On Sparrow Hill
Page 16
“Will you make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”
“How about that as our fallback? I was thinking of roasting something. I’m partial to tenderloin with a lemon pepper seasoning.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Dana said.
Padgett’s edible tower fell, and she looked up at Elise. Rebecca saw her tilt her head. The child looked fascinated.
“Can I pet your hat?”
Elise stared at the child as though she’d spoken an undecipherable language.
In the awkward absence of a reply, Dana reached across the table for her daughter’s hand. “I don’t think anyone wants someone touching their clothing, hats or otherwise. Are you finished with your brunch?”
Padgett nodded a hopeful nod and seemed to be surprised by the question with so much left on her plate.
“Then let’s go outside for a walk, okay?”
Padgett eagerly abandoned her seat, going only as far as Quentin’s side. “Quentin said he’d help me feed Winston when we finished eating.”
“I did indeed,” he replied, and as if the bird recognized his name, he screeched again.
They went to the cage, where Winston fluttered his wings as Quentin opened the door.
“Can I get you some tea, at least, Lady Elise?” asked Rebecca.
“No, I came to fetch Quentin. He was gone before I had a chance to let him know guests are arriving this afternoon and I’d like him to be there.”
“Sorry, Mum, but I have plans already.” He held his hand over Padgett’s small one as she offered a nut to the bird. “That’s right. He’ll take it now.”
And so the bird did, as gently as if he recognized a child when he saw one. Padgett ran to her mother’s side. “Oh! Mommy, did you see? He took it right from my hand.”
“Yes, I did. Was it fun?”
Padgett nodded, then looked at Elise again. “Why weren’t you at church with Quentin and Rebecca?”
Perhaps Elise had a sort of selective hearing, because she appeared not to have registered Padgett’s inquiry.
“Mum, Padgett asked you a question,” Quentin said, closing the cage door.
She looked at Padgett with surprise. “Yes? What is it?”
“Why didn’t we sit with you when we were at church? We always sit with my grandma.”
“I wasn’t there,” Elise answered.
“Don’t you go to church?”
Dana hugged her daughter close. “We don’t really need to ask something like that, honey. Not everyone goes; we talked about that before.”
But Padgett still eyed Lady Elise. “Can I ask you a different question, then?”
Elise looked down at her again. “What is it?”
“What does God look like?”
She raised one sculpted eyebrow. “And why is it you think I would know such a thing? Do you suppose I’m so old that I was there when He created everything?”
Padgett shook her head. “No, Mommy said that happened such a long time ago nobody’s alive from then. Mommy also says we go to church to learn more about God. Since you don’t have to go anymore, that must mean you know all about Him. So I wonder, what does He look like?”
Quentin burst into laughter, but he was the only one to do so despite Rebecca’s temptation.
“I haven’t the faintest idea, little girl. And you’re a bit outspoken for one so young.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Dana said. “I think we’ll take our walk now.”
“Perhaps I’ll join you.” Rebecca followed Dana toward the door.
“See there, Mum, you’ve successfully cleared the room. Don’t you think you could learn to be more cordial so people don’t flee the moment you speak?”
He was still cajoling, in the next moment inviting her to feed the bird as Rebecca followed Dana out of earshot.
Outside, Rebecca walked alongside Dana as Padgett ran ahead toward the cuddle farm.
“Wow,” whispered Dana, “you do have some obstacles ahead, don’t you? With her as a prospective mother-in-law?”
Rebecca grimaced. “Quentin is trying to help me look on the bright side.” She sighed. “At least I won’t have to wonder what she’s thinking.”
She glanced back at the windows facing them, wishing she shared Quentin’s positive attitude. She might one day be tolerated by Lady Elise, but Rebecca wasn’t at all sure that was enough.
30
* * *
Did I once say, Cosima, that I never shied from a fight? How godly is that, I wonder? I am the worst kind of sinner, one who not only does the deed but revels in it afterward.
God forgive me, but that man brings out the worst in me. . . .
Berrie finished morning exercises with the students and let Mrs. Cotgrave lead the way back inside. Someone had dropped a scarf during the march, and Berrie went to retrieve it. She was in no hurry today. Simon had arrived during morning drills, and Berrie decided to let Katie, and perhaps Mrs. Cotgrave, offer greetings. Even as she realized her first thought was to keep her distance from him, she wondered at the ease with which she silently called him Simon. With Katie so often referring to her brother by his given name, it was difficult for Berrie not to think of him that way.
Since those first two brief visits, he’d returned a couple times more, never speaking to Berrie, keeping to Katie’s routine. Berrie had voiced surprise at his last early morning arrival, and that was the only time he’d spoken to her, letting her know he was staying at the Quail’s Stop Inn. No doubt being awakened by Eóin those weeks ago made the inn more appealing.
Simon had probably noticed their new students, all boys. Maybe once he realized more and more parents were trusting her and her staff with their children, he would finally trust them enough to leave Katie for more than a week at a time.
