by DiAnn Mills
As Dean Miller preceded Caroline into the carriage, a lace-edged petticoat peeped from beneath her flowing skirts. Caroline followed, knowing there would be no dainty rustle of her skirts as she settled into the butter-soft seat.
“Thank you for coming to pick me up,” Caroline said, smoothing out the folds of her skirt. In the process, her fingers brushed a fold of the taffeta skirt Dean Miller wore. She had never felt anything so soft and fine in a garment, and she wished she could touch it again.
“My pleasure,” Dean Miller replied, peering out the window as William climbed into the driver’s seat. “Was the train ride comfortable?”
“Yes ma’am, it was.”
Caroline stole another glance at the elegant woman beside her. Her face was rather plain beneath the jaunty little hat. Caroline guessed her to be at least middle-aged, and although she was much younger than Granny, her eyes lacked the sparkle that danced in her grandmother’s eyes.
Silence fell, and Caroline looked out the window. She didn’t know how to talk to a woman like this, so instead she concentrated on the fine-looking shops along the boulevard. Riding in a fine carriage pulled by sleek black horses was quite different from bumping over country roads in a wagon, she thought to herself. In less than an hour, she had dropped out of one world into another, one so starkly different that it had taken her breath away. There were fancy buggies and carriages everywhere, and the women wore dresses with yards and yards of fabric, giving them the look of floating rather than walking. Their hats, all sizes and shapes, matched their dresses. Men departed the shops in black suits and hats, looking distinguished and quite busy and in a hurry to get wherever they were going.
“We were quite impressed with your entrance score,” Dean Miller spoke up.
“Thank you,” Caroline replied. “I studied real hard, but then I have what Granny calls a passion for books. I never get tired of reading.” She wondered what Dean Miller was thinking as her eyes lingered on Caroline’s face. She felt nervous and uncomfortable and turned back to the window as an escape.
Dean Miller was thinking about the beautiful girl beside her and wondering how she would fit in with the students at Davis. Caroline Cushman would say exactly what she thought. She had dealt with all sorts of girls, but she knew from having studied this student’s background that this girl would have a lot to learn in the social graces. Still, she had made one of the highest entrance scores in the history of Davis. Upon receiving Caroline’s records from Oak Grove, the community school near Pine Ridge, she had been astonished at what she read. This bright student had made straight A’s from first through eighth grade, in the one-room schoolhouse. Then, upon entering high school, she had traveled with a neighbor in a wagon to Oak Grove, five miles each way, to finish school. During all those years, she had missed only three days of school, and she had graduated at sixteen. She was barely seventeen now, and yet she seemed older and wiser than most of the girls at Davis.
Dean Miller stole a quick glance at her pitiful little dress. Davis maintained a reputation of high standards both academically and socially. She had a feeling this beautiful young woman with the alert blue eyes would have no trouble making her grades, but she was concerned about how the other students would react to her clothes and her country twang.
The carriage turned into the campus driveway, sweeping past manicured lawns where boys and girls strolled, laughing and talking. She tried to see the campus through Caroline Cushman’s eyes, and in doing so, suddenly felt younger.
“Dean Miller,” Caroline whirled on the seat, “this is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen in my life! What kind of bushes are those?” she pointed.
“We have several types of shrubs here, Caroline. I’m not sure just what those are.”
“They’re so pretty,” Caroline replied. “Do they stay green like that all year?”
Dean Miller frowned. Did they? “Yes, I believe so. Actually I don’t notice them that much. You’re very observant, aren’t you?” She looked at Caroline, noting the way her eyes glowed as she stared at her new world. Suddenly, Dean Miller felt sorry for this young woman, who was so…fresh, so untainted by the sophistication of city life.
Caroline felt the woman’s hazel eyes boring through her face. She bit her lip and turned back to look out the window. She was talking too much; Granny had warned her about that.
