Whispers of the Wind

by Frances Devine

A strong odor of pipe tobacco permeated the air, and she was hard put not to wrinkle her nose. He frowned as he stared at her from the chair behind his desk with an expression Abigail could only imagine was distaste. Finally he rose and gave a nod, apparently all he felt she merited. He motioned her into the chair across from him.

  She sat in the chair, her back straight and proper, and looked into his eyes, searching for some spark of agreeableness. He was a little older than she’d expected, probably in his sixties. His hair was white, but dull and unappealing, and his eyebrows were bushy over faded blue eyes. Frown wrinkles dug trenches above his nose, and his lips turned downward at the corners. She’d hoped he’d be open to her suggestions in spite of Helen’s and Virgie’s comments, but his countenance wasn’t too promising. He looked to be a very unpleasant man.

  “Miss James, I see this is your first position.”

  “Yes, sir, my first formal position, although I did assist—”

  “Yes, yes.” He waved his hand in dismissal of further words from her, conveying the impression he’d like to dismiss her altogether.

  A wave of heat burned her face. Did the man have no manners at all? She pressed her lips together, determined not to ruin her chance to talk about the sign language.

  He perused the application and rubbed his hand across his forehead. He lifted his brows and peered at her from tired eyes. “I’m sure Miss Edwards and Mr. Waverly have instructed you on your duties and our manner of doing things.”

  “Yes, sir. They’ve been most helpful.” She twisted her handkerchief with hands that wanted to fly off her lap and speak the words her lips did not.

  “Hmmph.” He glanced at the letters of reference and without a word about them, looked at her directly. “Very well, Miss James. I’m sure you’ll do quite well. You’re dismissed.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and she clamped her lips together and stood. “Thank you, Mr. Carter. I’m sure I’ll enjoy working here.”

  At his nod, she started toward the door. Her head pounded with confusion and dismay. That was it? Suddenly she stopped and whirled around. “Mr. Carter, I wonder if I might speak with you about an additional teaching method. It’s been highly successful for several years now.”

  Annoyance crossed his face. “Really, Miss James. You’ve been teaching for one week, and you think you know more than seasoned instructors?”

  Abigail pushed down the anger that threatened to rise up. She took a breath and expelled it. “No, sir. I don’t think I know more than others. Although I have been teaching for some time, not just a week. And perhaps some things I’ve learned from professionals might be of some use.”

  He sighed. “Very well, Miss James. Clearly you are determined. Please sit down and explain to me this wonderful new teaching method.”

  She eased back into the chair and swallowed. “I’m sure you are familiar with the concept of sign language. It has been used in the larger schools for some time now. And I’ve been thoroughly instructed in sign language and several ways to teach it.”

  She took a deep breath, clutched her hands together in her lap, and waited for his response.

  A grimace of annoyance twisted his face. “Sign language? I personally haven’t heard a thing about this so-called teaching method that makes me believe it is more beneficial than the methods we are using.”

  That couldn’t be true. Abigail personally knew dozens of students whose lives had changed dramatically, for the better, with the use of signing.

  “Miss James.” He stood again, and his expression indicated the meeting was over. “You are very young, and I’m sure your intentions are good. But Quincy School has been doing quite well teaching lip reading and oral language for many years. I hardly think we need to change because a young girl sails in with untried ideas and uninhibited ambition.”

  “But, Mr. Carter. . .”

  “That will be all, Miss James. I’m sure you can find something to do with your time, as I certainly can with mine.”

  Appalled at Mr. Carter’s seeming lack of knowledge on the latest teaching methods, not to mention his horrible rudeness, Abigail trembled with humiliation and her fists tightened in anger as she rushed to her room. It was a good thing she had no more classes today. How would she have been able to face her students when she was near to tears?

  Couldn’t he have at least heard her out? She hadn’t meant to imply they should do away with lip reading and oral language. But adding signs could benefit the children so much and make learning easier. If only she had chosen her words more carefully instead of blurting out the idea the way she had and making herself appear ignorant and foolish. And they hadn’t spoken about Lily Ann at all.

