The third floor was quiet for a change, except for the echoing sound of a hammer from the end of the west wing. Helen guided her guest to the double doors in front of them and they entered a large room with a stage on one end.
Mr. Flannigan whistled. “An auditorium, no doubt.”
“Yes. Converted from the former ballroom.” She motioned toward the stage. “This, of course, is an addition. Albert, our groundskeeper and stableman, designed it himself and built it with some hired labor and a lot of volunteers. We were totally amazed to discover he had all these talents. Well, Virgie wasn’t surprised, but they’ve been friends all their lives.”
“Will you be adding permanent seating?”
“No, Dr. Trent ordered chairs that can be easily removed if we wish to utilize the room for other purposes, such as parties or indoor activities on rainy days. They should arrive any day now.
They walked down the hall and turned onto the east wing. “Our younger children will be on this wing. She turned into the first room on the right. “This will be a combined play room and nap room for the five- through seven-year-olds. It was converted from part of the old nursery.
Helen showed him the classrooms on that hall, avoiding the storage room with the trunk full of ball gowns.
Mr. Flannigan nodded politely but didn’t seem very interested. Perhaps the tour had been a mistake.
Helen hesitated when they arrived back at the stairway, uncertain whether to continue to the west wing. Suddenly she pressed her lips together and straightened her back. This was her opportunity to show Molly’s father what he would be taking her from.
She continued walking. She turned into the west hallway, passed up the first room, and entered the second. The walls were filled with bright paintings, and tables and cases stood around the room, waiting for science projects and specimens.
“This will be Mr. Waverly’s science class. Molly’s favorite. She’ll miss it very much.”
He gave her a startled look then frowned but didn’t say anything when Helen led him down the hall to the other rooms. His eyes brightened. “Molly is doing well with sign language, isn’t she?”
Hope rose in Helen at his question. “Yes, she’s doing very well. She shows so much promise. It would be a shame if she had to stop learning now.”
Annoyance shadowed his eyes. “I appreciate your showing me around. When will you be moving the classrooms to this floor?”
“Very soon. Maybe as soon as next week.” Although he hadn’t replied to her comment about Molly leaving, Helen couldn’t help the hope that remained in her heart.
But for now, she’d leave it alone. Perhaps she could talk to him after supper.
As they reached the second floor, Molly and eight-year-old Lily Ann came out of the girls’ dormitory. The girls stopped in the doorway, signing into each other hands.
Mr. Flannigan’s brow furrowed. “What are they doing?”
“Lily Ann has hearing, but she’s completely blind. When we added sign language to the curriculum, she insisted on learning it, too. She signs to the deaf children, and they sign in her hand.”
“That is amazing.” He whispered the words, and Helen wasn’t sure he intended them for her.
Molly noticed them standing at the stairs. “Oh, Lily Ann, it’s my papa and Miss Edwards.”
The girls hurried to join them.
“Papa, did you like our new schoolrooms? Aren’t they nice?” Molly grabbed her father’s hand, and they walked down the stairs together. Helen and Lily Ann followed.
Molly didn’t seem to know she was leaving the school. Had Patrick Flannigan not mentioned it yet? Was it possible his mind wasn’t completely made up?
“Papa, is it all right if I play outside with Lily Ann until supper time?” Molly’s long black lashes fluttered as she looked up at her father’s lips.
“I suppose so. Perhaps Miss Edwards will consent to sit on the porch and visit with me while you girls play in the yard.”
Helen threw him a surprised glance. She wasn’t about to pass up the chance to talk to him more. She nodded and slipped through the door he held open. The screen door closed behind them, and Helen motioned to the wicker chairs and tables grouped at one end of the wide porch.
When they were seated, he turned to Helen. “I didn’t realize you teach blind students, too.”
“Well, officially, we haven’t up till now.” Helen glanced at the girls. “Lily Ann’s parents are friends of Dr. Trent’s. They didn’t want to send her away to a school for the blind, so Dr. Trent agreed to take her as a student on a trial basis. She’s been here two years now—since she was six—and learns quickly.”
