Whispers of the Wind

by Frances Devine

  There were those in the neighborhood who didn’t understand the friendship, but Trent had never cared much about other people’s biases.

  Carrie placed the bowl of gumbo before him and set a plate of corn bread in the center of the table. “How was my boy when you left?”

  “The last time I saw him, he was following Virgie into the house, trying to talk her into letting him eat cookies for supper.”

  A burst of laughter exploded from Solomon’s lips. “That boy. If he ain’t something else, I don’t know what is.”

  “He’s a humdinger, all right.” Trent bowed his head and mumbled a short thanks for the food then spooned a bite of the spicy stew into his mouth. “Mmm. You make the best gumbo since Virgie turned the cooking at the school over to Selma.”

  “Are you saying Mama’s was better than mine?” Carrie frowned and pouted.

  “Your gumbo is exactly like your mama’s,” Trent said. “Think maybe she’s the one who taught you to make it?”

  She laughed. “That she did. Besides, she gave me all her recipes when me and Solomon got married.”

  The three of them continued the banter until the meal was over; then Trent went to his study to write a letter of inquiry to an eye specialist in upstate New York.

  He stared at the stack of replies he’d received over the past two years. He simply wouldn’t accept that there was no one who could help Lily Ann. The old memories forced their way into his mind once again. He’d sat on his front porch with Dan and Trudy Parker while Lily Ann, not quite four years old at the time, played with a puppy in the front yard. The horse seemed to come from out of nowhere. In an instant it was gone, and the tiny girl lay with blood streaming from her eyes, where the horse’s hooves had landed on her face.

  They’d found out later the animal had been struck by a rattler. It had seemed to go crazy, throwing its rider and ending up on Trent’s property. Trent knew it was one of those things he couldn’t have prevented, but his feeling of guilt was strong enough to continue to drive him. He must fix things for Lily Ann. Someday he’d find someone somewhere who could restore her sight.

  ❧

  Sonny squinted his eyes and stuck the tip of his tongue out the side of his mouth as he concentrated once more on making the Y sign at the end of his name.

  “It’s too hard, Teacher.” With his other hand he pressed down on the wayward finger that kept popping up when it was supposed to bend down.

  “I know the Y is a difficult letter to make at first, Sonny. You just need to keep practicing. You’ll get it. I promise.”

  She straightened and moved on to the next child. The children, who had been so excited in the beginning, were beginning to lag now that they realized learning signs took a lot of work. But Abigail had learned patience while working with Professor Roberts.

  “Abigail,” he’d said, “it’s like any other subject children learn. When it becomes difficult, they want to give up. You wouldn’t let a hearing child give up learning to read and write, would you?”

  Abigail walked to her desk. Lily Ann sat in the corner playing with shaped wooden blocks while she waited her turn. But she was only hitting the blocks together instead of building with them. Abigail rested her hand on the small shoulder. “What are you making, Lily?”

  She tilted her face upward toward Abigail. “Ummm. I’m just thinking.”

  “Oh? Thinking is good. Would you like to share your thoughts with me?”

  Eagerness crossed her face. “May I learn to sign, too?”

  Abigail looked at her. “But, Lily Ann, you don’t need to learn signs. You can hear and speak.”

  “But sometimes my friends can’t read my lips good enough. And I can’t always understand what they say.”

  Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Furthermore, learning something new was good exercise. She made an L with her hand. “Here, Lily, feel my hand and fingers. See if you can do the same thing.”

  Lily began to examine Abigail’s hand with her own. “Yes. I can do that. Look.” She made the sign. “What is it?”

  “It’s an L.”

  A smile crossed the child’s face. “Like in my name?”

  “That’s right. And what do you think this one is?”

  Lily traced her fingers around the sign. “I’ll bet that’s the next letter in my name. An I.”

  “Very good. Now, do you remember how to make the L?”

  When she got to the Y, she had as much trouble forming it as Sonny had.

