephone. When he finally heard the older man’s calm voice, Geoff’s words poured out in a deluge of panic – vomit, blood, pain. My wife. My wife!

  “Yes, so she is experiencing spontaneous abortion, just as I thought,” Doctor Philips replied. “Usually, there’s only mild bleeding, but with Mrs. Kinner’s pregnancy having reached four months, some vomiting and cramping should be expected.”

  Geoff heard Emmeline retching in the bathroom. His blood pressure rose rapidly. “So what do you recommend we do, Doctor?”

  “Do? There’s nothing to do, Mr. Kinner.” Doctor Philips sighed. “I am sorry for the loss. But, as I told your wife last week, I expected this unhappy conclusion.”

  “There’s a lot of blood, Doctor!” Geoff couldn’t stop himself. “I don’t think this is normal. Emmeline is very ill!” Didn’t the man understand? Geoff wasn’t just worried about the loss of the baby; he was concerned about his wife!

  “Sometimes the body retains some of the tissue if the pregnancy is of a two-month duration or longer. Then, she may need a minor surgical procedure to stop the bleeding and prevent infection.”

  “A surgical procedure?” Just when Geoff had thought it couldn’t get any worse.

  “Yes. Actually, I’m going to refer you to a specialist, just to be on the safe side. Doctor Samuel Giorgi. You may know him already.”

  Sam? Of course, Geoff knew him; Sam and his son had attended First Baptist for a few years now. The Kinners had hosted them for dinner several times. “Yes, of course,” replied Geoff. “We know him from church.”

  “Good. You’ll be comfortable with him, then. As you may know, Doctor Giorgi is the foremost gynecological surgeon in this region. You’ll be in good hands with him. Let me give you his office telephone number. See if he can get you in today.”

  Leaden-fingered, Geoff penciled down Sam’s office phone number. He would call the specialist as soon as he let the school know that he wouldn’t be in today.

  And I’m cancelling that choir. I can’t concentrate on something so inconsequential when Emmeline needs me so much.

  “Say, Grace, did you hear?”

  Paulie’s grinning face appeared just to the right of her locker. Somehow, he seemed to materialize wherever Grace was. And Grace found herself blushing worse than an apple-blossom tree whenever the dimple-cheeked boy did materialize. I wish he would go away!

  Maybe he wouldn’t see how red her cheeks got if she kept her face hidden in the depths of the metal cubby. Conveniently, Grace found that her pencil case required immediate attention. She set it on the narrow shelf inside the locker and began to straighten its contents, not even glancing at Paulie. If I don’t answer him, maybe he’ll leave. She lined up her pencils so that the erasers lay snugly together.

  But Paulie wasn’t in any hurry to leave, heedless of Grace’s silence and total absorption in her pencil case. After a few moments, Grace looked in Paulie’s direction from the corner of her eye. There he still stood, tanned forearm leaning up against the locker next to hers, eyes sparkling like hot caramel, his usual wide grin toned down to a serious smile. He would’ve looked like a young Hollywood heart-throb in one of Nancy’s magazines if it weren’t for the slight meaty scent on his breath. He must’ve had bologna for lunch, thought Grace, a little envy spreading shoots inside her.

  He’s not gonna leave unless I talk to him. Hoping her face had cooled, Grace turned toward Paulie, keeping her hands in the pencil case for safety. “Hear what?” she asked, her heart gaveling against her chest. Her eyes dropped down for just a fraction of a second to make sure the pounding wasn’t shaking her blouse visibly.

  “Mr. K. dropped the choir.” Paulie grimaced. “It’s a real letdown, huh?”

  Grace’s tongue lay paralyzed. For several seconds, she stared at Paulie, mouth open as a trout’s. Then she realized how she must look and clapped her lips together. A moment later, she managed, “W-W-Why?”

  Paulie shrugged, his thick shoulders rising and falling with easy confidence. “Don’t know yet. Mr. Jeffries told me on my way inside this morning.”

  Grace’s heart fell into her ankles. It must be true, then, if Paulie had gotten the news straight from Mr. Jeffries. Proud of being born on the day the Civil War ended, bow-legged Mr. Jeffries was the principal of Chetham High School. “Why’d Mr. Jeffries tell you?” she couldn’t help asking. Why did Paulie get first dibs on info from the principal?

  He shrugged again. “I asked him if he knew why Mr. K. was in such a hurry yesterday. He got all tight-lipped but then he let that leak out about the choir.” Paulie folded his arms across his chest – but Grace noticed how the gesture didn’t make him seem like a tough guy. Just… Just… manly, she decided, then bit her lip, glad that he couldn’t read her thoughts.

  “I sure was looking forward to it,” he added.

  Grace nodded and turned back to her pencil box. “Yeah, so was I,” she said.

  Really, Grace? Were you planning on going back after what happened last night with Mama? Her fingers felt the smooth wood of the pencils as they rolled about the box.

