She dabbed the sudden moisture from her chin and forehead, hoping he didn’t notice. “Well, I’m not sure. I’ll let you know.”
Charles frowned. Oh dear. His reaction was so unlike the happy-go-lucky jokester she knew who could make her laugh even when she didn’t feel like it. She brightened. Maybe this was another of his jokes. She threw him a hopeful look; but no, he was serious. It was written all over his face.
She stood. “I believe we have the schedule all ready for P.J., don’t you agree?”
He glanced at the schedule and nodded. His countenance was a picture of disappointment. “Yes, I think so.” He rose. “I hope I haven’t caused you distress, Helen.”
“Oh no. No, I’m honored. Who wouldn’t be? And you know I’m fond of you. But I need to think about it.” She threw a rather weak smile in his general direction. “Now we’d better take this to P.J. and let her look it over.”
“Yes, of course.” He crossed to the door and held it open while she passed through.
After leaving the schedule with P.J., Helen murmured a quick good-bye to the director and Charles and scurried up to her room, almost dizzy from the encounter with Charles. At least he’d waited until the schedule was finished before blurting out the unwelcome revelation.
Helen eased into the rocking chair by her window and leaned back. She’d hoped Patrick might visit again this weekend, but now she was glad he hadn’t. What if he’d noticed the glances Charles had begun to cast in her direction? She shut her eyes tightly. And what if he had? Patrick had never indicated by word or expression that he thought of her as anything but Molly’s teacher.
She, on the other hand, couldn’t deny her growing attraction to Patrick Flannigan. She sighed. Well, she could just get over it. There wouldn’t have been any hope for the two of them even if he was interested in her. He lived and worked in Atlanta and her life work, the passion of her life, was right here at Quincy School. It was impossible.
Perhaps she should consider Charles’s request. They had the same goals and interests in life. And she did care for him. He’d been a dear friend for years. It wasn’t everyone who could make her laugh. And anyone could see he was quite handsome. So what if the sight of him didn’t send her heart into double beats and turn her knees to jelly. Those feelings would likely come if they were married. She groaned. She wouldn’t think about that now. She had more important things to consider. Like the new student who would arrive next week. She’d arrive just in time to try out for a part in the Easter cantata.
The cantata itself wouldn’t require much thought on her part. Abigail would be in charge of that. She’d done such a wonderful job on the Christmas concert and play that her election as drama and concert director had been unanimous. And after the Christmas play, the magical moment came when Abigail and Trent had exchanged their wedding vows.
Moisture pooled in Helen’s eyes. Would she ever experience the joy that had radiated from both bride and groom on that day? Their faces had glowed with it. She closed her eyes again and tried to picture herself walking down the aisle toward a beaming Charles, but the fantasy groom that stood there waiting for her had taken on the form and countenance of Patrick Flannigan.
Her eyes flew open. This was ridiculous. She might as well find something constructive to do if her rest was going to bombard her with romantic fantasies that would never come to pass. So much for the relaxing weekend she’d hoped for.
She went to her writing table and picked up a small stack of papers that still needed to be graded. She’d planned to do it here, but perhaps her classroom would help her keep her mind on sensible things.
She climbed the stairs to the third floor where the smell of new wood and fresh paint still permeated the air. She stepped inside her classroom and stood in the doorway, beholding with satisfaction the smooth oak cupboards that housed supplies and books. She wondered what old Mrs. Quincy would think of her school today. Six new desks had been added in anticipation of the new students that were expected and perhaps others who hadn’t enrolled yet.
Next year would be different, all right. One of the students was a thirteen-year-old boy named Roger Brumley, who’d had no formal schooling. He had partial sight and very little hearing. She only hoped they could help him. The mother of a nine-year-old deaf-blind boy had applied only to change her mind and withdraw the application. Helen hoped she’d found another school and hadn’t decided to keep him at home.
