Scent of Magnolia

by Frances Devine

  “It was my pleasure. She’s very dear to me.”

  “To be honest, it meant a lot to me, as well.” He cleared his throat. “I haven’t had the pleasure of a lady’s company very much since my wife passed away. I’d forgotten how nice it was.”

  She was silent and he could have kicked himself. He seemed to be speaking out of turn a lot lately.

  “Thank you, Patrick. I enjoyed the evening, too.” She patted back a yawn. “Oh, excuse me. It must be catching.”

  He laughed. “Nothing to excuse. I’m a little drowsy myself. So are you still willing to give me a sign language lesson tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Yes, of course. And Miss Wilson has put some things together for you to take home with you when you go. A sign language book and a book about life for the deaf. She thought it might help you when you take Molly home.”

  “That’s very kind of her. I’ll be sure to thank her.” He turned into the dark tree-lined lane leading to the school.

  Helen was silent, and he glanced over to see if she’d joined Molly in her slumber land. A moonbeam made its way through the branches and bathed her hair and skin with pale gold. His breath caught in his throat and she looked up at him with a question in her eyes. “Did you say something?”

  “No, no. Just a hiccup.” Well, that was brilliant. What in the world was wrong with him tonight? He’d allowed moonlight to affect his brain.

  He stopped the carriage at the front porch. He came around and helped Helen out of the carriage then lifted a groggy Molly down.

  Helen put an arm around her. “Why don’t you let me take her inside and help her get to bed.”

  “If you’re sure.” He bent over and kissed Molly on the cheek then looked at Helen. “I’ll be here to get Molly around eleven in the morning.”

  “I’ll make sure she’s ready.”

  “Good night, Papa.” Molly yawned then leaned against Helen as they walked up the porch steps.

  Patrick watched them go. A strange longing shot through him and his eyes misted. Spinning on his heels, he got back into the carriage and drove down the lane.

  ❧

  Helen took Molly to her dorm and left her in the girl’s dorm mother Felicity’s tender care, even though what she really wanted to do was tuck the child into bed and sit by her side until she went back to sleep. She’d been warned all through her training to care about her charges but not get attached. How did one not get attached to a child?

  All right, she had to admit she wasn’t as close to the other students as she was to Molly. There had been a special bond between them from the day Molly had arrived. Her heart had gone out to the little girl who had so recently lost her mother. But as time went on, her attachment to Molly had nothing to do with sympathy over the girl’s grief. She loved the child for herself. And she should have guarded against that. Guarded her own heart and Molly’s, too.

  She couldn’t fool herself. Patrick loved Molly and missed her. That was obvious. And although he’d been wise enough to see he wasn’t ready to take her with him, Helen knew he would do whatever was necessary to get ready. He would have his daughter with him and soon.

  With a need to escape her own thoughts, Helen went downstairs in search of someone or something to distract her. She heard voices in the parlor and relief washed over her.

  Virgie and P.J. sat with cups of steaming tea. Suddenly there was nothing Helen wanted more than a cup of tea.

  She sank into one of the overstuffed chairs. “Is there anything left in the pot?”

  “Half full and still piping hot.” Virgie reached for the extra cup and saucer on the tray.” Thought you’d be needing this when you got here.”

  “Thanks, Virgie. You’re an angel.”

  Virgie chuckled. “I’m no such thing. The good Lord created angels and the good Lord created people. Take another look.”

  Helen couldn’t help the giggle that came up from deep inside. “Oh Virgie, what would I do without you? You’re a breath of joy.”

  Virgie handed over the steaming cup. “ ‘The joy of the Lord is your strength.’ Just like the good book say it is.”

  Helen let Virgie’s soft, soothing voice wash over her.

  P.J. sat straight up and stared at Helen. “What’s wrong with you, Helen?”

  “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.” She took a sip from her cup and let the hot liquid flow down her throat.

  P.J. frowned. “Today has had the same length of time as any other day. Maybe it was just a little more filled up than most.”