  Yeah, I was. I really was. The clarity of the thought scared her, froze her fingers in mid-caress. I was going back. Her index finger and thumb pinched one of the pencils until the skin under her fingernails turned bloodless white. No matter what Mama said, I was going back to the choir.

  She knew why, too: Her brother Ben’s words kept vigil in her mind, haunting her in the early hours of the morning when her bedroom was so cold and empty. They whispered comfort when she brought the buckets out to milk Bessie in the gloaming; they sang to her as she worked on homework late into the night. We’re all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars, he’d said. His eyes, so serious and sad in that darkened barn, pleading with her: Promise me, canary bird. Promise me that you won’t settle…

 
The tears brimmed before Grace knew what had happened. Panicked to think that Paulie might glimpse her outbreak of emotion, she stuffed her head further into the locker, not taking into account her now-violently trembling hands. The pencil box clattered off the locker shelf, its contents scattering in a five-foot radius all around Grace. Humiliating as it was, she half-welcomed the diversion. She dropped to her knees to pick up the pencils, feeling the solid tile chilling her skin where her stockings had drooped.

  Paulie was beside her in an instant. “Here, lemme help,” he said, and his hands pooled the pencils with a few quick swipes. Grace’s icicle fingers brushed against his warm ones; she knew he didn’t notice it, but she sure did. Of course, she was forced to acknowledge it with a face full of fresh floridity.

  With a grin turning up his mouth, Paulie poured his handful of pencils into her box and stood to his feet. He grabbed Grace’s elbow as he rose, helping her up as well. She jerked away from him as soon as she regained her footing, the unaccustomed courtesy making her feel awkward.

  Paulie looked surprised at her repulsion. Surprised, and Grace thought, just a smidgen hurt. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear to cover her embarrassment. A brief expression of confusion seemed to hover on his face for just an instant, but then he replaced it with his usual cheery smile. The bell shrilled above their heads. “Well, I’m off to World History,” Paulie said, hefting his books under the crook of his arm. “See you later, Grace.”

  She nodded, so many feelings – some familiar and most completely new - roiling inside her, and watched the springy figure retreat down the hall.

  “Mr. Kinner has taken a leave of absence.” The rookie substitute shifted from one leg to another. Paulie noticed that the young man – he couldn’t be more than twenty-one – had a very twitchy mouth. Maybe he wasn’t sure whether he should smile to show he was good-natured or if he should frown to show how stern he would be if anyone dared to disobey him.

  “Who is this guy?” Toby Simmons whispered in Paulie’s ear from the desk behind him, spraying Paulie with a light mist of saliva.

  Paulie grimaced and wiped his neck. Why did Toby have to have a space between his front teeth and an overbite to rival a beaver’s?

  “Oops, sorry, Paulie,” Toby muttered.

  Paulie wished he hadn’t wiped his neck so conspicuously. He turned his head a bit to offer Toby a grin. “Forget it, Tobes. And I don’t know who the sub is,” he whispered.

  “Wish Mr. K. was here,” Toby murmured.

  Paulie nodded, his eyes turned back toward the front. “So do I.”

  The substitute wobbled over to the blackboard lining the classroom wall, picked up a thin piece of chalk with shaky fingers, and began to scrawl something on the black expanse. Only, the chalk broke halfway through, falling on the floor in several unusable pieces. The classroom broke out into laughter as the man turned a red-and-white face back toward them. “Class! Class!” he emitted in a strained voice, and Paulie felt pity for the poor man as he grasped for authority that he hadn’t earned.

  Without bothering to raise his hand (It wouldn’t have done much good since the whole class rollicked with laughter.), Paulie jumped up from his desk and headed for the front of the room. He’d taken out the box of spare chalk from Mr. Kinner’s desk before the substitute could protest. “Here you are,” he smiled, offering the box.

  The young man took it from Paulie with a stiff little nod. “Thank you,” he answered. “You can take a seat now.”

  Paulie grinned again and headed back to his desk. On his way, he noticed Ruth Ann passing a note to Grace again. He glanced back over his shoulder at the substitute. Hope he doesn’t catch them.

  The substitute had busied himself with writing his name on the blackboard, however. He seemed oblivious to all else but his own quest to obliterate the students’ memories of his mishaps by means of impressing them with his elaborate cursive.

  “I am Mr. Crookshank,” the substitute announced, turning back to the class. His cheeks glowed with the triumph of having written his name. “I will be your teacher until Mr. Kinner returns.”

  Two rows over from Paulie, freckle-faced Gerry Turnbull raised his hand. “When’s Kinner coming back?” he asked, chomping hard on a wad of bubblegum.

  Mr. Crookshank’s lips tightened. “He has taken a leave of absence for the time being. That is all you need to know, Mr…?”

  “Oh, Turnbull, sir. Gerry Turnbull,” replied Gerry, happily smacking away at that gum.

  “Mr. Turnbull. You will refer to your absent teacher as Mr. Kinner. And you will please dispose of that disgraceful chewing gum immediately.” The substitute seemed to be gaining his academic sea-legs by force.

