A Touch of Grace

by Lauraine Snelling

  “I have a sizable inheritance.”

  “That you would use for such an outlandish scheme as this? Your grandfathers worked hard to amass the money you would so glibly throw away,” his mother put in.

  Mr. Gould looked to his wife with a slight shake of his head and a glint in his eyes. She returned to her needlework, her back ramrod straight.

  “Do you have any idea what it would cost to set up a farm like the Bjorklunds have?”

  “No, sir. I’ve not talked to anyone else, because I felt it honorable to discuss this with you first.”

  “I see.” He returned his relaxed foot to the floor and leaned forward again. “I have known for a long time that you have no desire nor the affinity to come to work in the company, like Thomas has done. Without purpose, I feared you could become a rake, and that would be a terrible waste. I hoped you would find your place and interest in college, in getting a good education.”

  Jonathan nodded. “I have. I’ve not said I do not want to go to college, have I?”

  “No, you haven’t, for which I am thankful. But I am not convinced that your plan is the best for you.”

  Jonathan started to say something but his father held up a hand.

  “No, we’ll not have a debate here, for I know you can out-debate me.”

  Jonathan knew he was referring to the times he’d brought home a topic from the debate squad at school and coerced his father into arguing with him.

  “You can be most persuasive.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I wonder too how much your desire to farm in North Dakota has to do with your attraction to Miss Knutson.”

  His mother drew in a loud breath. At least that idea hadn’t occurred to her until then.

  Jonathan sat down on the hassock and studied his hands. “I would like to think that I love farming, not the farmer’s daughter. But I have to admit that I asked her father if I could court Grace, and he said yes, if she was willing.”

  “And?”

  “I wanted to talk with you first.”

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw his mother drop her needle-point into her lap and collapse against the back of the chair.

  “She is not suitable. Not at all suitable.” The words hissed out through her clenched jaw, much against his father’s judgment, if the stern gaze he shot her was any indication.

  Oh, Mother, if you would only see who Grace is inside, instead of judging her speech and lack of the social niceties. All those young women you deem suitable are so unsuitable to me. To think of one of them washing dishes or digging in the garden … well, some might do that one day, but I can’t imagine any of them planting a garden to feed the family through the winter.

  “Jonathan, your mother and I will do some talking and thinking about what you have said. In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you would continue to prepare for Princeton as you agreed.”

  Jonathan felt his shoulders curve inward to shield his heart. Had his father not listened? Of course he had listened. He’d been very polite, just as he was when running board meetings. Jonathan had gone with his father and older brother to some of those meetings. While Thomas had been excited about it, he’d wished he could be anywhere but there, preferring to be out on the shore in a sailboat, tacking before the wind. He had thought at one time of becoming a captain of a ship, but that slid away, as did becoming a surgeon. He’d always figured he would have to go into the family business someday, just like his brother and his male cousins. He heaved a sigh. At least Father had not said no and given orders that would be hard to accept. But now Mother would oppose him. Was there any hope after all?

  A VISIT WAS ONE THING, but an interview quite another.

  The carriage turned in to a drive not far from the Goulds’, and the horses trotted up a slight grade to a house three stories high and with enough dormers and turrets and arched windows to resemble a castle she had seen in pictures. The Wooster mansion only lacked a moat. And she thought the Gould house ostentatious. She could feel Jonathan watching her. If only she could take his hand and feel some sense of comfort, of someone else in this with her. Yet she hadn’t seen him since the party, and Mrs. Gould was quite cool to her. Except for Mary Anne and Fiona, it was as if she had suddenly become quarantined. And she had no idea what gaff she had done to merit even more exclusion.

  When the carriage stopped, she watched the carved wooden door open and breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t dreamed up this sprightly little lady who brightened the day just by appearing.

  “You look lovely, my dear,” Mrs. Wooster said as she was handed into the carriage. “Isn’t this a wonderful day?”

  And suddenly it was. Here, she was on an adventure that would make Sophie shiver in delight: a drive through New York City with amenable companions, a chance to see more of the sights, and an interview that could change her life. Not that it had not been tossed topsy-turvy already, but since she’d come this far, she could certainly go the next mile. Or however many it took.

  After greeting the men, Mrs. Wooster looked to Mr. Gould. “I spoke with Joseph Ettinger—he is on the board for the Fenway School for the Deaf—and he said that they are actively pursuing benefactors for the school, not that every school in New York and probably everywhere is not. But they are not looking to expand so much as to redo what they have to make it more functional. The school is on the old Fenway estate, which I’m sure you already know.”

  “My mother’s school is not looking for benefactors.” Grace couldn’t believe she’d joined the conversation, if that’s what she had done. Ever since the fete she’d been hesitant to volunteer anything for fear of ridicule.

  “Really? So your family supports the entire thing?”

  “Well, those who come pay tuition and room and board. Much of the work around the school is shared by family and those old enough to help.”

  “How old must the students be to attend there?”

  “Seven, but Mother prefers eight or nine. It depends on the child. How civilized they are. Many were barely manageable until they could begin to communicate more easily. One child had to have a keeper at first. Some adults have come too.”

