When the meal had ended, Molly and two other girls helped to clear away the dishes. Helen smiled at their eagerness to help in the kitchen today.
Helen was in the foyer talking to Virgie when Mr. Flannigan walked out of the dining room.
He removed his hat from the rack and held it in his hands, running his fingers around the band. “Miss Edwards, I wonder if I might have a few words with you.”
Helen tensed. Was this the moment he would tell her he had decided definitely to take Molly home?
❧
Patrick stood beside Helen on the wide, white framed porch. He hesitated, uncertain what to do. “Would you like to sit over there?” He indicated the wicker chairs at the end of the porch.
“I think I’d prefer to walk down the lane, if you don’t mind.” Her smile was tremulous, and she motioned toward the gate.
“I don’t mind at all.” He offered his arm, but she didn’t seem to notice. She gathered her shawl around her and walked down the steps.
“It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” Her hand waved, seemingly to the air in general.
“Yes. One of the reasons I love the South. Who would think early February could be so mild?” He glanced over. A soft brown curl had come loose and hung around her face. He wondered what it would be like to brush it back. He jerked his head around and looked forward just as she glanced his way. He didn’t need to be having a thought like that about his daughter’s teacher. They reached the gate and he opened it so she could pass though.
“So you’re not from the South originally?” She waited while he closed the gate then continued down the lane.
“No, I grew up in Pennsylvania. I came to Atlanta to start a business with a friend.” He realized he was still holding his hat and plopped it on his head. “He didn’t care for Georgia, so after a year he sold me his share of the business and went back home.”
“But you apparently like it here.” She smiled.
“Love it. Still do.” He paused then continued, “Besides, I’d met Maureen by then and didn’t really care where I lived so long as she was with me.”
Helen stopped beneath a live oak tree and looked into his eyes. “Maureen was your wife,” she said softly.
“Yes.” He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “And that brings me to what I wish to talk to you about.”
She stiffened for a moment then took a deep breath. “You’re taking Molly from the school?”
“I’m still not sure.” He shook his head, hating his seeming inability to make a decision. “Part of me thinks Maureen would want me to take our daughter home, but then I watch her with her teachers and the other children here. I see them conversing with sign language. She’s happy here. When we went to dinner last night, all she could talk about was Miss Wilson, her new signing teacher, and how nice it would be when the school moves to the third floor. She’s happy because she gets to move from the dorm and share a room with one other girl.”
“Yes, now that we’ll have more room, only the small children will sleep in the dorm. The older ones are very excited.”
“There’s something else.” Familiar pain and frustration gripped him. “Communication is difficult between Molly and me. Sometimes I forget to look directly at her when I speak or enunciate clearly.”
Helen nodded. “Yes, I can see that would be a problem. You could learn to sign, you know.”
Hope rose in him. That was the very thing that had been niggling at his mind. “Do you think I could?”
“Of course.” Her blue eyes flashed with excitement. “Anyone can learn sign language.”
Without thinking, he grabbed her hands. “Could you teach me?”
Pink washed over her cheeks, and he realized he was clutching both her hands. Quickly he released them. “Please forgive me, Miss Edwards. I meant no disrespect.”
A gentle smile touched her lips. “I know you didn’t and I’m not offended.
“Would you consider teaching me?”
“That would depend on how long you plan to be here, Mr. Flannigan.” She bit her lip.
“I can only stay a week. I have to get back to my shop.” He frowned. There was no way he could stay away longer.
“I can teach you some basic signs in that time,” she said. “And we have a book you can take with you when you go.”
“Wonderful! When can we begin?”
She held both hands up and looped her little fingers together. “This is the sign for ‘friend.’ ”
Hopeful, but feeling a little foolish, he made the sign. “Is that right?”
Her lips tilted and her eyes sparkled. She leaned back against the tree. “Perfect.” The smile faded. “Of course, Molly will be with you to help you learn when you go home.”