Berrie found her way inside, where she would conduct her first class of the day. Royboy and a new student by the name of Grady sat on one end of a table in what had become the third classroom. Katie, with Tessie and Annabel, sat on the other. Simon was there too, though he didn’t take a seat. He lurked in the corner, one shoulder to the wall.
Berrie took up a stack of pictures she’d drawn. The children knew the routine. She handed the collection to Katie for her to lead the process of language through identification. All complied except Royboy, who watched the others and occasionally blew air through tight lips to make a noise somewhat between a whistle and a sputter. They went through the calendar, the weather, the names of familiar items she’d drawn.
Soon Katie had gone through all of the papers, and Berrie had the students stand. The slightest change, even an expected one, brought with it noises from every corner, and it took a moment for her to reclaim their attention. At last she had two students walk toward one another as if passing on the street in order to properly address each other. Even Royboy’s “How do you do” was clear and well-timed today. Berrie glanced at Simon, who watched in silence, wondering if he still thought the school a failure.
The task near completion, she approached the front of the classroom, where only Katie and Grady were yet to greet one another. Grady was a large boy for being only fourteen, the tallest of their students. They walked toward each other, but no sooner had Katie issued her friendly greeting than Grady shoved her to the floor.
Berrie stepped forward. “No, Grady!” she said firmly, passing him to assist Katie to her feet. She barely saw two shadows approach, one from each margin of her vision, before Grady rammed her. Gasping for breath, she scrambled to regain her feet, seeing Simon already headed for Grady. He wrapped two strong arms around the boy from behind, rendering him immobile.
“Let go of him!” Berrie demanded, seeing Grady’s eyes fill with panic at the strong hold from someone he didn’t know and couldn’t see.
“I will not. This boy should be in shackles.”
Cries soon erupted from Annabel at the table, followed quickly by a howl from Royboy. Katie, now on her feet, babbled to her brother about Grady being naughty and how he ought n
ot to have any dessert tonight.
Berrie stood directly in front of Grady, who looked as frightened as a two-year-old, the approximate age at which he functioned. Though she looked at him, she didn’t put her face in his line of vision. Instead she spoke from the periphery of his vision. “It’s all right, Grady. You’re fine now; he’s only making you steady. Listen to me. Stop struggling, and you can take a seat. All right? We’ll sit down now.”
His struggle only increased and Berrie could see Simon wasn’t about to let him go. “Katie,” Berrie said gently, “will you go and get Mr. Duff, please? You’ll find him in the workroom, where the boys make shoes. Get him now, Katie.”
“Mr. MacFarland,” Berrie continued after Katie left, not surprised that her own voice sounded placating, “please bring Grady back to his seat and help him to sit down.”
“You needn’t speak to me like I’m one of them,” Simon said, dragging Grady back to his chair. He let the boy sit, keeping both hands on him, one on each of Grady’s shoulders. “He’s a danger to you and the others and shouldn’t be here.”
Berrie stiffened. “If you don’t mind, we won’t discuss this here.” She looked at Grady, who tried unsuccessfully to shrug off Simon’s hands. “Grady, you must stay in your seat until Mr. Duff arrives. Do you understand?”
The boy only shook his shoulders again, another attempt to be free of Simon’s touch. He tried to stand, but Simon held him down.
The others in the class still made their various noises, Tessie, the only one among them who was relatively quiet, humming as usual. If Berrie knew Grady better, she would know how to calm him, but he’d only arrived a few days ago. Duff would know what to do with him since he spent more time with him, and then she could take Royboy out to the hall, where he could better regain his calm. The others would find peace in their seats once the quiet around them was reestablished.
If only Simon MacFarland wouldn’t get in the way.
A moment later, Duff arrived with Katie lagging behind. Berrie had no idea what Katie had said to Duff to bring him so quickly, but it must have caused some concern. “Are you all right?” he said quietly.
Berrie nodded. Never in this life would she admit anything was wrong while Katie’s brother was in the room. “Can you take Grady for a walk?” Glancing outside and seeing the rain, Berrie added, “Downstairs to the parlor and back might help, maybe a turn around the foyer.”
Once Grady was gone, Berrie found a stack of blank papers. Already Royboy was quieter, and she determined he didn’t need the customary walk in the hall to regain his calm. She asked Katie to help the others practice their penmanship, a task that for someone like Royboy was little more than scribbling. But the girls were more accomplished and it was something they all enjoyed. Soon the room was right again, and Berrie went to the door. She knew Simon watched her every move. She didn’t have to look his way to invite him to follow her outside the room.
She left the door ajar so that she could hear the students and faced Simon. “I’ll thank you not to interfere again, Mr. MacFarland.”
“Interfere? I put a stop to him and you call it interference?”
“I was quite fine and so was Katie. We were merely taken by surprise.”
“Surprise, is it, when you sailed through the air? You or Katie might have hit your head on the table or landed hard enough to break a bone. When I decided to leave Katie here, it was with the understanding you interviewed prospective students and no one dangerous would be allowed under this roof.”
“And so we do. Grady is larger than some and perhaps a bit more rambunctious, but he’s not malicious. He’s new here and will learn—”
“Spare me your attempts to dismiss what just happened. You don’t know the boy any better than I do, and I say he’s a danger to anyone around him. It was foolish of you to have him in a classroom without a male attendant nearby.”