  Oh! She stomped her foot. The man was impossible. But she was determined not to give up her quest.

  ❧

  Trent rode his horse to the barn and dismounted. Albert stepped out with a smile on his face. “I thought you forgot about us, Dr. Trent. Where you been all week?”

  “Been taking care of the measles outbreak.” Unfortunately the measles situation was worse than he’d realized. He had to stay on top of it to prevent an epidemic. It was all he could do to make it home every now and then to change through the week. Today had been an unexpected but very welcome respite, with no new cases. He could only hope it would last. He clapped the older man on the shoulder. “I knew you’d look out for things and come get me if I was needed.”

  “You know I would’ve. But everything went along fine here.” He frowned. “Mistuh Carter got back last night.”

  “Oh?” Trent handed over the reins. “You don’t seem too pleased about that.”

  “I don’t say nothing about no man. Not me.” He shook his grizzled head. “But that man don’t ever find nothing to smile about, and they ain’t no denying things was running a whole lot smoother without him.”

  A pang of unease ran through Trent. What was it about Carter that seemed to rub folks the wrong way? The man seemed efficient enough in overseeing the school. Still, there was a different feel in the air when the director was gone. Less oppressive somehow.

  Trent glanced toward the former plantation house. “So how are all the teachers?”

  “They’s fine.”

  “Good. That’s good.” Trent cleared his throat. “The new teacher working out all right?”

  Albert cut a glance his way. “Ain’t heard no complaints.”

  “Guess I’d better head for the house. Take care of Warrior for me, please. I’ll probably stay for supper.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll fix him up good.”

  When Trent stepped into the foyer, the first person he saw was Abigail coming down the staircase. His breath caught in his throat as she reached the bottom step.

  “Dr. Quincy. How nice to see you.” She stepped toward him and offered her hand.

  He wondered if the shine in her eyes was for him. Had she missed him? Of course not. They hardly knew each other. He must be more tired than he realized.

  He pressed her hand gently. “Thank you, Miss James. It’s nice to see you, too. Are you all settled in?”

  She removed her hand from his and gave him a slight smile. “Yes, quite. Thank you, Doctor.”

  “Are the children all well?”

  Before she could speak, Virgie came out of the parlor. Her face lit up at the sight of Trent. “It’s about time you came to see us. You staying for supper now?”

  “Yes, I told Carrie not to bother to prepare anything for my evening meal. Between my being gone treating the ill and the meals I take here, I fear that daughter of yours might get lazy.”

  Her soft chuckle fell like healing balm over his tired body and spirit. “You stop that teasing now, Dr. Trent. You and I both know Carrie don’t have a lazy bone in her body.”

  “True words, and spoken by a true mother.” He glanced toward the infirmary. No light crept out from beneath the door. A good sign. “Does anyone need my attention?”

  “Everyone fit as can be.” Virgie glanced at Abigail the
n back at Trent. “You two go on into the parlor and visit until supper is ready. The children already gone upstairs.”

  Abigail shook her head. “I’ll help get supper finished. One of the cook’s helpers didn’t come to work today.” With a rather abrupt nod for Virgie and a bare hint of one for him, she turned and headed toward the kitchen.

  Trent watched her go. So much for that shine in her eyes being for him. She’d probably been rubbing her eye or something. He chuckled.

  “What so funny now?” Virgie eyed him then glanced down the hall at Abigail’s retreating form. “You could do worse.”

  Trent’s face flamed hot. “I’m not looking for a wife, Virgie.”

  She squinted up into his eyes. “Well, you ought to be. Just because that Sharon gal turned out to be a gold digger, don’t mean all women like that. Besides, you’re not getting any younger you know.” She tossed her scarf-covered head back and laughed.

  His own laughter joined hers in the empty room.

  Mr. Carter stomped into the foyer from the hall and stopped still when he saw Trent. “Good afternoon, Doctor. I didn’t realize you were here. I thought some of the children were playing in the hall.”