Suddenly the solution came to him. At least a temporary one. “Miss Edwards, I think I should let Molly stay in school until the end of the term. In the meantime, I’ll be learning sign language. Then I’ll make a decision about next year.”
Relief washed over her face. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Mr. Flannigan.”
“I know you’re busy, but could we get together for a short while every day until I leave? That way, maybe the book won’t scare me to death.”
A rippling laugh proceeded from her throat. “That won’t be a problem. And since tomorrow is Saturday, would you prefer morning or afternoon for your lesson?”
“I promised Molly I’d take her to the river for a picnic tomorrow. Perhaps we could have the lesson afterward?”
“Of course.” She pushed away from the tree. “And now I think I should get back and see if there’s anything I can do to help Selma.”
“Oh yes. The chili supper is tomorrow evening.” Eagerness rose up in him. “Would you care to share a table with Molly and me?”
“I’d be delighted, Mr. Flannigan,” she said. “Perhaps Molly and I can teach you some signs for the food and utensils.”
“In that case, Teacher, perhaps you could drop the mister and call me Patrick.”
A startled look came on her face. “I suppose that would be all right.” She lifted her chin. “And you may call me Helen.”
❧
Helen sat in front of P.J.’s desk. “Patrick Flannigan has decided to leave Molly here until the end of the term.”
“Ha!” P.J.’s eyes shone. “I knew you’d get to him.”
“What do you mean?” Helen hoped her voice was as shocked as she felt. “Why, I had nothing to do with it. He decided on his own.”
“Uh huh.” P.J. grinned. “I’m only teasing, Helen. Don’t get all riled up.”
“Well, that wasn’t nice, P.J.” Helen bit her lip. Their director needed to grow up, even if she was fifty years old. “Apparently, it’s obvious to him that Molly loves it here. He also realized he needs to learn sign language so they can communicate better.”
“Bravo for him. He’s a father who puts his child first. That’s refreshing.” P.J. frowned. “But why did he plan to take her out of school in the first place?”
Helen hesitated. “I believe he thought his late wife would want him to bring their child home.”
“Hmmm.” P.J. tapped a pencil against her desk. “How long ago did his wife pass away?”
“It’s been a little over two years. Molly still grieves for her mother sometimes.”
P.J. nodded. “I’ve often found that after a while the memory starts to fade and people feel a little guilty. So they put restrictions on themselves that their loves one would have never wanted.”
“You could be right,” Helen said. “Molly told me she can’t always remember what her mother looked like. Mr. Flannigan may be going through something similar.”
“So what is the plan? Do we give him a book to take home with him?”
“Yes. And I’ve agreed to teach him a few basics before he leaves next week.”
Amusement crossed P.J.’s face. “You? Why not the sign language teacher?”
Helen gasped. “Oh dear. When he asked me to teach
him, it never crossed my mind to suggest Hannah.”
“Oh well, she has enough right now anyway, learning the school and getting used to all the children. Perhaps it is best for you to do it, if you don’t mind.” She grinned.
“Stop looking at me like that.” Helen stood. “I’m only trying to be helpful. For Molly’s sake. I have to go see if Cook needs my help in the kitchen.”
P.J.’s laughter followed Helen down the hall.
four
Children’s laughter rang out across the schoolyard. Games of tag and hide-and-seek were already in full swing. The late afternoon sun cast shadows, and although it was a warm day, Helen, who sat on the top step of the church, shivered when a gust of air passed over her skin.
“Mmm, that chili smells wonderful.” At the sound of Abigail’s cheerful voice, Helen turned.
“It sure does. You missed the chili supper last year, didn’t you?” Helen looked up from the step at her friend.
Abigail laughed. “Yes, by a good while. I can hardly believe it’s only been eight months since I arrived here.” She gathered her skirts around her and settled next to Helen.
“You know we’re going to be right in the way of folks going in and out of the building.” Helen made the observation but made no move to rise.
“I know, but it’s the perfect spot to see everything.” Abigail wrapped her shawl across her stomach, leaving her hand there for a moment.