  By the end of the class, Abigail was ready for a break, but it was time for Lily Ann’s spelling lesson.

  She spent the next hour having Lily spell verbally then sign the word.

  If Lily Ann wished to learn to sign, she’d teach her, even if it would be a useless skill for her to know when she was no longer among deaf children.

  If she worked this hard to learn signs, how much better would it be for her to learn Braille so she could read and write?

  Abigail had been so happy about being permitted to teach signs that she hadn’t pursued the question of Braille any further, although she had thought of speaking to Trent about it. She hadn’t seen him for a few days, since the day of the picnic. She’d be prepared when he came again.

  nine

  The minute Trent rode into the yard and headed for the barn, children came running from every direction. He dismounted and tried to decipher their excited speech, but with them all talking at once, it was next to impossible.

  Laughing, he raised both hands. “Wait. Hold on! Albert, where are you?”

  “Here I am, Dr. Trent.” Albert came from around the barn and took the reins from him. “Here now.” He made a shoving motion with one hand then leaned over closer to the children’s level so they could see his lips. “You children back off and leave the doctor alone.”

  “It’s all right, Albert.” He glanced around at the excited children. “Now. One at a time. Molly, you first.”

  “Oh, Dr. Trent, we are learning sign language.” Her nimble fingers began forming letters as she verbalized her actions. “M-o-l-l-y.”

  “That’s wonderful, Molly.” He turned and focused on Sonny. “Can you show me your name?”

  Sonny gave an uncertain nod. He began forming the letters. When he got to the Y, he hesitated and looked into Trent’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Sonny. I don’t know how.”

  The little boy looked at his fingers, and taking a deep breath, he tried again. When he made the Y, a huge grin split his face.

  “That’s great.” Trent squeezed Sonny’s shoulder then glanced around. “Who’s next?”

  As soon as the last child had proudly signed his name, Trent thumped himself on the chest. “I can sign my name, too.”

  “You can?” Wide-eyed, Sonny gave him a doubtful look.

  Trent laughed. Actually they all appeared a little doubtful as they watched his hand.

  Slowly and carefully, he formed the letters of his first name then his last. “You know, if you learn to sign my last name, you’ll know how to sign the name of your school.”

  “Show us,” they chorused, jumping up and down.

  He thought for a minute. Better not. Abigail might have a particular way to teach them.

  He motioned for them to follow him to the house. They lined up behind him and he led them all the way around to the front and up the porch steps. Trent smiled, feeling rather like the pied piper. He turned to face them. “How about if we ask Miss Abigail to come outside and teach us a few signs.”

  “On Saturday?” Jimmy frowned. “We don’t go to school on Saturday.”

  “Oh, but it’s not school. First of all, we’re outside. Second, we are asking the teacher to teach us instead of the teacher telling us to learn.”

  Jimmy nodded. “I guess that’s all right then.”

  Seven-year-old Phoebe tossed her blond curls. “Lily Ann’s going to be mad she missed it.”

  Trent quirked his brow. “Why should Lily Ann care? It’s sign langua
ge.”

  “Miss Abigail’s teaching her signs, too. She wanted to learn.”

  He supposed it was natural for a child to want to be included in what the other children were doing. If not for her injury, she would be having her lessons at home from a tutor more than likely. She’d probably be learning to ride horseback and perhaps have dance lessons as well.

  The familiar pang shot through him. He turned to Molly. “Would you find Miss Abigail and see if she has time for us this morning or later in the day?”

  Her eyes lit up at being chosen for the task. “Yes, sir.” She hurried inside.

  Clouds covered the sun and Trent looked at the sky with an experienced eye. Hurricane season was just around the corner. Georgia seldom got hit, and the school was too far inland to worry about waves, but the rivers and streams often overflowed when a storm was near the coast. Not to mention the tornadoes that could spin off from coastal hurricanes. He scoffed inwardly. Not today. It was only late July. But a thunderstorm could very well be in the works.

  The door opened and Abigail followed Molly onto the porch, a puzzled look on her face.