With a sigh, Helen sat at her desk and began to grade the history papers. As she took one from the stack, she noticed a stiff piece of braille paper. Lily Ann. Apparently she’d decided it was time to get back to work learning to write. Helen ran her hand over the dots the child had made with her stylus. She wanted to help Lily, but unfortunately the girl was further along in her braille studies than Helen.
“All right, Lily Ann,” she whispered in the empty room. “I’ll get the book out and do my best.”
She finished grading the papers and stacked them neatly on her desk with a paperweight on top. She stood and picked up Lily Ann’s paper and went to one of the cupboards. She took the braille instruction book out and headed for the door.
After lunch, she returned to her room and sat by the window. She had several hours to study the braille book. Helen hoped she’d learn some new words in that time.
She suddenly realized she hadn’t thought of Patrick or Charles for hours.
A sigh escaped her lips. Unfortunately, the problem hadn’t gone away. She had to decide what to do about Charles. And in all fairness to him, she shouldn’t prolong the decision.
❧
Patrick gave the piece of luggage another swipe with a soft cloth and looked the enormous black bag over with a critical eye.
Philip Taney had ordered the bag specially made to hold all his belongings as he traveled through Europe on his year abroad.
“You see,” the young man had explained, “I don’t want to have to worry about handling two or three bags everywhere I go.”
“But this one might get heavy, don’t you think?” Patrick had eyed the lad with some amusement.
Philip had shrugged. “I’m strong. Besides, my valet will be with me.”
Patrick chuckled now, thinking of the boy who’d spent a fairly large amount of money to get the bag exactly as he wanted it. It wouldn’t surprise Patrick a bit if Taney ended up selling or discarding the magnificent piece for something more practical, valet or not. But that wasn’t his business. The spoiled young man was used to getting what he thought he wanted, and his wealthy father didn’t seem to mind footing the bill.
He placed the bag on a shelf behind the counter and glanced at his watch. He’d hoped to be finished early today so he could catch the early train to Mimosa Junction. He hadn’t seen Molly in two weeks. He grinned as a pair of light blue eyes flashed into his mind instead of his daughter’s dark blue ones.
He’d been careful not to make his attraction to Helen known to her just yet. For one thing, if she didn’t return his interest, it could be awkward since she was Molly’s teacher. However, he was afraid he might have been a little too distant the last few times he was there. Much to his chagrin, he’d noticed on his last visit that Charles Waverly acted a little too chummy with Helen. Of course, he’d also noticed she’d seemed uncomfortable with the man’s attention. Perhaps it was time to try a little subtle attention of his own.
He was about to close up shop when Philip Taney charged in with a friend in tow.
“Hello, Patrick. This is my friend and soon-to-be fellow traveler, Ronald Simmons. Can you show him my bag?”
Patrick turned and took the bag off the shelf. “Here you go. All finished.”
Philip took the bag and held it out for his friend’s inspection. “See? What did I tell you?”
“That’s perfect.” The tall young man looked over at Patrick. “Can you make one just like it for me?”
“I’d be happy to. I’ll start on it next week.”
The boy’s face fell.
“But we’re leaving Tuesday.”
Patrick sighed. It wouldn’t do to pass up business when his shop was just starting to flourish. But if he agreed, it would mean he’d have to skip his planned visit to the school.
“All right. If you can pay me ahead of time, I’ll get started on it tomorrow.”
The deal made, Taney took his bag and the two left Patrick standing there filled with dismay.
Perhaps he should have refused. The lad could have purchased another bag either at his store or elsewhere. But then, what sort of reputation would his shop have? He shook his head. No, he’d done the right thing. He needed to make sure his finances were secure for Molly’s sake.
The next week crawled by, but at last he found himself getting off the train at Mimosa Junction. He noticed activity around the general store and a brand-new sign hanging above the door that said Watson’s Mercantile. So the new owner was getting the store ready for business.