“But how do you teach her? Orally?” Amazement filled his voice.
“Yes, until recently that was our only method for teaching her. But we added braille to her course of studies a few months ago. She loves being able to read some of the simple stories for herself.”
He shook his head. “You and your colleagues are doing wonderful things here.”
“Thank you, Mr. Flannigan. We only do what we can to make their lives better.” So please don’t tie our hands where Molly is concerned.
“Mr. Flannigan, would you consider changing your mind about taking Molly away?”
“You make me sound like some kind of ogre. Of course, I’m going to take her home with me. She’s my child.” He snapped the words then added in a softer tone, “I appreciate all you’ve done for Molly. Her time here has given her a chance at a much better life than she would have had otherwise.”
“But don’t you see? There’s so much more for her to learn! Please don’t cut her education short.” Helen paused for breath. “Think about her future!”
“Her future is with her father!” He rose. “How can you think she’s better off away from me? She’s learned all she needs to.”
“No, she hasn’t.” She noticed Molly glance that way and lowered her voice. “There is so much more for her to learn. Why can’t you see that? Stop being so stubborn.”
“Stubborn? Because I think my child belongs at home with me? This subject of conversation has ended, Miss Edwards.” He turned and motioned to Molly.
“What, Papa?” Molly ran up the porch steps.
“Get your coat. You’re coming with me.”
Helen gasped. “But it’s almost supper time.”
His eyes were hard as they gazed into hers. “Miss Edwards, I’m quite capable of feeding my daughter.”
❧
Patrick tried to focus on Molly, who sat next to him in the carriage. But his thoughts kept going to that infuriating woman with her ridiculous ideas. How dare she treat him as though he were doing something evil when he was only trying to be a good father to Molly.
Why, she actually raised her voice to him. And those eyes. Those strange blue eyes the shade of a spring sky that he’d thought so pretty had been clouded with anger when she shouted at him.
Well, he’d show her. He’d take good care of his daughter. Maybe he could find someone in Atlanta to teach her more of that sign language. He bit his lip. He didn’t think that was likely.
“Papa, look.” Molly pointed out the window at a dog chasing a black cat.
“Would you like to have a dog, Molly?” He patted her hand and waited for an excited reply. When she didn’t answer, he realized she hadn’t read his lips. He touched her shoulder to get her attention, and she looked up.
“Would you like a dog, Molly?” he repeated.
Her eyes lit up. “We have six dogs, Papa. We have a collie named Goldie, who lives in the barn. And she has five puppies. They’re so cute.”
He bit his lip and tried again. “Well, what about a kitten?”
“Oh, Papa. We have the cutest kittens. Nellie Sue, the mouser, just had seven of them.” She giggled. “Virgie said not a mouse in the country would dare show its face around Quincy School.”
He nodded. “That’s very nice, Molly. I’m glad the school has pets.”
He stopped the
horse in front of the hotel. He lifted Molly down from the carriage and tossed the reins to the boy who stood waiting.
“Is this your hotel, Papa?”
“Yes, and it has a fine restaurant. I thought you might enjoy eating here tonight instead of the school.”
“Sure. That’ll be fun. I hope they have good things to eat like Cook does.” She tossed him a big smile.
“Well, I’m sure they’ll have almost anything you’d like.” He guided her to the restaurant door, where they were seated at a table set with crystal and silver.
They ordered fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, sweet potatoes, and fried okra. Molly wrinkled her nose at the okra but ate the rest with pleasure.
“Well, what do you think? As good as Cook’s?” Patrick eyed his daughter and grinned.
She took another bite of her drumstick and closed her eyes in thought. “Well, it’s very good, Papa. And almost as good as Cook’s. But don’t tell her I said so. It might hurt her feelings.”
Patrick laughed and made a buttoning motion on his lips.
Molly giggled. “You’re funny, Papa.”