Shrubs, she thought, I must remember to call them shrubs. She was still curious, however, about their beauty. “I reckon it makes the place more cheerful to have green things growing in the dead of winter, doesn’t it?” She bit her lip, wondering why she couldn’t just shut up.
Dean Miller nodded and her gray hat slipped lower on her forehead. She reached up to adjust her hat pin. “Yes it does.”
The carriage rocked gently to a halt and Dean Miller lifted her gloved hand to point at yet another brick building. “This is Brunswick Hall, the dormitory where you’ll be staying.”
“It’s beautiful,” Caroline sighed, admiring the way the ivy made a dainty crisscross pattern up the side of the dark redbrick wall.
The man named William had jumped down from his seat and was opening the door of the carriage. Caroline studied the way Dean Miller gave him her hand and gracefully descended the fancy little steps. Caroline followed, trying to hold her skirt the way Dean Miller did.
Once her feet touched ground, her eyes flew around, absorbing every inch of her new setting. She felt as though she had just stepped into the pages of one of the classics. Her eyes drank in the surroundings, admiring the stately buildings and the rows of shrubs and the brick walls surrounding everything.
She turned to the right, studying another handsome brick building. Through a large window, she could see a boy and girl sitting at a table.
“That’s the library,” Dean Miller explained. “I imagine you’ll be spending plenty of time there.”
“Oh yes,” Caroline nodded. “I can’t wait!”
Ryan Blankenship sat in the library with Amelia Gardner, trying not to look bored as she chattered on about the garden party her family was hosting. His eyes strayed to the window and halted suddenly on a young woman getting out of the school carriage. He could see that she was a new student for the driver was unloading her suitcase.
She was dressed a bit differently; was that what had caught his eye? She turned her face and looked toward the window and he caught his breath. What an exquisite face! He sat upright in his chair, feeling the boredom lift. Who was she? Where had she come from? And the eyes, wide-set and bright blue, were looking everything over carefully. She seemed to have a keen interest in everything around her. He couldn’t help wondering if a conversation with her would be more enlightening than this one he was struggling through with Amelia.
It occurred to him that Amelia had finally stopped talking. He glanced at her.
“…What did you think about it?” She tilted her blond head and batted her eyelashes.
Ryan blinked and wondered what she had asked. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“What did you think about the Wilfords’ party?”
He shrugged. “It was fine.”
“Oh. Well…,” she rambled on, unaware that she no longer held his interest.
It was amazing how girls thought he cared about social events and fashion. He wanted to socialize with them, but he would enjoy discussing something else, like politics or world news or nature. He really enjoyed discussing anything pertaining to nature. And of course, medicine, which was his field of study. He couldn’t expect girls to be interested in that however.
He sneaked a glance back to the window, and as usual, Amelia hardly noticed. He spotted the new girl, who was turning toward the front steps of Brunswick. Her clothes were obviously plain, but she had a nice figure and excellent posture. He watched her disappear into the building, disappointed that she was gone.
Dean Miller pointed out the parlor with its gleaming furniture, thick drapes, and nice carpet. She then led the way down the hall
and Caroline glanced right to left, absorbing the gleaming wooden floor, the creamy walls, the electricity. At the ridge, not one single family had electricity.
Dean Miller greeted two girls in the hall who gave her a wide smile, then turned surprised faces to Caroline, particularly her dress. She and Granny had worked long into the night for weeks, trying to copy the dresses they had seen in the mail-order catalogs. And she had felt so good about her clothes; but now she realized that while they had copied the style of dresses, they could not duplicate the fine fabric. Even by scrimping and saving, the best they could purchase was quality cotton. She had never owned silk or taffeta or any of the fine fabrics she saw floating past her.
“You’re in number eleven, halfway down.” Dean Miller pointed, hurrying ahead.
“Oh, hello! You must be Emily Ellison,” Dean Miller was saying as she swept into a large room where a girl with brown hair and green eyes turned from the dresser and faced them.