He wondered if the hardware store had a buyer yet. It would be just the right size for his leather shop. A thrill shot threw him at the thought. Now why would he think of something like that? He chuckled—a very nervous sounding chuckle. He had a thriving business in Atlanta. He wasn’t looking for a change. Of course, if he was, Mimosa Junction wouldn’t be a bad choice. The junction was just what its name implied, and customers came from miles away in three different directions. He gave another short laugh. But he wasn’t considering a change in location, was he?
The next morning he arrived at the Cecilia Quincy School for the Deaf just in time to have breakfast with his daughter.
“Papa, what are we going to do today? Can we go for a drive in the carriage?” Molly’s exuberance rang across the table.
“I should hope so. It’s a beautiful spring day.” March had indeed come in like a lamb, as the saying went.
“Trudy’s parents signed a permission note so she can go with us.” She darted a look at her friend and roommate.
Trudy blushed, but hope filled her warm brown eyes.
“If it’s all right with the director, I think that’s a mighty fine idea.” Patrick winked at Molly then at Trudy. Both girls giggled.
After breakfast, Patrick waited in the foyer while the girls helped clear the table. Helen walked out, with Charles Waverly following closely behind.
“Miss Edwards?” Although they’d been on a first name basis for a while, he was reluctant to use her first name around the other teachers.
She smiled and stopped beside him. “Yes, Mr. Flannigan?”
Charles stood there as if unsure what to do. Patrick gave him a polite nod then turned to address Helen.
“I wondered if you’d agree to accompany the girls and me on our drive.” Helen blushed and he hastened to say, “I mean, as a chaperone of sorts.”
Charles stiffened. “Weren’t we going to go over the schedule again, Helen?”
“P.J. seemed quite satisfied with the last version.” Helen gave him a gentle smile. “I don’t think it’s necessary to change anything, do you?”
“I guess not.” He glanced from Helen to Patrick. “Well then, I’ll see you at noon.”
Patrick watched the man walk away, wondering whether to feel pity or irritation.
“I’d be more than happy to go along as a chaperone.” She cast a worried glance after Charles.
“I’m sorry if I caused a problem for you.” Perhaps there was more between those two than he’d realized. The thought sent disappointment twisting through him.
Helen gave a sad smile. “No, the problem was already there, and I’m afraid it’s my own fault for not taking care of it before now.”
“I see.” He didn’t see at all but was relieved that she considered Waverly a problem that needed to be taken care of. “Here come the girls now.”
“Papa! We’re ready to go.” Molly grabbed Helen’s hand. “Will you come with us, Miss Edwards?”
Helen laughed. “Your father just asked me the same thing, and I said yes.”
Both girls squealed with delight and grabbed her hands. The three of them went outside and down the stairs, their hands swinging between them as Patrick followed behind, feeling rather left out.
Patrick grinned when Molly and Trudy climbed into the backseat. Just what he had hoped they’d do.
The sun was shining brightly by the time they drove away. Patrick took every side road he came across in order to lengthen their drive.
“Papa, are you lost?” Molly’s worried voice from the back seat brought him to his senses.
“No, sweetheart. Not at all.” He turned and gave her a reassuring smile, knowing his assurances were true. “I’m heading back to the main road now.”
“Well, I’m getting hungry. It must be almost dinner time,” Molly said. “Are you hungry, Trudy?”
“Well, yes.” Trudy blushed.
“I’m hungry, too, girls.” He grinned over his shoulder. “How about we go get something to eat at the hotel?”
“Fried chicken, Papa?” Molly asked.
“You mean the fried chicken that’s almost as good as Cook’s?”
Molly glanced at Trudy. “It’s almost as good, but we mustn’t tell Cook that, all right?”
“Okay. She’d probably never cook fried chicken for us again.”
A choking sound came from Helen’s direction. “Now, girls, you make Cook sound vain and she isn’t at all.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Molly nodded. “But she is a little bit vain about her fried chicken.”