  Helen leaned back and listened to P.J. talk about moving the classrooms up to the third floor in two weeks. She tried to let the words push out the thoughts of Molly and Patrick. But the thought that came to her in response to P.J.’s words was that Patrick would be gone the following weekend. And Helen didn’t like the thought at all.

  five

  Patrick watched the screen door shut behind Helen. She had said her farewell and left him and Molly to say good-bye in private. He hoped Helen hadn’t gone far. Molly would need her teacher’s comfort when he drove away.

  He lifted his daughter’s chin and mouthed the words I love you. Then he made the sign for it, and Molly’s mouth dropped open.

  “Papa! When did you learn that?” Molly’s deep blue eyes sparkled with excitement mixed with her tears.

  “Miss Edwards taught me yesterday.” He smiled and flicked Molly’s braid. “She thought we might need it.”

  “Oh, Papa.” Molly flung her arms around his waist and squeezed. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

  A twinge of sadness shot through him that she hadn’t said I wish I could go with you. Apparently, it hadn’t even crossed her mind that she might. He sighed. He was glad he’d never mentioned his earlier intentions to her.

  “I’ll be back next month,” he reminded her.

  “You promise?” She stared up into his face.

  “I do.” In fact he might not wait a month, but he didn’t wish to build her hopes up until he knew he could get away from the shop sooner.

  She nodded. “All right, Papa. But you’ll write me letters?”

  “I will. In fact, I’ll write to you on the train and mail it when I get to Atlanta.” He stroked her hair back, glad it hung loose today. She had the same black curls and deep blue eyes as her mother.

  “And you’ll tell me all about the train ride?” Her lips trembled, but she pressed them together and held her chin up.

  “Every single thing. I’ll even eat in the dining car so I can tell you about the food.” He grinned.

  “There’s a dining room on the train?” Her voice rose with incredulity.

  “There sure is. I saw a little girl eating one of those new ice cream cones I told you about.”

  “You sure you aren’t making that up just to tease me? Do they really serve ice cream in cones made out of cookies?”

  “Well, not exactly cookies but something similar. I’ll take you to the candy store in Atlanta this summer and prove it to you.” Anything to get those tears from her eyes.

  She nodded and rubbed the toe of her shoe against the ground. “Summer’s a long time away.” Her mournful tone stabbed at his heart.

  “Not really so very long, sweetheart. Time will pass quickly for you with all the excitement of moving the school’s classrooms. And don’t forget you’ll have a new bedroom soon and just one girl to share it with.”

  A sigh escaped her lips, but she nodded. He could still hear the sigh when he drove down the lane and headed for Mimosa Junction.

  ❧

  Helen awoke to a sunshiny Saturday. She yawned and stretched lazily then glanced at the little clock on her bedside table. Six thirty! She needed to hurry or she wouldn’t have time before breakfast for her morning devotions. And heaven only knew if she’d have time later in the day; she’d be so busy helping with the move. After hastily washing up, she dressed then picked up her Bible and sat in the rocking chair by her window.

  A cardinal flew pa
st the window with a flash of red that reminded her of Patrick’s curls. He’d been gone nearly two weeks and she couldn’t believe how much she missed him. With a guilty start, she opened her Bible. Forgive me, Lord, for letting a foolish thought keep me from Your Word.

  She had finished 2 Timothy yesterday, so she opened to the first chapter of Titus and began reading Paul’s instructions concerning the appointment of bishops. She gasped when she came to verse six.

  Of course, the rule about only one wife referred to a monogamous relationship and Maureen was no longer living. Still, it appeared Patrick was still very much in love with his deceased wife. One more reason for Helen to banish any stray thoughts of romance from her mind. Even if she cared for him in that way—which she certainly didn’t—he would never see her as more than Molly’s teacher or even a friend.

  A sudden sound of shuffling feet and muffled giggles startled her from her thoughts. Oh no. It was time for breakfast and she’d not finished her Bible reading. With another quick apology to God, she arose, smoothed her skirt then followed the children and their dorm parents downstairs.