Something about the protective movement sent a rush of excitement through Helen. “Abigail! Are you expecting?” Her excitement was reflected in her whispered words.
“Shhh. Yes. How did you know? Am I showing?”
“No, silly. You can’t be more than a couple of months along. It was the way you laid your hand over your stomach.” She noticed the redness cross her friend’s cheeks and felt warmth in her own. “Forgive me, Abigail. I shouldn’t have been so outspoken.”
Abigail giggled and flicked her wrist at Helen. “Oh, it’s all right. But I’d better be careful or the whole community will know before I tell Trent.”
Helen gasped. “Oh my. You haven’t told him yet?”
“I wanted to wait a while to make sure.” She cut her glance at Helen.
“But you are sure, aren’t you?” Helen grinned.
“Yes. I’m going to tell him tonight.” Abigail gave a little shake of her finger in Helen’s direction. “Don’t you dare say anything. He has to think he’s the first to know.”
“I promise.” She stood and held her hand out. “You’d best get up from there. Let’s go inside.”
Abigail waved her hand away. “Don’t coddle me. People will notice.”
“All right. Let’s see if we can bring the silverware out to the tables.” Helen stepped up onto the porch, keeping an eye on her friend.”
Baskets of desserts and breads sat on a table at the back of the church. Odds and ends of forks, spoons, and knives, donated by the ladies of the community from time to time, lay in a bucket waiting to be taken outside.
Virgie and Selma stood giving directions.
Helen laid a hand on Virgie’s wrinkled brown arm. “What can we do to help? Is the silverware ready to go out?”
“Yes, but grab that stack of tablecloths to put over the tables. Them boys been scrubbing them down, but I don’t want to take a chance they missed a spot of bird droppings.”
Helen heard something like a cough or gag from behind her. She grabbed the tablecloths and shoved them into Abigail’s hands. “I’ll be right behind you with the utensils.”
She grabbed the bucket and followed Abigail outside and down the steps.
Abigail bent over, making choking sounds.
Helen put her arm around her. “Honey, are you all right? Should I get Trent?”
Abigail stood up straight and looked at Helen, her face contorted, then emitted a loud guffaw.
Helen stepped back. “You’re laughing. I though you were nauseated because of what Virgie said.”
Abigail grabbed Helen’s arm to steady herself. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. The thought of covering up bird droppings with Virgie’s spotless white tablecloths was too much.”
Laughter bubbled up in Helen and exploded. She linked arms with Abigail and they walked over to the line of tables, still laughing.
“Well, ladies, are you going to share the joke?”
Helen gasped and looked up to see Patrick walking toward them, a smile on his face.
“Oh, Mr. Flannigan. It was nothing.” Helen took a deep breath to regain control. “But please come meet my friend Abigail, Dr. Trent’s wife.”
Abigail offered her hand, and Patrick took it and gave a gentle shake. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Quincy.”
“And I’m delighted to meet our sweet Molly’s father at last.” Abigail looked from Patrick back to Helen. “I’d better get these cloths on the tables so we can get the dessert table set up.”
She began shaking out the cloths and smoothing them down on the long board tables.
Helen darted a glance at Patrick and found him giving her a very admiring look. She blushed. “If you’ll excuse me, Patrick, I need to help Abigail.”
“Of course. I’ll just go see if I can help stir chili or some-thing.” He grinned.
“Ezra will run you off if you come near his chili. But I think I saw Dr. Trent getting the boys together for a game of kickball.” She glanced toward the back of the church. “Yes, there they are. He could probably use another man to help keep order.”
“I’m your man. I’ll go see what I can do.” A red lock fell across his forehead, nearly reaching his eye.
She’d never noticed how handsome he was before. Well, maybe she had, at that. She watched him walk away.
“Come on, Miss Lovelorn. I could use some help here.” Abigail’s laughter rang out again.