  Trent narrowed his eyes. This was the first he’d seen of the man’s temper. “And would it have been so terrible if they had been? I always think it’s a delightful thing when children are happy.”

  Carter tightened his lips then nodded. “Of course, but we also must have order in the school, mustn’t we?” As if that settled it, he turned to Virgie. “Please see that I have a tray in my apartment. I won’t be down for supper.”

  Abruptly he turned and headed up the stairs.

  Trent frowned and glanced at Virgie. “Is he always like that? Or has he had a bad day?”

  She shrugged. “Not my place to say.”

  “I think I’ll go say good night to the boys before supper.”

  “That be a good idea, Dr. Trent. Be sure to come down in time to escort Miss Abigail in to supper. It’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  He sent her a teasing frown and headed upstairs. But by the time the boys had regaled him with all their recent escapades and he’d said good night, he came downstairs fully intending to take Virgie’s suggestion. As he stepped onto the foyer, Abigail was just entering the dining room with Charles Waverly. He followed them in and held Mrs. Cole’s chair while Waverly seated Abigail. A slight pang of jealousy shot through Trent.

  The meal was delicious as usual, but uneventful. Abigail was quiet and withdrawn, but he seemed to be the only one who noticed. After several failed attempts to start a conversation with her, Trent gave up and ate in silence, only half listening to the conversations going on around him.

  Finally he’d had enough. He pushed his chair back and stood. “If you’ll all excuse me, I’ve had a very busy week, and I think I’ll go home and get some needed sleep. I’ll be back in a few days. Send someone for me if I’m needed.”

  Abigail lifted her chin and glanced at him then quickly looked away. A jolt shot through him. He should have realized before. The shine in her eyes was from unshed tears. And if her expression was any indication, they were tears of anger, not sadness.

  He hesitated, at a loss for what to do or say. What could he do? He couldn’t embarrass her by inquiring about the cause of her distress. And she certainly hadn’t indicated in any way she’d appreciate such an inquiry. Some things were best left alone. He said good night and went outside where Albert waited with Warrior.

  On the ride home, the disturbing memory of Abigail’s angry tears invaded his thoughts. Had someone been unkind to her? Or perhaps she’d had bad news from home. A thought jolted him. Perhaps she’d decided to return home. After all, rural Georgia was a far cry from the city life to which she was accustomed.

  four

  Abigail went to her room after her two morning classes, determined to take the time to write to her parents. She’d been so busy, as well as distracted, since she’d arrived that she’d only written to them once. She loosened her corset and sat at the little writing desk in the corner. After several attempts to begin, she simply poured out her heart, telling them about the children and how wonderful they were. Then she wrote about Mr. Carter’s resistance to sign language and that because of his attitude, she had yet to bring up the subject of Braille for Lily Ann. By the time the letter was complete, she leaned back, spent, emotions drained. She cared about all the children. But she’d have to admit, at least to herself, Lily Ann was her favorite. The child was such a cheerful little thing, and bright as she could be, always eager to learn something new. She did well with her verbal lessons, but Abigail believed she deserved every chance available. She simply must convince Mr. Carter as well. After all, it wasn’t as though Abigail was attempting to persuade him to add some untried teaching tool. Braille had been taught successfully in the United States for at least thirty years. Unfortunately, no one at the school, including her, knew anything about this written language for the blind. But Abigail was determined that Lily Ann should have her chance.

  Making a sudden decision, she opened a drawer and drew out her recent letter from Professor Roberts. She stood, tucking it into her pocket. Mr. Carter might be angry with her, but she had to at least attempt to open his eyes. She retied her corset, straightened her skirt, and walked out of her room and down the stairs.

  As she descended the staircase into the foyer, a passing cloud darkened the room. A shiver passed through her. She paused and glanced back up the stairs toward her room. Perhaps she should wait. With resolve, she took a deep breath and straightened her back. She could do this. What could he do but say no? The dark hall leading to the director’s private office seemed to stretch endlessly.