  P.J. was practically bouncing as she came from her downstairs apartment. “Helen! This is the day.”

  Helen laughed. “Yes, it is. And I suppose everyone is here and ready to get busy.”

  “Well, no. But I told them all to eat a good breakfast first. Dr. Quincy and Abigail won’t arrive until midmorning as he had a patient to visit first.” She linked her arm through Helen’s and they walked into the dining room together.

  The children were almost too excited to eat and had to be reminded several times to settle down. By the time the meal was over, several volunteers had arrived to begin moving furniture. Felicity and Howard sent the children outside to play. The two neighbor girls who volunteered from time to time promised to keep a close eye on them while the adults worked.

  Helen had already packed up most of her classroom books and supplies but headed to the second floor after breakfast to finish up. She went into Abigail’s classroom, which hadn’t been in use since last semester. She smiled as she walked over to the small table and chair near Abigail’s desk where Lily Ann had sat and worked while Abigail taught the deaf children English and spelling. After Abigail’s wedding, Lily Ann’s braille instructions had stopped temporarily. Helen and Charles Waverly, the science teacher, were learning the written language for the blind. In the meantime, they both taught the child orally as they had before braille had been added to the curriculum.

  Abigail had planned to teach the little girl for a while after her honeymoon, but now with the baby on the way that wasn’t likely. Helen sighed. Abigail had allowed herself to become attached to Lily Ann just as Helen had to Molly. It made things more difficult when circumstances changed. Should she pull back a little from Molly? A knot formed in her stomach, and she shook her head. Not yet. If Patrick really did remove Molly from the school, she’d just have to cross that bridge when she came to it.

  A sound of laughter drew her attention to the window. Stepping over, she looked out over the yard and saw Albert driving Dr. Trent’s carriage into the barn. Oh good. Abigail was here.

  Quickly, she finished packing the last box then went downstairs and into the parlor.

  Abigail looked up and set her teacup on the table beside her chair. “Helen! This is so exciting. Come have a cup of tea with me and tell me what I can do.”

  “Just talk to me for a while. We haven’t had a chance to visit since the chili supper.” Helen leaned over and gave her friend a hug.

  “But surely I can help pack up school supplies or some-thing.” She frowned.

  Helen laughed. “Sorry. Too late. I’m all done. And so are the other teachers.” She sat on the settee by Abigail and accepted a cup of tea. “Don’t worry. There will be plenty to do next Saturday when we move the children into their different rooms.”

  “What happens to the dormitories?” Abigail took a sip of tea and then threw Helen a questioning look.

  “They plan to convert the girls’ dormitory into a bedroom and sitting room for Felicity. I believe Howard has chosen to have one large bedroom with a corner for a desk, so the boys’ dorm will be converted into a large bedroom for him and a small utility room.”

  Abigail nodded. “And the former classrooms will be converted into bedrooms for the students.”

  “Yes, and they are so excited.” Helen put her cup down on the table and leaned back.

  Abigail sighed. “I’d wanted to explore the third floor before they started remodeling, but I missed my chance.”

  Helen sat up. She’d almost forgotten. “Abigail, you’ll never believe what I found in one of the storage rooms.”

  Abigail’s eyes filled with curiosity. “Well, tell me, please. Not a dead rat or something else nasty, I hope.”

  “Ewww, no.” Helen cringed. “I wouldn’t be sharing that with you. I found an old trunk full of absolutely gorgeous ball gowns.”

  “Where in the world did they come from?”

  “They’re very old. I would say they’ve been there since before the War.” Helen picked up her cup and took another sip.

  “Really! They must have belonged to Trent’s grandmother and aunts.” Abigail’s eyes brightened. “What shape are they in?”

  “That’s the surprising part. They were wrapped in sheets and seemed in fairly good shape.”

  “Hmm. They’d probably fall apart if anyone tried to put them on,” Abigail said.