They finished with chocolate cake and ice cream. Molly’s eyes widened when she saw the enormous dessert in front of her.
After they’d eaten, they sat in the lobby and watched the people coming and going. They laughed behind their hands at a portly woman’s wide-brimmed hat topped by a large blue bird.
“Papa, did you see my new classrooms?”
He hesitated. “Yes, I saw the classrooms. They look quite efficient.”
“I know. Especially the science room. Mr. Waverly says we can go on more nature walks because we have more room to keep the insects and leaves.”
Patrick watched her eyes grow bright with excitement as she talked about the anticipated new projects.
“You like your school, don’t you?” Sadness ripped through him.
“Oh yes, Papa. It’s the best school in the world. Did I tell you we have a new sign language teacher?”
“Yes, I believe you did. A Miss Wilson?”
“Yes, she’s just out of college. And Virgie says if she’s half as good a teacher as Miss Abigail was, she’ll be wonderful.” She paused to take a breath then giggled. “I mean Mrs. Quincy, ’cause she’s not Miss Abigail any more.”
She loved these people. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. But she was his child. She needed to live with him. That’s what Maureen would want, wasn’t it? He sighed. Maybe he needed to at least think about this before he did something he’d regret. He’d send a telegram to his assistant tomorrow and let him know he wouldn’t be back as soon as he’d said he would.
❧
Helen yanked the thread from the dress she was mending for the third time. She rethreaded the needle and tied a knot. Why had she spoken so rashly? What if she didn’t even get a chance to say good-bye to Molly?
Forgive me, Father. Virgie was right. I didn’t ask You what Your will is for Molly’s life. I’m so sorry.
Helen started at the rattle of harness and the sound of carriage wheels. She waited until she heard Molly’s voice and then the sound of her feet running up the stairs.
She rose and laid the dress on her chair then went to the foyer. Patrick Flannigan stood still, his face a myriad of emotions as he watched Molly fly up the stairs.
Helen cleared her throat, and he looked her way. “Mr. Flannigan, I spoke out of turn. Can you forgive me?”
“I will, if you’ll forgive me. I wasn’t very nice.” He ran his hand around the band of his hat. “And perhaps you were right. At least you’ve given me something to think about. Good night, Miss Edwards.”
“Good night, Mr. Flannigan.” She closed the door behind him and started up the stairs, overcome with the goodness of God.
three
The chalk screeched across the blackboard, sending a shiver down Helen’s spine. She finished writing the homework assignment then turned to her class.
Her students sat with heads darting from the board to their tablets. Helen smiled at the diverse expressions on their faces—from Molly, who bit her lip as she concentrated with furrowed brow, to Sonny, whose bored expression and darting glances betrayed his restlessness.
One by one, they closed their tablets and raised their heads to look at her lips, waiting for instruction.
“Boys and girls, I know you’re all excited about the chili supper at the church tomorrow night.”
Phoebe Martin’s hand shot up. The seven-year-old’s eyes sparkled.
“Yes, Phoebe?”
“Do we get to help Miz Selma with the baking?” Hope filled her eyes.
“I think Cook said the older girls could help out this after-noon, Phoebe.” Helen frowned at the giggles that rippled through the room.
“But, I’m seven.” Phoebe’s lips trembled. “Isn’t that old enough?”
“Ordinarily, it is, Phoebe. You know Cook often lets you and Lily Ann help her. But today she needs the girls who are over ten and have been helping her a while.” Helen smiled at the child. “But there will be other times when you can help.”
The bell rang to signal the teachers it was time to dismiss. Helen’s quick glance at the door alerted the other children, who looked expectantly at Helen.
“All right, boys and girls. As you know, there will be no classes this afternoon as some of the teachers and older students are helping with preparations for tomorrow. Be sure to do your homework. You may line up at the door.
Papers rattled and shoes scuffled against the hardwood floors as the children lined up at the door.
“Stop that!”
Helen jerked her head toward the line of students just in time to see thirteen-year-old Jeremiah jerk his hand back and stare at Helen. Sonny had grabbed onto the student in front of him to catch his balance.
