Scent of Magnolia

by Frances Devine

  She pushed away her dessert plate. Well, she didn’t have a child of any sort and probably never would.

  Patrick was waiting when she stepped into the foyer a few minutes later. She smiled and nodded then started to walk past him.

  “Helen.” He stepped forward.

  “Yes?” she asked, trying to control her breathing.

  “Could we talk for a while?” His eyes gazed into hers.

  She glanced toward the stairs. “Perhaps the upstairs parlor. It’s seldom used except on parents’ days.”

  He offered his arm and she rested her hand there, barely touching.

  “Won’t Molly be looking for you?”

  “I told her I wanted to talk to you then I’d watch the practice.” He glanced down at her. “She told me to ask you to come watch as well.”

  “Of course. I never miss the practices if I can help it.” She averted her eyes as they walked up the stairs and turned toward the large sitting room.

  When they were seated in matching wing chairs, Patrick turned to her. His eyes seemed to pierce hers, and she felt as though ocean waves would dart out and overcome her at any moment.

  “Helen, I can’t put this off any longer. I care for you deeply and it’s high time you knew it.” He took her hand as though afraid she might remove it as she’d done once before. “Is there a chance you might feel some affection for me?”

  Her heart pounded hard and happiness washed over her, followed by dread. She lifted up a prayer for wisdom.

  “I do care for you. But, Patrick, you live in Atlanta and I don’t know if I can leave the school.”

  He started to speak but stopped and looked at her as though searching her heart. “I know your teaching is very important to you.”

  She smiled a sad little smile. “As was pointed out to me recently, there are plenty of teachers and the school could do without me quite nicely.”

  “What? Someone actually said that to you?” His eyes flashed.

  “No, no. They didn’t mean it as an insult. Just assuring me that if I should decide to leave, the school would go on.”

  “I see. Then why did you say you couldn’t leave the school?”

  “It isn’t the school, really. It’s the children. I love them so much. I don’t think I could bear to be away from them.”

  He blew a breath of air out. “Well, I can’t blame you. I’m no match for the children here. I know that.”

  He dropped her hand and stood. “I appreciate all you are doing for Molly. Perhaps we’ll remain friends.”

  “Wait. Don’t you want to hear about Molly’s progress this week?”

  “Perhaps later. I promised I wouldn’t miss her practice.” He gave a slight bow and left the room.

  But. . .she hadn’t meant the children were more important than he was. Had she? But of course that’s practically what she said. Was it true? Were they more important to her than Patrick? She clutched at her throat and swallowed deeply. If not, she’d just given up a chance for happiness with the only man she’d ever loved.

  ❧

  Well, that was that. Patrick was glad Helen hadn’t gone to the practice. He wasn’t ready to pretend everything was as it had been before. In spite of what he’d said about remaining friends, he wasn’t sure if he could do that. His feelings for her were too strong to scale back now.

  He’d come close to telling her that he was moving to the Junction. She’d still be near the children. Could even continue to teach some if she wanted to. But he couldn’t. Maureen had always been first in his life and he in hers except for God. He couldn’t even contemplate entering into a marriage where his wife would put others first.

  He sighed and tried to focus on the practice. Mrs. Quincy had made it here after all, driving over with her husband in an enclosed carriage. Molly’s voice was true and clear when she sang her solo lines. And Lily Ann sang like an angel, her sightless eyes lifted upward as if she could see into heaven itself and the One to whom she was singing.

  The practice ended and Mrs. Quincy stood. “Good job, everyone. I think we’re almost ready. Sonny, you were a little late coming in with your verse after Molly’s. Try to work on that.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The ten-year-old boy, who loved to clown, grinned and saluted. Mrs. Quincy shook her head and laughed.

  Molly grabbed Patrick’s hand and they walked from the auditorium together.

  “I wonder why Miss Edwards didn’t come to practice. She never misses one.” Worry lines puckered the skin between her eyes.”