  “Most schools have both adult and juvenile programs. The Fenway School does.”

  Grace could feel Jonathan’s gaze upon her.

  She turned in amazement at the rows of maple trees beginning to turn yellow and red and orange. As if God were dripping paint on them, she thought.

  They’d left the city behind and now the road traveled between farms with views of the Hudson River through the trees. At one point they stopped at an inn to use the facilities and ate lunch from a basket Cook had packed for them. The conversation continued, with Mrs. Wooster making sure that Grace could understand her. Before long, Mr. Gould announced they were nearly there.

  “This was so much more pleasant than the train,” Mrs. Wooster commented. “Thank you for choosing to use the carriage.”

  “You are most welcome. I thought Miss Knutson might enjoy this too.” He smiled at Grace from his seat with his back to the driver.

  Grace nodded. But the nearer they drew to the school, the more she fought to keep her butterflies under control.

  A bronze sign on a brick wall announced Fenway School for the Deaf, and the carriage turned onto a tree-lined drive. The building ahead lay somewhere between the size of the Gould mansion and the Wooster castle, with more the look of an English country manor she had seen in a magazine. A large black dog came to stand by the carriage when it stopped, its tail wagging, tongue lolling. If this was the welcoming committee, this could indeed be a good place.

  When Grace stepped down, Mrs. Wooster put her arm through Grace’s. “Aren’t you excited?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Never fear. This is the start of something momentous for you. I have a feeling you are about to realize God’s purpose for your life.”

  Now I know why I feel at peace with you. You speak with God. Is that why I feel such a
disconnect with Mrs. Gould? But what is God’s purpose? Other than marriage and children? What was wrong with her first dreams anyway? Remember, Toby is not in your dreams any longer. When awake, she knew that and sometimes had to overcome the sadness again. At night her dreams still included him and a house or farm in Blessing. Or did they? She tried to think when she had last dreamed of Toby. Right now, even his face was blurred as she walked up the brick-laid path to the front door. In fact, too many of her dreams recently had included Jonathan, and that just couldn’t be. Their worlds had no possibility of ever blending.

  Mr. Gould rapped with the knocker twice before a woman, who looked to have been in a hurry, opened the door.

  “Welcome to Fenway. I’m afraid we just had a bit of an emergency that had to be seen to.” She stepped back and motioned them in. “I am Mrs. Callahan.” She extended her hand to Mr. Gould. “And I am sure you are Mr. Gould and Mrs. Wooster.” She smiled at Grace and signed as she spoke. “You must be Miss Grace Knutson. I am so pleased to meet you.”

  “This is my son Jonathan. He learned some sign when he worked in North Dakota this summer.”

  “I take it you are able to hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am, but I wanted to be able to talk with Grace—er Miss Knutson more easily.”

  “An admirable effort. I wish more family members and friends felt that way.” She turned. “Come along. I thought we would have tea and chat a bit first. Then I will show you the school.” She signed and talked at the same time, her smile making Grace feel even more comfortable.

  When they were seated and tea and coffee served, she turned to Grace. “I understand you have helped with your mother’s school for the deaf.”

  “Yes. Mother learned to sign, thanks to Mr. Gould, who sent her a book to learn from. She taught me as she learned, then she taught the schoolchildren in Blessing and our pastor, who is also the school-teacher. Blessing is a very small community, and many of the people there learned to sign. Some of us are related, so that makes it easier.”

  “The deaf children go to the public school also?”

  “When they can sign well enough and have learned how to live with others.”

  “I know how that is.” Mrs. Callahan turned to the others. “Some children come here who’ve been cooped up like pets or beasts. They have behavior problems and a lot of anger. We need a program to inform the public that deaf people are not stupid and do not need to be hidden away. I am sure if we could test many of those in institutions, we would find some are deaf rather than insane.” She passed the plate of cookies. “These were baked by some of our older students who manage the kitchen duties.”

  “You don’t incur injuries because your students—er clients cannot hear?” Mr. Gould asked.

  “We teach them to be careful and watch out for one another. Some never want to leave here. The world outside is a frightening place for those born with handicaps.”

  “Do you teach lipreading also?” Mrs. Wooster sat on the edge of the sofa so that her feet could rest on the floor.

  “Yes. But many have already learned a modicum of that skill; they have had to in order to survive. But with signing they can communicate in return.”

  “If others can sign.”

  “Right. I learned because my sister was born deaf, and I wanted to be able to talk with her. We learned together. She is one of our teachers now.” She handed each of them a brochure with a drawing of the school on the cover. “Here is more information. I mailed you a packet of information, Mr. Gould. Did you receive it?”

  “Yes, but I haven’t had time to share it with the others.” He smiled an apology at Grace.

  “Mrs. Wooster, I have a packet here for you too if you like.”

  The door to the sitting room burst open, and two young girls erupted into the room, signing frantically. “Mrs. Callahan, there’s a cow in the garden.”

  “So chase the cow out.” Mrs. Callahan signed and spoke at the same time.

  “But she is eating the corn.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Jonathan stood up. “I’ll help you.” Together they went out of the room.