Emily was an inch taller than Caroline and at least five pounds heavier. She was wearing a taffeta dress that was the palest shade of gold, like fading sunlight in late November.
“Yes ma’am. I’m from Atlanta,” the girl replied in a smooth, rich voice.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Dean Miller and this is Caroline Cushman.”
“Hello,” Emily said, staring at Caroline.
“Hello, Emily,” she responded and smiled. She wished her stomach wouldn’t hurt and that she wasn’t so nervous and self-conscious.
“Caroline is on scholarship, Emily,” Dean Miller continued smoothly. “She’ll be a good roommate.”
“A scholarship?” Emily’s green eyes suddenly lit up.
“Yes, now I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”
“I’m glad you’re smart,” Emily said, still looking Caroline over. “I barely sneaked by on my entrance exams. And to be perfectly honest, I’m not fond of studying.”
“I’ll be glad to help you if I can. I really like to study,” Caroline replied.
“You do? Not me. I wouldn’t even be here if my parents hadn’t forced me to come.”
“Forced you?” Caroline placed her cardboard suitcase in the empty closet as soon as she spotted the handsome trunk near Emily’s bed.
Emily shrugged. “Let’s just say they gave me no choice. Does it matter which bed you take?”
Caroline glanced at the twin bed by the window where Emily’s clothes were haphazardly dumped. “This one’s fine,” she said, turning to the bed by the door. She saw the bare mattress and wondered if she was required to bring bed covers. She thought she had memorized every word in her letters from Davis.
“What’s wrong?” Emily asked, watching her.
“I didn’t bring…,” her voice trailed away as she stared at the bed and felt the blood rush to her cheeks.
Emily tossed a set of sheets and matching pillowcase onto the bare mattress. “Mother must have bought me a dozen.”
Caroline reached down and trailed her fingers over the creamy linen. “Oh, I couldn’t…I mean…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Emily replied indifferently.
Caroline hesitated, wondering how to respond. “That’s very nice of you,” she answered slowly. “Maybe I can do something for you.”
“Maybe. You found your closet.” Emily inclined her head toward the one Caroline had chosen. “They’re much too small. I can’t get half my clothes in there.”
Caroline peered in. She could get her clothes in with space left over.
“At least we’re near the central bath,” Emily continued. “It’s only a few doors down. Father was disappointed that there aren’t more bathrooms, but then he owns a hotel and is accustomed to having plenty of baths.” She studied Caroline. “What does your father do?”
Caroline’s back stiffened, though she kept her smile in place. “He’s dead.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” Caroline looked from the mahogany twin beds and nightstands to the small matching dressers. “I think we’ll like it here, don’t you?”
Emily slumped on her bed. “No, I’ll be miserable. I left a boyfriend over in Atlanta, and already I miss him so much I could just die.” Tears filled her eyes. “They think Tommy isn’t good enough for me. He has a good job, but he didn’t go to college.” She studied her emerald ring and sighed. “What my parents won’t accept is that I’m not smart enough to make it at Davis.”
“Oh, I’m sure—”
“No, I struggle with school.” She looked at Caroline. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No,” Caroline replied. She was burning with dreams and ambition and she hadn’t time to think of boys. Besides, who would she have chosen for a boyfriend? The only boy she’d ever liked was Billy Joe Whitaker, who had gotten himself killed in a horse race.
“Well at least you didn’t have to leave anyone. Where is your home, anyway?”
“Pine Ridge. It’s a little place over in Blount County, an hour by train. Well I guess I’d better get unpacked.”
With Emily’s eyes following her every move, Caroline stood up and went to the closet to open her suitcase. She shook out the five good dresses she had brought and hung them in the closet. Then she took her box of toiletries to the dresser drawer, along with her undergarments. When she glanced at Emily, she noticed her green eyes were huge, as though she didn’t believe what she was seeing.