  He must’ve known he made a bad first-impression and is trying to fix it now, figured Paulie, sitting back. The substitute surveyed the classroom coolly, his eyes raking each student. Suddenly, his gaze stopped near the back of the room to Paulie’s right.

  Oh, no. He caught them.

  Sure enough, Mr. Crookshank strode toward Grace and Ruth Ann. Ruth Ann saw him coming before Grace did. She shrank back and pretended to be flipping through her literature book. When Mr. Crookshank came to a halt in front of Grace’s desk, she still was reading the note Ruth Ann had passed her.

  Whack!

  The ruler fell across Grace’s hands with a force that made Paulie wince. She hadn’t expected it; the note bounced out of her hands onto the floor, and her head jolted up to stare at Mr. Crookshank. From his seat, Paulie could see the deep red marks the ruler had left on Grace’s white fingers. Crimson rose in his own face as he bent his eyes to stare at his desk.

  “Well,” Mr. Crookshank stated, a glimmer in his eye, “I can see we have our work cut out for us in the next few weeks. Bubble-gum chewing, disrespect, passing notes,” he listed, giving extra emphasis to the last action as if it was truly diabolical. “I thought I was here to teach English literature, but I see that I truly have been hired to instruct this class in manners.”

  “Oh boy,” muttered Toby in Paulie’s ear. Paulie didn’t dare answer.

  Mr. Crookshank still hovered over Grace, who had drawn her shaking hands into her lap. “For how can we expect to appreciate the heights of taste and culture, to mine the depths of Cowper, Shakespeare, Dickens, and…” His voice trailed off. Amidst the creak of desk chairs, Paulie shifted to see what had caught Mr. Crookshank’s attention.

  The substitute’s eyes fixed on Grace’s golden hair, shining like a buttercup under the school’s lighting. For heaven’s sake, what in the world? Paulie waited, barely breathing, to see what would come next.

  “Is that a…” Again, Mr. Crookshank’s voice faded away as he squinted at Grace’s bowed head. “It is!” he announced at last, as if he had discovered a new continent peopled with cannibals. “It is! It’s a louse!”

  The classroom erupted into laughter again, and Paulie watched, horrified, as Grace turned redder than a robin’s breast. If she shrank any deeper into her desk chair, she’d become part of it. Paulie glared at the substitute.

  Mr. Crookshank, however, had no interest in Paulie’s anger. He gripped Grace’s elbow, forcing her to her feet and moving toward the classroom door. Her face was a frozen mask of horror. “Young lady, you march straight down to the office, and you tell them that they are to check you thoroughly for lice.”

  With that, he pushed Grace briskly out the door.

  I can’t believe that just happened. Grace shook in the empty corridor. She could hear the laughter quieting down within the classroom from which she’d just been ejected. They were all laughing at me. Her cheeks burned so badly that she touched them with her icy hands to see if they were really on fire.

  The slap with the ruler hadn’t bothered her. It wasn’t fair; after all, Ruth Ann had also been passing notes, and she’d gotten away with it. But Grace would’ve just taken that patiently and gotten on with her day.

  But lice! She wandered aimlessly down the hall a few steps before coming to a num
b halt. She laid her head against the cool tiled walls. Why’d he have to announce it like that? Her fingers found her scalp and scraped through the hair, glad to feel the physical pain.

  I can’t. I’m not going back. She sniffed away the tears pushing at the back of her eyes and gritted her teeth. Mama was right. I don’t belong in school anymore. Ben was wrong. I don’t have any other choices. Sometimes… Sometimes, you have to settle, Ben.

  It felt like a day of death as she went over to her locker, touching the metal door for the last time. She made sure that she had all her books and pencils before closing the locker with a clink that echoed in the empty hall. Like closing a coffin, she thought. Except there’s nobody in it. Like me. Nobody.

  Grace paid no mind this time to the flop of her shoes as she made her way to the office. I’ll return my books. Say that Mama needs me at home right now ’cause of the baby coming.

  After wiping away those first tears, Grace couldn’t say what she felt. Happy? Certainly not. Fated? Perhaps… And there was a morbid comfort in knowing you were fated to be miserable, that it wasn’t just chance, after all.

  She was reaching out her still-stinging hand toward the worn brass knob of the office’s varnished oak door when she heard a familiar voice call out softly, “Grace! Grace, wait up.”

  As she turned reluctantly, Paulie dashed down the hallway toward her, dark hair bouncing as he ran. He slid to a stop right in front of her, breathing deep. Grace dropped her eyes, staring down at her saggy stockings. Her hands went to her hair, tucking it behind her ears. He probably laughed at me, too.

  He stood there silently for just a moment, then said in that straightforward way of his, “I’m sorry that guy did that to you, Grace.”

  She looked up to see real sincerity shining out of his face. His mouth bore a sympathetic smile, which Grace found her own lips returning, albeit with timidity.

  “Thanks,” she said softly. “You better get back to class.” Without waiting for his answer, Grace turned back to the office door. I’ll probably never see Paulie again. Grace couldn’t help the little sigh her heart gave.