  “Something must have come up. You don’t need to worry. I was with her an hour ago. She’s fine.”

  Her lips tilted in a half smile. “I’m sure you’re right. I’m disappointed she wasn’t there. That’s all.”

  The afternoon crawled by for Patrick. He wanted nothing more than to leave before he ran into Helen. He wasn’t ready for that. But he didn’t want to disappoint Molly and make her sad by leaving right away. Still, he had no intention of being seated across from Helen at supper.

  “Papa, guess what we’re having for supper?” The lilt in her voice would have told him even if he hadn’t already smelled the chicken frying. But he couldn’t resist teasing her a little.

  “I couldn’t guess in a million years. Why don’t you tell me?”

  She giggled. “Can’t you smell that chicken? I’ve been smelling it for an hour now. It made my tummy growl. And Sally May said Cook made a caramel pecan cake—my favorite after chocolate.”

  “That sounds wonderful, sweetie, but since you’ll be eating supper an hour sooner than the adults, I believe I might go ahead and leave while the rain has slowed down. I should really take the late train back to Atlanta.”

  “You mean you won’t be here for church in the morning?” Disappointment clouded her beautiful blue eyes.

  “Oh, honey. I really need to leave. Does it mean that much to you?”

  She nodded. “But it’s okay, Papa. I understand if you need to leave tonight.”

  He groaned inwardly. “Well, maybe I’ll wait until tomorrow. After church you and I will eat at the hotel and then I’ll take you back to school. I’ll take the later afternoon train.”

  She threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Papa. I love going to church with you.”

  He returned the horse to the livery and asked them to send a horse and carriage around to the hotel in the morning. The rain began again just as he entered the hotel. He glanced up at the sky. Concern ran through him. Maybe the danger of flooding was there after all. He’d see if the rain continued another day. Perhaps he wouldn’t be leaving after all.

  fifteen

  By morning, the rain had slowed to a drizzle, but as Patrick stood at the hotel doorway waiting for the carriage, he noticed dark clouds hung low and heavy in the sky. The muddy street in front of the hotel was waterlogged to the point of deep puddles standing everywhere. He was relieved to see no sign that the river had crested, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t.

  The boy from the livery rode up on a palomino gelding, leading the mare Patrick had used the day before. Patrick pushed the door open and went outside, rain peppering him.

  “Morning, Mr. Flannigan. Sorry about the carriage. Mr. Hays said it’d be sure to bog down in the mud.”

  “It’s all right. I’d already thought of that. Planned to exchange the carriage for a horse anyway.”

  “She’s all rested up and ready to go.” He handed Patrick the mare’s reins then whirled his own mount around and took off down the street.

  Patrick stood in the muddy street trying to decide if he should ride to the school or go ahead and board the train for Atlanta. But no, he couldn’t chance it. If the river overflowed its banks, the school would be at risk.

  He mounted up and headed down the street. This time, he wore a rain slicker in case the drizzle turned into a downpour again.

  As he passed his new place of business, he grinned. Molly would be tickled, but he wouldn’t tell her yet. He didn’t want it t
o get back to Helen that he was moving. If she decided to change her mind, he wanted it to be because she loved him. After all that was the main reason he’d bought the store and made plans to move his business. He loved her and wanted to spend his life with her in a place she’d be happy.

  The thought ran through him that perhaps he should make it easier for her and tell her the truth. But stubbornness bit at him and he shoved the thought away.

  ❧

  Helen glanced toward the classroom window and breathed a breath of relief. It appeared they were in for a long, slow rain today rather than more storms as she’d feared. She lifted her hand to her lips and patted back a yawn. Between the storm outside and the storm within her own heart, she’d slept very little last night.

  Had she done the right thing by refusing to form a relationship beyond friendship with Patrick? It seemed the only practical thing to do, at least at the time, but through the night her heart and thoughts had lashed at her. She’d given up her chance at love and marriage to the only man who’d touched her heart and soul.