Humph. Abigail had been laughing a lot lately. She must really like married life. But why did she have the idea Helen was lovelorn? She felt herself blushing again. It seemed she was blushing as much as Abigail was laughing.
She turned and grabbed an end of the cloth Abigail was trying to get onto the table evenly. “I’m not lovelorn. Don’t be silly.”
“You don’t like Mr. Flannigan?”
“Well, yes, I like him. He’s a very nice man. But not the way you are implying.” She blew a lock of hair out of her eyes and frowned at her friend. “The very idea. I hardly know him.”
Contrition crossed Abigail’s face. “Forgive me, Helen. I shouldn’t be teasing you. I remember how I felt when people would tease me about Trent. Before I even knew I loved him.”
Helen gave her friend a suspicious look. “Well, don’t think I’m in love with Patrick Flannigan. Because I’m not.”
“Oh no. I was only talking about me. And Trent.” Abigail bit her lip then cleared her throat. “We’d best get the rest of the cloths on the tables. I see some ladies coming with baskets of food.”
“Yes, and from the way the chili smells, I’d say that it’s almost ready, too.” Helen helped smooth the last cloth just in time. She and Abigail helped get the bowls and plates set up on one end of the table. They laid out spoons, forks, and knives in separate piles. Soon the breads and desserts covered one of the tables. And little bowls with chopped onions and chopped peppers were placed around the tables.
Reverend Shepherd stood on a tree stump and called out for everyone to hear. “Let’s gather around now and say grace, brothers and sisters. The crowd flocked around, and after thanks had been given, they lined up with their bowls.
Patrick appeared at Helen’s side. “Molly is saving three seats at the second table. We already have our chili and corn bread and she sent me to fetch you.”
❧
Patrick couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed himself so much. From the delicious food to Molly’s giggles when he made a mistake signing the word for one of the utensils. Helen’s delight when he got them right made him work harder just so he could see her eyes s
parkle and her soft pink-tinged lips tip into a smile.
“Papa!” Molly tugged on his sleeve. “Why are you staring at Miss Edwards?”
“Uh. . .” He laughed. “Well, she’s a mighty pretty lady, don’t you think?”
“Oh, Papa, ’course she’s pretty.”
Helen’s face flamed. “Well, thank you both, but could we talk about something besides my appearance?”
What had he been thinking? That was the problem. He hadn’t been thinking. “I’m sorry, Helen. It just sort of blurted out. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“That’s quite all right. I realize you were being polite.” Her face still flushed, but at least it wasn’t beet red anymore.
“Okay, Molly, you didn’t show me the sign for knife.” He hoped Molly would follow his lead and change the subject.
The men brought out lanterns, hanging them in the trees and standing them on the tables and the porch as dusk started to fall.
Some of the younger children were nodding off to sleep, so their mothers began to gather up platters and leftovers to take home.
Helen rose. “I need to help clear away.”
“Will you ride with us, Miss Edwards?” Molly pleaded.
“Well. . .”
“I was about to invite you myself.” And he regretted that Molly had beaten him to it. He enjoyed Helen’s company and wasn’t quite sure why. Of course, she was a very kind and gentle woman and was obviously Molly’s favorite teacher. So naturally, he liked being around her.
“That was so much fun, wasn’t it, Papa? And that chili was as good as Cook’s. Didn’t you think so, Miss Edwards?” Molly continued to chatter practically nonstop on the ride back to school.
Patrick grinned. He suspected his daughter was talking to stay awake. “I’ll take you to the hotel for lunch tomorrow, Molly girl. How does that sound?”
“Fried chicken?” She leaned her head on his shoulder and patted a yawn.
“Fried chicken it is.” He glanced down, but her eyes had closed. He glanced over at Helen and smiled.
“I think she’s off to dreamland,” Helen said. “She’s had a busy day.”
“Thank you for spending your time with us tonight. It meant a lot to Molly.” The reins hung loosely in his hands, and he let the horses go at their own pace.
Scent of Magnolia Page 3