  “It is easier to chase cows when you can yell at them.”

  Mrs. Wooster laughed. “I’m sure it is, but a big stick is not a bad idea either.”

  Grace wished she had gone too. But she hadn’t, and now it was too late, so she sat looking around the comfortable room that had at one time been much more formal. The wallpaper and heavy drapes testified to that fact, while the furniture looked sparse without any knickknacks and whatnot tables. A low table in front of the leather sofa held books and a vase with hydrangea blossoms in rich blue. Mrs. Callahan’s desk had seen better days, and stacks of books on the floor attested to the overflow from the shelves.

  By not watching Mr. Gould and Mrs. Wooster speaking softly, she was able to stay within herself and think on this move. She already liked the headmistress, and if the rest of the building was like this room, she knew she could be comfortable here. What would it take to be accepted? She began to read through the brochure. They had various levels for students. She wondered where she would fit. God, if this is what you want for me, I thank you for taking care of making it happen. If not, I’ll just go back to Blessing when Jonathan leaves for college. That resolved, she looked up when she sensed the door opening again.

  “I’m sorry for the interruption.” Mrs. Callahan and Jonathan returned, he grinning and she laughing. “Thank you, young man. I’m surprised that someone with your background knew how to herd a cow.”

  “After my summer working on a farm in North Dakota, I can milk with the best of them now, among many other skills I had no idea I needed to learn.” He took his seat again, shooting Grace a smile that made her feel warm all over. He had the nicest smile.

  “Come, let me show you around.”

  The tour of the buildings didn’t take long, since there weren’t many students living there yet. There was a boys’ dormitory in one wing and one for the girls in the other. Smaller rooms slept one or two for the older students, and there were some single accommodations for the adults, including the staff. The rooms were quite small, but each had a window, so if there was sun there would be light. I wonder how dark they would be in winter. What would it be like to room with a total stranger? Several cottages were for married staff. Class-rooms took up a good part of the first floor, and a dining room had tables to seat everyone at once.

  “We have a garden, flower beds, dogs, and cats, and a local farmer loans us horses if we have students who want to ride. His cow comes to visit whenever she can. She is a genius at getting through the fence.”

  “What part do the animals play in the school?” Mrs. Wooster asked.

  “They add to a home atmosphere we try to provide. As we are a vocational school too, the animals help the students learn responsibilities they may meet once they leave. We have built on the ideas of the Industrial Home for Deaf Mutes in Massachusetts.”

  When they returned to the sitting room, Mrs. Callahan motioned to Grace. “Why don’t we go in another room so we can talk. Please excuse us.”

  Grace followed her, Mrs. Wooster squeezing her hand as she walked by. It was a shame Jonathan’s mother wasn’t more like Mrs. Wooster.

  Mrs. Callahan motioned for Grace to sit in a chair facing her. “You speak quite well for someone born deaf. You must have worked very hard.”

  “I—we, my mother, my sister, and I did work hard. And I keep practicing all the time. I know it is sometimes hard for others to understand me.”

  “I’m sure you’ve had some interesting experiences.”

  Grace half smiled and gave a little nod.

  “I’m going to ask you some questions that might not make a lot of sense but will give me a good idea of your signing skill.”

  At the end of the questions, Mrs. Callahan complimented Grace on her dexterity. “You sign so gracefully too. You and your mother are to be commended. We have learned some new things that I
know you will pick up easily.” She studied Grace for a moment. “I’m wondering if you would consider being a teacher’s assistant with second-level returning students. You can study with the advanced level students at the same time to improve your own skills. This would help with your school expenses, although I am not able to waive them all. Would this be satisfactory?”

  “Why, I … ah, I am so surprised. But yes. Yes, I would like that.” And here I was afraid I would not even be accepted. “How much would I need to pay?”

  Mrs. Callahan named a sum, and Grace nodded again. Using her graduation money, she could pay most of it herself.

  “Our first quarter lasts until Christmas. Could you possibly move here within a week?”

  “As far as I know.” I wish it could be tomorrow.

  “Very good.” She stood. “I am looking forward to working with you.”

  “But is this all?”

  “I have learned that when I meet someone well qualified, I snap them up before someone else gets them. I don’t usually get someone of your caliber just walking through my door.”

  Tears sprang up at her words. Within these walls Mrs. Callahan considered her of high caliber, whereas outside she was defective or inferior. She felt all the tension she had been holding in these many days slip away.

  “Thank you. What do I need to bring?”

  “Only your personal things. You will probably have a roommate, but I haven’t assigned rooms yet. Mostly we wear waists and dark skirts. You will be responsible for your own laundry. If you want to bring anything extra for your room, like pictures or remembrances of home, just remember your roommate will have some too. We provide the books and all the school supplies.”

  Grace walked with her head high into the sitting room. “Could I move here within the week, or would that be an imposition?”

  “Wonderful. Of course you can,” Mr. Gould said as he rose.

  “I will be a teaching assistant, so I can afford my own expenses.”

  “I told you I would gladly pay your way.”

  “You already did so with my graduation gift.”