  Helen squirmed for a minute then cleared her throat. “Well, actually, I tried one on.” She grinned. “It held up quite well. I think they might be useful for making costumes.”

  “You mean for the end of school program?”

  “Why not?” Helen shrugged. “Perhaps we could write a play based on those old days.”

  Abigail gasped. “We could have a reenactment of Mrs. Quincy’s freeing of the slaves and the beginning of the school.”

  Helen nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”

  “Is the trunk still there?” Abigail jumped up. “Let’s go look.”

  “I have a better idea,” Helen said. “Why don’t we ask a couple of the men to bring the trunk down here? That way you won’t need to climb all those stairs.”

  Abigail heaved an irritated breath. “Please don’t treat me like an invalid.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Helen chuckled and pulled her friend down beside her with a gentle tug on her arm. “But there are a lot of things up there you could trip over today.”

  “You’re right.” Abigail folded both hands on her stomach for just a moment. The expression on her face was one of wonder and awe. She let her hands slide onto her lap. “I’d never forgive myself if my baby came to harm because of my carelessness.”

  After lunch, Albert and one of the neighbor men brought the trunk down to the parlor. Helen motioned to Virgie, who was walking by the door.

  “What you bring that old trunk down here for?” Her soft voice nevertheless held a hint of disapproval when she saw the bound luggage sitting in the middle of the parlor floor.

  “It’s full of fancy dresses.” Helen lifted the hasp and opened the lid. “Do you recognize these?”

  The old woman frowned and stepped over to the trunk. Her brown hand reached out and touched the blue silk gown that rested on top. “This here dress belong to Miss Cecilia.”

  Abigail’s face paled. “You mean the deaf child for whom the school was named?”

  Virgie nodded. “Sweetest little thing I ever knew. And kind she was.”

  Helen frowned. “But I thought she died when she was a child.”

  Virgie shrugged and nodded. “Miss Cecilia pass away when she was fifteen. But her mama let her go to the ball that year.”

  “Rather young,” Abigail murmured.

  The old lady nodded and sighed. “I reckon the old miss would have given that chile anything she wanted that year. They knew she was dying, you see.”

  “How sad.” Tears pooled in Abigail’s e
yes.

  Helen patted her arm. “Yes, very sad.”

  Abigail ran her hand over the silk. “I think I’d like to keep this one. I wouldn’t like to cut it up.” She lifted it from the trunk and laid it across a chair in the corner.

  Virgie smiled at the next one. “This here belonged to Miss Claire. You should’ve seen her sashaying around like she the queen of Sheba, her golden curls bobbing up and down. She the only one of the children who didn’t have black hair.”

  The tension in the room lifted as Virgie described Claire and Suzette, pointing out the dresses and where they wore each.

  Helen breathed a sigh of relief. It would have been a shame to cancel the project of making the dresses over into costumes due to sentiment. Although Claire Quincy Bouvier had passed away years ago, Trent’s Aunt Suzette still lived somewhere in France. An old lady now, Helen doubted she even remembered the gowns.

  ❧

  Patrick gave final instructions to his assistant, Stu Collins. He took a deep breath, relishing the scent of leather and oil, then glanced around the shop, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. He tossed a wave at Stu and walked out the door. He made a quick stop at home to retrieve his already packed bag. An hour later he was on the train to Mimosa Junction.

  It had been three weeks since he’d left his daughter sobbing on the porch of Quincy School. He knew she’d be surprised to see him and as happy as he was that he could come back so soon.

  He leaned back on the leather seat and glanced out the window at the countryside rolling by. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do about Molly. He wanted her home, but she was learning so much at the school. Would it really be fair to remove her from the program now? He sighed. Well, he had several months before he’d need to make a decision.

  He dozed off and on, coming fully awake when the train pulled into Mimosa Junction. The sun was setting as he stepped onto the platform of the nearly empty station. He tipped his hat to a lady standing on the platform then headed for the livery.

  A boy sat on a three-legged stool oiling a saddle. “’Evenin’ Mr. Flannigan. Good to see you back.”