Helen threw her head back slightly and laughed again. Patrick’s breath caught. Was anyone ever so lovely?
eight
Helen tapped on the director’s door. When asked to come in, she opened the door and stepped into the office. The other teachers and both house parents were already seated, as was a tall and regal appearing young girl who sat with chin up and ankles crossed.
Helen glanced at P.J., who gave her a tight smile and nodded to the chair next to the new student. “Miss Edwards, this is Margaret Long. Margaret, Miss Edwards is our English, history, and geography teacher.”
Helen smiled and offered her hand, which the girl gripped and released as though it might bite.
Helen sat and turned to the girl, enunciating clearly. “I’m very pleased to welcome you to our school, Margaret. Do you go by Meg or Peggy?”
The girl lifted her chin more and peered down her nose at Helen. “Certainly not. You may call me Margaret.” The girl’s speech lacked the singsong tone often noticed in the speech of the deaf. But goodness, how did the child learn to be so haughty in only twelve years?
Helen leaned back and lifted her brow at Hannah, who ducked her head to hide a smile.
Goodness. The girl was only twelve?
P.J. cleared her throat. “It seems that Margaret is much more advanced than our other students, Miss Edwards. There may need to be some one-on-one teaching.”
Margaret, who apparently had been following the conver-sation quite well, raised her hand.
“Yes, Margaret?” P.J.’s eyes weren’t exactly narrowed, but Helen had seen that expression before. She could only wonder what had transpired before she arrived in the room.
“If your teachers aren’t qualified to teach me, I’m quite capable of learning from books on my own.”
Helen felt her mouth drop open and quickly pressed her lips together. The little rascal.
P.J. took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Miss Long, the teachers at Quincy School are quite capable of teaching you anything you need to learn.”
Margaret sniffed audibly and tossed her head. “Yes, ma’am. If you say so.”
“I do.” P.J. glanced at Felicity. “Will you please get Margaret settled in and ask one of the other girls to show her around? She can meet the rest of the children at supper.”
Felicity stood. “Of course. Come with me, dear. You’ll feel right at home before long.”
Margaret stood and sent the housemother a benevolent glance but remained silent and fo
llowed her out of the room.
The moment the door shut behind them, Charles turned to P.J. “Are you sure she’s only twelve? How did she learn to be such a snob in twelve years?”
P.J. sighed. “She had a good teacher. You didn’t meet the mother. You will next weekend. Then you can judge for yourself.”
Howard shook his head. “I hope she doesn’t have a brother headed our way.”
Charles laughed and the two men walked out together.
“What do you think, Helen?” P.J. threw her a curious look.
“Well, it’s a little too soon for me to tell.” Helen bit her lip. “Perhaps her attitude is a covering for something that bothers her.”
P.J. nodded. “Good. You’re going for mercy instead of judgment. Somehow I knew I could count on you to do that.” She turned to Hannah. “Take a lesson from Helen, my dear. She’s a wonderful role model for any teacher.”
Hannah who only recently finished her training and was teaching for the first time, smiled shyly. “Yes, I know.”
“Oh, you two. You’re going to make me cry or else make me conceited.” Helen laughed. “I’d better get upstairs and see how the other girls react to our newest addition.”
She arrived at the top of the stairs to see Felicity leave one of the nicer bedrooms and shut the door behind her.
Felicity stopped when she saw Helen and whispered, “Her parents insisted that she have a private room. P.J. told her it would depend on how many students enroll. But for now, at least, Miss Long is ensconced in her private palace and holding suit.”
“What do you mean?” Helen felt queasy.
Felicity motioned toward the door. “See for yourself.” She walked away.
Helen tapped on the door and opened it.
Margaret sat in the overstuffed chair in the corner, while Trudy and Molly unpacked her trunk. She glanced at Helen then turned back to the girls.
“Be careful. That’s my favorite dress. It needs to be hung on a hanger and smoothed down.”
“What’s going on here?” Helen stepped into the room and took the green velvet dress from Trudy.
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