  She stepped forward and walked down the hall. She lifted her fist and rapped on the door.

  “Come in.”

  The same strong smell of smoke hung over the room. This time worse than before. Apparently Mr. Carter liked his pipe.

  “Miss James.” His tone wasn’t exactly rude, but she certainly wouldn’t call it friendly. He didn’t bother to rise, but motioned to a chair across from him. “How may I assist you?”

  She stepped over to the chair and sat. His desk was neatly arranged—a stack of paper to his left, his inkwell and pens to his right. Good. A man who was neat had at least one good quality. Guilt rippled through her. She didn’t know him well enough to judge him. For all she knew he had many fine qualities.

  “Sir, I would like to present a sug— That is. . .a request.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed. “I thought we had already discussed the matter. There will be no sign language taught in this school.”

  Why was the man so against change? Had he never heard of progress?

  “Yes, sir. I understand. And although I still believe the children would benefit greatly from learning signs, they seem to be progressing, and I accept your decision.” For now, at least. She wasn’t ready to give up completely.

  He gave a short laugh. “I’m very pleased to hear that. Then what is your request? An excursion into town to do some frivolous shopping? Or perhaps you wish time off already? I realize teaching deaf children can be difficult for some.”

  “No, I have no need to shop at the present, and I don’t require time off.” Her throat felt tight and she cleared it. “Sir, I’m concerned about Lily Ann.”

  A frown of annoyance crossed the director’s face. “What could possibly cause you concern about Lily? We are doing what we can to educate her. She’s a blind child who was granted admittance to Quincy out of pity, I would imagine. I believe her parents are acquaintances of Dr. Quincy.”

  That was news to Abigail. Perhaps she was speaking to the wrong person.

  “I’m of the opinion there might be more we can do for her. I’m sure you’ve heard of Braille.”

  “Of course. But if you are suggesting we teach Braille to the child, I would like to inform you none of our teachers are familiar with it, and therefore cannot
teach it.”

  She retrieved the letter from her pocket and offered it to him. “Sir, this is a letter from Professor Roberts at my old school in Washington. He has sent an address where we might request the materials needed to learn and teach Braille. I would be more than happy to volunteer to learn in my free time in order to help Lily Ann.” Her heart pounded against her bodice. Please, God.

  “I see. And are you also prepared to pay for the expense of such a venture?”

  “Well, I. . . That is, I would be glad to if I had extra money, but I don’t. I thought the school would cover the expenses.”

  “So, after being employed here for less than a month, you would have the school go to the expense of buying the necessary supplies to train you to teach Braille to one six-year-old girl.” He snorted. “Please, Miss James. Attend to your duties and stop interrupting me with your impractical suggestions.”

  She gasped and stood. How dare he speak to her that way when she was only trying to help a child? She spun on her heel and hurried out of the room, tears of rage coursing down her cheeks. She ran down the hall and across the foyer. She pushed blindly through the front doors and slammed into a hard, muscled chest.

  ❧

  Startled, Trent dropped his bag to the porch and gripped Abigail’s shoulders to steady them both. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her body shook.

  Before he could ask what was wrong, Virgie rushed down the stairs, and seeing them at the door, hurried over, worry distorting her usually calm face.

  “Dr. Trent. Come with me. Sonny burnin’ up with fever, and he’s all flushed.”

  Abigail gasped and pulled away, her face pale. “Where is he, Virgie?”

  “He in his bed, Miss Abigail. Thrashin’ around somethin’ awful.”

  “I must go to him.” Abigail took a step toward the stairs.

  “Wait.” Trent touched her arm and turned to Virgie. “Have him brought to the infirmary. I’ll examine him there.”

  “I’ll help you get things ready.” Again, Abigail took a step, this time in the direction of the infirmary.

  “Miss James, you need to stay away from him until we know what’s wrong. He may be contagious. Or it could be something as minor as a summer cold. Children often run high temperatures.”