“You want more coffee?”
“With cream?”
“You never drink it with cream.”
“I know, but when you go without something for a long time, it becomes more precious.”
She looked up to see him studying her, love shining in his Bjorklund blue eyes. Her heart did a twirl, and she reached up to pat his cheek, and then leaned into his side. How good to have a man who knew how to love and wasn’t afraid to show it. He must let them find out what was wrong. She couldn’t bear the thought of his leaving her soon. Please, Lord, heal him.
New York
Dear Mor and Far,
Thank you for your letter. I was beginning to think you had forgotten me, even though I knew you were busy with the new school year starting. Are you sure you don’t need me more at home than here? As always, I like working with the younger children the most, although the adult program here is very interesting also. There is a man in the class, Jeremy Penderwick, who has already professed his undying love for me. I, of course, call him Mr. Penderwick, and had to show him the signs for him to declare his love, which might have reduced some of his ardor. He is forty if a day, so you needn’t fear my reciprocating his love. I won’t tell him that he seems more an uncle in my mind than a suitor.
Grace smiled to herself as she wrote about Mr. Penderwick. Round was the word she most often used to describe him. He even bounced instead of walking sedately. While he had learned to read lips, signing was giving him a way of communicating other than writing notes. She returned to her letter.
How are the twins? You must tell me about them, for Sophie has forgotten how to write letters. I know she is busy with her family and the boardinghouse but …
Forgive me. I wasn’t going to complain.
You’d think by now that I’d know Sophie well enough not to expect things like letters. But in spite of telling herself that, hurt crept in, seeping around her defenses like smoke, nearly invisible until you smelled it. Was Sophie still holding a grudge even though she’d said she understood? For all the times Grace had forgiven her, it seemed that Sophie could at least try. But these thoughts were the kind that caused the outburst in the first place. I guess I still need more work on keeping my thoughts captive to the Lord.
Tell the boys hello from me. I think of all of you so often and wonder how you are faring with the lack of meat. We eat a lot of soup here, mostly for the evening meal. The people on the staff are friendly, but so far I’ve not made any close friends. I feel like I’m still here on approval or something.
What I can’t say to you, dear Mor, is that I am so lonely I wake up crying in the night. Her gaze focused on the letter propped in front of her, the one she would answer when she finished writing home. She reread her letter, almost tearing it up since it sounded whiny to her, but instead signed her name and folded it for the envelope.
With a whispered sigh of delight, she removed the sheet of stationery with Jonathan David Gould, Esq., embossed at the top and started reading—for the third time, at least. What a release from the continuing ache when his letter had arrived. It had seemed forever for classes to end that day so she could read it.
Dear Miss Knutson,
See, I can be proper if and when I choose to, but to me you are Grace, pure Grace.
Her heart caught—again—on those two words. Pure Grace. In the eyes of her family she was Always Grace or Grace Always. The two words had become almost synonymous but no longer. Was that why Sophie had not written to her? Because she had erupted like a volcano when Sophie had said, “But Grace, you always …” Such a simple statement was surely not a good excuse for the way she’d acted. Dear Sophie, will you ever forgive me? I understand now how lonely you must’ve been when Hamre was out on the boat and you were alone and sick. She returned to her letter. Rereading Jonathan’s letter was far more comforting than reliving the last fiasco in Blessing.
I am settling in to college life, although I look at things differently than before I went to Blessing. The high jinks of my fraternity brothers are more a bother than fun, making it hard sometimes to study with the noise and confusion. If I had my way, I would have a room up on the top floor with no space for a roommate, not that our present quarters are large by any means. At least Thomas had prepared me for much of this. I do enjoy the rowing. I am part of a four-man crew, but I enjoy rowing alone the most. Not that I have a lot of time to think, since I am always pushing for better times. All the work I did on the farm was the best preparation I could have found anywhere. I am far stronger than most of the other freshmen. Perhaps we should make farm work a prerequisite for college or even high school sports. Do you think your father and Mr. Bjorklund would approve?
Grace tried to picture a whole team of society sons working on the farm and started to giggle. It would be like the chaos when the sow let the piglets loose.
I am doing as I promised. My grades so far are at the head of the classes. When I get tired, I remind myself of the high stakes and keep the light on.
Just how high were the stakes, Grace wondered. She knew he had to get good grades for his father to approve his changing schools, but he still hadn’t told her where or why.
I hope you are enjoying your school and will find a good friend soon. I so look forward to seeing you again at Christmas. I want to show you New York City, all decked out in her finest.
Your devoted friend,
JDG
She read the last two lines again. Devoted friend. Maybe there was more to think on here.
The next morning, Miss Parke, the teacher she assisted, handed her a note from the head of the school. Please see me in my office as soon as you are finished with this class.
What could I have done wrong? was her first thought. Ever since her stay with the Goulds, she found herself questioning all her actions. At home she always knew what to do. Now she always felt under scrutiny and was exhausted. Something was wrong at home. This thought flashed like a lightning bolt across her mind. But surely if it were an emergency, the woman would have said so immediately. Comforted, she joined the work with the children. What can it be? popped in more than she desired.