  But what else could she have done? Of course, another teacher could meet the children’s educational needs. But emotionally she was tied to them and they to her, weren’t they? She’d been with them for several years now. One by one their faces had drifted before her closed eyelids. Of course the three she was most concerned about were Molly, Lily Ann, and Margaret. She felt that she could help Margaret through whatever emotional trauma she was suffering.

  She started as a snore sounded from the rear of the room. Jeremiah was sound asleep, his head lolling to the side. She shook her head and headed back to his desk. She touched his shoulder and he jerked, his eyes big and darting from side to side.

  He looked up and relief crossed his face. “Sorry, Miz Edwards,” he said, in broken English. She nodded and smiled. “It’s all right, Jeremiah. Didn’t you sleep well last night?”

  He shook his head.

  “Neither did I.” She gave him a pat. “But we’ll both have to do the best we can to stay awake. Why don’t you go get a drink of water and see if that helps?”

  He nodded and went to the stand in the corner. She cringed as he slurped from the glass.

  Helen gathered up the English papers and returned to her desk. It would be dinnertime in a few minutes. She was glad she only had one class this afternoon. Perhaps she could find time for a nap. Probably not, though. Virgie needed help finishing the costumes. Easter was only a couple of weeks away.

  Most of the children wouldn’t be going home for the holiday since it was a short one, but many of the parents came to spend the day here with their children. The Easter program was always a big event for the school—even more so since Abigail had taken over the music and drama department.

  When the class was finally over, she dismissed the children and went to her room to freshen up for the midday meal.

  She washed her face at the basin and blotted it with a soft towel. Her eyes strayed longingly to her soft bed. She sighed and headed for the door.

  When she entered the dining room she stopped short at the sight of Patrick seated between Molly and Howard. She hastened to her chair, her heart hammering wildly. Why hadn’t he left for Atlanta?

  During the meal, she tried to listen to Patrick’s conversation with Howard, but Felicity and Hannah, who were seated near her, kept up a constant chatter about the weather and the upcoming holiday.

  “I hope the rain lets up before Easter.” Hannah took a sip of her tomato soup. “It would be a shame if some of the parents couldn’t come.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it won’t last that long.” Felicity reached over and patted the young woman’s hand. “Spring rains come and go this time of year. And storms can burst out at any moment. But they seldom last long.”

  Helen wasn’t so sure. If the rains didn’t slow down soon, the river could overflow its banks. And the school was in a valley. Flooding wasn’t probable, but it was possible.

  The children filed out of the dining room, following Charles and Hannah. Helen stepped to the door at the same moment as Patrick. He stood back and let her pass through the door. With misery nearly overwhelming her, she ducked her head and stepped into the foyer.

  “Helen?”

  At the sound of Patrick’s voice, she turned. “Yes?”

  “I know you need to get to your class and I’ll be leaving for Atlanta later this afternoon, but I wanted to ask you to at least think about what we discussed.”

  The consternation in his eyes matched that in her heart, but a glimmer of hope rose inside her. Was there still a chance? Was there a way to work this out?

  “Yes, Patrick. I will.”

  He reached for her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. “Thank you.”

  Her heart thumped wildly as she went upstairs. Oh, God, show me what to do. I love him so much. If there is a way for us, please show me.

  By midafternoon, the sun came out brightly and the temperature was a little cooler than before the rain. That was good. A month or so from now, rain would only make things hot and humid.

  Helen stepped out onto the porch for a breath of fresh air, but the chairs were all damp so she went inside and gravitated to the parlor.

  Virgie was half asleep in her rocking chair, her hands resting on the pile of fabric on her lap. She started awake as Helen sat across from her.

  Virgie yawned and shook her head from side to side. “This weather making me sleepy as a bear in winter. Pourin’ down rain one minute, sun streamin’ down the next. Wish it would make up its mind.”

  “I hope the rain is over for a while.”

  “I do, too. Seems like everything in the house is damp. It isn’t, but it sure do feel like it.”