  “Doctor, you wanted to see me?”

  Their eyes met, and Trent felt as though he’d been hit by a falling tree. Maybe there was a storm after all. He took a deep breath and smiled in her direction without looking straight into her eyes.

  “Doctor?”

  He cleared his throat. “Good morning, Miss James. We have a dilemma with which we hope you can assist us.”

  “Oh?” An amused look crossed her face. “And what might that be?”

  “It has come to our attention that by learning to sign my last name, the children would also learn to sign the school name.”

  The corners of her lips started to tilt, and she pressed them to-gether. “Well children, it seems to me that Dr. Trent could teach you that himself. I know for a fact he has accomplished that skill.”

  “Oh, but I thought you might have a particular teaching technique for them. I didn’t wish to confuse them.”

  She tossed him a skeptical look. “I see.” She smiled at the children, who stood with hopeful expressions on their faces. “So you wish me to teach you how to sign Quincy?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The chorus of voices exploded into the air.

  “Very well. You’re in luck to find me with idle hands and feeling bored.”

  Trent couldn’t keep the grin from his face. But when she cut a glance his way, he quickly clamped his mouth shut.

  For the next half hour, Abigail taught each child to make the letters. Trent hadn’t watched her teach the children before, and he couldn’t help but be impressed. When any of them had difficulties with a letter, usually the U, she patiently took their hand and helped them form the letters, just as she had with him. Furthermore, she had them all laughing on several occasions with the wonderful sense of humor he’d only recently discovered. The children reveled in it, and he had to admit, so did he. Not only was her attitude good for the children, but it was having a very positive effect on him as well.

  When the dinner gong sounded, Mrs. Cole fetched the children, and they hurried around back to wash their hands.

  Trent eyed Abigail with admiration. “You are wonderful with them.”

  A blush tinted her cheeks. “Thank you. I feel that happiness is a great teaching tool.”

  “You must be right. They seem quite eager to learn.” He offered his arm. “May I escort you to dinner, Miss James?”

  They held back while the children filed into the foyer. Little Hunter trailed behind, holding on to Virgie’s hand.

  “Mamaw, wait.” The little boy tugged his hand away from Virgie and took off in a run down the hall to Mr. Carter’s office. His small fist pecked on the door. Then he pounded.

  Carter stepped out into the hallway and looked down at Hunter, who grabbed his hand and attempted to pull him toward the foyer. “Eat.”

  Trent stood still, curious to see what the man would do and determined to intervene if he deemed necessary.

  Mixed emotions washed over Carter’s face. Reluctance? Joy? What was it? He cleared his throat. “I’m not hungry. I’ll eat later.” His voice held a hint of kindness.

  Hunter frowned and tugged harder. “Come. Time to eat.”

  Carter sighed. “All right, Hunter. If you insist.”

  The director followed the child down the hall and into the dining room. Trent looked on in amazement.

  He glanced at Abigail whose surprise seemed to match his own. “Can you beat that?”

  She shook her head and smiled. “ ‘And a little child shall lead them.’ ” She took Trent’s arm once more, and they stepped through the carved double doors.

  ❧

  Should she or shouldn’t she? Abigail was thrilled that the children were doing so well with their sign language classes. But the victory paled when she thought of all that Lily Ann was missing out on.

  She hesitated to go over the director’s head again, but Lily Ann was worth it. And this could be the perfect time to broach the subject to Trent.

  She waited until Hunter had reluctantly gone with Virgie to her quarters for an afternoon nap and the other children followed their houseparents up to the dorms to rest.

  Trent still sat at the table with her and the other teachers having a cup of coffee. She fidgeted, not realizing until she noticed she’d squeezed her napkin into a twisted rope. Quickly she smoothed it on her lap then folded it and placed it on the table.

  Helen threw her a look, her eyebrows slightly raised in question. Abigail glanced away hoping Helen wouldn’t bring up the subject. It wouldn’t do to make him feel trapped by discussing it in front of the other teachers.