While older children were boarded at the school, the younger ones came each morning and went home at night. Patiently she helped them form their fingers into the signs, applauded when they remembered the work from the day before, and rocked one who dissolved into tears of frustration.
At the end of the morning session one little girl came up and signed, “Thank you.” Grace signed back, “You are welcome,” and the little one skipped out the door. Her mother was coming to the evening class for parents to learn signing, one of the changes Grace already planned to put into effect once she went home. It would be much easier to have one class for the parents instead of the tutoring she and Mor usually did with the adults. And then they could open Blessing School for the Deaf to even younger students.
“I’ll let you know what happened.” She spoke the words for a change, since Miss Parke was not deaf but had learned sign because of a deaf brother.
“I think it will be something good.”
“Why?”
“I just do.”
For some reason Grace felt more hopeful as she made her way to the main office.
“Good morning, Miss Knutson,” the assistant said. “Mrs. Callahan is waiting for you. Go right on in.”
“Thank you.” Grace sucked in a deep breath as she knocked on the oaken door before opening it. When she peeked around the door, she saw Mrs. Wooster, whose smile warmed her right down to her toes.
“Come in, come in.” The elderly woman held out her ring-laden hands.
Grace felt like she should curtsy but instead she took the woman’s hands and pressed gently. “What a pleasure it is to see you again.”
“My pleasure, and I have so much to tell you. Mrs. Callahan and I have been in constant contact, and thanks to you, I will be able to fulfill some of the needs of this school.”
“But I didn’t do any
thing.”
“Oh, yes you did. You are giving an old woman a whole new lease on life. After all, what is money good for if you can’t use it to make a difference in this world?” Mrs. Wooster’s faded blue eyes lit up. “I hadn’t given schooling for the deaf any thought until I met you.” She motioned to a chair. “Bring that over, and Mrs. Callahan, would you please order tea? I find that I think better with a cup of tea in my hand. Perhaps, dear Grace, you would like to take notes.”
“I’ll order the tea, but I think Grace would have a better time if she can concentrate on what we are discussing instead of the notes.”
“Oh, of course, how silly of me.”
Sometime later, when the conversation slowed, Grace took a deep breath and asked, “Am I understanding this right? You want to duplicate the program here at my mother’s school in Blessing?”
“Yes, if she would be willing to do that. All the research I have done has made me aware that we need schools like this all across the country. Too many people cannot afford to come east, nor should they have to.”
“And you plan to give training for job skills, like Mor has done, only on a more extensive plan?”
“Your Jonathan has given me ideas.”
The fact that he was not “her Jonathan” seemed minor at this point, but the comment still made her want to smile. After all, “her Jonathan” had signed his letter Your devoted friend.
“Your mother’s school has woodworking training, farm labor, and mechanics for the boys, homemaking skills, sewing, and knitting for the girls, correct?” At Grace’s nod, she continued, “What if we added bookkeeping and secretarial skills?”
“But there is no space for that kind of thing. Our school is in our home.”
“I understand that, but is there room to build more buildings?”
Grace thought a long moment. Putting up more buildings would take up the farmland. What would her father think of that? And the Bjorklunds, for that matter? Everything they did, they did together.
Grace finally answered the question. “Yes, there is land, but my family farms that land. If we used a wheat field for buildings, there would be less wheat grown. You would need to talk with them and explain what you are thinking.”
“Of course. Do you suppose they would like an expense-paid trip to New York City to see their daughter and discuss this with me?”
“I think Mor would want to come, but who would run the school in her absence, since I am here? My father has no desire to travel away from Blessing except to work the wheat harvest.”
“I see. So we would need to take the plan to the mountain.”
Grace shook her head. “There are no mountains near Blessing.”
“I’m sorry. That was a bad application of an old saying. I will start by writing to them first thing tomorrow, and I will tell them of our delightful visit. Now I have another question for you.”
Grace waited, her hands clasped loosely in her lap. She watched Mrs. Wooster for the slightest indication of what it might be.
“My question is this: Do you believe my investing in the school in Blessing would be a good thing or a bad thing?”
Dear Lord, please give me wisdom, and I need it right now. She looked around the lovely room with the intricate rugs on the floor, a bowl of rust-colored chrysanthemums on the low table, the rich velvet curtains, pulled back now but ready to cover the windows to help keep out the cold at night. Paintings hung on the walls, lit by gaslamps that gave far more light than the kerosene lamps of home. This place had been the home of a wealthy family, and it showed.
“Would it have to be just like this—this fancy?”
“Why, I don’t know. Do you not like the beauty of this place?”
“I-I do, but you see, Blessing is a welcoming, homey kind of place, where people all know one another and take care of one another. The students who come there become part of the community like everyone else, since as soon as they can sign adequately, they attend the Blessing school for regular classes. Mor feels that helps them learn to live with everyone rather than being set apart.” Where she found all those words, she’d never know. “And they attend the Blessing Lutheran Church along with the rest of us. They are part of a family.”