  Helen retrieved the vest she’d worked on the day before from the basket by her chair. “I know. If it isn’t rain in the spring, it’s humidity in the summer.”

  Virgie chuckled the soft deep laugh Helen loved to hear. “Listen to us, complaining and jawin’ about the weather like that’s goin’ to change anything.”

  Nodding, Helen sewed a button on the vest. “Do you have any idea of what Abigail has in mind for these costumes? They don’t look much like Easter costumes to me. You’d think she’d want white and gold for the angels.”

  “The Easter costumes are already done.” Virgie lifted an eyebrow. “These are for the end of school program.”

  Helen paused. “Maybe I just assumed they were for Easter because the Easter cantata is coming up. Perhaps she plans to do the end-of-school play we’d discussed about the Quincy family.

  “Well, I s’pose we’ll just have to wait and see.” Virgie cast a glance at Helen. “You seem all out of sorts. What wrong with you?”

  “Oh, I’m all right. Just struggling with some difficult decisions.” Helen avoided Virgie’s piercing glance and focused on sewing another button tightly in place.

  “Would it be somethin’ about a redheaded Irishman?”

  “Maybe.” Helen put down the vest and stood. “Oh, I’m not in the mood for sewing. I think I’ll go for a walk.”

  “Mighty soggy out there. You likely to sink right down into the mud.” Virgie pursed her lips and squinted her eyes as she threaded her needle again.

  “Well then, maybe I’ll go to my room and read for a while. I’ll help sew tomorrow. If Abigail doesn’t intend them for Easter, there’s probably no hurry.”

  Instead of heading upstairs, she went outside. Virgie was right. The yard and lane looked like a bog. But at least the porch furniture was dry now. She settled onto one of the white wicker rockers and soon the rhythmic cadence of motion began to soothe her anxious thoughts.

  The door opened and Margaret came out with Hannah. They were so intent in their conversation they didn’t notice her.

  “Hmmm. I don’t think we can go for a walk, Margaret.” Hannah’s cheerful voice carried across the porch. “It’s much too muddy.”

  “Then let’s sit out here on the porch.” They turned. “Oh, Miss Edw
ards.” Disappointment was obvious in Margaret’s voice as she stared at Helen.

  Helen rose. “If you two need a quiet spot to visit, this is the very place. I was just going in.”

  “Thanks, Helen,” Hannah said. “But you’re welcome to join us if you like.” The halfhearted tone belied her words.

  Helen smiled. “Another time, perhaps. I have some letters I wish to write before supper.”

  She trudged upstairs to her room. It seemed as though Hannah was getting along quite well with Margaret. She hadn’t seen the girl with such a big smile in a long time. Perhaps P.J. was right. Maybe a younger woman like Hannah was just what Margaret needed.

  As she reached the second floor landing, Molly and Patrick were coming down from the third floor.

  “Miss Edwards, I’ve been showing Papa my new drawing.” Molly’s face glowed with pleasure. “And he loved it. Didn’t you, Papa?”

  “I sure did, sugar. It’s one of the prettiest live oak trees I’ve ever seen.”

  Helen smiled. “Molly drew it from memory. I’m sure you recognized it.”

  “Of course. It was the tree by the gate.” The look he gave her was tender. “I know I’ll miss sitting in its shade.”

  Helen blushed at the memory of her hand snug and warm in his before she’d pulled it away. Yes, she’d miss the tree, too.

  “P.J. is going to let us plant another one in the same spot.”

  “That’s a good idea.” His lips curved into a smile that also flashed in his eyes. “I wonder how long it takes a live oak tree to grow to the size of that one.”

  “At least twenty-five years, Papa,” Molly said. “We looked it up in our science book.”

  He nodded. “That’s much too long. We need to move the bench.”

  Helen burst out laughing. “We definitely need to move the bench.”

  “What’s so funny about that?” Molly looked from Helen to Patrick, a confused look on her face. “Anyway, we’ve already moved the bench. It’s under the magnolia tree on the other side of the gate.”