“Jeremiah! Return to your desk.” Helen gave him a severe look that broached no back talk.
“Boys and girls, you are dismissed.” She gave a little wave then shut the door behind them and walked over to Jeremiah.
“We’ve had this discussion about picking on other students before, haven’t we?” She tapped her hand on the edge of his desk.
“Yek mem.” His broken, almost unintelligible speech aroused Helen’s sympathy. Jeremiah had only enrolled at midterm and had very little training until he came to Quincy School. She straightened her back. She couldn’t let her sympathy enable him to pick on the other children—especially the young ones like Donald and Sonny, who seemed to be his favorite targets.
He looked closely at her lips through narrowed eyes. Apparently he’d learned lip reading on his own and was very good at it.
“Jeremiah, I don’t like punishment. But your mistreatment of the younger boys has to stop. I want you to clean the blackboard.” She paused.
Relief washed over his face at what he apparently thought was his full punishment.
“I also would like for you to read Matthew 7:12 and write a half-page essay on what the verse means.”
“A hak page?” Dismay filled his voice. “But. . .”
“No ‘buts,’ Jeremiah.” She knew it would be a struggle for him because he could only print and still had trouble even with that, but it was necessary for him to learn not to bully.
“Yek ma’am.” He rose and walked to the blackboard.
When he’d finished, Helen patted him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Jeremiah. Now hurry and get washed up for dinner. I hope you enjoy the chili supper tomorrow night.”
A small grin tilted his mouth as left the classroom.
Helen gathered her things together and went to her room to freshen up. When she came downstairs, Dr. Trent stood in the foyer visiting with Mr. Flannigan. Molly held her father’s hand with a look of delight on her face. The same look she’d had ever since he’d arrived.
She nodded a greeting.
“Helen. There you are.” Dr. Trent smiled in her direction. “We were just about to go in to dinner. I can smell
Selma’s good Georgia gumbo and I can’t wait much longer.”
“I agree completely,” Helen said. “Will you and Abigail be at the chili supper tomorrow night?”
“Unless I have a medical emergency. I hear they’ll be using Virgie’s chili recipe and her spices.”
Helen laughed. “Yes, Cook mixed up the secret spice mix yesterday, and Albert took it to Ezra Bines.” When Virgie had stepped down as cook a few years ago to take over as head housekeeper, she’d given all her recipes to Selma, who’d been her assistant cook for years. Ezra traditionally made the community chili once a year in an enormous iron pot over a roaring outdoor wood fire. Although Virgie had given him her basic recipe, the spices remained a secret.
Mr. Flannigan held his free arm out to Helen. “Miss Edwards, may I escort you in to dinner?”
Heat warmed her cheek, but she placed her hand on the proffered arm.
Dr. Trent chuckled. “Well, all right. I know when I’ve been snubbed.”
Molly dropped her father’s arm and stepped over to the doctor. “You may escort me in, Dr. Trent.”
The doctor bowed. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Flannigan.”
Mr. Flannigan held Helen’s chair then took a chair between P.J. and Howard Owens, the boys’ dorm parent, at the other end of the table.
Helen smiled to see Dr. Trent at the head of the table. He wasn’t here for meals often since his wedding. He gave thanks and asked the blessing on the food.
Sissy and the new server came in and began to dish up the soup. The smell of Georgia gumbo wafted across the room.
“Thank you, Sissy, it smells wonderful.” Helen dipped her spoon into the savory stew. She’d had Louisiana-style gumbo before and loved it. Since coming to the school, she’d acquired a taste for the Georgia version. Chunks of okra, shrimp, crab, smoked sausage, and rice swam in a liquid of tomato sauce and delicious spices. The onion and various peppers tingled on the tongue.
The gumbo alone could have been a complete meal, in Helen’s opinion, but before long, the servers removed the bowls and began filling their plates with tender pieces of steak in brown gravy, potatoes, and green beans.
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