“But you do not feel part of a family here?” Mrs. Callahan signed and spoke both.
Grace felt as though she were wading through North Dakota mud that stuck to her shoes and weighed her down. “I think it is easier to feel part of a family when the family is smaller.”
“That is a very good point, something to think on even further.” Mrs. Wooster leaned over and patted Grace’s clenched hands. “I am grateful you think and speak so honestly. I know there are ways around all the barriers. We will just have to find them.”
She paused, studying something only her eyes could see. “I will start with a letter.” She turned to Mrs. Callahan. “And we will begin to put our plans in operation here immediately. I will meet with an architect in the next few days and will bring you the plans when he has finished.”
“This is most generous of you. I-I hardly know what to say.”
“The more we can train teachers, the more we will change the lives of those without hearing. Thank you for giving me this opportunity.” “Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“No thank you. Not today but perhaps another time. I am meeting with Mr. Gould later this afternoon.”
Grace darted a look of question at Mrs. Wooster.
“Yes, Jonathan’s father. He is interested in my projects as well. It never hurts to have wealthy men working with one. He has opened many doors for me through the years.” She rose and beckoned for Grace to walk beside her. “I would much rather lean on a young arm than on that cane of mine. One must have at least a little pride at my age.”
She took Grace’s arm, and they followed Mrs. Callahan, who held open the door. “I’ll telephone you when I am coming again. In the meantime, if there is anything else you would like to add to that list, now is the time to be thinking on it.”
“I cannot thank you enough.”
“You will help change lives, just as you’ve been doing for the last ten years. This will just multiply your efforts. Good day.”
Mrs. Wooster paused on the stone steps that led down to the gravel drive where the carriage waited, the horses dozing in the sun and light breeze. Autumn had been busy with a paintbrush in the tops of the maple and oak trees, splashing reds, rusts, oranges, and yellows about like a child playing in water. The older woman inhaled with a look of delight. “Nothing smells like fall but fall, and out here the air is so clean it sparkles. Not like in the city.” She turned and took both of Grace’s hands. “Thank you for humoring an old woman. I will be in contact soon.”
“Thank you.” Grace felt lighter than she had in days. Maybe instead of crying over what was missing in her life, she should copy Mrs. Wooster and look at the new opportunities instead.
Mrs. Wooster patted her cheek. “And you greet that handsome young man of yours for me. I have a feeling he is going to work into this plan somewhere.”
Grace started to say he wasn’t her young man but refrained. After all, the way things were going today, who had any idea what could come of the future?
Princeton University
Princeton, New Jersey
November
Dear Father,
We are two months into this semester and I am pleased to say that my grades are remaining at the top in most of my classes. There is one student ahead of me in Greek. I might complain of nepotism, since there is a family relationship, but I will just have to work harder, even though I see no value in learning Greek for a future farmer. My sciences, which might be helpful in some arcane way, are a joy. I am sure that Mother is going to hear any day now that I have been conspicuously absent from the balls and society entertainments. If she questions you, plead hard work as my defense. I just cannot see any sense in spending an entire evening and into the early morning dancing and imbibing. The aftereffects
are evident around me, and while I am not a prude and engaging in holier-than-thou practices, I am getting questioning looks.
I have enclosed a list of agricultural colleges for your perusal. The college in Iowa looks interesting, but I still think Grand Forks would be a better option, because they are working with the same soil and climate conditions as Blessing. It is still my first choice, and the overall relationship of the community is so supportive. Maybe I’m wrong and other communities weathered the hoof and mouth plague with as much compassion for one another, but it seems unlikely to me.
I have spent some time assisting the groundskeeper and gardener here on campus. He is a wealth of information on both gardening and field planting, so my learning extends beyond the classroom.
Jonathan paused, thinking of Henry Osbourne, who could make anything grow but words. Unless one wanted to talk horticulture. Jonathan had spent much of Sunday in Henry’s presence, planting seeds and transplanting rooted cuttings in the greenhouse. The man even made his own soil.
Give everyone my love and tell Mary Anne that there is a package coming her way that does not have to wait until Christmas to be opened.
Your son,
JDG
Jonathan stretched his arms over his head, pulling against one wrist and then the other. He glared at the three books waiting to be read. More coffee was indeed the answer.
He ambled down the stairs to the dining room, where Mrs. Maguire, their housemother, was just putting out a fresh pot of coffee.
“I thought you’d be down about now,” she said, pouring him a large cupful. “Would cream and sugar help with keeping you awake?”
“No thanks, but one of those cookies might.”
“Of course. Why else would I have just taken them out of the oven?”
He took cup and plate on a small tray. “You know you spoil us rotten.”
“I hope so.” Her smile dimmed a mite. “Only some are already so spoiled I fear they might be dropped.”
He knew she was referring to the excessive drinking of a certain group, which precluded class attendance or any thought of studying. One of his friends from BB, before Blessing, as he referred to earlier times, was a member of that group and had tried to get him to join in.
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