Caroline imagined that Emily was probably amazed at how little her new roommate owned. Well, it couldn’t be helped. She was Caroline Cushman from Pine Ridge. She wasn’t going to put on airs or pretend to be something different. Still, Caroline knew that life here was not going to be easy.
She returned to her suitcase and withdrew her Bible. The black leather cover was worn from years of use, but she treasured it, and as long as she could hold it, she didn’t feel quite so frightened or alone. She laid it on the nightstand and smiled across at Emily. “Are you a Christian?” she asked.
Again, the girl’s brows rose in twin peaks. “I guess so.”
Caroline averted her eyes, wondering how you could guess about something so important. Unlike Emily, she wasn’t worried about her studies; she was worried about adjusting to these people and their lifestyle. Until she did, she had to remember to think before she spoke. And that would be the hardest thing of all.
Chapter 2
In the coming days, Caroline became totally absorbed in her classes. She had chosen English as her major, and her mind was fertile soil begging for seeds of wisdom. Books and their interpreters were gifts, challenging and exhilarating her, explaining the restlessness of adolescence, the boredom. Davis was the answer to her prayers. There was one problem however; she knew she looked and sounded different from her classmates.
She tried to limit her conversations until she learned to pronounce her words more clearly. When called upon to answer a question, her answer was always correct, no matter how challenging the question. An occasional snicker reached her, but those around her soon conceded that even though she didn’t talk or dress like they did, she was smarter.
She was a model student, poised on the edge of her seat, her blue eyes keen with interest, her pen quickly filling her tablet. She devoured every word her instructors spoke, even lingered after class to ask questions. At night, she haunted the library.
On the second week in October, Emily reluctantly joined her at the library. “I have to find a dumb old reference book,” she complained. “Have you noticed how musty this place smells?”
“Old books,” Caroline replied. She didn’t mind a musty book; she respected its age. Her eyes swept the tall ceilings and rows of books that brought a surge of excitement to her. She loved exploring the priceless treasures at her fingertips. “What are you looking for?” she asked helpfully.
Emily related her assignment and Caroline located the specific reference area. “Just decide what you want. Give me your satchel, and I’ll find a table.”
Caroline entered the ad
joining room, where students sat at desks, absorbed in books. She hardly noticed anyone in her haste to get to the nearest table to deposit her load. She took a seat and opened her English book. Suddenly someone bumped her chair. She jumped, and the book tumbled from her hand to the floor.
“Oh I’m sorry.”
She turned and looked at the dark head beside her, kneeling to retrieve the English book.
“Here you are,” he said, placing the book on her desk.
“Thanks,” she replied as he straightened and faced her.
She had noticed him in English class. He was very handsome and he dressed well. Looking up at him, she realized he was five ten or eleven, with a nice physique. Friendly brown eyes were set in an oval face with a high brow, slim nose, and strong chin.
“I’m Ryan Blankenship,” he said. “I’m in your English class.” He slipped into the adjoining chair.
“I’m Caroline Cushman.”
“You look awfully busy,” he said, glancing at all the books.
“I am.” She felt nervous just looking at him, so she fidgeted with a book.
“Have you finished the theme Mrs. Stockton assigned us?”
She glanced at him, smiled, then looked back at her book. “No. I don’t know what to write about.”
“She mentioned a special vacation,” he said.
“I’ve never been on a vacation.”
“I think Mrs. Stockton was just making suggestions when she mentioned a vacation. I believe the important thing is to write about something we care about. What about the area you come from?”
Her gaze inched back to him. “I do care about Pine Ridge. When I graduate from Davis, I plan to go back there and teach school and write.” She bit her lip, wishing she hadn’t told him the part about writing. Why was she talking so freely to this stranger? Still, her eyes lingered on his face; she sensed a kindness there, and he had a nice, friendly smile. He acted as though he really cared about what she was saying.
“Tell me about Pine Ridge.”
“Pine Ridge is over in Blount County. It’s only an hour by train, but it seems like another world compared to here.”