Berrie’s lips tightened. She met his irate stare with one of her own. It hardly mattered that his suggestion might make sense; she wanted no part of him. “I’ll thank you not to run my school. And don’t ever touch one of my students again.”
His brows lifted. “What would you have had me do, stand by so he could toss you out the window?”
“He didn’t and wouldn’t have.”
Simon shook his head. “No use to argue that point since neither one of us really knows what he might have done had I not restrained him.” If he was daunted in the least by her outrage, he didn’t show it. He took a step closer so that he loomed taller than ever. “You’ll not let him attend a class without a male attendant nearby if you want to keep this precious school of yours open.”
* * *
Late that night, Berrie rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock she kept on the corner of her desk. Past eleven. She really must go to bed; morning came quickly in this school. She prayed tomorrow would not see another dispute with Simon. After their morning argument she’d avoided him the rest of the day.
She stood with a last glance at the papers before extinguishing the lamp. She’d vowed to be involved at every level of this school, from admissions and teaching to the feeding and personal care of every student. No one had been more amazed than herself upon her pronouncement, realizing from her research that the work would entail cleaning up after other human beings in the most personal manner. Even her mother had been surprised, who must have thought what Berrie once believed of herself: she had too weak a stomach for real work.
But she’d proven everyone wrong, including herself. Her only worry now was that she couldn’t be as involved as she wanted to be. There was simply too much work at each level to dabble in all of them. Even now she was teaching only one class instead of the three she had started out with. Paperwork could consume a day all by itself, even with the help of a clerk twice a week.
Closing the door, she took the key from her pocket and locked the office. She walked to the foyer, where she intended to end her day in the usual way with a walk around the grounds. It was exactly what she needed tonight—fresh air and then to bed.
A light from the family parlor caught her eye. Surely no one had left a lamp lit? With their wanderers, such a thing could be dangerous. Only the high sconces on the walls, where most children could not reach, were left alight after everyone was in bed.
But as she approached the parlor’s open door, she heard Finola’s voice.
“ . . . ’Twas my own father who determined my weddin’ day. He wanted to see it done before he died, and sure and enough, two days after the ceremony my da’ was gone. Yes, the whole village downed a pint that day—in his honor.” She must have seen Berrie’s shadow, for she turned that way. “Oh! I didn’t see you there, Berrie. Have a seat.”
Berrie looked with some surprise, having half expected to find her talking to Duff, who sometimes followed Finola like a dog after its master. But he rarely made it past ten o’clock, as his days were full enough to demand rest.
Instead, looking stiff and uncomfortable, sat Simon. He had a book in his hand and sat near one of the two lighted lamps. Quite the homey scene, if only he didn’t have that pained look on his face. She wondered if he’d had it before she walked into the room.
She shook her head. “No, I was only curious about the light. I’ll be retiring for the night shortly.”
Simon set the book aside and stood. He bowed briefly Finola’s way. “Yes, I agree the hour is late, and so I shall be off as well. Good evening to you, Miss O’Shea.” Then he turned to Berrie. “I wonder if you might see me to the door, Miss Hamilton?”
Dread crept up her spine. She didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say. Had he used the day to figure out how he would see the school closed?
Without a word, she turned and led the way to the door. She braced herself for another argument, wishing for only one thing: the energy to sustain her side.
“I stayed in order to apologize, Miss Hamilton.”
Berrie raised a widened gaze his way. “I beg your pardon?”
Too amazed to speak, Berrie stared.
Simon looked at her solemnly. “I was concerned about that student—Grady, I believe is his name—and still am. However, you’ve taken sufficient safety measures in other matters up to this point, and if you’ll agree he needs closer attention than other students, I’m sure any future problems will be avoided.”
She folded her arms. Had he really sought her out to apologize? She might be too eager to jump to the worst conclusion when it came to Simon MacFarland. She really ought to learn to control her tongue around this man. “Thank you.” She didn’t trust herself with more than that.
He put a hand on the door, pulling it open. “I’ll be leaving now and probably won’t return for a fortnight or so. I’ve said my good-byes to Katie, so she won’t expect me in the morning.” He moved to leave, stopping halfway through the doorway. “You really ought to do something about the length of your day, Miss Hamilton.”
Then he left, pulling the door closed behind him before she had a chance to speak. Not that she had a word to say. If the admonition had been spoken in reproach for keeping him waiting so long, she might have bitten out a suitable retaliation. The odd part of it was that his tone had been surprisingly gentle, similar to the one he usually reserved for Katie.
Such an observation was enough to leave her speechless.
31
* * *
Rebecca clicked on the light and sat behind her desk, glancing at the clock. It was ridiculously late to start working; the sun had set hours ago. She’d been delinquent this summer. She was behind in her e-mail correspondence, hadn’t opened her mail since yesterday, and had yet to meet with the marketing firm about new brochures. That, thankfully, had been put on hold until they knew the outcome of the Featherby decision.