  She wasn’t quite sure how to ask for an audience, especially since they usually discussed school matters on weekdays.

  Finally he arose and glanced at her. “Miss James, I wonder if I might speak with you for a few moments. I realize you are off duty, but if you wouldn’t mind I have a few questions.”

  Thank You, God. “Of course. I don’t mind at all.” She stood.

  Helen rose as well. “Abigail, would you like to join me in the parlor around three or so. I thought we could discuss next week’s schedule.”

  Helen was almost as eager to get Braille for Lily Ann as she was. Amused, Abigail nodded and stepped into the foyer with Trent.

  “My office or the porch? We seem to conduct a lot of business out there.” His smile reached his eyes and the corners crinkled.

  “How about a walk to clear away my afternoon drowsiness?”

  “Oh, forgive me. If you need to rest, our talk can wait.”

  “No, I’d rather not sleep in the heat of the day anyway. I’m still not accustomed to the heat. There’s hardly any breeze at all.”

  He held the door for her to step outside. “You’ll have breeze enough and more when storm season starts on the coast.”

  “You mean hurricanes?” Her pulse quickened.

  “You won’t need to worry. We’re too far inland, but we do get strong winds on the rare occasion one hits the Georgia coast.” He took her hand and assisted her down the steps. “Of course tornadoes are always a possibility as well, but God has spared us from ever being hit. And we have a good strong storm cellar. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “It’s perfectly all right. I’m not frightened.” But she knew her trembling hand said otherwise.

  She took his proffered arm, reassured at his strength as the muscles jumped beneath her hand. Blushing at the thought, she withdrew her hand, allowing her arms to rest at her side as they walked down the lane past the magnolia trees and the huge live oak. When they reached the gate, they turned and walked back to the bench beneath the live oak tree.

  After they were seated, he said, “I guess that’s enough walking in this heat. Don’t you agree?”

  She nodded, only half hearing, as she smoothed her skirt and tried to decide how to begin. But first she needed to list
en to whatever questions he had for her.

  He loosened his tie and cleared his throat. “Have any problems arisen with the sign language classes?”

  She glanced up quickly. Did he think she wasn’t competent to teach it? “Why no. The children are learning quickly. Of course there is an occasional problem with making a letter, but nothing serious.” She shook her head. “Of course, sometimes they don’t want to work at it, but that’s no different from any schoolwork.”

  He nodded. “I can remember dreaming up every excuse imaginable to put lessons off.”

  “Can’t we all?” She laughed. “We’re about halfway through the alphabet and have tried a few simple word signs. They all know boy and girl and a few others.”

  “That’s wonderful. Are they using the signs they know in their conversations yet?”

  “Not really. They aren’t quite sure enough, although I did see Molly calling Sonny a bad boy in signs one day.”

  Trent laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me. These kids never cease to amaze me. By the way, I understand Lily Ann is learning to sign.”

  “Yes, at her request, and she’s doing very well.” Thank You, God, for giving me this opening. It should be easy now to lead into the request. “She’s such a bright child. She learns everything well, even without her eyesight.”

  Trent flinched and pain crossed his face. Abigail bit her lip. Why did he suffer so? She hurt for Lily Ann, too, but his pain seemed out of proportion. Even if the little girl had been a sister or a daughter, he should have learned to deal with the tragedy by now. Perhaps it would help if he had the chance to improve her world with Braille.

  “Dr. Quincy, I am so excited about the new program for the deaf children. It’s going to be so helpful to them. But there’s also a wonderful teaching tool that could help Lily Ann.”

  He took a deep breath and focused on her once more. “Yes, Miss James? You know of something that will help Lily Ann?”

  “Have you ever heard of Braille?” She held her breath. Of course he hadn’t heard of it, or he would have seen that Lily Ann learn it before now.

  He nodded. “That’s a reading and writing system for blind people. It was created by Louis Braille, a Frenchman, and consists of combinations of raised dots.”